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Seite 173 - I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth. And sounds as if it should be writ on satin. With syllables which breathe of the sweet South. And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in. That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural. Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
Seite 320 - Soli eravamo e senza alcun sospetto. Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso : Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse. Quando leggemmo il disiato riso Esser baciato da cotanto amante, Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso. La bocca mi baciò tutto tremante : Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse : Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante..
Seite 386 - They never fail who die In a great cause : the block may soak their gore ; Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls — But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to freedom.
Seite 131 - The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man ; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.
Seite 27 - But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue.
Seite 123 - Old man! there is no power in holy men, Nor charm in prayer, nor purifying form Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast, Nor agony— nor, greater than all these, The innate tortures of that deep Despair, Which is Remorse without the fear of Hell, But all in all sufficient to itself Would make a hell of Heaven— can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense Of its own sins— wrongs— sufferance— and revenge Upon itself; there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemned...
Seite 22 - Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray ; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright ; And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot. A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Seite 92 - Though thy slumber may be deep Yet thy spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
Seite 127 - There were giants in the earth in those days ; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.