Letters from ItalyBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 224 sidor |
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Sida 3
... hour the passing clouds to escape the dizziness created by the rolling of the ship . " A life on the ocean wave " is a pleasant thing to sing about , especially if you are in a snug warm room and have Russell to sing , but those who try ...
... hour the passing clouds to escape the dizziness created by the rolling of the ship . " A life on the ocean wave " is a pleasant thing to sing about , especially if you are in a snug warm room and have Russell to sing , but those who try ...
Sida 5
... hours . I could not look steadily on that gallant little crew now settling the question of life and death to themselves and perhaps to us , who would be left almost unmanned in the middle of the Atlantic , and encompassed by a storm ...
... hours . I could not look steadily on that gallant little crew now settling the question of life and death to themselves and perhaps to us , who would be left almost unmanned in the middle of the Atlantic , and encompassed by a storm ...
Sida 12
... hour into tranquillity , when suddenly the sabbath stillness of the soul is broken by the scream of a ma- niac , raving below you . Leaning over the low parapet that guards this high wall , I often watch of an evening the laughing ...
... hour into tranquillity , when suddenly the sabbath stillness of the soul is broken by the scream of a ma- niac , raving below you . Leaning over the low parapet that guards this high wall , I often watch of an evening the laughing ...
Sida 14
... hours wore on , and at length a messenger came and told her he was dead . The night that made her a wife , made him a corpse . He had driven a stiletto through his heart — and to render his death still more heart - breaking , he had not ...
... hours wore on , and at length a messenger came and told her he was dead . The night that made her a wife , made him a corpse . He had driven a stiletto through his heart — and to render his death still more heart - breaking , he had not ...
Sida 16
... hour , which is three o'clock . Strada Balbi , Nuova and Nuovissima are magnificent streets , and lined with palaces almost the entire way . The wealth that built them was won from the East , by the commerce the Crusades opened into ...
... hour , which is three o'clock . Strada Balbi , Nuova and Nuovissima are magnificent streets , and lined with palaces almost the entire way . The wealth that built them was won from the East , by the commerce the Crusades opened into ...
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Alpine Alps amid Appian arches army artists ascend avalanches awful beautiful bosom Byron Cæsars carriage castle church Civita Vecchia cloud Coliseum column dark DEAR E.-I deep descended distant English entered face feelings feet fell Florence gazed Genoa glaciers glorious Goldau half hand head heard heart heavens hill Holy Week horses hour Italian Italy Koenigsfelden lady lake Lake Lucerne land laugh length LETTER look magnificent marble miles Mont Blanc morning mountain Naples never night noble palace passed pasturages path Peter's Pompeii Pope precipice priest quiet Rhine roar rocks rolled Roman Forum Rome ruins scene scenery scoria seemed shore side silent snow stands stood storm strange streets strolled suddenly summit Suwarrow sweet Swiss Switzerland Terni thing thought thunder Tiber traveller turned valley Vesuvius walk wall whole wild wind wonder
Populära avsnitt
Sida 26 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Sida 131 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Sida 112 - And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind, Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, Or holding dark communion with the cloud.
Sida 124 - The castled crag of Drachenfels("> Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me ! 2.
Sida 183 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX.
Sida 29 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Sida 116 - The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between, The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been, In mockery of man's art...
Sida 149 - Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Sida 143 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Sida 145 - This grave contains all that was mortal of a young English poet, who, on his death-bed, in the bitterness of his heart at the malicious power of his enemies, desired these words to be engraven on his tombstone : " Here lies one whose name was writ in water...