Records of the Heart, and Other Poems

H. G. Bohn, 1866 - 420 sidor

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Sida 239 - In the romance of the world's history nothing ever impressed me more forcibly than the spectacle of this once great and lovely city, overturned, desolate, and lost; discovered by accident, overgrown with trees for miles around, and without even a name to distinguish it. Apart from everything else, it was a mourning witness to the world's mutations. Nations melt From Power's high pinnacle, when they have felt The sunshine for a while, and downward go.
Sida 123 - Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the parapet of the tocador and gaze down upon Granada, spread. out like a map below me — all buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents sleeping as it were in the moonshine.
Sida 238 - Here were the remains of a cultivated, polished, and peculiar people, who had passed through all the stages incident to the rise and fall of nations, reached their golden age, and perished, entirely unknown.
Sida 239 - ... we looked back to the past, cleared away the gloomy forest, and fancied every building perfect, with its terraces and pyramids, its sculptured and painted ornaments, grand, lofty, and imposing, and overlooking an immense inhabited plain; we called back into life the strange people who gazed at us in sadness from the walls; pictured them, in fanciful costumes and adorned with plumes of feathers, ascending the terraces of the palace and the steps leading to the temples...
Sida 302 - Land unsurpassed in glory and despair, Still, in thy desolation thou art fair ! Low in sepulchral dust lies PALLAS' shrine — Low in sepulchral dust thy fanes divine — And all thy visible self — yet, o'er thy clay, Soul — beauty — linger, hallowing decay. Not all the ills that war entailed on thee — Not all the blood that stained...
Sida 134 - And follow me to my long home — Solemn and slow? When lying on my clayey bed, In icy sleep, Who there by pure affection led Will come and weep ; By the pale moon implant the rose Upon my breast, And bid it cheer my dark repose, My lowly rest...
Sida 134 - And come and sit and weep by me In night's deep noon — Oh ! I would ask of memory No other boon. But ah ! a lonelier fate is mine, A deeper wo ; From all I love in youth's sweet time I soon must go...
Sida 303 - Thermopylae, Not all the desolation traitors wrought, Not all the woe and want invaders brought, Not all the tears that slavery could wring From out thy heart of patient suffering, Not all that drapes thy loveliness in night, Can quench thy spirit's never-dying light ; But hovering o'er the dust of gods enshrined, It beams a beacon to the march of mind — An oasis to sage and bard forlorn — • A guiding light to centuries unborn. For thee I mourn ; thy blood is in my veins : To thee by consanguinity's...
Sida 123 - To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet delicately defined.
Sida 302 - SHRINE of the Gods ! mine own eternal Greece ! When shall thy weeds be doffed, thy mourning cease, The gyves that bind thy beauty rent in twain, And thou be living, breathing Greece again ? Grave of the mighty — hero, poet, sage—- Whose deeds are guiding stars to every age ! Land unsurpassed in glory and despair, Still in thy desolation thou art fair. Low in sepulchral dust lies Pallas...

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