Italy: A Poem, Том 1J. Murray, 1823 - 200 стор. |
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Сторінка 39
... hills ' tis now The hey - day of the Vintage ; all abroad , But most the young and of the gentler sex , Busy in gathering ; all among the vines , Some on the ladder , and some underneath , Filling their baskets of green wicker - work ...
... hills ' tis now The hey - day of the Vintage ; all abroad , But most the young and of the gentler sex , Busy in gathering ; all among the vines , Some on the ladder , and some underneath , Filling their baskets of green wicker - work ...
Сторінка 40
... those courtesies so sweet , so rare ! When , as I rambled through thy vineyard - ground On the hill - side , thou sent'st thy little son , Charged with a bunch almost as big as he , To press it on the stranger . May thy vats 40 COMO .
... those courtesies so sweet , so rare ! When , as I rambled through thy vineyard - ground On the hill - side , thou sent'st thy little son , Charged with a bunch almost as big as he , To press it on the stranger . May thy vats 40 COMO .
Сторінка 46
... fell , Knocked at a City - gate near the hill - foot , The gate that bore so long , sculptured in stone , An eagle on a ladder , and at once * Lago di Garda . Found welcome - nightly in the bannered hall Tuning his 46 BERGAMO .
... fell , Knocked at a City - gate near the hill - foot , The gate that bore so long , sculptured in stone , An eagle on a ladder , and at once * Lago di Garda . Found welcome - nightly in the bannered hall Tuning his 46 BERGAMO .
Сторінка 49
... hill - wine , " The very best in BERGAMO ! " had long Fled from all eyes ; or , like the young Gil Blas De Santillane , I had perhaps been seen Bartering my bread and salt for empty praise . es E IX . AM I in ITALY ? Is this the BERGAMO ...
... hill - wine , " The very best in BERGAMO ! " had long Fled from all eyes ; or , like the young Gil Blas De Santillane , I had perhaps been seen Bartering my bread and salt for empty praise . es E IX . AM I in ITALY ? Is this the BERGAMO ...
Сторінка 73
... a babe , hushed only by thy slumbers ; Up hill and down , morning and noon and night , Singing or talking ; singing to thyself When none gave ear , but to the listener talking . XIII . OVER how many tracts , vast , measureless LUIGI . 73.
... a babe , hushed only by thy slumbers ; Up hill and down , morning and noon and night , Singing or talking ; singing to thyself When none gave ear , but to the listener talking . XIII . OVER how many tracts , vast , measureless LUIGI . 73.
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ancient Apennine ARIOSTO ARQUA awhile beauty beneath Berkeley Berkeley Berkeley Berkeley LIBRARY Bianca Bianca Capello blood Breathing Brides Bucentaur Cagliari CALIFORN CALIFORNIA LIBRARY called CATULLUS chamber church city-gate clime clouds comes COSMO Dante darkness dead delight Doge door drew Eleonora di Toledo entered ere-long Euganean hills eyes Father fear fell fled fling Florence FOSCARI FRANCESCO gaze Ghibelline Gliding glimmering glittering gold Gondolier gone grief Grindelwald hadst hand heard heart Heaven hour Hung la Scala light lived looked MARTIGNY Michael Angelo Milton morning mule narrow night o'er once PADUA Palace passed Petrarch roof round sail sate says seen sigh Singing sitting sleep slept slumber smile soon splendour stood sung thee thine thou thought thro Titian tower turned Twas UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA veil VENICE wall wander waves wert whence winds young
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Сторінка 128 - Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour ; Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time, The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ; And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco.
Сторінка 129 - Orsini lived ; and long might'st thou have seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find, he knew not what.
Сторінка 59 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible: and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in a dream...
Сторінка 51 - Of heaven; and shalt again. The hour shall come, When they who think to bind the ethereal spirit, Who, like the eagle cowering o'er his prey, Watch with quick eye, and strike and strike again If but a sinew vibrate, shall confess Their wisdom folly.
Сторінка 126 - He who observes it, ere he passes on, Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again, That he may call it up when far away. She sits, inclining forward as to speak, Her lips half-open, and her finger up, As though she said, "Beware!
Сторінка 192 - There it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought.
Сторінка 125 - If ever you should come to Modena, (Where among other relics you may see Tassoni's bucket, — but 'tis not the true one,) Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate, Dwelt in of old. by one of .the Donati. Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace, And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses, Will long detain you ; but, before you go, Enter the house, — forget it not, I pray you, — And look awhile upon a picture there. 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth...
Сторінка 152 - Gazing with reverent awe — MILTON, his guest, Just then come forth, all life and enterprise ; He in his old age and extremity, Blind, at noon-day exploring with his staff; His eyes upturned as to the golden sun, His eye-balls idly rolling.
Сторінка 67 - O'er the globe they fling Their monstrous shadows ; and, while yet we speak, Phantom-like, vanish with a dreadful scream ! What — but the last that styled themselves the Caesars?
Сторінка 127 - Beware !" Her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp ; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart — It haunts me still, tho...