The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 1Carey, 1843 |
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Página 17
... blood beneath the assassin's knife , Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout this purple land , where law secures not life . ( 1 ) XXII . On sloping mounds , or in the vale ...
... blood beneath the assassin's knife , Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout this purple land , where law secures not life . ( 1 ) XXII . On sloping mounds , or in the vale ...
Página 19
... blood which she hath spilt , And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt . XXX . O'er vales that teem with fruits , romantic hills , ( Oh , that such hills upheld a freeborn race ! ) Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills ...
... blood which she hath spilt , And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt . XXX . O'er vales that teem with fruits , romantic hills , ( Oh , that such hills upheld a freeborn race ! ) Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills ...
Página 22
... blood - red tresses deep'ning in the sun , With death - shot glowing in his fiery hands , And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Restless it rolls , now fix'd , and now anon Flashing afar , and at his iron feet - Destruction cowers ...
... blood - red tresses deep'ning in the sun , With death - shot glowing in his fiery hands , And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Restless it rolls , now fix'd , and now anon Flashing afar , and at his iron feet - Destruction cowers ...
Página 29
... blood is mantling , who can ' scape The fascination of thy magic gaze ? A Cherub - hydra round us dost thou gape , And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape . LXVI . - When Paphos fell by time- accursed Time ! The Queen who ...
... blood is mantling , who can ' scape The fascination of thy magic gaze ? A Cherub - hydra round us dost thou gape , And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape . LXVI . - When Paphos fell by time- accursed Time ! The Queen who ...
Página 32
... blood betimes , his heart delights In vengeance gloating on another's pain . What private feuds the troubled village stain ! Though now one phalanx'd host should meet the foe , Enough , alas ! in humble homes remain , To meditate ...
... blood betimes , his heart delights In vengeance gloating on another's pain . What private feuds the troubled village stain ! Though now one phalanx'd host should meet the foe , Enough , alas ! in humble homes remain , To meditate ...
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Palavras e frases frequentes
Albanian Ali Pacha arms Athens beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Canto cheek Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE dare dark dead death deeds deep dread earth Egeria fair fame fate fear feel fix'd foes gaze Giaour glance gondoliers grave Greece Greek hand hate hath heard heart heaven hope hour Julius Cæsar land Lara Lara's less light lips live lonely look mountains ne'er never night o'er once Pacha Parisina pass'd perchance Petrarch pride Romaic Roman round scarce scene seem'd seen shine shore sigh slave smile song soul Stanza steed stern tale tears thee thine things thou thought tomb turn'd Venice voice walls waves Whate'er wild wind words youth Zuleika δὲν εἶναι εἰς ἐν καὶ μὲ νὰ τὰ τὴν τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν
Passagens conhecidas
Página 174 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Página 101 - But hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening roar!
Página 137 - 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 113 - Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.
Página 155 - Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady...
Página 472 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watch'd 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 learn'd to dwell — My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are : — even I Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.
Página 101 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance; let joy be unconfined ! No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet...
Página 186 - 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 46 - midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!
Página 303 - Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife, Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life ! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away...