Bacchus in Tuscany: A Dithyrambic Poem

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J. and H.L. Hunt, 1825 - Всего страниц: 228
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Стр. 124 - Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth ! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Стр. 90 - Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratic, Shook the Arsenal and fulmined over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes...
Стр. 68 - Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce. From beds of raging fire to starve in ice...
Стр. 204 - Oh, never Shall we two exercise, like twins of Honour, Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses, Like proud seas under us...
Стр. 50 - Some few vapours thou may'st raise. The weak brain may serve to amaze, But to the reins and nobler heart Canst nor life nor heat impart. Brother of Bacchus, later born, The old world was sure forlorn Wanting thee, that aidest more The god's victories than before All his panthers, and the brawls Of his piping Bacchanals.
Стр. 133 - His legions, angel forms, who lay entranced, Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades, High overarched, embower...
Стр. 92 - But come; for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm.
Стр. 97 - Tis the true old Aurum Potabile Gilding life when it wears shabbily : Helen's old Nepenthe 'tis, That in the drinking Swallowed thinking, And was the receipt for bliss.
Стр. v - Medicine così fatte Non saran giammai per me. Beverei prima il veleno, Che un bicchier che fosse pieno Dell'amaro e reo caffè. Colà tra gli Arabi, E tra i Giannizzeri Liquor sì ostico, * Sì nero e torbido Gli schiavi ingollino: Giù nel Tartaro, Giù nell...
Стр. 209 - ... roar; I see a ship afar: Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore: But what's that I view, So radiant of hue, St Hermo, St Hermo, that sits upon the sails? Ah! No, no, no. St Hermo never, never shone so bright; 'Tis Phillis, only Phillis, can shoot so fair a light; 'Tis Phillis, 'tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone, For all the winds are hush'd, and the storm is overblown.

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