Rambles and ReveriesJ. P. Giffing, 1841 - 436 стор. |
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Сторінка 5
... taste and propriety , is fitted up as a modern church . This building is the mausoleum of Theodoric . It is without the walls , and approached through an avenue of poplars , whose yellow leaves rustled beneath our feet , or whirled in ...
... taste and propriety , is fitted up as a modern church . This building is the mausoleum of Theodoric . It is without the walls , and approached through an avenue of poplars , whose yellow leaves rustled beneath our feet , or whirled in ...
Сторінка 12
... taste , and their palaces and gardens amply repay a visit . Such is the case with the eccentric Ruspini , one of the Ravenese nobility , whose gallery contains many valuable and inter- esting productions of art . At an angle of one of ...
... taste , and their palaces and gardens amply repay a visit . Such is the case with the eccentric Ruspini , one of the Ravenese nobility , whose gallery contains many valuable and inter- esting productions of art . At an angle of one of ...
Сторінка 36
... taste , but seldom known in the dormitory of the priest . At length , he raised them en masse , and what I had deemed a little library , proved but an ingenious imita- tion . Beneath the painted boards was disclosed the veri- table ...
... taste , but seldom known in the dormitory of the priest . At length , he raised them en masse , and what I had deemed a little library , proved but an ingenious imita- tion . Beneath the painted boards was disclosed the veri- table ...
Сторінка 63
... taste here so strong for the French stage , that , during his visit to Turin , he composed his co- medy of Moliere , to avail himself of the attraction of that author's name . There are few finer public squares in Europe than the Piazza ...
... taste here so strong for the French stage , that , during his visit to Turin , he composed his co- medy of Moliere , to avail himself of the attraction of that author's name . There are few finer public squares in Europe than the Piazza ...
Сторінка 66
... taste , perhaps , but not seldom a far inferior execution . Murillo was a genuine child of na- ture . He painted , as Goldsmith wrote , from individual inspiration . Who laments that his style is not so elevated as that of Raphael , nor ...
... taste , perhaps , but not seldom a far inferior execution . Murillo was a genuine child of na- ture . He painted , as Goldsmith wrote , from individual inspiration . Who laments that his style is not so elevated as that of Raphael , nor ...
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admiration amid appears associations attached bard beautiful beneath Bologna celebrated character charm cholera choly church Corso Donati countenance Cowper crowd dark deep delight destiny displayed effect excitement exhibited expression fame fancy favorite feeling Florence fresh gaze genius Genoa Goldsmith graceful hallowed happy heart history of Tuscany honor hour human idea imagination impression interest Italian Italy lady less look Lucca marble martial music melan memory ment midst mind mountains muse native nature never night noble observation occasion paintings palace Palermo party passed peculiar Pescia picture pietra dura poet poetical poetry Pope portrait present Ravenna remarkable rich Rimini San Marino scarcely scene seemed sentiment Shelley Sicily Silvio Pellico singular sion smile solemn soon soul Spielberg fortress spirit stranger streets sweet sympathy talent taste theatre Thespian thought tion town traveller true truth Turin vivid walls wonder young youth
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Сторінка 227 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence...
Сторінка 228 - Is lightened ; that serene and blessed mood In which the affections gently lead us on, Until the breath of this corporeal frame, And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Сторінка 198 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Сторінка 283 - She, as a veil down to the slender waist, Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received Yielded, with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
Сторінка 246 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days ; None knew thee but to love thee, None named thee but to praise.
Сторінка 213 - I saw her upon nearer view A spirit, yet a woman too ! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty ; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food : For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Сторінка 241 - glassy eyes put light ; — be still ! keep down thine ire ! Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my sire: Give me back him for whom I strove, — for whom my blood was shed. Thou canst not? — and a king! — his dust be mountains on thy head!
Сторінка 291 - She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
Сторінка 198 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.
Сторінка 198 - Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought And as he fell and as he lived and loved Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved: Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved.