Childe Harold, ed. by H.F. TozerClarendon Press, 1885 - 336 páginas |
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Página 9
... young poet , devoured by spleen , embittered by disappointed love and by the reception accorded to his first attempt at poetry , and dis- gusted with a licentious life , which now had begun to pall upon him , left England for a ...
... young poet , devoured by spleen , embittered by disappointed love and by the reception accorded to his first attempt at poetry , and dis- gusted with a licentious life , which now had begun to pall upon him , left England for a ...
Página 24
... young . It is also full of noble sentiments , and of enthusiasm for what is great and good , while its misanthropy , despondency , and scepticism are not of such a nature as to take root in a healthy mind . Nor in this poem is ...
... young . It is also full of noble sentiments , and of enthusiasm for what is great and good , while its misanthropy , despondency , and scepticism are not of such a nature as to take root in a healthy mind . Nor in this poem is ...
Página 53
... Young Peri of the West ! - ' t is well for me My years already doubly number thine ; My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee , And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; Happy , I ne'er shall see them in decline ; Happier , that ...
... Young Peri of the West ! - ' t is well for me My years already doubly number thine ; My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee , And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; Happy , I ne'er shall see them in decline ; Happier , that ...
Página 54
... young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse entwined ; And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be ...
... young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse entwined ; And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be ...
Página 68
... young - eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds ; Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals , Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls . 47. Not so the rustic - with his trembling mate 68 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... young - eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds ; Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals , Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls . 47. Not so the rustic - with his trembling mate 68 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
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Términos y frases comunes
Acarnania Albania alliteration Athens aught beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Byron Canto charms Childe Harold clouds contrast dark death deem'd deep desolate dome doth dust dwell E. A. FREEMAN earth Epirus epithet Essay on Style expression Extra fcap Faery Queene fair fame feeling foll gaze Giaour Glory Greece Greek hand hath heart heaven hope idlesse immortal lake land light lonely Lord Lord Byron M.A. Extra fcap meaning Mesolonghi metaphor mind mortal mountains nature ne'er night o'er once pass'd passage passion Petrarch Pindus plain poem poet poetical poetry proud reference Rhine rock Roman Rome ruin scene shore shrine sigh smile song soul Spain spirit stanza star stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought throne tomb Venice verse W. W. SKEAT walls waters waves wild wind woes word youth
Pasajes populares
Página 43 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms — the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Página 312 - Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
Página 188 - 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 114 - 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...
Página 188 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Página 333 - You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!
Página 132 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder!
Página 114 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — »The foe! They come! they come!« And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering...
Página 178 - 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.
Página 178 - 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!