Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1831 |
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الصفحة 9
... And surely she who now so fondly rears Thy youth , in thee , thus hourly brightening , Beholds the rainbow of her future years , Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears . Young Peri of the West ! - ' tis well To Ianthe.
... And surely she who now so fondly rears Thy youth , in thee , thus hourly brightening , Beholds the rainbow of her future years , Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears . Young Peri of the West ! - ' tis well To Ianthe.
الصفحة 10
... young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse entwined ; And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be ...
... young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse entwined ; And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be ...
الصفحة 29
... young - eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds : Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals , Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls . XLVII . Not so the rustic with his trembling mate CANTO I 29 PILGRIMAGE . 20.
... young - eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds : Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals , Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls . XLVII . Not so the rustic with his trembling mate CANTO I 29 PILGRIMAGE . 20.
الصفحة 31
... world . Ah ! Spain ! how sad will be thy reckoning - day , When soars Gaul's Vulture , with his wings unfurl'd , And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurl'd . LIII . And must they fall ? the young , CANTO I 31 PILGRIMAGE .
... world . Ah ! Spain ! how sad will be thy reckoning - day , When soars Gaul's Vulture , with his wings unfurl'd , And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurl'd . LIII . And must they fall ? the young , CANTO I 31 PILGRIMAGE .
الصفحة 32
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. LIII . And must they fall ? the young , the proud , the brave , To swell one bloated Chief's unwholesome reign ? No step between submission and a grave ? The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain ? And ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. LIII . And must they fall ? the young , the proud , the brave , To swell one bloated Chief's unwholesome reign ? No step between submission and a grave ? The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain ? And ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Albania Ali Pacha amongst ancient Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar Canto Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Constantinople dark death deem'd deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel foes gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land line last live Lord mind mortal mountains never o'er once pass pass'd Petrarch plain poet rock Romaic Roman Rome scene seen shore sigh smile song soul spot Stanza Storia Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb triumph Venetians Venice walls waves wild winds woes wolf words ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς εἰς τὴν ἐν καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν ὡς
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 269 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
الصفحة 269 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
الصفحة 270 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
الصفحة 256 - And his droop'd 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 hail'd the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
الصفحة 168 - The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, •which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
الصفحة 235 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. LXXIX. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within...
الصفحة 255 - I see before me the Gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd 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 hail'd the wretch who won.
الصفحة 176 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
الصفحة 218 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest...
الصفحة 183 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.