Childe Harold's pilgrimageF. A. Niccolls, 1900 |
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Page ii
... , perhaps , the most melancholy period of his not less melancholy than glorious life , that in which the wounds of domestic misery that had driven him from his native land , were - - yet green , and bleeding at the touch . This ii Preface.
... , perhaps , the most melancholy period of his not less melancholy than glorious life , that in which the wounds of domestic misery that had driven him from his native land , were - - yet green , and bleeding at the touch . This ii Preface.
Page vii
... less kind they had been more candid . Returning , therefore , to all and each my best thanks for their liber- ality , on one point alone shall I venture an observation . Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent ...
... less kind they had been more candid . Returning , therefore , to all and each my best thanks for their liber- ality , on one point alone shall I venture an observation . Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent ...
Page viii
... less refined , than those of Ovid . The " Cours d'amour , parlemens d'amour , ou de courtésie et de gentilesse " had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness . See Roland on the same subject with Sainte- Palaye . Whatever other ...
... less refined , than those of Ovid . The " Cours d'amour , parlemens d'amour , ou de courtésie et de gentilesse " had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness . See Roland on the same subject with Sainte- Palaye . Whatever other ...
Page viii
... less refined , than those of Ovid . The " Cours d'amour , parlemens d'amour , ou de courtésie et de gentilesse " had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness . See Roland on the same subject with SaintePalaye . Whatever other ...
... less refined , than those of Ovid . The " Cours d'amour , parlemens d'amour , ou de courtésie et de gentilesse " had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness . See Roland on the same subject with SaintePalaye . Whatever other ...
Page 3
... him who hailed thee , loveliest as thou wast , Such is the most my memory may desire ; Though more than Hope can claim , could Friend- ship less require ? Childe Harold's Pilgrimage CANTO THE FIRST . I. Oн , To Ianthe 3.
... him who hailed thee , loveliest as thou wast , Such is the most my memory may desire ; Though more than Hope can claim , could Friend- ship less require ? Childe Harold's Pilgrimage CANTO THE FIRST . I. Oн , To Ianthe 3.
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Common terms and phrases
Alban hill Albania Albanian Ali Pacha amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar called canto Certaldo charms Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage church Cicero clime Constantinople dark death deemed deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel Florence foes gaze glory glow gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Notes honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land less light live look Lord Byron maid mind mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once Pacha palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet rock Roman Rome ruin says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot Stanza stream Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne tomb traveller Turks valley Venetians Venice verse walls waves wild winds woes words youth
Popular passages
Page 268 - 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.
Page 193 - 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...
Page 142 - 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 251 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped 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 hailed the wretch who won.
Page 140 - 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 But hark!
Page 268 - 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 139 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered 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 looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Page 154 - The castled Crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine; And hills all rich with blossomed trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strewed a scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Page 133 - Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now.
Page 131 - 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.