Byrons Beziehungen zu seinen Lehrern und Schulkameraden und deren Einfluss auf sein literarische TätigkeitB. Zechel, 1903 - 104 страници |
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Страница 16
... ( Zeilen 253—4 ) sagt Byron : - Oft have we drained the font of ancient lore , Though drinking deeply , thirsting still the more was keinen tiefen Hass gegen die alten Sprachen verrät . Nach Elze ) wurde ihm der Horaz durch das ...
... ( Zeilen 253—4 ) sagt Byron : - Oft have we drained the font of ancient lore , Though drinking deeply , thirsting still the more was keinen tiefen Hass gegen die alten Sprachen verrät . Nach Elze ) wurde ihm der Horaz durch das ...
Страница 18
... Zeilen zu lesen bekam1 ) , und er hasste die lateinischen Verse , die er ,, Nonsense Verses " nannte . Wie wertlos diese Verse waren , konnte Byron leicht ersehen , und er verlieh seiner Ungeduld zweifellos lauten Ausdruck . Doch ...
... Zeilen zu lesen bekam1 ) , und er hasste die lateinischen Verse , die er ,, Nonsense Verses " nannte . Wie wertlos diese Verse waren , konnte Byron leicht ersehen , und er verlieh seiner Ungeduld zweifellos lauten Ausdruck . Doch ...
Страница 24
... Zeilen 175-178 in Childish Recollections " schliessen . 22 „ Just in this place the mouldering walls they scaled Nor bolts nor bars against their strength availed . “ ( Zeilen 175 u . 176. ) Diese Stelle bezieht sich offenbar auf die ...
... Zeilen 175-178 in Childish Recollections " schliessen . 22 „ Just in this place the mouldering walls they scaled Nor bolts nor bars against their strength availed . “ ( Zeilen 175 u . 176. ) Diese Stelle bezieht sich offenbar auf die ...
Страница 25
... Zeilen " ) bemerken wir , mit welchem Hohn er Butlers Unterricht ver- folgte , obgleich ihm die Erinnerungen eines Gelehrten , der selbst Pompeji gesehen hatte , hätten interessant sein sollen . In der bekannten Anekdote von dem ...
... Zeilen " ) bemerken wir , mit welchem Hohn er Butlers Unterricht ver- folgte , obgleich ihm die Erinnerungen eines Gelehrten , der selbst Pompeji gesehen hatte , hätten interessant sein sollen . In der bekannten Anekdote von dem ...
Страница 47
... Zeilen ersehen : 4 ) Thy softer soul was formed for love alone , To ruder passions and to hate unknown ; 1 ) Moore : Life I , 68. 2 ) Moore : Life I , 62. 3 ) Moore : Life I , 63 . * ) Murray : Poems I , 99 unten . Thy mind , in union ...
... Zeilen ersehen : 4 ) Thy softer soul was formed for love alone , To ruder passions and to hate unknown ; 1 ) Moore : Life I , 68. 2 ) Moore : Life I , 62. 3 ) Moore : Life I , 63 . * ) Murray : Poems I , 99 unten . Thy mind , in union ...
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Aberdeen Ackermann April Ausdruck Bankes Bathe bekanntlich Bemerkung Besuch Beweis blieb Boutell Brief Butler Byron schrieb Byron spricht Byron's Byrons Beziehungen Change of Masters Chaworth Childe Harold Childish Recollections Clare Claridge Coleridge Conversations Cricket Dallas dear death Delawarr Dorset Drury's Elze England englischen erst Freunde Freundschaft friend friendship Gedicht George Russell geschrieben Glennie Gordon Hargreaves Hanson Harness Harrow Henry Drury Herzog Herzog von Devonshire Hours of Idleness Hunt Jahre Jeffreason John jünger als Byron Kameraden Klasse know konnte Lehrer Letters lich Life London Long Lord Byron Lord Clare loved Mary Chaworth Medwin Monitor Moore Murray Mutter name never Newstead Pairie Peel Peerage of England Poems on Various Pomposus Probus Procter read Robert Peel sagt Byron School schoolboy schoolfellows schreibt schrieb Byron Schule Schulfreunde Schulkameraden Schulzeit Sohn Strophe Tattersall Taws tears Various Occasions Verse Versöhnung Wappen Wildman Wingfield Works of Lord Worte years Zeilen
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Страница 92 - Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story ; The days of our youth are the days of our glory ; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
Страница 92 - ... This meeting annihilated for a moment all the years between the present time and the days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling, like rising from the grave, to me. Clare too was much agitated — more in appearance than was myself; for I could feel his heart beat to his fingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pulse of my own which made me think so.
Страница 87 - When least we deem of such, calls up to view The spectres whom no exorcism can bind, The cold — the changed — perchance the dead — anew, * . The mourn'd, the loved, the lost— too many!— yet how few!
Страница 83 - THERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay ; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.
Страница 84 - Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished scene; As springs, in deserts found, seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me.
Страница 84 - Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others...
Страница 85 - I know not what hath sear'd mine eye: The tears refuse to start; But every drop its lids deny Falls dreary on my heart. Yes — deep and heavy, one by one, They sink, and turn to care; As cavern'd waters wear the stone, Yet, dropping, harden there.
Страница 94 - I feel any thing that deserves the name. All my others are men-of-the-world friendships. I did not even feel it for Shelley, however much I admired and esteemed him, so that you see not even vanity could bribe me into it, for, of all men, Shelley thought highest of my...
Страница 93 - There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee ; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.
Страница 49 - As fills a father's eyes with light; And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Upon his heart, that he at last Must needs express his love's excess With words of unmeant bitterness. Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together Thoughts so all unlike each other; To mutter and mock a broken charm, To dally with wrong that does no harm. Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty At each wild word to feel within A sweet recoil of love and pity.