What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
American amid appearance artist asked beautiful called carriage changed character church close columns dark DEAR deep distance earth English entered entire expected face feeling feet fell Genoa give ground half hand head heard heart hill horses hour Italian Italy lady land laugh length LETTER light lines live look magnificent marble miles morning mountain Naples never night noble officers once painted palace passed perfect Peter's poor Pope present priest reached replied rocks rolled Rome ruins scene seemed seen shore side soon spirit stands statue step stood stopped streets suddenly thing thought thousand till told Truly turned walk wall whole wild wind wish woman women wonder young
Page 183 - 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.
Page 143 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Page 145 - This grave contains all that was mortal of a young English poet, who, on his death-bed, in the bitterness of his heart at the malicious power of his enemies, desired these words to be engraven on his tombstone : " Here lies one whose name was writ in water...
Page 149 - He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Page 142 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watchdog bay'd beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Page 141 - He heard it, but he heeded not : his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday, — All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire, And unavenged? — Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Page 178 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios...
Page 4 - I sprung upon the quarter-deck just as the poor fellow, with his " fearful human face," riding the top of a billow, fled past. In an instant all was commotion ; plank after plank was cast over for him to seize and sustain himself on, till the ship could be put about, and the boat lowered. The first mate, a bold, fiery fellow, leaped into the boat that hung at the side of the quarter-deck, and in a voice so sharp and stern — I seem to hear it yet — shouted,
Page 126 - The next instunt a sheet of flame bursts from the summit with a fury perfectly appalling ; white clouds of sulphureous smoke roll up the sky, accompanied with molten fragments and detonations that shake the very earth beneath you. It is the representation of a volcano in full eruption, and a most vivid one too. Amid the spouting fire, and murky smoke, and rising fragments, the cannon of the castle are discharged, out of sight, almost every second.