英国文学选读_拜伦诗歌欣赏.pptVIP

My days are in the yellow leaf;The flowers and fruits of love are gone;The worm, the canker, and the grief,Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preysIs lone as some volcanic isle;No torch is kindled at its blaze - A funeral pile! The hope, the fear, the jealous care,The exalted portion of the painAnd power of love, I cannot share,But wear the chain. But tis not thus -and tis not here - Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now,Where glory decks the heros bier,Or binds his brow. But tis not thus -and tis not here - Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now,Where glory d