Letters from ItalyWiley and Putnam, 1845 - Всего страниц: 224 |
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Joel Tyler Headley. WILEY AND PUTNAM'S LIBRARY OF AMERICAN BOOKS . HEADLEY'S LETTERS FROM ITALY . LETTERS FROM ITALY . BY J. T. HEADLEY . LONDON.
Joel Tyler Headley. WILEY AND PUTNAM'S LIBRARY OF AMERICAN BOOKS . HEADLEY'S LETTERS FROM ITALY . LETTERS FROM ITALY . BY J. T. HEADLEY . LONDON.
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Joel Tyler Headley. PREFACE . THE accompanying Letters were not originally written with the intention of being published ... Letters to give a faithful transcript of my feelings , in all these sudden transitions . To some there may often ...
Joel Tyler Headley. PREFACE . THE accompanying Letters were not originally written with the intention of being published ... Letters to give a faithful transcript of my feelings , in all these sudden transitions . To some there may often ...
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... THE PRESS - A • 203 . 207 218 SMUGGLING PRIEST • . 215 XLV . ALLESSANDRIA - BATTLE - FIELD OF MARENGO - PAVIA— MILAN · . 218 XLVI . CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE OF ITALY 992 LETTERS FROM ITALY . 7 LETTER I. A Voyage to viii CONTENTS .
... THE PRESS - A • 203 . 207 218 SMUGGLING PRIEST • . 215 XLV . ALLESSANDRIA - BATTLE - FIELD OF MARENGO - PAVIA— MILAN · . 218 XLVI . CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE OF ITALY 992 LETTERS FROM ITALY . 7 LETTER I. A Voyage to viii CONTENTS .
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Joel Tyler Headley. LETTERS FROM ITALY . 7 LETTER I. A Voyage to Italy - Sea - Sickness - Squalls - A Man Lost Overboard - Peril of the Crew . AT SEA , Sept. 15 , 1842 . DEAR E. - Why not begin my letter at sea ? It is now no more travel ...
Joel Tyler Headley. LETTERS FROM ITALY . 7 LETTER I. A Voyage to Italy - Sea - Sickness - Squalls - A Man Lost Overboard - Peril of the Crew . AT SEA , Sept. 15 , 1842 . DEAR E. - Why not begin my letter at sea ? It is now no more travel ...
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... is no rest for poor Jack ; if he can't play the Jarman flute he must whistle ” —i . e . , if he can't do one thing , he must another . Poor Jack ! his lot is a hard one . Yours , & c . LETTER II . The Straits and Rock of Gibraltar -
... is no rest for poor Jack ; if he can't play the Jarman flute he must whistle ” —i . e . , if he can't do one thing , he must another . Poor Jack ! his lot is a hard one . Yours , & c . LETTER II . The Straits and Rock of Gibraltar -
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amid Appian arches artist ascended beautiful Cæsars carriage church Civita Vecchia Clara Novello Coliseum columns dark DEAR E.-I distance Easter Sunday English entered face feeling feet Florence gazed Genoa glorious ground half hand head heard heart heavens hill Holiness Holy Week horses Italian Italy lady land laugh lava length LETTER light look magnificent marble Marquis miles morning mountain Naples never night noble once painted palace passed peasantry perfect Peter's Pompeii poor Pope priest Prince Doria promenade quiet replied rocks Roman Roman Forum Rome ruins Salerno scene scoria scudi seemed Seravezza shore side specta stands steps stood storm streets strolled suddenly Sybil's Cave Tartarus Temple Terni thing thought Tiber told turned Vesuvius villages walk wall whole wild wind woman women wonder
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Стр. 183 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX.
Стр. 129 - There is the moral of all human tales ; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails Wealth, vice, corruption — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Стр. 143 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Стр. 145 - This grave contains all that was mortal of a young English poet, who, on his death-bed, in the bitterness of his heart at the malicious power of his enemies, desired these words to be engraven on his tombstone : " Here lies one whose name was writ in water...
Стр. 149 - He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Стр. 142 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watchdog bay'd beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Стр. 141 - He heard it, but he heeded not : his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday, — All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire, And unavenged? — Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Стр. 178 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios...
Стр. 4 - I sprung upon the quarter-deck just as the poor fellow, with his " fearful human face," riding the top of a billow, fled past. In an instant all was commotion ; plank after plank was cast over for him to seize and sustain himself on, till the ship could be put about, and the boat lowered. The first mate, a bold, fiery fellow, leaped into the boat that hung at the side of the quarter-deck, and in a voice so sharp and stern — I seem to hear it yet — shouted,
Стр. 126 - The next instunt a sheet of flame bursts from the summit with a fury perfectly appalling ; white clouds of sulphureous smoke roll up the sky, accompanied with molten fragments and detonations that shake the very earth beneath you. It is the representation of a volcano in full eruption, and a most vivid one too. Amid the spouting fire, and murky smoke, and rising fragments, the cannon of the castle are discharged, out of sight, almost every second.