Childe Harold: Canto the Fourth, The Prisoner of Chillon and MazepaHoughton Mifflin Company, 1909 - 136 pages |
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Page 2
... Hope , the last from Vacancy ; And this worn feeling peoples many a page , And , may be , that which grows beneath mine eye . 50 Yet there are things whose strong reality 55 Outshines our fairy - land ; in shape and 2 BYRON.
... Hope , the last from Vacancy ; And this worn feeling peoples many a page , And , may be , that which grows beneath mine eye . 50 Yet there are things whose strong reality 55 Outshines our fairy - land ; in shape and 2 BYRON.
Page 8
... hope replenish'd and re- buoy'd , Return to whence they came with like intent , And weave their web again ; some , bow'd and bent , Wax gray and ghastly , withering ere their time , And perish with the reed on which they leant ; Some ...
... hope replenish'd and re- buoy'd , Return to whence they came with like intent , And weave their web again ; some , bow'd and bent , Wax gray and ghastly , withering ere their time , And perish with the reed on which they leant ; Some ...
Page 25
... Hope upon a death - bed , and , unworn Its steady dyes while all around is torn By the distracted waters , bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn ; Resembling , ' mid the torture of the scene , Love watching ...
... Hope upon a death - bed , and , unworn Its steady dyes while all around is torn By the distracted waters , bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn ; Resembling , ' mid the torture of the scene , Love watching ...
Page 36
... hope , once more To battle with the ocean and the shocks Of the loud breakers , and the ceaseless roar Which rushes on the solitary shore Where all lies founder'd that was ever dear . But could I gather from the wave - worn store Enough ...
... hope , once more To battle with the ocean and the shocks Of the loud breakers , and the ceaseless roar Which rushes on the solitary shore Where all lies founder'd that was ever dear . But could I gather from the wave - worn store Enough ...
Page 39
... The friend of 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 - 1025 1030 The forum's champion , and the people's chief CHILDE HAROLD ...
... The friend of 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 - 1025 1030 The forum's champion , and the people's chief CHILDE HAROLD ...
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Common terms and phrases
15 cents ÆNEID Æschylus Apollo Belvedere Arqua ashes Bards Battle of Pultowa beauty beneath Biographical Sketch blood breast breath brow Byron Cæsar cantos castle castle of Chillon chain Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Coliseum Cossacks Crown 8vo Dante dark dead death deep doth dread dungeon dust E. H. Coleridge earth effect English eternal eyes feel Florence foes gaze GEORGE HERBERT PALMER glory gray hath heart heaven Hetman Hobhouse hope hour hyæna immortal Italy Julius Cæsar King lake light limbs linen Literature Lord Mazeppa mind monarch mortal mother mountains Napoleon night Note o'er ocean Perchance Petrarch poem poet Prisoner of Chillon Riverside Shakespeare Roman Rome round ruin seem'd seen shine shore soul spirit Stanza star steed Tasso tears thee thine thou thought tomb tree Ukraine Venice wall waters waves wild wind woes youth
Popular passages
Page 63 - 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 63 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since: their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts; — not so thou. Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Page 74 - But knowing well captivity, Sweet bird, I could not wish for thine! Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise; For — Heaven forgive that thought! the while...
Page 64 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — '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 62 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Page 49 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low : 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 hailed the wretch who won.
Page 49 - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He reck'd 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, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — All this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Page 28 - But Rome is as the desert, where we steer Stumbling o'er recollections: now we clap Our hands, and cry, " Eureka ! it is clear — " When but some false mirage of ruin rises near.
Page 74 - Ran over with the glad surprise, And they that moment could not see I was the mate of misery: But then by dull degrees came back My senses to their wonted track, I saw the dungeon walls and floor Close slowly round me as before...
Page 2 - 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!