La jeunesse de Lord Byron

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Michel Lévy Frères, 1872 - Počet stran: 281

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Strana 154 - A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. The lady of his love was wed with one Who did not love her better : in her home, A thousand leagues from his — her native home, She dwelt, begirt with growing infancy...
Strana 150 - And both were young, and one was beautiful: And both were young — yet not alike in youth. As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge, The maid was on the eve of womanhood; The boy had fewer summers, but his heart Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him...
Strana 154 - The Boy was sprung to manhood : in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his Soul drank their sunbeams : he was girt With strange and dusky aspects ; he was not Himself like what he had been ; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer ; There was a mass of many images Crowded like waves upon me...
Strana 272 - Adieu, adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land — Good night...
Strana 121 - Trop avare d'un sang reçu d'une déesse, Attendre chez mon père une obscure vieillesse ; Et, toujours de la gloire évitant le sentier, Ne laisser aucun nom, et mourir tout entier?
Strana 219 - START not — nor deem my spirit fled : In me behold the only skull, From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee ; I died : let earth my bones resign : Fill up — thou canst not injure me ; The worm hath fouler lips than thine. Better to hold the sparkling grape, Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood ; And circle in the goblet's shape The drink of gods, than reptile's food. Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone, In aid of others...
Strana 273 - A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate.
Strana 268 - ... je trouve la mort si terrible , que je hais plus la vie parce qu'elle m'y mène , que par les épines dont elle est semée.
Strana 149 - And shake us with the vision that's gone by, The dread of vanish'd shadows — Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ? What are they ? Creations of the mind ? — The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
Strana 121 - Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas. Largior hic campos aether et lumine vestit Purpureo; solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.

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