Italy, a Poem

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E. Moxon, 1844 - 341 pages

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Page 55 - ... a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt seaweed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible: and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in a dream, So smoothly, silently — by many a dome, Mosque-like, and many a stately portico, The statues ranged along an azure sky; By many a pile,...
Page 114 - Orsini lived — and long might you have seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find — he knew not what.
Page 182 - Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is in the bosom of God ; her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage; the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power...
Page 111 - BOLOGNA'S bucket (in its chain it hangs* Within that reverend tower, the Guirlandine) Stop at a Palace near the Reggio-gate, Dwelt in of old by one of the ORSINI.
Page 7 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. 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 89 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto, you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own'.
Page 47 - Saying so, he laid His sonnet, an impromptu, at my feet, (If his, then Petrarch must have stolen it from him) And bowed and left me ; in his Hollow hand Receiving my small tribute, a zecchine, Unconsciously, as doctors do their fees. My omelet, and a flagon of hill-wine...
Page 117 - To sojourn among strangers, everywhere (Go where he would, along the wildest track) Flinging a charm that shall not soon be lost, And leaving footsteps to be traced by those Who love the haunts of Genius...
Page 138 - There it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought.
Page 252 - Severely great, NEPTUNE the tutelar God; A HOMER'S language murmuring in her streets And in her haven many a mast from TYRE. Then came another, an unbidden guest. He knocked and entered with a train in arms; And all was changed, her very name and language! The TYRIAN merchant, shipping at his door Ivory and gold, and silk, and frankincense, Sailed as before, but, sailing, cried "FoR P^STUM!

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