Essays, political, historical, and miscellaneous, Volume 2

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W. Blackwood, 1850 - Europe
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Page 347 - Mahomet, with the sword in one hand and the Koran in the other, erected his throne on the ruins of Christianity and of Rome.
Page 57 - PER me si va nella cittą dolente, Per me si va nell' eterno dolore, Per me si va tra la perduta gente. Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore : Fecemi la divina potestate, La somma sapienza e il primo amore. Dinanzi a me non fur cose create, Se non eterne, ed io eterno duro : Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch' entrate .' Queste parole di colore oscuro Vid' io scritte al sommo d' una porta : Perch' io : Maestro, il senso lor m
Page 56 - Con lieto volto, ond' io mi confortai, Mi mise dentro alle segrete cose. Quivi sospiri, pianti ed alti guai Risonavan per l' aer senza stelle, Perch' io al cominciar ne lagrimai. Diverse lingue, orribili favelle, Parole di dolore, accenti d...
Page 182 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, 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!
Page 45 - Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
Page 49 - O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head ; Then shine the vales — the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies ; The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays; The long reflections of the distant fires Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires: A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, And...
Page 56 - Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans, Resounded through the air pierced by no star, That e'en I wept at entering. Various tongues, Horrible languages, outcries of woe, Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, With hands together smote that swell'd the sounds, Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls Round through that air with solid darkness stain'd, Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.
Page 680 - Welcome, right welcome, Christopher North; we cordially greet thee in thy new dress, thou genial and hearty old man, whose 'Ambrosian nights' have so often in imagination transported us from solitude to the social circle, and whose vivid pictures of flood and fell, of loch and glen, have carried us in thought from the smoke, din, and pent-up opulence of London, to the rushing stream or tranquil tarn of those mountain-ranges,
Page 45 - O thou ! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers ! protect my son ! Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, Against his country's foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age ! So when triumphant from successful toils, Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, •Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, And say, this chief transcends his father's fame ; While pleased amidst the general shouts of Troy,...
Page 61 - I have, indeed, been a vessel without sail and without steerage, carried about to divers ports, and roads, and shores, by the dry wind that springs out of sad poverty...

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