Lord Byron's Works ...F. Louis, 1821 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 51 találatból.
28. oldal
... dead Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread . LV . Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale , Oh ! had you known her in her softer hour , Marked her black eye that mocks her coal - black veil , Heard her light ...
... dead Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread . LV . Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale , Oh ! had you known her in her softer hour , Marked her black eye that mocks her coal - black veil , Heard her light ...
41. oldal
... dead ? Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain ; Look on the bands with female slaughter red ; Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain , Then to the vulture let each corse remain ;. Albeit unworthy of the prey - bird's maw , Let ...
... dead ? Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain ; Look on the bands with female slaughter red ; Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain , Then to the vulture let each corse remain ;. Albeit unworthy of the prey - bird's maw , Let ...
46. oldal
... dead , When busy Memory flashes on my brain ? Well - I will dream that we may meet again , And woo the vision to my vacant breast : If aught of young remembrance then remain , Be as it may futurity's behest , For me ' twere bliss enough ...
... dead , When busy Memory flashes on my brain ? Well - I will dream that we may meet again , And woo the vision to my vacant breast : If aught of young remembrance then remain , Be as it may futurity's behest , For me ' twere bliss enough ...
90. oldal
... Dead Sea's shore , All ashes to the taste : Did man compute Existence by enjoyment , and count o'er Such hours ' gainst years of life , -say , would he name three - score ? XXXV . The Psalmist numbered out the years of man : They are ...
... Dead Sea's shore , All ashes to the taste : Did man compute Existence by enjoyment , and count o'er Such hours ' gainst years of life , -say , would he name three - score ? XXXV . The Psalmist numbered out the years of man : They are ...
106. oldal
... dead who rise upon our dreams , But of ideal beauty , which became In him existence , and o'erflowing teems Along his burning page , distempered though it seems . LXXIX . This breathed itself to life in Julie , this Invested her with ...
... dead who rise upon our dreams , But of ideal beauty , which became In him existence , and o'erflowing teems Along his burning page , distempered though it seems . LXXIX . This breathed itself to life in Julie , this Invested her with ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
ABBOT OF SAINT Albania Alhama art thou ASTARTE beauty behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath brow Cavalier Servente CHAMOIS HUNTER charm Childe Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clouds cold courser dare dark dead death deemed deep dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth eyes fair fame fear feel gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece hand hast hath heart heaven hope hour hues Idlesse immortal land light limbs live lone look MANFRED Mazeppa mighty mind mingling mortal mountains ne'er never night nought o'er once pang pass Pindus rock round SAINT MAURICE scarce scene shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent skies smile song soul spirit star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand throne tomb twas Venice voice walls wandering waves wild wind youth
Népszerű szakaszok
179. oldal - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
225. oldal - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
218. oldal - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
120. oldal - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
167. oldal - Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother— he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— All this rush'd with his blood— Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
181. oldal - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless...
88. oldal - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently stern array!
105. oldal - When elements to elements conform. And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm ? The bodiless thought?
128. oldal - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
99. oldal - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old, — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.