Italy, a poem [by S.Rogers].

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1822 - Italy - 222 pages

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Page 124 - Her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot: An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, — The...
Page 134 - 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 bonnet scowls ? Is it a face,...
Page 61 - Am I in Italy? Is this the Mincius? Are those the distant turrets of Verona ? And shall I sup where Juliet at the Masque Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him ? Such questions hourly do I ask myself; And not a stone, in a cross-way, inscribed 'To Mantua'— 'To Ferrara'— but excites Surprise, and doubt, and self-congratulation.
Page 127 - Tis but to make a trial of our love !" And filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook, And soon from guest to guest the panic spread. 'Twas but that instant she had left Francesco, Laughing and looking back and flying still, Her ivory -tooth imprinted on his finger. But now, alas ! she was not to be found ; Nor from that hour could anything be...
Page 66 - A few in fear. Flying away from him whose boast it was, That the grass grew not where his horse had trod, Gave birth to VENICE.
Page 127 - Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour ; Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time, The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ; And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Great was the joy; but at the Bridal feast, When all sat down, the Bride was wanting there. Nor was she to be found ! Her Father cried "Tis but to make a trial of our love !' And filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook,...
Page 123 - Dwelt in of old by one of the Orsini. Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace, And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses, Will long detain...
Page 140 - Who little thought of what was yet to come, And lived but to be told — he bade Garzia Arise and follow him. Holding in one hand A winking...
Page 79 - Landing, have here performed their several parts, Then left the stage to others. Not a stone In the broad pavement, but to him who has An eye, an ear for the Inanimate World, Tells of Past Ages.
Page 15 - The French and Austrian banners met in conflict. On the same rock beside it stood the church, Reft of its cross, not of its sanctity ; The vesper-bell, for 'twas the vesper-hour, Duly proclaiming thro...

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