 | John Hanbury Dwyer - 1843 - 320 sidor
...With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till— 'tis gone and all is gray. ROME. OH Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps... | |
 | John Heneage Jesse - 1843 - 432 sidor
...insensibly recall to our memory some of the finest passages in Childe Harold. Oh Rome I my country I city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe : An empty urn... | |
 | 1843 - 778 sidor
...met .so ofl Horace himself — or climb the Palatine, Dreaming of old Etander and his guest," Sic. " Oh, Rome ! My country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to ihee, Lone mother of dread empires, and control In their shut breasts iheir petty misery." • * »... | |
 | 1843 - 826 sidor
...climb the Palatine, Dreaming of old Ei ander and his guest," &c. i " Oh, Rom« ! My country ! cily of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dread empires, and control In their shut breasts their petty misery." » • » « " The Niobe of Nations... | |
 | John Heneage Jesse - 1843 - 424 sidor
...our memory some of the finest passages in Childe Harold. Oh Rome 1 my country I city of the soul I The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires I and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. The Niobe of nations I there she stands, Childless... | |
 | 1896 - 926 sidor
...his emotions in a thunderstorm in the Alps, or as he gazes on the Silberhorn, his grand outhurst— Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans...heart must turn to thee Lone Mother of dead Empires! strike the imagination more than a thousand word-pictures. Ruskin's elaborate descriptions of Venice... | |
 | John Hanbury Dwyer - 1844 - 318 sidor
...a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone, and all is gray. ROME. OH Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Loqe mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes... | |
 | John Hanbury Dwyer - 1845 - 492 sidor
...a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone, and all is gray. ROME. OH Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps... | |
 | Thomas Fisher - 1845 - 240 sidor
...trampled the proud palaces of her emperors, and scaled the rock-built citadel of the Tarquins. " O Rome, my country ! city of the soul, The orphans of...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ! Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps... | |
 | William Draper Swan - 1845 - 482 sidor
...fell. Yes! self-abasement paved the way To villain-bonds and despot sway. LESSON CVII. Rome. BVRON. O ROME ! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance 1 Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps... | |
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Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee. Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your... 
