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Acropolis Altar Anaxandridas ancient architecture Areopagus Arnold of Brescia Athens Avignon awful beauty bishop blessed blue bold Carbonari cathedral catholic century character Christian clergy cloud communion consistory Contarini Corinth dark deep divine doctrine dream earth ecclesiastical English Epidaurus epoch eyes faith father fear feeling gaze Genoa glory God's Gothic Greece Greek green heart Heaven hills holy Hymettus interesting Italian architecture Italy land light live Lombard look Lord magnificent Middle Ages Milan mind miracles modern moral mountain Mycenae mysterious nature never night Olympeion paganism palace Paolo Sarpi papacy papal Paris Parthenon passed Petrarch pillars plain pope priest replied Roman Church Rome sacred scene scenery Scripture seems solemn soul speak spirit streets Surely temper temple things thou thought tion towers town truth unity Vaucluse Venice voice whole wonderful words
Page 473 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit ? ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy...
Page 308 - Therefore they shall come and sing in the height of Zion, and shall flow together to the goodness of the Lord, for wheat, and for wine, and for oil, and for the young of the flock and of the herd: and their soul shall be as a watered garden; and they shall not sorrow any more at all.
Page 474 - Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoyed, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Page 474 - O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, «Beauty is truth, truth beauty», — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 627 - mid unfading bowers. Yet tears to human suffering are due ; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes. Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died ; And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees...
Page 508 - Be still the unimaginable lodge For solitary thinkings; such as dodge Conception to the very bourne of heaven, Then leave the naked brain: be still the leaven, That spreading in this dull and clodded earth Gives it a touch ethereal — a new birth: Be still a symbol of immensity; A firmament reflected in a sea; An element filling the space between; An unknown — but no more : we humbly screen With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly bending, And giving out a shout most heaven-rending, Conjure thee...
Page 99 - Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, Apart from happy ghosts, that gather flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.
Page 333 - I RODE one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice : a bare strand Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand, Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds, Is this; an uninhabited seaside, Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons; and no other object breaks The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes A narrow space of level sand thereon,...
Page 338 - Thro' mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared Between the East and West ; and half the sky Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep West into a wondrous hue Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift sun yet paused in his descent Among the many -folded hills : they were Those famous Euganean hills, which bear As seen from Lido thro...
Page 474 - Ah, happy, happy boughs ! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new ; More happy love ! more happy, happy love ! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting and for ever young...