The works, of ... lord Byron, Том 7 |
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Страница 2
... heart which has not elsewhere , or lately , been so much accustomed to the encounter of good - will as to with- stand the shock firmly , that I thus attempt to commemorate your good qualities , or rather the advantages which I have deri ...
... heart which has not elsewhere , or lately , been so much accustomed to the encounter of good - will as to with- stand the shock firmly , that I thus attempt to commemorate your good qualities , or rather the advantages which I have deri ...
Страница 9
... heart whose early flowers have died , And with a fresher growth , replenishing the void . VI . Such is the refuge of our youth and age , The first from Hope , the last from Vacancy ; And this worn feeling peoples many a page , And , may ...
... heart whose early flowers have died , And with a fresher growth , replenishing the void . VI . Such is the refuge of our youth and age , The first from Hope , the last from Vacancy ; And this worn feeling peoples many a page , And , may ...
Страница 14
... heart ; Rising like water - columns from the sea , Of joy the sojurn , and of wealth the mart ; And Otway , Ratcliff , Schiller , Shakspeare's art , Had stamp'd her image in me , and even so , Although I found her thus , we did not part ...
... heart ; Rising like water - columns from the sea , Of joy the sojurn , and of wealth the mart ; And Otway , Ratcliff , Schiller , Shakspeare's art , Had stamp'd her image in me , and even so , Although I found her thus , we did not part ...
Страница 16
... heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound- A tone of music , -summer's eve - or spring , A flower - the wind - the Ocean - which shall wound , Striking the electric chain , wherewith we are darkly bound ...
... heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound- A tone of music , -summer's eve - or spring , A flower - the wind - the Ocean - which shall wound , Striking the electric chain , wherewith we are darkly bound ...
Страница 26
... heart Reels with its fulness ; there - for ever there- Chain'd to the chariot of triumphal Art , We stand as captives , and would not depart . Away ! -there need no words , nor terms precise , The paltry jargon of the marble mart ...
... heart Reels with its fulness ; there - for ever there- Chain'd to the chariot of triumphal Art , We stand as captives , and would not depart . Away ! -there need no words , nor terms precise , The paltry jargon of the marble mart ...
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alluded amidst amongst ancient Ariosto Arquà ashes beauty blood Boccaccio brow buried bust Cæsar called Certaldo Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Chioza Cicero Classical Tour Comitium crown Dandolo dead death Dion Doge dust earth edit Egeria Emperor empire eyes fall feel Ficus Ruminalis Flaminius Florence Florentine genius Genoese gladiator glory gondoliers Gualandra hath heart heaven hills Hist honour horses hyæna ibid immortal inscription Italian Italy IVth Canto Julius Cæsar lake lightning Livy memory mind mortal mountains Muses Nardini Nemesis nymph o'er Padua palace pass Petrarch poet Prince quæ repose Roma Roman Rome round ruin Sanguinetto says seems seen shore soul Stanza statue Storia delle arti Suetonius Tasso temple temple of Romulus thee thine thou thought tomb tree triumph valley Venetians Venice Vettor Pisani villa Winkelmann wolf words writer καὶ τε τῷ
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Страница 76 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Страница 75 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Страница 7 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Страница 60 - He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes 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!
Страница 7 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
Страница 33 - 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...
Страница 8 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
Страница 75 - The armaments which thunder-strike 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.
Страница 36 - Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye!
Страница 60 - 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 ! CXLII.