Childe Harold's pilgrimage. Illustr. ed |
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Page 11
... look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be first beheld , forgotten last : My days once number'd , should this homage past Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre Of him who hail'd thee , loveliest as thou ...
... look shall cast On Harold's page , Ianthe's here enshrined Shall thus be first beheld , forgotten last : My days once number'd , should this homage past Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre Of him who hail'd thee , loveliest as thou ...
Page 23
... look so pale ? Or dost thou dread a French foeman ? Or shiver at the gale ? " - " Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ? Sir Childe , I'm not so weak ; But thinking on an absent wife Will blanch a faithful cheek . 7 . " My spouse and boys ...
... look so pale ? Or dost thou dread a French foeman ? Or shiver at the gale ? " - " Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ? Sir Childe , I'm not so weak ; But thinking on an absent wife Will blanch a faithful cheek . 7 . " My spouse and boys ...
Page 36
... look , That peaceful still ' twixt bitterest foemen flow ; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke : Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know " Twixt him and Lusian slave , the lowest of the low . XXXIV . But ere the mingling ...
... look , That peaceful still ' twixt bitterest foemen flow ; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke : Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know " Twixt him and Lusian slave , the lowest of the low . XXXIV . But ere the mingling ...
Page 50
... look on Thee ! LXII . Happier in this than mightiest bards have been , Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot , Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene , Which others rave of , though they know it not ? Though here no more ...
... look on Thee ! LXII . Happier in this than mightiest bards have been , Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot , Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene , Which others rave of , though they know it not ? Though here no more ...
Page 62
... look beyond the tomb , But cannot hope for rest before . 6 . What Exile from himself can flee ? To zones though more and more remote , Still , still pursues , where'er I be , The blight of life - the demon Thought . 7 . Yet others rapt ...
... look beyond the tomb , But cannot hope for rest before . 6 . What Exile from himself can flee ? To zones though more and more remote , Still , still pursues , where'er I be , The blight of life - the demon Thought . 7 . Yet others rapt ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albanian Ali Pacha Arqua Athens aught beauty behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath brow caloyer CANTO charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Clarens clime clouds dare dark deem'd deep desolate didst doth dread dust dwell earth earth art Egeria Epirus eternal fair fame fate feel foes gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Illustrations honour hope hour hyæna Idlesse immortal Italy lake land less light live lone look Lord Byron mighty mind mortal mountains Nature's ne'er never o'er once pass pass'd passion plain poem Pouqueville proud Rhine roar rock Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene shore shrine sigh skies slave smile song soul spirit spot star stern stream sweet tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tower tyrants Venice walls waves wild wind woes youth
Popular passages
Page 160 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and' far delight,— A portion of the tempest and of thee...
Page 269 - 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 271 - 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.
Page 162 - 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 125 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise...
Page 269 - 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, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
Page 249 - 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 157 - He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 124 - 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.
Page 195 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night; Sunset divides the sky with her; a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be, — Melted to one vast Iris of the West, — Where the Day joins the past Eternity, While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest!