With Byron in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Lord Byron Relating to His Life in ItalyT. F. Unwin, 1907 - 327 páginas |
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Página 8
... fair to see , Marble - jasper - and porphyry- - The church of St. Mark - which stands hard by With fretted pinnacles on high , And cupola and minaret ; More like the mosque of orient lands , Than the fanes wherein we pray , And Mary's ...
... fair to see , Marble - jasper - and porphyry- - The church of St. Mark - which stands hard by With fretted pinnacles on high , And cupola and minaret ; More like the mosque of orient lands , Than the fanes wherein we pray , And Mary's ...
Página 60
... fair Venice , have their colours caught : There are some feelings Time cannot benumb , Nor Torture shake , or mine would now be cold and dumb . XXV But my soul wanders ; I demand it back To meditate amongst decay , and stand A ruin ...
... fair Venice , have their colours caught : There are some feelings Time cannot benumb , Nor Torture shake , or mine would now be cold and dumb . XXV But my soul wanders ; I demand it back To meditate amongst decay , and stand A ruin ...
Página 60
... fair white walls , Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps A softer feeling for her fairy halls . Girt by her theatre of hills , she reaps Her corn and wine and oil , and Plenty leaps To laughing life with her redundant horn . Along ...
... fair white walls , Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps A softer feeling for her fairy halls . Girt by her theatre of hills , she reaps Her corn and wine and oil , and Plenty leaps To laughing life with her redundant horn . Along ...
Página 83
... fair ? Worthy a king's or more a Roman's bed ? --- What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear ? What daughter of her beauties was the heir ? How lived , how loved , how died she ? Was she not So honour'd and conspicuously there ...
... fair ? Worthy a king's or more a Roman's bed ? --- What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear ? What daughter of her beauties was the heir ? How lived , how loved , how died she ? Was she not So honour'd and conspicuously there ...
Página 89
... some heart Which found no mortal resting - place so fair As thine ideal breast ! whate'er thou art Or wert , -V a young Aurora of the air , The nympholepsy of some fond despair ; Or , it [ 91 ] THE YEARS 1817 , 1818 , 1819.
... some heart Which found no mortal resting - place so fair As thine ideal breast ! whate'er thou art Or wert , -V a young Aurora of the air , The nympholepsy of some fond despair ; Or , it [ 91 ] THE YEARS 1817 , 1818 , 1819.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
With Byron in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Lord Byron ... Anna Benneson McMahan,Baron George Gordon Byron Byron Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
With Byron in Italy Anna Benneson Mcmahan,George Gordon Byron,A C McClurg and Co Sin vista previa disponible - 2023 |
Términos y frases comunes
Abbot Adah Arqua bard beauty blood breast breath brow bust Byron Cain Canova Canto Childe Harold clime Column of Phocas Dante dead dear death decay deep didst Doge Don Juan dost doth dust earth English eternal eyes fame father feel Ferrara Florence forget Francesca of Rimini gallery genius gentle Giorgione glory grave Guiccioli hath heart heaven Hobhouse hour immortal Italian Italy JOHN MURRAY VENICE lady Leigh Hunt letter live look Lord Lucifer Manfred marble mind mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er ocean once palace passions Petrarch Pisa poem poet poetry published Ravenna repose Romagna Roman Rome round Samian wine scene seen Shelley shine shore soul spirits stanza stars sweet Tasso thee thine things THOMAS MOORE thou art thought Titian tomb tower tree tyrants Venetian walls waters waves woes words
Pasajes populares
Página 71 - 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...
Página 104 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, Dark-heaving, boundless, endless and sublime — The image of eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Página 79 - There is a stern round tower of other days, Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, Such as an army's baffled strength delays, Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown, The garland of eternity, where wave The green leaves over all by time o'erthrown ; — What was this tower of strength ? within its cave What treasure lay so lock'd, so hid ? — A woman's grave.
Página 104 - 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!
Página 60 - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Página 38 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Página 279 - Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae! What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah, no; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, " Let one living head, But one, arise — we come, we come!
Página 104 - Ye Elements, in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted, can ye not Accord me such a being ? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot, Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot...
Página 60 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear, Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die: Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, 18 The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
Página 96 - But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone, with nothing like to thee — Worthiest of God, the holy and the true. Since Zion's desolation, when that He Forsook his former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in his honour piled, Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty all are aisled In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.