The Complete Poetical Works of Lord ByronHoughton, Mifflin, 1905 - 1055 pagina's |
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Pagina 8
... arms had lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conqu'ring , not the con- quer'd host , Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusita- nia's coast ! XXVI And ever since that martial synod met , Britannia sickens ...
... arms had lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conqu'ring , not the con- quer'd host , Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusita- nia's coast ! XXVI And ever since that martial synod met , Britannia sickens ...
Pagina 10
... arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant War - hounds rouse them from their lair , And gnash their fangs , loud yelling for the prey ! All join the chase , but few the triumph share ; The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away ...
... arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant War - hounds rouse them from their lair , And gnash their fangs , loud yelling for the prey ! All join the chase , but few the triumph share ; The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away ...
Pagina 13
... arms they emulate her sons , And in the horrid phalanx dare to move , " Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove , Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate : 590 In softness as in firmness far above Remoter females , famed for ...
... arms they emulate her sons , And in the horrid phalanx dare to move , " Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove , Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate : 590 In softness as in firmness far above Remoter females , famed for ...
Pagina 15
... centre , eager to invade 740 The lord of lowing herds ; but not before The ground with cautious tread is trav- ersed o'er , Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed : His arms a dart , he fights aloof , nor CANTO THE FIRST 15.
... centre , eager to invade 740 The lord of lowing herds ; but not before The ground with cautious tread is trav- ersed o'er , Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed : His arms a dart , he fights aloof , nor CANTO THE FIRST 15.
Pagina 16
... arms assail , Vain are his weapons , vainer is his force . One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse ; Another , hideous sight ! unseam'd ap- pears , 770 His gory chest unveils life's panting source ; Though death - struck , still ...
... arms assail , Vain are his weapons , vainer is his force . One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse ; Another , hideous sight ! unseam'd ap- pears , 770 His gory chest unveils life's panting source ; Though death - struck , still ...
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Overige edities - Alles bekijken
The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron George Gordon Byron Baron Byron,Paul Elmer More Volledige weergave - 1905 |
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Adah Anah art thou aught bear beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Byron Cæs Cain Childe Harold dare dark dead dear death deeds deep Doge dost dread dream earth eternal fair fame fate father fear feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hand hath hear heart heaven honour hope hour Iden Juan king Lady less Lioni live look look'd lord Lucifer Marino Faliero Michel Steno Morgante mortal Myrrha ne'er never night o'er once PANIA pass'd passion poem SARDANAPALUS satraps scarce scene seem'd shore Sieg Siegendorf sigh sire slave sleep smile song soul spirit Stral strange sweet sword tears thee thine things Thomas Moore thou art thou hast thought turn'd Venice voice wave weep words youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 79 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, •To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Pagina 74 - He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes 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...
Pagina 80 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Pagina 80 - 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.
Pagina 39 - The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard too have her Saxon foes: — How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills...
Pagina 398 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom— Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar; for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement...
Pagina 400 - I took that hand which lay so still, Alas ! my own was full as chill ; I had not strength to stir, or strive, But felt that I was still alive — A frantic feeling, when we know That what we love shall ne'er be so.
Pagina 66 - Oh, 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.
Pagina 55 - Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers: And such she was;— her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
Pagina 41 - But Quiet to quick bosoms is a Hell, And there hath been thy bane ; there is a fire And motion of the Soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.