Childe Harold's pilgrimage. Illustr. ed |
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الصفحة 22
... wall ; My dog howls at the gate . 3 . " Come hither , hither , my little page ! Why dost thou weep and wail ? Or dost thou dread the billows ' rage , Or tremble at the gale ? But dash the tear - drop from thine eye ; Our ship is swift ...
... wall ; My dog howls at the gate . 3 . " Come hither , hither , my little page ! Why dost thou weep and wail ? Or dost thou dread the billows ' rage , Or tremble at the gale ? But dash the tear - drop from thine eye ; Our ship is swift ...
الصفحة 35
... wall ? - Ne barrier wall , ne river deep and wide , Ne horrid crags , nor mountains dark and tall , Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul : XXXIII . But these between a silver streamlet glides ,. CANTO 1 . 33 CHILDE ...
... wall ? - Ne barrier wall , ne river deep and wide , Ne horrid crags , nor mountains dark and tall , Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul : XXXIII . But these between a silver streamlet glides ,. CANTO 1 . 33 CHILDE ...
الصفحة 42
... 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. 42 221 CANTO 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
... 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. 42 221 CANTO 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
الصفحة 47
... wall ? LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons , But form'd for all the witching arts of love : Though thus in arms they emulate her sons , And in the horrid phalanx dare to move , ' Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove ...
... wall ? LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons , But form'd for all the witching arts of love : Though thus in arms they emulate her sons , And in the horrid phalanx dare to move , ' Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove ...
الصفحة 52
... walls of white ; Though not to one dome circumscribeth she Her worship , but , devoted to her rite , A thousand altars rise , for ever blazing bright . LXVII . From morn till night , from night till startled Morn Peeps blushing on the ...
... walls of white ; Though not to one dome circumscribeth she Her worship , but , devoted to her rite , A thousand altars rise , for ever blazing bright . LXVII . From morn till night , from night till startled Morn Peeps blushing on the ...
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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Illustr. Ed <span dir=ltr>George Gordon N Byron</span> لا تتوفر معاينة - 2018 |
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Albanian Ali Pacha Arqua Athens aught beauty behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath brow caloyer CANTO charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Clarens clime clouds dare dark deem'd deep desolate didst doth dread dust dwell earth earth art Egeria Epirus eternal fair fame fate feel foes gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Illustrations honour hope hour hyæna Idlesse immortal Italy lake land less light live lone look Lord Byron mighty mind mortal mountains Nature's ne'er never o'er once pass pass'd passion plain poem Pouqueville proud Rhine roar rock Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene shore shrine sigh skies slave smile song soul spirit spot star stern stream sweet tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tower tyrants Venice walls waves wild wind woes youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 160 - 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...
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 271 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — '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 162 - 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.
الصفحة 125 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise...
الصفحة 269 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
الصفحة 249 - 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.
الصفحة 157 - He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
الصفحة 124 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! let joy be unconfined: No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
الصفحة 195 - 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!