The History of the Popes: From the Close of the Middle Ages : Drawn from the Secret Archives of the Vatican and Other Original Sources, Volume 6 (Google eBook)

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K. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Company, 1901 - Papacy
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Page 564 - Down in adoration falling, Lo, the sacred Host we hail; Lo, o'er ancient forms departing Newer rites of grace prevail; Faith for all defects supplying Where the feeble senses fail. To the everlasting Father, And the Son who reigns on high, With the Holy Spirit proceeding Forth from each eternally Be salvation, honor, blessing, Might, and endless majesty. Amen.
Page 518 - I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den — as cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, or in what other land they hap to be — which drives the belly close beneath the chin : my beard turns up to heaven ; my nape falls in, fixed on my spine : my breast-bone visibly grows like a harp : a rich embroidery bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin.
Page 353 - Borgia, Adriano da Corneto, de Prie, Carlo del Carretto, San Severino, and Ippolito d'Este.* The summons was to be published " throughout the four nations " ; on the 23rd of May letters were sent to each of the several Princes calling upon them to send their Ambassadors and Prelates to the...
Page 600 - When, however, he attempted to execute his commission "the spirit of the Almighty God gave a great evidence of his presence, so that all that had presumed to obey him, falling down by the power of God, were struck with fainting and dread, For there appeared to them a horse with a terrible rider upon him, adorned with a very rich covering, and he ran fiercely and struck Heliodorus with his fore-feet, and he that sat upon him seemed to have armour of gold.
Page 518 - Or in what other land they hap to be — Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. My loins into my paunch like levers grind; My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; My feet unguided wander to and fro; In front my skin grow^s loose and long; behind, By bending it becomes more taut and strait...
Page 12 - Frantz also shews, foe. cit., 80, that the case supposed by S. Thomas, " in which earnestly examined all his ways and found them pure; for he had always submitted his teaching to the doctrines of Holy Church. Though convinced that the Briefs sent from Rome were invalid, inasmuch as they were solely inspired by lying reports, he had yet resolved to be prudent. Thus he had so far kept silence, but when he saw many of the good growing lukewarm, and the wicked more and more bold, he felt himself constrained...
Page 518 - Lombardia o ver d'altro paese che si sia, c'a forza '1 ventre appicca sotto '1 mento. La barba al cielo, e la memoria sento in sullo scrigno, e '1 petto fo d'arpia, e '1 perme1 sopra '1 viso tuttavia mel fa, gocciando, un ricco pavimento. E...
Page 12 - ... He seemed to have already forgotten that it was the secular power which had commanded him to preach, and launched him forth again on these " deep waters." Savonarola's second sermon was directed mainly against the vices of Rome. He began with a curious application of the passage in Amos, iv. I. " Hear this word, ye fat kine, that are in the mountains of Samaria." " For me," he said, " these fat kine signify the harlots of Italy and Rome. . . . Are there none in Italy and Rome? One thousand, ten...
Page 29 - Girolamo would incur the same penalty. Nevertheless, we now hear that, to the grave hurt of religion and the souls of men, this Friar still continues to preach, despises the authority of the Holy See, and declares the excommunication to be null and void. Wherefore we command you, by your duty of holy obedience, to send the said Fra Girolamo to us, under safe custody; and if he return to repentance, he will be paternally received by us, inasmuch as we seek the conversion, not the death, of the sinner....
Page 518 - Però fallace e strano surge il iudizio che la mente porta, ché mal si tra' per cerbottana torta. La mia pittura morta difendi orma', Giovanni, e '1 mio onore, non sendo in loco bon, né io...

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