The Tourist in Switzerland and ItalyRobert Jennings, 1830 - 278 sider |
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Side 9
... remains were con- veyed , without any pomp , to the burial - place called Plain Palais . His tomb was simple , and without inscrip- tion ; but the feelings of gratitude were deeply engraven on the hearts of the Genevese , and he was ...
... remains were con- veyed , without any pomp , to the burial - place called Plain Palais . His tomb was simple , and without inscrip- tion ; but the feelings of gratitude were deeply engraven on the hearts of the Genevese , and he was ...
Side 10
... remains the same as when he died . There is a large picture in the hall , wretchedly exe- cuted by some itinerant artist whom Voltaire met with by accident , and who painted the picture according to the design of the poet . One hardly ...
... remains the same as when he died . There is a large picture in the hall , wretchedly exe- cuted by some itinerant artist whom Voltaire met with by accident , and who painted the picture according to the design of the poet . One hardly ...
Side 25
... remains . Here , not unfrequently , he was accustomed to walk and converse with the distinguished strangers who sought him in his retreat . In one of his letters to Lady Sheffield he has recorded , with excusable pride , a memorable ...
... remains . Here , not unfrequently , he was accustomed to walk and converse with the distinguished strangers who sought him in his retreat . In one of his letters to Lady Sheffield he has recorded , with excusable pride , a memorable ...
Side 67
... remains of former beauty , but was still in- teresting . There was deep melancholy and a strange wandering expression in her features that too clearly told a tale of unusual sorrow , such as seemed at variance alike with her years and ...
... remains of former beauty , but was still in- teresting . There was deep melancholy and a strange wandering expression in her features that too clearly told a tale of unusual sorrow , such as seemed at variance alike with her years and ...
Side 88
... remains of Roman antiquities to be seen in the town of Sion . An inscription in honour of Augustus can yet be traced near the entrance to the cathedral . On the banks of the Rhone , and opposite to the town , is a deserted convent . It ...
... remains of Roman antiquities to be seen in the town of Sion . An inscription in honour of Augustus can yet be traced near the entrance to the cathedral . On the banks of the Rhone , and opposite to the town , is a deserted convent . It ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Alps amongst ancient appearance beautiful Bologna Bonnivard Bovinet Bridge of Sighs brother Bucentaur Calvin Cardinal castle CASTLE OF CHILLON celebrated Chillon church Council of Ten death delight doge ducal palace Duke Duke of Savoy dungeon Eckius edifice Engraved erected eyes Ezzelino feet Ferrara formed Foscari Francesco Foscari gallery garden Geneva genius Gibbon gondoliers hills honour inhabitants Italy lake Lausanne lofty Lord Byron Madame Madame de Stael magnificent mansion marble Martigny Milan Mont monument morning mountain never night noble observed Padua persons Petrarch Piron poet present Printed by Fenner prison Prout republic residence retreat Rhone Rialto rise rock Roman Rome says scene scenery seen side singular Sion snow spirit Stael stranger summit Tasso thing tion tower town traveller valley Vaud Venetian Venice Verona verses Vicenza villa visited Voltaire walk walls young
Populære passager
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 261 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her wither'd hands, Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago ; The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now ; The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.
Side 43 - Ran over with the glad surprise, And they that moment could not see I was the mate of misery ; But then by dull degrees came back My senses to their wonted track; I saw the dungeon walls and floor Close slowly round me as before...
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 climbed 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,
Side 181 - And music meets not always now the ear: Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
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, And mine was thankful till my eyes...
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.