Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Volume 1J. Murray, 1837 - 329 pages |
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Page 16
... light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare , And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair . " of habits and tastes too intellectual for mere vulgar debauchery , " but , assuredly , quite incapable ...
... light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare , And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair . " of habits and tastes too intellectual for mere vulgar debauchery , " but , assuredly , quite incapable ...
Page 17
... light winds blew , As glad to waft him from his native home ; And fast the white rocks faded from his view , And soon were lost in circumambient foam : And then , it may be , of his wish to roam Repented he , but in his bosom slept The ...
... light winds blew , As glad to waft him from his native home ; And fast the white rocks faded from his view , And soon were lost in circumambient foam : And then , it may be , of his wish to roam Repented he , but in his bosom slept The ...
Page 44
... light , lively tones in Lady's bower , Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power , Her fairy form , with more than female grace , Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face , Thin the ...
... light , lively tones in Lady's bower , Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power , Her fairy form , with more than female grace , Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face , Thin the ...
Page 48
... light of day . Yet we see no swellings or risings in the ground , indicating the graves of the temples . All therefore is mystery , and the Greeks may truly say , Where stood the walls of our fathers ? ' scarce their mossy tombs remain ...
... light of day . Yet we see no swellings or risings in the ground , indicating the graves of the temples . All therefore is mystery , and the Greeks may truly say , Where stood the walls of our fathers ? ' scarce their mossy tombs remain ...
Page 51
... light with the solemn , it was the intention of the poet to imitate Ariosto . But it is far easier to rise , with grace , from the level of a strain generally familiar , into an occasional short burst of pathos or splendour , than to ...
... light with the solemn , it was the intention of the poet to imitate Ariosto . But it is far easier to rise , with grace , from the level of a strain generally familiar , into an occasional short burst of pathos or splendour , than to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alban hill Albanians Ali Pacha amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar called Canto charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero clime Constantinople dark death deem'd deep dust earth Egeria fair fame feel Florence foes French gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Notes Hobhouse honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land letter lightning live Lord Byron maid mind mortal mother mountains ne'er never o'er once Pacha palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet Portrait Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruins says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot Stanza Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb Turks Venetians Venice walls waves wild wind woes wolf
Popular passages
Page 245 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Page 127 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Page 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Page 247 - 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.
Page 158 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Page 155 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Page 230 - 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. He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
Page 115 - Is THY face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Page 153 - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. t-XXXVI. It is the hush of night...
Page 208 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection • all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free...