The poetical works of lord Byron, ed. with a critical mem. by W. M. RossettiWard Lock, 1880 |
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Página 4
... thee " mend thy line and sin no more . ' For thee , translator of the tinsel song , To whom such glittering ornaments belong , " " * Coleridge's Poems , page 11 , Songs of the Pixies , i.e. , Devonshire fairies ; p . 42 , we have Lines ...
... thee " mend thy line and sin no more . ' For thee , translator of the tinsel song , To whom such glittering ornaments belong , " " * Coleridge's Poems , page 11 , Songs of the Pixies , i.e. , Devonshire fairies ; p . 42 , we have Lines ...
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... thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd- To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who gaze on thee , what language could they speak ? Ah ...
... thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd- To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who gaze on thee , what language could they speak ? Ah ...
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... thee ! whose glorious name Who knows not , knows not man's divinest lore : And now I view thee , ' tis , alas , with shame That I in feeblest accents must adore . When I recount thy worshippers of yore I tremble , and can only bend the ...
... thee ! whose glorious name Who knows not , knows not man's divinest lore : And now I view thee , ' tis , alas , with shame That I in feeblest accents must adore . When I recount thy worshippers of yore I tremble , and can only bend the ...
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... thee still , and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing , save the jest of Fame , Who woo'd thee once , thy vassal , and became The flatterer of thy fierceness , till thou wert A god unto ...
... thee still , and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing , save the jest of Fame , Who woo'd thee once , thy vassal , and became The flatterer of thy fierceness , till thou wert A god unto ...
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... thee , To the last halo of the chiefs and sages . Who glorify thy consecrated pages ; Thou wert the throne and grave ... thee not , I near thee not , -- but none Can be so wrapt in thee ; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far ...
... thee , To the last halo of the chiefs and sages . Who glorify thy consecrated pages ; Thou wert the throne and grave ... thee not , I near thee not , -- but none Can be so wrapt in thee ; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far ...
Outras edições - Ver todos
The poetical works of lord Byron, ed. with a critical mem. by W. M. Rossetti George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Visualização completa - 1881 |
The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Ed. with a Critical Mem. by W. M. Rossetti George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Prévia não disponível - 2015 |
The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Ed. with a Critical Mem. by W. M. Rossetti George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Prévia não disponível - 2015 |
Termos e frases comuns
Adah Anah art thou aught beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cæs Cain call'd Calmar coursers dare dark dead death deep Doge doth dread dream e'er earth eyes fair fame father fear feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hand hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour Iden Juan king knew Lady leave less Lioni live look look'd lord Lucifer Michel Steno mortal Myrrha ne'er never night nought o'er once PANIA pass'd passion Rome round SARDANAPALUS satraps scarce scene seem'd shore Sieg Siegendorf sigh sire slave sleep smile soul spirit stars Stral strange Suwarrow sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art thought turn'd twas twill unto voice wave whate'er wild words young youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 38 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering
Página 134 - 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.
Página 38 - No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet 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 555 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 555 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail : And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Página 403 - Phoebus sprung. Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian Muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute Have found the fame your shores refuse. Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires
Página 64 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll [ Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Página 64 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar. I love not man the less, but Nature more...
Página 64 - The armaments which thunderstrike 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 403 - Tis something, in the dearth of fame, Though link'd among a fetter'd race, To feel at least a patriot's shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face; For what is left the poet here? For Greeks a blush - for Greece a tear.