The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Prisoner of Chillon. Manfred. Lament of Tasso, &cJohn Murray, 1818 |
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Страница 6
... painful to these eyes Which have not seen the sun so rise For years I cannot count them o'er , I lost their long and heavy score , When my last brother droop'd and died , And I lay living by his side . III . They chain'd us each to a ...
... painful to these eyes Which have not seen the sun so rise For years I cannot count them o'er , I lost their long and heavy score , When my last brother droop'd and died , And I lay living by his side . III . They chain'd us each to a ...
Страница 31
... pain - it shall not be its slave . There is many a pang to pursue me : They may crush , but they shall not contemn- They may torture , but shall not subdue me- ' Tis of thee that I think - not of them . IV . Though human , thou didst ...
... pain - it shall not be its slave . There is many a pang to pursue me : They may crush , but they shall not contemn- They may torture , but shall not subdue me- ' Tis of thee that I think - not of them . IV . Though human , thou didst ...
Страница 44
... pain ; 10 20 They make us what we were not - what they will , And shake us with the vision that's gone by , The dread of vanish'd shadows - Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ? What are they ? Creations of the mind ? -The mind can ...
... pain ; 10 20 They make us what we were not - what they will , And shake us with the vision that's gone by , The dread of vanish'd shadows - Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ? What are they ? Creations of the mind ? -The mind can ...
Страница 54
... mark For blight and desolation , compass'd round With Hatred and Contention ; Pain was mix'd In all which was served up to him , until Like to the Pontic monarch of old days , 180 190 He fed on poisons , and they had no power 54 THE DREAM .
... mark For blight and desolation , compass'd round With Hatred and Contention ; Pain was mix'd In all which was served up to him , until Like to the Pontic monarch of old days , 180 190 He fed on poisons , and they had no power 54 THE DREAM .
Страница 56
... ? A silent suffering , and intense ; The rock , the vulture , and the chain , All that the proud can feel of pain , The agony they do not show , The suffocating sense of woe , 1 Which speaks but in its loneliness , And then is Prometheus.
... ? A silent suffering , and intense ; The rock , the vulture , and the chain , All that the proud can feel of pain , The agony they do not show , The suffocating sense of woe , 1 Which speaks but in its loneliness , And then is Prometheus.
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Често срещани думи и фрази
ABBOT Alps answer Arimanes ASTARTE beautiful BEN JONSON beneath bird blood Bonnivard breath brow Cantos castle chain CHAMOIS HUNTER change came o'er clay clouds cold curse darkness death despair destiny doth dread dream dungeon dwell earth Edition eternal Exit MANFRED eyes fatal fear feel Ferrara fetters Gadara Geneve grave grief hath heart heaven her's HERMAN hour immortal LAMENT OF TASSO light live look LORD LORD BYRON MANUEL mind mix'd mortal mountain NEMESIS night nivard o'er the spirit ocean Pausanias pause perish'd Poem PRISONER OF CHILLON qu'il rise SCENE shadow slumber smile solitude soul speak star stood strange sunbow's tears thee thine things THOMAS CAMPBELL thou art thou didst thou dost thoughts thyself torrent torture twas twere Twill voice walls WALTER SCOTT wandering wave WILLIAM GIFFORD wind WITCH words wreck wretched ΜΑΝ Аввот
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Страница 21 - For he would never thus have flown, And left me twice so doubly lone, — Lone — as the corse within its shroud, Lone — as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay.
Страница 2 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Страница 15 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender, kind, And grieved for those he left behind ; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray...
Страница 6 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain...
Страница 85 - Though thy slumber may be deep Yet thy spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
Страница 15 - ... as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray — An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Страница 27 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play — And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.
Страница 52 - That in the antique oratory shook His bosom in its solitude; and then — As in that hour — a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced — and then it faded as it came...
Страница 30 - Though the day of my destiny's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find ; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to share it with me, And the love which my spirit hath painted It never hath found but in thee.
Страница 50 - Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his Soul drank their sunbeams: he was girt With strange and dusky aspects; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer; There was a mass of many images Crowded like waves upon me...