The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, כרכים 5-6 |
מתוך הספר
תוצאות 1-5 מתוך 41
עמוד 5
... tidings from another clime Had lent a flagging wing to weary Time . They see , they recognise , yet almost deem The present dubious , or the past a dream . 50 He lives , nor yet is past his manhood's prime CANTO I. 5 LARA .
... tidings from another clime Had lent a flagging wing to weary Time . They see , they recognise , yet almost deem The present dubious , or the past a dream . 50 He lives , nor yet is past his manhood's prime CANTO I. 5 LARA .
עמוד 9
... dream ? Alas ! he told not - but he did awake To curse the wither'd heart that would not break . IX . Books , for his volume heretofore was Man , With eye more curious he appear'd to scan , 131 And oft , in sudden mood , for many a day ...
... dream ? Alas ! he told not - but he did awake To curse the wither'd heart that would not break . IX . Books , for his volume heretofore was Man , With eye more curious he appear'd to scan , 131 And oft , in sudden mood , for many a day ...
עמוד 15
... dream ; If dream it were , that thus could overthrow 245 A breast that needed not ideal woe . XV . Whate'er his phrenzy dream'd or eye beheld , If yet remember'd ne'er to be reveal'd , Rests at his heart : the custom'd morning came ...
... dream ; If dream it were , that thus could overthrow 245 A breast that needed not ideal woe . XV . Whate'er his phrenzy dream'd or eye beheld , If yet remember'd ne'er to be reveal'd , Rests at his heart : the custom'd morning came ...
עמוד 16
... dream ? was his the voice that spoke 275 Those strange wild accents ? his the cry that broke Their slumber ? his the oppress'd o'er - labour'd heart That ceased to beat , the look that made them start ? Could he who thus had suffer'd ...
... dream ? was his the voice that spoke 275 Those strange wild accents ? his the cry that broke Their slumber ? his the oppress'd o'er - labour'd heart That ceased to beat , the look that made them start ? Could he who thus had suffer'd ...
עמוד 22
... dream itself to youth , And Youth forget such hour was past on earth , So springs the exulting bosom to that mirth ! 396 XXI . And Lara gazed on these , sedately glad , His brow belied him if his soul was sad ; And his glance follow'd ...
... dream itself to youth , And Youth forget such hour was past on earth , So springs the exulting bosom to that mirth ! 396 XXI . And Lara gazed on these , sedately glad , His brow belied him if his soul was sad ; And his glance follow'd ...
מונחים וביטויים נפוצים
ABBOT Alhama apostolic palace art thou ASTARTE beautiful behold beneath Beppo blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath brow call'd Cavalier Servente CHAMOIS clouds cold courser dare dark Darvell dead death deep doth dread dream earth Ezzelin falchion fame fate fear feel fell fix'd forget gazed glance glory grave grew grief hand hast hath heard heart heaven Hetman hope hour immortal knew Lara Lara's light limbs lips living lonely look look'd LORD BYRON MANFRED Mazeppa mortal mountain ne'er never night numbers o'er once Otho pain Parisina pass'd past scarce scene seem'd shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent sleep smile sorrow soul sound spirit star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought turn'd twas twere twill Venice voice wall waves weep Whate'er wild wither'd words youth Аввот
קטעים בולטים
עמוד 124 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
עמוד 125 - But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
עמוד 184 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watch'd them in their sullen trade, Had seen the mice by moonlight play, And why should I feel less than they ? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill — yet, strange to tell ! In quiet we had learn'd to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are ; — even I Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.
עמוד 125 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
עמוד 100 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
עמוד 99 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
עמוד 183 - And then there was a little isle, Which in my very face did smile, The only one in view ; A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue.
עמוד 176 - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot...
עמוד 209 - If it be life to wear within myself This barrenness of spirit, and to be My own soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased To justify my deeds unto myself — The last infirmity of evil.
עמוד 230 - They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well : Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell.