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adorned aisle Alban hills altar ancient angels apostles arch Augustus basilica Baths beautiful belonged beneath Bernini Borghese bronze building built buried Caesar Caligula called Campagna Capitol Caracalla Cardinal catacomb century chapel Christ Christian church Clement Coliseum Colonna columns contains convent Corso Cosmati crowned death decorated Domenichino Domitian Emperor entrance erected feet figure Forum fountain frescoes garden Giacomo della Porta Giovanni Giulio Romano Gregory Hadrian head hill Holy honour inscription Julius Lateran Lorenzo Madonna magnificent marble Maria martyrs mediaeval Michelangelo Monte monument mosaic occupied Ovid painted palace Palatine Palazzo Papal Paul Peter Piazza Piazza di Spagna picture picturesque Pietro Pietro da Cortona Pius Pope Porta portico portrait Raffaelle relics remains represented restored Roman Rome Room ruins sacred saint sarcophagus Saviour sculpture seen side Sixtus statue stood street temple Tiber tomb travertine Vatican vault Vespasian Vestals VIII Villa Virgin walls
Seite 190 - She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks: Among all her lovers she hath none to comfort her: All her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies.
Seite 90 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low : And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him ; he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Seite 90 - He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He reck'd 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 ! BYRON.
Seite 371 - And when Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains ; and the keepers before the door kept the prison.
Seite 433 - Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point ? Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow : so, indeed, he did. The torrent roared ; and we did buffet it With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
Seite 164 - Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven, Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument, And shadows forth its glory. There is given Unto the things of earth, which time hath bent, A spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power And magic in the ruined battlement, For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.
Seite 607 - Go thou to Rome, — at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness; And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, And flowering weeds and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness, Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread...
Seite 606 - 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.
Seite 107 - I charge thee therefore before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, Who shall judge the quick and the dead at His appearing and His kingdom : preach the word ; be instant in season, out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine.
Seite 2 - 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 The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.