What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
admirable Alps amongst ancient appearance architecture Arqua beautiful Bologna Bonnivard Bridge of Sighs brother Bucentaur Calvin Cardinal castle celebrated Chillon church curiosity death delightful doge ducal palace Duke Duke of Savoy dungeon Eckius edifice erected eyes Ezzelino feet Ferney Ferrara formed Foscari Francesco Foscari garden Geneva genius Gibbon gondoliers hath hills honour inhabitants inscription Italy lake Lausanne lofty Lord Byron Madame Madame de Stael magnificent mansion marble Martigny Milan Mont monument morning mountain never night noble observed Padua Palladio persons Petrarch Piron poet present prison republic residence retreat Rhone Rialto rise rock Roman Rome says scene scenery seated seen side Simplon singular snow spirit Stael stranger summit Tasso thing tion tower town traveller university of Padua valley Vaud Venetian Venice Verona verses Vicenza villa visited Voltaire walk walls young
Page 24 - After laying down my pen I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Page 40 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar - for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! - May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 64 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Page 262 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her wither'd hands, Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago ; The 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 43 - Ran over with the glad surprise, And they that moment could not see I was the mate of misery ; But then by dull degrees came back My senses to their wonted track; I saw the dungeon walls and floor Close slowly round me as before...
Page 25 - I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting...
Page 266 - Where the car climbed 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—' Here was or is,
Page 182 - 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 43 - A light broke in upon my brain, — It was the carol of a bird; It ceased, and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard, And mine was thankful till my eyes...
Page 18 - Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way, The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand : For here, not one, but many, make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around ; of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath forked His lightnings — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation worked, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurked.