English Songs of Italian Freedom

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Longmans, Green and Company, 1911 - English poetry - 221 pages
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Page 17 - 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.
Page 11 - Apennine In the south dimly islanded ; And the Alps, whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun ; And of living things each one ; And my spirit which so long Darkened this swift stream of song, Interpenetrated lie By the glory of the sky : Be it love, light, harmony, Odour, or the soul of all Which from heaven like dew doth fall, Or the mind which feeds this verse Peopling the lone universe.
Page 17 - Oh, Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Page 17 - 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,
Page 123 - And though the stranger stand, 'tis true, By force and fortune's right he stands ; By fortune, which is in God's hands, And strength, which yet shall spring in you. This voice did on my spirit fall, Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost, ' 'Tis better to have fought and lost, Than never to have fought at all.
Page 1 - MANY a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way, With the solid darkness black Closing round his vessel's track ; Whilst above the sunless sky, Big with clouds, hangs heavily...
Page 16 - God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress...
Page 27 - Still one great clime, in full and free defiance, Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime, Above the far Atlantic ! — She has taught Her Esau-brethren that the haughty flag, The floating fence of Albion's feebler crag, May strike to those whose red right hands have bought Rights cheaply eam'd with blood.
Page 21 - Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopp'd by the axe, looks rough and little worth, But the sap lasts, — and still the seed we find Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North; So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.
Page 35 - When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours ; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knock'd on the head for his labours.

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