The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimage |
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الصفحة 39
To fly from , need not be to hate , mankind ; All are not fit with them to stir and toil ,
Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain , lest it overboil In the hot
throng , where we become the spoil Of our infection , till too late and long We ...
To fly from , need not be to hate , mankind ; All are not fit with them to stir and toil ,
Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain , lest it overboil In the hot
throng , where we become the spoil Of our infection , till too late and long We ...
الصفحة 76
Had I not filed my mind , which thus itself subdued . Stanza cxiii . line last . If it be
thus , “ For Banquo ' s issue have I filed my mind . ” Macbeth . 25 . O ' er others '
griefs that some sincerely grieve . Stanza cxiv . line 7 . It is said by Rochefoucault
...
Had I not filed my mind , which thus itself subdued . Stanza cxiii . line last . If it be
thus , “ For Banquo ' s issue have I filed my mind . ” Macbeth . 25 . O ' er others '
griefs that some sincerely grieve . Stanza cxiv . line 7 . It is said by Rochefoucault
...
الصفحة 125
LXXVI . Aught that recals the daily drug which turn ' d My sickening memory ; and
, though Time hath taught My mind to meditate what then it learn ' d , Yet such the
fix ' d inveteracy wrought By the impatience of my early thought , That , with the ...
LXXVI . Aught that recals the daily drug which turn ' d My sickening memory ; and
, though Time hath taught My mind to meditate what then it learn ' d , Yet such the
fix ' d inveteracy wrought By the impatience of my early thought , That , with the ...
الصفحة 147
... thy form , as it should be ; The mind hath made thee , as it peopled heaven ,
Even with its own desiring phantasy , And to a thought such shape and image
given , As haunts the unquench ' d soul - parch ' d - weariedwrung — and riven .
... thy form , as it should be ; The mind hath made thee , as it peopled heaven ,
Even with its own desiring phantasy , And to a thought such shape and image
given , As haunts the unquench ' d soul - parch ' d - weariedwrung — and riven .
الصفحة 148
Of its own beauty is the mind diseased , And fevers into false creation : — where ,
Where are the forms the sculptor ' s soul hath seized ? In him alone . Can Nature
show so fair ? Where are the charms and virtues which we dare Conceive in ...
Of its own beauty is the mind diseased , And fevers into false creation : — where ,
Where are the forms the sculptor ' s soul hath seized ? In him alone . Can Nature
show so fair ? Where are the charms and virtues which we dare Conceive in ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
amongst ancient appears bear beauty beneath blood Boccaccio breast breath called Canto changed Childe church criticism dark dead death deep dust earth edit empire eyes fair fall fame feeling former glory hand hath heart heaven hills honour hope hour human immortal Italian Italy lake least leaves less light live look memory mind mortal mountains Nature never o'er object once pass passion perhaps Petrarch plain poet present raised rise Roman Rome round ruin says scene seems seen shore side soul spirit spring stand Stanza star statue stream tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller tree turn valley Venetians Venice voice walls waters waves whole wind wolf writer young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 179 - 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 87 - 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...
الصفحة 14 - 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 15 - 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 Blushed 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...
الصفحة 17 - The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms — the day Battle's magnificently stern array ! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent...
الصفحة 31 - 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 157 - 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 157 - 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!
الصفحة 41 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
الصفحة 62 - I have not loved the world, nor the world me, But let us part fair foes; I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things, hopes which will not deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing; I would also deem O'er others...
معلومات المراجع
| العنوان | The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimage المجلد 2 من The Works of Lord Byron, George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| المؤلف | George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| الناشر | John Murray, 1821 |
| أصلي من | جامعة أوكسفورد |
| الكتب ذات التنسيق الرقمي | 24 أيلول (سبتمبر) 2007 |
| تصدير الاقتباس | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |