Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Volume 1J. Murray, 1837 - 329 pages |
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Page 74
... Petrarch's , that I would ask you whether you ever read , Poi quando ' l vero sgombra Quel dolce error pur li medesmo assido , Me freddo , pietra morta in pietra viva ; In guisa d ' uom chè pensi e piange e scriva . ' " Thus rendered by ...
... Petrarch's , that I would ask you whether you ever read , Poi quando ' l vero sgombra Quel dolce error pur li medesmo assido , Me freddo , pietra morta in pietra viva ; In guisa d ' uom chè pensi e piange e scriva . ' " Thus rendered by ...
Page 199
... Petrarch , and , scarce less than they , The Bard of Prose , creative spirit ! he Of the Hundred Tales of love - where did they lay Their bones , distinguish'd from our common clay In death as life ? Are they resolved to dust , And have ...
... Petrarch , and , scarce less than they , The Bard of Prose , creative spirit ! he Of the Hundred Tales of love - where did they lay Their bones , distinguish'd from our common clay In death as life ? Are they resolved to dust , And have ...
Page 222
... Petrarch - hope of Italy - Rienzi ! last of Romans ! While the tree Of freedom's wither'd trunk puts forth a leaf , Even for thy tomb a garland let it be- The forum's champion , and the people's chief- Her new - born Numa thou - with ...
... Petrarch - hope of Italy - Rienzi ! last of Romans ! While the tree Of freedom's wither'd trunk puts forth a leaf , Even for thy tomb a garland let it be- The forum's champion , and the people's chief- Her new - born Numa thou - with ...
Page 287
... Petrarch ; and a Dissertation on an Historical Hypothesis of the Abbé de Sade . + Life of Beattie , by Sir W. Forbes , vol . ii . p . 106 . Mr. Gibbon called his Memoirs " a labour of love " ( see Decline and Fall , chap . lxx . note 1 ...
... Petrarch ; and a Dissertation on an Historical Hypothesis of the Abbé de Sade . + Life of Beattie , by Sir W. Forbes , vol . ii . p . 106 . Mr. Gibbon called his Memoirs " a labour of love " ( see Decline and Fall , chap . lxx . note 1 ...
Page 288
... Petrarch , now in the Ambrosian library . If these proofs were both incontestable , the poetry was written , the medal composed , cast , and deposited within the space of twelve hours and these deliberate duties were performed round the ...
... Petrarch , now in the Ambrosian library . If these proofs were both incontestable , the poetry was written , the medal composed , cast , and deposited within the space of twelve hours and these deliberate duties were performed round the ...
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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 Cadiz Cæsar called Canto charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero 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 Venetians Venice walls waves wild wind woes wolf words
Popular passages
Page 247 - 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 129 - 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 126 - 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 249 - 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 160 - 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 157 - 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 232 - 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 117 - 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 155 - 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 210 - 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...