Jenning's Landscape Annual, Bind 1 |
Fra bogen
Side 39
Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place , And thy sad floor an altar - for ' twas trod , Until his very steps have left a trace , Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod , By Bonnivard ! -May none those marks efface !
Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place , And thy sad floor an altar - for ' twas trod , Until his very steps have left a trace , Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod , By Bonnivard ! -May none those marks efface !
Hvad folk siger - Skriv en anmeldelse
Vi har ikke fundet nogen anmeldelser de normale steder.
Andre udgaver - Se alle
Almindelige termer og sætninger
amongst ancient appearance attention beautiful body Bologna called celebrated church continued covered death delight described distinguished doge Drawn Duke eyes feel feet formed former French Geneva genius give given hand head heard hills honour hundred inhabitants interest Italy kind lake learned leave length less letters light lived look Lord magnificent Mark Milan mind morning mountain natural never night noble object observed once Padua palace passed perhaps persons poet poor present prison received remains remarkable residence rest rise rock Rome round says scene seemed seen side singular situated snow spirit stand stranger thing thought thousand tion took tower town traveller valley Venetian Venice Verona villa visited walk walls young
Populære passager
Side 17 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and' far delight,— A portion of the tempest and of thee ! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Side 24 - After laying down my pen I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Side 40 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar - for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! - May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Side 63 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Side 263 - 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...
Side 44 - It seem'd like me to want a mate, But was not half so desolate, And it was come to love me when None lived to love me so again, And cheering from my dungeon's brink, Had brought me back to feel and think.
Side 43 - A light broke in upon my brain, — It was the carol of a bird ; It ceased, and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard...
Side 25 - I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting...
Side 265 - Where the car climb'd the Capitol; far and wide Temple and tower went down, nor left a site: — Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void, O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, And say, 'Here was, or is', where all is doubly night?
Side 18 - Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way, The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand : For here, not one, but many, make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around ; of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath forked His lightnings — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation worked, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurked.