Europe Viewed Through American Spectacles

الغلاف الأمامي
J. B. Lippincott & Company, 1874 - 312 من الصفحات
 

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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة

مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 282 - Compound for sins they are inclined to By damning those they have no mind to.
الصفحة 244 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
الصفحة 241 - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
الصفحة 199 - Nothing, then, was to be heard but the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the cries of men ; some calling for their children, others for their parents, others for their husbands, and only distinguishing each other by their voices ; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his family ; some wishing to die, from the very fear of dying ; some lifting their hands to the gods ; but the greater part imagining that the last and cterixal night was come, which was to destroy both the gods*...
الصفحة 245 - Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
الصفحة 244 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
الصفحة 250 - Sublime, but neither bleak nor bare Nor misty, are the mountains there, — Softly sublime, profusely fair ! Up to their summits clothed in green And fruitful as the vales between They lightly rise And scale the skies, And groves and gardens still abound, For where no shoot Could else take root The peaks are shelved and terraced round...

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