Poems of Places: ItalyHenry Wadsworth Longfellow J.R. Osgood and Company, 1877 |
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Стр. 4
... Thou Cæsar ! chief , whose sword the East o'erpowers , And the tamed Indian drives from Roman towers . All hail , Saturnian earth ! hail , loved of fame , Land rich in fruits , and men of mighty name ! For thee I dare the sacred founts ...
... Thou Cæsar ! chief , whose sword the East o'erpowers , And the tamed Indian drives from Roman towers . All hail , Saturnian earth ! hail , loved of fame , Land rich in fruits , and men of mighty name ! For thee I dare the sacred founts ...
Стр. 7
... thou ! So eager was that courteous spirit mild , Only for the sweet sound of his own land , To welcome joyfully his country's child : And now in thee , not without warfare stand Those who are yet alive ; and each gnaws each , Of those ...
... thou ! So eager was that courteous spirit mild , Only for the sweet sound of his own land , To welcome joyfully his country's child : And now in thee , not without warfare stand Those who are yet alive ; and each gnaws each , Of those ...
Стр. 8
... thou shalt see how sore The pains and sorrows by thy vassals borne ; And look how safe it is in Santafior ! Come and behold thy Rome , who now doth mourn , Lonely and widowed ; day and night she cries , " My Cæsar , wherefore leav'st thou ...
... thou shalt see how sore The pains and sorrows by thy vassals borne ; And look how safe it is in Santafior ! Come and behold thy Rome , who now doth mourn , Lonely and widowed ; day and night she cries , " My Cæsar , wherefore leav'st thou ...
Стр. 9
... Thou , Father , from on high , Touch by my humble voice , that stubborn wrath may yield ! Ye , to whose sovereign hands the Fates confide Of this fair land the reins , This land , for which no pity wrings your breast , — Why does the ...
... Thou , Father , from on high , Touch by my humble voice , that stubborn wrath may yield ! Ye , to whose sovereign hands the Fates confide Of this fair land the reins , This land , for which no pity wrings your breast , — Why does the ...
Стр. 13
... thou the mighty , in their pride of place , Must woo to gentle ruth , Whose haughty will long evil customs nurse , Ever to truth averse ! Thee better fortunes wait , Among the virtuous few , the truly great ! Tell them , But who shall ...
... thou the mighty , in their pride of place , Must woo to gentle ruth , Whose haughty will long evil customs nurse , Ever to truth averse ! Thee better fortunes wait , Among the virtuous few , the truly great ! Tell them , But who shall ...
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Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Poems of Places: Spain, Vol; 1 (Classic Reprint) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Poems of Places: Asia, Syria (Classic Reprint) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ancient Apennine Aubrey de Vere azure bark beauty behold beneath blood blue bosom bowers breast breath bright brow clime clouds crimson crown Dante Alighieri dark dead death deep divine doth dream earth Enceladus eyes face fair fame Felicia Hemans Florence flowers gaze gleam gliding glory glowing gold golden gray hand hath heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hills holy hour Italy Joseph Addison lake land light Longfellow look Lord Lord Byron marble morning mountains Naples night o'er once passed Percy Bysshe Shelley plain pride Richard Henry Wilde rocks roof rose round ruin sacred sail Samuel Rogers shade shining shore sigh silent skies sleep smiles soft song soul spirit stand star stood stream summer sunny sweet thee thine thou art thought tomb towers vines voice walls wandered waters waves William Gibson William Wetmore Story winds young Italy youth
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Стр. 166 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, Angels of rain and lightning ! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm.
Стр. 167 - If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable!
Стр. 165 - O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
Стр. 167 - The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Стр. 235 - When on an idle day, a day of search 'Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, "Why not remove it from its lurking place...
Стр. 28 - With venerable grandeur mark the scene. Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast. The sons of Italy were surely blest : Whatever fruits in different climes...
Стр. 255 - The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.
Стр. 165 - O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill...
Стр. 118 - The rough, dark-skirted wilderness ; The dun and bladed grass no less, Pointing from this hoary tower In the windless air...
Стр. 176 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest!