Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. Campe's ed |
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Page 186
On gaining the shore at St . Gingo , I found that the wind had been sufficiently
strong to blow down some fine old chestnut trees on the lower part of the
mountains , On the opposite height of Clarens is a chatean . The hills are covered
with ...
On gaining the shore at St . Gingo , I found that the wind had been sufficiently
strong to blow down some fine old chestnut trees on the lower part of the
mountains , On the opposite height of Clarens is a chatean . The hills are covered
with ...
Page 218
The loudest still the tempest leaves behind : Thy tree hath lost its blossoms , and
the rind , Chopp ' d by the axe , looks rough and little worth , But the sap lasts , - -
and still the seed we find Sown deep , even in the bosom of the North : So shall ...
The loudest still the tempest leaves behind : Thy tree hath lost its blossoms , and
the rind , Chopp ' d by the axe , looks rough and little worth , But the sap lasts , - -
and still the seed we find Sown deep , even in the bosom of the North : So shall ...
Page 259
Tannen is the plural of tanne , a species of fir peculiar to the Alps , which only
thrives in very rocky parts , where scarcely soil sufficient for its nourishment can
be found . On these spots it grows to a greater height than any other mountain
tree .
Tannen is the plural of tanne , a species of fir peculiar to the Alps , which only
thrives in very rocky parts , where scarcely soil sufficient for its nourishment can
be found . On these spots it grows to a greater height than any other mountain
tree .
Page 308
11 . convicts Pomponins Laetus crassi erroris , in putting the Ruminal fig tree at
the church of Saint Theodore : bat as Livy says the wolf was at the Ficus
Ruminalis , and Dionysins at the temple of Romulus , he is obliged ( cap . iv . ) to
owu that ...
11 . convicts Pomponins Laetus crassi erroris , in putting the Ruminal fig tree at
the church of Saint Theodore : bat as Livy says the wolf was at the Ficus
Ruminalis , and Dionysins at the temple of Romulus , he is obliged ( cap . iv . ) to
owu that ...
Page 330
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) in the ode 1 ) . The truth is , that the pine is
now , as it was in the days of Virgil , a garden tree , and it was not all likely to be
found in the craggy acclivities of the valley of Rustica . Horace pro . bably had
one ...
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) in the ode 1 ) . The truth is , that the pine is
now , as it was in the days of Virgil , a garden tree , and it was not all likely to be
found in the craggy acclivities of the valley of Rustica . Horace pro . bably had
one ...
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a Romaunt. Campe's Ed George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
amongst ancient appear bear beauty beneath better blood breast breath called changed Childe church dark death deep dust earth edit fair fall fame feel foes gaze give Greek hand Harold hath heart Heaven hills honour hope hour Italy lake land late least leave less light live look Lord lost memory mind mortal mountains Nature never night o'er observed once pass perhaps plain present rise rock Roman Rome round scene seems seen shore song soul spirit stands Stanza statue tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller tree true turn Venice walls waters waves whole wild winds woes young δεν εις και την το
Popular passages
Page 165 - 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 224 - 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 160 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion?
Page 163 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. 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...
Page 225 - Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd 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, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— All this rush'd with his blood— Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Page 151 - Away with these ! true Wisdom's world will be Within its own creation, or in thine, Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee, Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
Page 47 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude.
Page 143 - And human frailties, were forgotten quite : Could he have kept his spirit to that flight He had been happy ; but this clay will sink Its spark immortal, envying it the light To which it mounts, as if to break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.
Page 194 - gainst the Alpine shocks Of eddying storms ; yet springs the trunk, and mocks The howling tempest, till its height and frame Are worthy of the mountains from whose blocks Of bleak, gray granite into life it came, And grew a giant tree ; — the mind may grow the same.
Page 151 - Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die; Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste With its own flickering, or a sword laid by, Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.
Bibliographic information
| Title | Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. Campe's ed |
| Author | George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) |
| Published | 1831 |
| Original from | Oxford University |
| Digitized | 25 Sep 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |