Byron's Childe Harold (canto IV): Prisoner of Chillon and Other SelectionsAmerican Book Company, 1911 - 170 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 11
Page 31
... dwell ; My very chains and I grew friends , So much a long communion tends To make us what we are : -even I Regained my freedom with a sigh . 375 380 m- the emies , f 70,000 les com- historian ng with a asylum in QUESTIONS AND ...
... dwell ; My very chains and I grew friends , So much a long communion tends To make us what we are : -even I Regained my freedom with a sigh . 375 380 m- the emies , f 70,000 les com- historian ng with a asylum in QUESTIONS AND ...
Page 63
... dwell near thy hall , Along the bordering lake , 50 And when they on their father call , What answer shall she make ? " . " Enough , enough , my yeoman good , Thy grief let none gainsay ; But I , who am of lighter mood , Will laugh to ...
... dwell near thy hall , Along the bordering lake , 50 And when they on their father call , What answer shall she make ? " . " Enough , enough , my yeoman good , Thy grief let none gainsay ; But I , who am of lighter mood , Will laugh to ...
Page 67
... dwell Still unimpaired , though old , in the soul's haunted cell . 45 VI . ' 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.2 What ...
... dwell Still unimpaired , though old , in the soul's haunted cell . 45 VI . ' 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.2 What ...
Page 81
... dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And , but once kindled , quenchless evermore , Preys upon high adventure , nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core , Fatal to him who bears ...
... dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And , but once kindled , quenchless evermore , Preys upon high adventure , nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core , Fatal to him who bears ...
Page 97
... dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestined to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ; Making the sun like blood , the earth a tomb , The tomb a hell , and hell itself a murkier gloom . XXXV . Ferrara ! 2 in ...
... dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestined to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ; Making the sun like blood , the earth a tomb , The tomb a hell , and hell itself a murkier gloom . XXXV . Ferrara ! 2 in ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Bards battle of Pultowa beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio born breast breath bright brow Byron Cæsar Canto chain Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clay cloud cold Cossack courser dark dead death deemed deep died divine dost doth dread dungeon dust dwell earth Egeria eternal eyes fame feel fettered foam gaze glory grave Greece Greek hath heart heaven Hetman hope horse hour immortal Italy king lake limbs literary Lord Mazeppa mighty mind monarch mother mountain Nature's Newstead Abbey night o'er ocean once pain Perchance Petrarch poem poet poetry Prisoner of Chillon proud Roman Rome round ruin Samian wine shore sigh sire skies smile song soul spirit stanzas star steed sword tears thee thine things thou thought thousand throne tomb TOZER tree twas tyrant Ukraine Venice walls waters waves wild wind woes youth ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 155 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?
Page 74 - 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 151 - Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the invisible,— even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 151 - 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 75 - 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!
Page 84 - 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...
Page 150 - 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...
Page 137 - Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked 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, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Page 17 - 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.
Page 152 - 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.