Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord ByronJ. Robins, 1828 - 756 σελίδες |
Αναζήτηση στο βιβλίο
Αποτελέσματα 1 - 5 από τα 75.
Σελίδα 24
... hero suffered were - Comparative To those related in his grand - dad's narrative . ' The description given by Mr. Byron of the wreck has great power , and conveys with the least effort a striking picture of that appalling event : - • In ...
... hero suffered were - Comparative To those related in his grand - dad's narrative . ' The description given by Mr. Byron of the wreck has great power , and conveys with the least effort a striking picture of that appalling event : - • In ...
Σελίδα 41
... heroes , farewell ! your descendant , departing From the seat of his ancestors , bids you adieu ! Abroad , or at home , your remembrance imparting New courage , he'll think upon glory and you . Though a tear dim his eye at this sad ...
... heroes , farewell ! your descendant , departing From the seat of his ancestors , bids you adieu ! Abroad , or at home , your remembrance imparting New courage , he'll think upon glory and you . Though a tear dim his eye at this sad ...
Σελίδα 45
... hero all his power displays , Each timid heroine shrinks before your gaze . Surely the last will some protection find ; None to the softer sex can prove unkind : Whilst youth and beauty form the female shield , The sternest censor to ...
... hero all his power displays , Each timid heroine shrinks before your gaze . Surely the last will some protection find ; None to the softer sex can prove unkind : Whilst youth and beauty form the female shield , The sternest censor to ...
Σελίδα 54
... heroes urge the chase , Or roll the crimson tide of war . But who was last of Alva's clan ? Why grows the moss on Alva's stone ? Her towers resound no steps of man- They echo to the gale alone . • The catastrophe of this tale was ...
... heroes urge the chase , Or roll the crimson tide of war . But who was last of Alva's clan ? Why grows the moss on Alva's stone ? Her towers resound no steps of man- They echo to the gale alone . • The catastrophe of this tale was ...
Σελίδα 55
... hero's child While he should lead the Tartan tram . Another year is quickly past , And Angus hails another son : His natal day is like the last , Nor soon the jocund feast was done . Taught by their sire to bend the bow , On Alva's ...
... hero's child While he should lead the Tartan tram . Another year is quickly past , And Angus hails another son : His natal day is like the last , Nor soon the jocund feast was done . Taught by their sire to bend the bow , On Alva's ...
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
Memoirs of the life and writings of lord Byron George Clinton (biographer of Byron.) Πλήρης προβολή - 1825 |
Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις
Ali Pacha appeared arms bard beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cain called Calmar canto Captain Cephalonia character Childe Harold Countess Guiccioli dark dead death Doge dread dream earth Edinburgh Review English eyes fair fame fate father fear feel gaze genius Giaour grave Greece Greek hand hath heart heaven hero honour hope hour knew lady Lara less letter live look Lord Byron lordship Mavrocordatos Mazeppa mind Missolonghi Morea Muse ne'er never Newstead Abbey night noble o'er occasion once Parisina passed passion Patras person poem poet poetry replied Samian wine Sardanapalus scarce scene seemed shore Siegendorf sigh sleep smile song soul Southey speak spirit stanzas Suliotes tears thee thine things thou thought turned twas Venice verse voice wave wild wish words young youth
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 335 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 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.
Σελίδα 317 - 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...
Σελίδα 330 - 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 ! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Σελίδα 744 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep ! He hath awakened from the dream of life. 'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Σελίδα 547 - Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae! What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah, no; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head. But one, arise — we come, we come!
Σελίδα 387 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters ; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse : And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Σελίδα 689 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile.
Σελίδα 185 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye...
Σελίδα 390 - Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery.
Σελίδα 547 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? 'Tis something in the dearth of fame, Though linked among a fettered race, To feel at least a patriot's shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face; For what is left the poet here ? For Greeks a blush, for Greece a tear ! Must we but weep o'er days more blest?