The works, of ... lord Byron, Volume 7 |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 39
Página 14
... thought , And meditation chasten'd down , enough : * And more , it may be , than I hoped or sought ; And of the happiest moments which were wrought Within the web of my existence , some From thee , fair VENICE ! have their colours ...
... thought , And meditation chasten'd down , enough : * And more , it may be , than I hoped or sought ; And of the happiest moments which were wrought Within the web of my existence , some From thee , fair VENICE ! have their colours ...
Página 20
... thoughts , and seek their prey In melancholy bosoms , such as were Of moody texture from their earliest day ; And loved to dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestin'd to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ...
... thoughts , and seek their prey In melancholy bosoms , such as were Of moody texture from their earliest day ; And loved to dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestin'd to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ...
Página 30
... thoughts with Nature rather in the fields , Than Art in galleries : though a work divine Calls for my spirit's homage , yet it yields Less than it feels , because the weapon which it wields LXII . Is of another temper , and I , roam By ...
... thoughts with Nature rather in the fields , Than Art in galleries : though a work divine Calls for my spirit's homage , yet it yields Less than it feels , because the weapon which it wields LXII . Is of another temper , and I , roam By ...
Página 36
... thought , That , with the freshness wearing out before My mind could relish what it might have sought , If free to choose , I cannot now restore Its health ; but what it then detested , still abhor . LXXVII Then farewell , Horace , whom ...
... thought , That , with the freshness wearing out before My mind could relish what it might have sought , If free to choose , I cannot now restore Its health ; but what it then detested , still abhor . LXXVII Then farewell , Horace , whom ...
Página 42
... thoughts be crimes , and earth have too much light . XCIV . And thus they plod in sluggish misery , Rotting from sire to son , and age to age , Proud of their trampled nature , and so die , Bequeathing their hereditary rage To the new ...
... thoughts be crimes , and earth have too much light . XCIV . And thus they plod in sluggish misery , Rotting from sire to son , and age to age , Proud of their trampled nature , and so die , Bequeathing their hereditary rage To the new ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The works of ... lord Byron, Volume 7 George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Visualização integral - 1824 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
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
Passagens conhecidas
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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!
Página 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...
Página 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...
Página 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...
Página 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.
Página 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!
Página 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.