Italy: A Poem, Volume 1

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J. Murray, 1823 - Italy - 200 pages

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Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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!
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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?
Page 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...

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