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Books Books 81 - 90 of 179 on He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube....  
" 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,... "
The works, of ... lord Byron - Page 60
by George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819
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Five occasional lectures, delivered in Montreal

Francis Fulford (bp. of Montreal.) - 1859
...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...unavenged? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire !* Some of my earliest reminiscences are connected with Campbell ; and later in life I met him constantly,...
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An outline of the necessary laws of thought: a treatise on pure and applied ...

William Thomson (Abp. of York) - Logic - 1859 - 345 pages
...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 ! " BYRON. Here the analysis of the impression is carried to its farthest ; and in the second stanza...
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Five occasional lectures: delivered in Montreal

Francis Fulford - Social Science - 1859 - 118 pages
...all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holidayAll this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut yaur ire !* Some of my earliest reminiscences are connected with Campbell ; and later in life I met...
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The Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron, Sir Walter Scott, Thomas Moore - Literary Criticism - 1859 - 827 pages
...with his blood — Shall he expire .Vil managed ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! CXLU, Bat n AnJ roar'd or inurmur'd like a mountain stream I^hing or winding аз its torrent strays ; Here, where...
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Childe Harold's pilgrimage: a romaunt

Baron George Gordon Byron Byron - 1859 - 329 pages
...this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged ? Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam ; And here, where buzzing nations chcked the ways, And roar'd or murmur'd like a mountain stream Dashing or winding as its torrent strays...
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Five occasional lectures: delivered in Montreal

Francis Fulford - Christianity and culture - 1859 - 118 pages
...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 I ye Goths, and glut your ire !" Some of my earliest reminiscences are connected with Campbell; and...
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The Philosophy of Education, Or, The Principles and Practice of Teaching ...

Thomas Turner Tate - Education - 1860 - 338 pages
...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." In cultivating the memory of children, the judicious teacher will not fail to associate important ideas...
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Lectures on the British Poets, Volume 2

Henry Reed, William Bradford Reed - English poetry - 1860
...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 !" In this instance, the poet's morbid feelings passed into d pure channel, — the thought of his...
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LECTURES ON THE BRITISH POETS

HENRY REED - 1860
...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!" In this instance, the poet's morbid feelings passed into A pure channel,—the thought of his own separation...
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Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1860
...mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — (') All this rush'd with his hlood — Shall he expire And unavenged ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire I CXLII. But here, where Murder hreathed her hloody steam ; And here, where huzzing nations choked...
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