Souvenirs of Travel, Bind 2S. H. Goetzel, 1857 |
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admirable adorned amid Apennines artist barouche beautiful beggars beneath blessed Bologna bright called carriage castle charming church Civita Castellana crater Crimea dark dear Mamma deep delicate delight dome drive drove Duke EMIL DEVRIENT Emperor enchanting exquisite eyes feet filled Florence flowers frescoes galleries gardens Genoa glorious glowing gorgeous graceful grand green arbor grotto groves handsome happy heart Herculaneum holy hundred immense Italy lava letter light lofty look Lord Raglan Louis the Fourteenth Madrid magnificent marble miles morning mountain Naples Napoléon night noble Octavia painting palace passed Peter's pleasant poet Pompeii Pope precious priest Queen Queen Victoria Raphael Roman Rome ruins rushing scene seated seemed soldiers soon Spain splendid statue streets summit sweet Temple thousand throng Titian told tomb tower trees vast Vesuvius villa walked walls waters wild wonderful young Zaragoza
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Side 49 - Her lover sinks — she sheds no ill-timed tear ; Her chief is slain — she fills his fatal post ; Her fellows flee — she checks their base career ; The foe retires — she heads the sallying host : Who can appease like her a lover's ghost ? Who can avenge so well a leader's fall?
Side 138 - 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.
Side 124 - Such were the bloody circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure. Wherefore not ? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms — on battle-plains or listed spot ? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot.
Side 138 - 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!
Side 103 - Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona ; for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter, and upon this rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
Side 151 - mid the assassins' din, At thy bathed base the bloody Csesar lie, Folding his robe in dying dignity, An offering to thine altar from the queen Of gods and men, great Nemesis ! did he die, And thou, too, perish, Pompey? have ye been Victors of countless kings, or puppets of a scene?
Side 119 - 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.
Side 123 - While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; 'When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; 'And when Rome falls — the World.
Side 99 - But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone — with nothing like to thee — Worthiest of God, the holy and the true. Since Zion's desolation, when that He Forsook his former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in his honour piled, Of a sublimer aspect ? Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.
Side 250 - In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont.