Mazeppa: A PoemA. and W. Galignani, 1822 - 70 من الصفحات |
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
66 Le roi 66 My heart answer'd appeared battlement beak beneath bleed blood Borysthenes bound call'd castle gate ceived Charles XII cheval chill clime cold Cossack Count courser's Darvell dash dead death doom dread dull earth Ephesus eyes faint and low fatigue feeble feel felt flew foam forest gave gaze Gieta GIFT OF FRIENDS graze at ease hath Hetman Histoire de Charles hope horse human janizary knew length LIBRARY THE GIFT limbs loved mane Mazeppa Methought monarch nature's night ninth day nought o'er O'ertortured once onward pain Palatine pangs pass'd Perchance play'd Prolong'd pulse by pulse quelques rein round sate scarce seem'd serrugee Shaggy shrubs sigh Sire slender Smyrna steed stiffen'd strength sudden Suleiman Tartar thee thought thousand To-morrow tombstones trees Turkish Twas Ukraine Venice voice Warsaw's waves wild wild horse wind wish'd woes wrath
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 58 - And the serpent writhing in her beak?' 'Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon in it; it is her natural prey. But it is odd that she does not devour it.' He smiled in a ghastly manner, and said, faintly, 'It is not yet time!' As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment, it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I felt Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!
الصفحة 25 - For time at last sets all things even — And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong.
الصفحة 23 - Twas but a day he had been caught ; And, snorting, with erected mane, And struggling fiercely, but in vain, In the full foam of wrath and dread To me the desert-born was led : They bound me on, that menial throng, Upon his back with many a thong ; Then loosed him with a sudden lash — Away !— away !— and on we dash ! — Torrents less rapid and less rash.
الصفحة 37 - The steeds rush on in plunging pride; But where are they the reins to guide? A thousand horse, and none to ride! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...
الصفحة 69 - Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime, Above the far Atlantic! — She has taught Her Esau-brethren that the haughty flag, The floating fence of Albion's feebler crag, May strike to those whose red right hands have bought Rights cheaply earn'd with blood.
الصفحة 57 - ... regarding us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away, but the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled: he spoke — I know not whether to himself or to me — but the words were only, " Tis well!" "What is well? what do you mean?" "No matter: you must bury me here this evening, and exactly "where that bird is now perched. You know the rest of my injunctions.
الصفحة 31 - And throbb'd awhile, then beat no more: The skies spun like a mighty wheel; I saw the trees like drunkards reel, And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, Which saw no farther; he who dies Can die no more than then I died. O'ertortured by that ghastly ride...
الصفحة 63 - Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls Are level with the waters, there shall be A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls, A loud lament along the sweeping sea! If I, a northern wanderer, weep for thee, What should thy sons do? — anything but weep: And yet they only murmur in their sleep. In contrast with their fathers — as the slime, The dull green ooze of the receding deep, Is with the dashing of the spring-tide foam That drives the sailor shipless to his home, Are they to those that...
الصفحة 37 - At length, while reeling on our way, Methought I heard a courser neigh, From out yon tuft of blackening firs. Is it the wind those branches stirs ? No, no! from out the forest prance A trampling troop; I see them come! In one vast squadron they advance!
الصفحة 70 - In their proud charnel of Thermopylae, Than stagnate in our marsh, — or o'er the deep Fly, and one current to the ocean add, One spirit to the souls our fathers had, One freeman more, America, to thee ! MORGANTE MAGGIORE OF PULCI.