Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. Campe's ed |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 33
Seite 15
... tree ! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand ! But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst those who most transgress his high com- mand , With treble vengeance will his ...
... tree ! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand ! But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst those who most transgress his high com- mand , With treble vengeance will his ...
Seite 16
... trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep , The mountain - moss by scorching skies imbrown'd , The sunken glen , whose sunless shrubs must weep , The tender azure of the unruffled deep , The orange tints that gild the greenest bough , The ...
... trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep , The mountain - moss by scorching skies imbrown'd , The sunken glen , whose sunless shrubs must weep , The tender azure of the unruffled deep , The orange tints that gild the greenest bough , The ...
Seite 37
... , And Freedom's stranger - tree grow native of the soil ! XCI . And thou , my friend ! 19 - since unavailing woe Bursts from my heart , and mingles with the strain- Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low , PILGRIMAGE . 37.
... , And Freedom's stranger - tree grow native of the soil ! XCI . And thou , my friend ! 19 - since unavailing woe Bursts from my heart , and mingles with the strain- Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low , PILGRIMAGE . 37.
Seite 58
... trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze : The plain is far beneath - oh ! let him seize Pure pleasure while he can ; the scorching ray Here pierceth not , impregnate with ...
... trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze : The plain is far beneath - oh ! let him seize Pure pleasure while he can ; the scorching ray Here pierceth not , impregnate with ...
Seite 90
... tree . Udi vura udorini udiri ci- If I have placed my hand cova cilti mora Udorini talti hollna u ede caimoni mora . on thy bosom , what ha ve I gained ? my hand is withdrawn , but retains the flame . I believe the two last stanzas , as ...
... tree . Udi vura udorini udiri ci- If I have placed my hand cova cilti mora Udorini talti hollna u ede caimoni mora . on thy bosom , what ha ve I gained ? my hand is withdrawn , but retains the flame . I believe the two last stanzas , as ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a Romaunt. Campe's Ed George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2015 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Albania Ali Pacha amongst ancient Arqua Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Canto Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Constantinople dark death deem'd doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel foes gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope immortal Italian Italy lake land line last live Lord mind mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once pass Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Romaic Roman Rome scene seen shore sigh smile song soul spot Stanza Storia Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb triumph tyrants Venetian Venice walls waves wild woes wolf ἂν ἀπὸ δὲ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς εἰς τὴν ἐν ἡμεῖς καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ οἱ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν ὡς
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 165 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and' far delight,— A portion of the tempest and of thee...
Seite 224 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low : And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him ; he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Seite 160 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion?
Seite 163 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have...
Seite 225 - 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!
Seite 151 - Away with these ! true Wisdom's world will be Within its own creation, or in thine, Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee, Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
Seite 47 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude.
Seite 145 - And human frailties, were forgotten quite : Could he have kept his spirit to that flight He had been happy ; but this clay will sink Its spark immortal, envying it the light To which it mounts, as if to break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.
Seite 194 - gainst the Alpine shocks Of eddying storms ; yet springs the trunk, and mocks The howling tempest, till its height and frame Are worthy of the mountains from whose blocks Of bleak, gray granite into life it came, And grew a giant tree ; — the mind may grow the same.
Seite 151 - Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die; Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste With its own flickering, or a sword laid by, Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.