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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Cantos 1 and 2, With Other Poems. Wanting Pp
George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron )
Sin vista previa disponible - 2019
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage [Cantos 1 and 2, with Other Poems. Wanting Pp
George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron )
Sin vista previa disponible - 2015
amongst ancient appear Athens bear beautiful behold beneath better blood bosom breast Castri charms Childe dark dear death doubt dread dream earth fair fall feel French gaze give Greece Greeks hand Harold hast hath hear heard heart honour hope hour Hymettus land late less live lonely look Lord lost lov'd maid mountains native never night o'er observation once pass past plain Poem present printed published rest rise rock Romaic scarce scene seen shore sigh smile song sons soon soul Spain speak Stanza sweet tear tell thee thine thing thou thought thousand translation traveller true Turks vain walls wave wild written young youth δεν εις και με να τας την το
Página 66 - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul: Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul...
Página 12 - 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 weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate. »Come hither, hither, my little page: Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billows' rage, Or tremble at the gale?
Página 21 - Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan, Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow, But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou! Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow To halls deserted, portals gaping wide ; Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide.
Página 220 - In vain my lyre would lightly breathe! The smile that sorrow fain would wear But mocks the woe that lurks beneath, Like roses o'er a sepulchre. Though gay companions o'er the bowl Dispel awhile the sense of ill: Though pleasure fires the maddening soul, The heart — the heart is lonely still!
Página 75 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Página 229 - As once I wept, if I could weep My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Página 103 - Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! Immortal, though no more ; though fallen, great! Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? Not such thy sons who whilome did await. The hopeless warriors of a willing doom. In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait — Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume, Leap from Eurota's banks, and call thee from the tomb ? LXXIV.
Página 201 - The whole distance, from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four English miles, though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across...
Página 19 - Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen. Ah, me ! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken Than those whereof such things the bard relates, Who to the awe-struck world unlock'd Elysium's gates?