The Great Poets of Italy: Together with a Brief Connecting Sketch of Italian Literature

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1903 - 359 страници

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Страница 155 - hymn: — Brief life is here our portion, Brief sorrow, short-lived care ; The life that knows no ending, The tearless life is there. O happy retribution! Short toil, eternal rest; For mortals and for sinners, A mansion with the blest. Now,
Страница 29 - and sorrow, his immortal poem: — Ah! from what agony of heart and brain, What exultations trampling on despair, What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong, What passionate outcry of a soul in pain, Uprose this poem of the earth and air, — This mediaeval miracle of song.
Страница 245 - Would not be seen the armed torrents pour'd Down the steep Alps; nor would the hostile horde Of many-nation'd spoilers from the Po Quaff blood and water; nor the stranger's sword Be thy sad weapon of defence, and so Victor or vanquished, thon the slave of friend or foe.
Страница 244 - thon who hast The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame. Oh, God I that
Страница 98 - off, Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. All waters that on earth most limpid are Would seem to have within themselves some mixture Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown current Under the shade perpetual, that never Kay of the
Страница 79 - human arguments, So that nor oar he wants, nor other sail Than his own wings, between so distant shores. See how he holds them pointed up to heaven, Fanning the air with the eternal pinions, That do not moult themselves like mortal hair
Страница 20 - the mud all day : It remains vile, nor the sun's worth is less. " By race I am gentle," the proud man doth say: He is the mud, the sun is gentleness. Let no man predicate That aught the name of gentleness should have, Even in a king's estate, Except the heart there
Страница 57 - when Vergil tells him that Beatrice herself has sent him, Dante expresses his willingness to undertake the difficult and awe-inspiring task. It is night-fall when they reach the gate of Hell, over which is written the dread inscription: — Through me the way is to the city dolent; Through me the way
Страница 25 - struggling sufferers, hurt to death, she lay ; Shuddering they drew her garments off — and found A robe of sackcloth next the smooth white skin. Such, poets, is your bride, the Muse I young, gay, Radiant, adorn'd outside; a hidden ground Of thought and of austerity within.
Страница 63 - was the book and he who wrote it. That day no farther did we read therein." And all the while one spirit uttered this, The other one did weep so, that, for pity, I swooned away as if I had been dying, And fell, even as a dead body falls.