An Autumn in Italy: Being a Personal Narrative of a Tour in the Austrian, Tuscan, Roman and Sardinian States, in 1827

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Constable and Company, 1829 - 346 páginas
 

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Página 165 - 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.
Página 247 - John Keats died at Rome of a consumption, in his twenty-fourth year, on the of 1821 ; and was buried in the romantic and lonely cemetery of the Protestants in that city, under the pyramid which is the tomb of Cestius, and the massy walls and towers, now mouldering and desolate, which formed the circuit of ancient Rome. The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Página 166 - To the broad column which rolls on, and shows More like the fountain of an infant sea Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes Of a new world, than only thus to be Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly, With many windings, through the vale: — Look -back! Lo! where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread, a matchless cataract, Horribly beautiful!
Página 165 - And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald : — how profound The gulf! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliff's, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent.
Página 165 - With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent To the broad column which rolls on, and shows More like the fountain of an infant sea Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes Of a new world, than only thus to be Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly, With many windings, through the vale : — Look back ! Lo ! where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread, a matchless cataract...
Página 165 - 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 That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower...
Página i - NARRATIVE of a TOUR in the AUSTRIAN, TUSCAN, ROMAN, and SARDINIAN STATES, in 1827. By JD Sinclair, Esq. XL VII. XL VIII. The LIFE of OLIVER CROMWELL. By M. Russell. LL.D. XLIX. LIFE of HERNAN CORTES. By Don Telesforo dc Trueba y Cosio, Author of "The Castilian,
Página 259 - On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all Paradise before your eye. To rest, the cushion and soft Dean invite, Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
Página 142 - Nor then forget that chamber of the dead, Where the gigantic shapes of Night and Day, Turned into stone, rest everlastingly ; Yet still are breathing, and shed round at noon A twofold influence, — only to be felt — A light, a darkness, mingling each with each ; Both, and yet neither. There, from age to age, Two ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. That is the Duke Lorenzo. Mark him well. He meditates, his head upon his hand. What from beneath his helm-like...

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