Rienzi, the Last of the Roman Tribunes

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C. Scribner's sons, 1902 - 637 pages
 

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Page 245 - In this time (says the historian) the woods began to rejoice that they were no longer infested with robbers; the oxen began to plough; the pilgrims visited the sanctuaries; the roads and inns were replenished with travellers ; trade, plenty, and good faith were restored in the markets; and a purse of gold might be exposed without danger in the midst of the highway.
Page 618 - Beware lest the senator escape disguised ! " cried a voice behind ; it was Villani's. The concealing load was torn from his head — Rienzi stood revealed ; " I am the senator ! " he said, in a loud voice. "Who dare touch the Representative of the People ? " The multitude were round him in an instant.
Page 131 - Irene," said Adrian, proudly, partly perhaps in anger, partly in his experience of the sex. " Love another, and more wisely, if thou wilt ; cancel thy vows with me, and continue to think it a crime to love, and a folly to be true ! " "Cruel!" said Irene, falteringly, and in her turn alarmed. " Dost thou speak in earnest ? " " Tell me, ere I answer you, tell me this : come death, come anguish, come a whole life of sorrow, as the end of this love, wouldst thou yet repent that thou hast loved ? If so,...
Page 95 - ... a hue and lustre never seen but in the South, and even in the South most rare ; the features, not Grecian, are yet faultless; the mouth, the brow, the ripe and exquisite contour, — all are human and voluptuous; the expression, the aspect, is something more ; the form is, perhaps, too full for the perfection of loveliness, for the proportions of sculpture, for the delicacy of Athenian models , but the luxuriant fault has a majesty. Gaze long upon that picture ; it charms, yet commands the eye.
Page 335 - Rienzi led on each assault, wielding an enormous battle-axe, for the use of which the Italians were celebrated, and which he regarded as a national weapon. Inspired by every darker and sterner instinct of his nature, his blood heated, his passions aroused, fighting as a citizen for liberty, as a monarch for his crown, his daring seemed to the astonished foe as that of one frantic ; his...
Page 73 - ... a god, is all that our hearts create ! Our own youth is like that of the earth itself when it peopled the woods and waters with divinities ; when life ran riot, and yet only gave birth to beauty, — all its shapes, of poetry ; all its airs, the melodies of Arcady and Olympus ! The Golden Age never leaves the world ; it exists still and shall exist, till love, health, poetry, are no more, — but only for the young...

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