...may be spoken to them by the mournful breezes of the surrounding desolation. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and...

...source, and which this subject seems so well calculated to have excited. Lxxvin. Oh 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...

...extracts ; which, though numerous, will not, we think, be thought too numerous. " Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and...

...source, and which this subject seems so "well [calculated to have excited. Oh 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 arc our woes and sufferance ? Come and...

...us a translation of an EJegy, by William Augustus Schle, 78. Oh 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...

...mciüíid; oerfagt er e$ ftd), ben (S'mbrucf weitet ju treibea ali nfc¡i;tg war. ,,Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires I and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woei and sufferance? Come and...

...the touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Socrate's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh 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...

...fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVI1F. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul f The orphans of the heart must turn to thee', Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and...

...storms around convulse the closing year. So of Greece : — again of Italy — Oh Rome ! my country ! n. Let us see. — But these are scenes where Nature's nig. gard ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and...

...touch 'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and suilerance ? Come and...