Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntJ. Murray, 1853 - 311 頁 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 75 筆
第 xvi 頁
... hours decreed . Oh let that eye , which , wild as the Gazelle's , + Now brightly bold or beautifully shy , Wins as it wanders , dazzles where it dwells , Glance o'er this page , nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might ...
... hours decreed . Oh let that eye , which , wild as the Gazelle's , + Now brightly bold or beautifully shy , Wins as it wanders , dazzles where it dwells , Glance o'er this page , nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might ...
第 7 頁
... , And shrieks the wild sea - mew . Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! A few short hours and he will rise To give Canto I. ) 7 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... , And shrieks the wild sea - mew . Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! A few short hours and he will rise To give Canto I. ) 7 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
第 6 頁
... hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him - not his lemans dear- But pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare ...
... hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him - not his lemans dear- But pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare ...
第 7 頁
... shrieks the wild sea - mew . Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! 2 . A few short hours and he will rise Canto I. ] 7 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... shrieks the wild sea - mew . Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! 2 . A few short hours and he will rise Canto I. ] 7 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
第 8 頁
A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. 2 . A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies , But not my mother earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild ...
A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. 2 . A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies , But not my mother earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild ...
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常見字詞
Albanians Ali Pacha amidst amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cadiz Cæsar called CANTO charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Classical Tour dark death deem'd deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fall fame feel Florence foes French gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land line 9 live Lord Byron maid mind mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome round ruins Sanguinetto says scene seems seen shine shore sigh slave smile song soul Spain spirit spot Stanza Storia Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller triumph Venetians Venice walls waves wild woes words youth
熱門章節
第 224 頁 - 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.
第 143 頁 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and' far delight,— A portion of the tempest and of thee...
第 166 頁 - Which ties thee to thy tyrants ; and thy lot Is shameful to the nations, — most of all, Albion ! to thee : the Ocean queen should not Abandon Ocean's children ; in the fall Of Venice think of thine, despite thy watery wall. I loved her from my boyhood — she to me Was as a fairy city of the heart...
第 110 頁 - Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine : Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong...
第 136 頁 - The life she lived in; but the judge was just, And then she died on him she could not save. Their tomb was simple, and without a bust, And held within their urn one mind, one heart, one dust.
第 194 頁 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios...
第 223 頁 - 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.
第 125 頁 - 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.
第 192 頁 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss. And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set...
第 137 頁 - When elements to elements conform, And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm? The bodiless thought? the Spirit of each spot? Of which, even now, I share at times the immortal lot?