Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntH. C. Baird, 1856 - 339 pages |
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Page 4
... canto , was suggested by " Lord Maxwell's Good Night , " in the Border Minstrelsy , edited by Mr. Scott . ' With the different poems which have been pub- lished on Spanish subjects , there may be found some slight coincidence in the ...
... canto , was suggested by " Lord Maxwell's Good Night , " in the Border Minstrelsy , edited by Mr. Scott . ' With the different poems which have been pub- lished on Spanish subjects , there may be found some slight coincidence in the ...
Page 11
A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Thomas Moore. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . 1 .
A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Thomas Moore. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . 1 .
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A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Thomas Moore. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . 1 . Оn , thou ! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth , Muse ! form'd or fabled at the minstrel's will ! Since shamed full oft by later ...
A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Thomas Moore. CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE . CANTO THE FIRST . 1 . Оn , thou ! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth , Muse ! form'd or fabled at the minstrel's will ! Since shamed full oft by later ...
Page 14
... him more lone than eremite's sad 1 cell . [ " " He cheer'd the bad and did the good affright ; · With concubines , " & c . - MS . ] [ Childe Buron . " - MS . ] V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run , 14 CANTO 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... him more lone than eremite's sad 1 cell . [ " " He cheer'd the bad and did the good affright ; · With concubines , " & c . - MS . ] [ Childe Buron . " - MS . ] V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run , 14 CANTO 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
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... from appre- hensions of famine and banditti in the first , and drowning in the second instance . His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning , or וד 7 . ' My spouse and boys dwell near thy 20 CANTO L. CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... from appre- hensions of famine and banditti in the first , and drowning in the second instance . His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning , or וד 7 . ' My spouse and boys dwell near thy 20 CANTO L. CHILDE HAROLD'S.
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Common terms and phrases
Alban hill Albanians amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath better blood Boccaccio bosom breast Cæsar Calf antique called CANTO charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Cloth extra Constantinople dark death deem'd deep earth edition Egeria fair fame feel foes French gaze gilt gondoliers Greece Greek Half calf hand hath heart heaven hills Historical Notes honour hope hour Illustrated immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land light Lord Byron maid mind moroc mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruins says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot stanza Tasso tears temple thee thine thing thou thought tion tomb traveller Turk Venetians Venice volume walls waves wild woes wolf
Popular passages
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 127 - 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 186 - 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...
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 140 - 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 blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Page 129 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms - the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Page 178 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear: Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
Page 109 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
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 156 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven, If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty, and a mystery, and create G In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.