Childe Harold's pilgrimage, with a memoir by W. Spalding |
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Page 5
... soon died , Mrs. Byron Gordon sought at Aberdeen a residence suited to her scanty resources , which seem to have been in no way aided by the then Lord Byron , her husband's uncle , a retired and despondent man . In the course of the ...
... soon died , Mrs. Byron Gordon sought at Aberdeen a residence suited to her scanty resources , which seem to have been in no way aided by the then Lord Byron , her husband's uncle , a retired and despondent man . In the course of the ...
Page 7
... soon suppressed . But before the end of 1807 , and when in his twentieth year , he was rash enough to face the public with the Hours of Idleness , a collection of poems , from the very best of which no one would have ventured to pre ...
... soon suppressed . But before the end of 1807 , and when in his twentieth year , he was rash enough to face the public with the Hours of Idleness , a collection of poems , from the very best of which no one would have ventured to pre ...
Page 10
... soon after the birth of a daughter , Lady Byron quitted her husband's house never to return . Very soon afterwards Lord Byron left England , in which he never again set foot . His first place of resi- dence was in the neighbourhood of ...
... soon after the birth of a daughter , Lady Byron quitted her husband's house never to return . Very soon afterwards Lord Byron left England , in which he never again set foot . His first place of resi- dence was in the neighbourhood of ...
Page 11
... soon after the unfortunate death of his friend Shelley . The London Committee of Philhellenes requested him to take part in the emancipation of Greece ; and he enthusiastically ac- cepted the invitation . He sailed from Genoa in July ...
... soon after the unfortunate death of his friend Shelley . The London Committee of Philhellenes requested him to take part in the emancipation of Greece ; and he enthusiastically ac- cepted the invitation . He sailed from Genoa in July ...
Page 12
... of the heart , on the 19th of April , 1824 , soon after having celebrated , in affecting verses , the completion of his thirty - sixth year . BYRON PREFACE . [ TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS . 12 Memoir of Lord Byron .
... of the heart , on the 19th of April , 1824 , soon after having celebrated , in affecting verses , the completion of his thirty - sixth year . BYRON PREFACE . [ TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS . 12 Memoir of Lord Byron .
Common terms and phrases
bear beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath bright brow charm chief Childe Childe Harold dare dark dead dear death deeds deem deep doth dread dream dust dwell earth fair fall fame fate feel fire gaze Glory glow grave hand hath heard heart Heaven hills hope hour immortal Italy land leave less light live lone look lord lost maids mind morn mortal mountains Nature never night o'er once pass passion plain proud rest rise rock Rome round scarce scene seek seen shore shrine sigh smile soft song soon soul sound spirit spring stand star stream sweet tear thee thine things thou thought thousand till true turn vain voice walls waters waves wild wind woes young youth
Popular passages
Page 166 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And Monarchs tremble in their Capitals, The oak Leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of Lord of thee, and Arbiter of War— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 99 - 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 93 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Page 145 - There is the moral of all human tales ; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Page 159 - Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not; And why? It is not lessen'd; but thy mind, Expanded by the genius of the spot, Has grown colossal, and can only find A fit abode wherein appear enshrined Thy hopes of immortality; and thou Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined, See thy God face to face, as thou dost now His Holy of Holies, nor be blasted by his brow.
Page 78 - But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is— it is— the cannon's opening roar! Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound, the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear...
Page 97 - At intervals some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill ; But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 134 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss. And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set...
Page 100 - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye ! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? XCVII.
Page 155 - He recked 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, Butchered to make a Roman holiday — All this rushed with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! CXLII.