Through Italy with the Poets |
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Page 1
... bright helmet bristling o'er the field ; Yet golden corn each laughing valley fills , The vintage reddens on a thousand hills , Luxuriant olives spread from shore to shore , And flocks unnumbered range the pastures o'er . Hence the ...
... bright helmet bristling o'er the field ; Yet golden corn each laughing valley fills , The vintage reddens on a thousand hills , Luxuriant olives spread from shore to shore , And flocks unnumbered range the pastures o'er . Hence the ...
Page 6
... bright thy gloom ; And a third time , casting off these years funereal , Shall burst thy tomb . By that bond ' twixt thee and me whereat af- frighted Thy tyrants fear us ; By that hope and this remembrance reunited ; ( Cho . ) O mother ...
... bright thy gloom ; And a third time , casting off these years funereal , Shall burst thy tomb . By that bond ' twixt thee and me whereat af- frighted Thy tyrants fear us ; By that hope and this remembrance reunited ; ( Cho . ) O mother ...
Page 9
... bright vignettes , and each complete , Of tower or duomo , sunny - sweet , Or palace , how the city glittered , Through cypress avenues , at our feet . But when we crost the Lombard plain Remember what a plague of rain ; Of rain at ...
... bright vignettes , and each complete , Of tower or duomo , sunny - sweet , Or palace , how the city glittered , Through cypress avenues , at our feet . But when we crost the Lombard plain Remember what a plague of rain ; Of rain at ...
Page 16
... with wings Spread till the morning sings ; The rose of resurrection , and the bright Breast lavish of the light , The lady lily like the snowy sky Ere the stars 16 THROUGH ITALY WITH THE POETS A SONG OF ITALY Oscar Wilde Swinburne.
... with wings Spread till the morning sings ; The rose of resurrection , and the bright Breast lavish of the light , The lady lily like the snowy sky Ere the stars 16 THROUGH ITALY WITH THE POETS A SONG OF ITALY Oscar Wilde Swinburne.
Page 17
... black as death ; Black as crushed worms that sicken in the sense , And yellow as pestilence . Fly , green as summer and red as dawn and white As the live heart of light , The blind bright womb of color unborn , that brings ITALY 17.
... black as death ; Black as crushed worms that sicken in the sense , And yellow as pestilence . Fly , green as summer and red as dawn and white As the live heart of light , The blind bright womb of color unborn , that brings ITALY 17.
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Common terms and phrases
ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ancient Apennine ARTHUR SYMONS beauty behold beneath blue breast breath bright brow cloud crown dark dead death deep divine dost doth dream earth eyes face fair fame feet flame Florence flowers gaze GIOSUÉ CARDUCCI gleam gloom glory glow gold grave green hath heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hills holy hour Italy JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS kiss lake land light look LORD BYRON marble mighty mist mountain murmur night o'er Olger OSCAR WILDE palace pass PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY purple rise Robert Haven Schauffler Rome rose round ruin shade shadows shore shrine SILAS WEIR MITCHELL silent sing skies sleep smiles soft song soul stand stars stone stood stream sweet thee thine things thou thought throng Tiber tomb tower town twilight unto Venice vines walls wandered waves wild wind
Popular passages
Page 171 - 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 That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX.
Page 378 - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand...
Page 235 - But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. " Come back, come back, Horatius !
Page 227 - Or view the Lord of the unerring bow, The God of life, and poesy, and light — The Sun in human limbs array'd, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight, The shaft hath just been shot — the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance ; in his eye And nostril beautiful disdain, and might And majesty, flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity.
Page 226 - Or, turning to the Vatican, go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain — A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending : — Vain The struggle ; vain, against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clench ; the long envenomed chain Rivets the living links, — the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.
Page 289 - I see the deep's untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown...
Page 239 - They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night ; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie.
Page 397 - What? Those lesser thirds so plaintive, sixths diminished, sigh on sigh, Told them something? Those suspensions, those solutions — "Must we die?" Those commiserating sevenths — "Life might last! we can but try!" "Were you happy?"— "Yes."— "And are you still as happy?"— "Yes.
Page 419 - I RODE one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice : a bare strand Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand, Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds, Is this ; an uninhabited sea-side, Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons ; and no other object breaks The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes A narrow space of level sand...
Page 201 - Arches on arches ! as it were that Rome. Collecting the chief trophies of her line, Would build up all her triumphs in one dome, Her Coliseum stands ; the moonbeams shine As 'twere its natural torches, for divine Should be the light which streams here to illume This long-explored but still exhaustless mine Of contemplation...