Italian Byways

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H. Holt, 1883 - 318 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 145 - And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth ; We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites. Sweetest breath and clearest eye (Like perfumes) go out and die ; And consequently this is done, As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings, Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
الصفحة 152 - You have heard it rumored for these many years, None of our family dies but there is seen The shape of an old woman, which is given By tradition to us to have been murdered By her nephews, for her riches.
الصفحة 141 - Upon the instant lose all use of speech, All vital motion, like a man had lain Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance.
الصفحة 150 - Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming clear, But seas do laugh, show white, when rocks are near. We cease to grieve, cease to be fortune's slaves, Nay, cease to die, by dying.
الصفحة 146 - twill multiply love there. You do tremble : Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, To fear, more than to love me. Sir, be confident : What is't distracts you ? This is flesh and blood, sir ; 'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster, Kneels at my husband's tomb.
الصفحة 176 - VI. — ON THE LAGOONS. The mornings are spent in study, sometimes among pictures, sometimes in the Marcian Library, or again in those vast convent chambers of the Frari, where the archives of Venice load innumerable shelves. The afternoons invite us to a further flight upon the water. Both sandolo and gondola await our choice, and we may sail or row, according as the wind and inclination tempt us. Yonder lies San Lazzaro, with the neat red buildings of the Armenian convent. The last oleander blossoms...
الصفحة 152 - O thou soft natural death, that art* joint-twin To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet Stares on thy mild departure ; the dull owl Beats not against thy casement ; the hoarse wolf Scents not thy carrion : pity winds thy corse, Whilst horror waits on princes'.
الصفحة 247 - Poetry touches emotion through the thinking faculty. If music reaches the thinking faculty at all, it is through fibres of emotion. But emotion, when it has become thought, has already lost a portion of its force, and has taken to itself a something alien to its nature. Therefore the message of music can never rightly be translated into words.
الصفحة 185 - Venetian moonlight; and if a single impression of the night has to be retained from one visit to Venice, those are fortunate who chance upon a full moon of fair weather. Yet I know not whether some quieter and soberer effects are not more thrilling. To-night, for example, the waning moon will rise late through veils of scirocco. Over the bridges of San Cristoforo and San Gregorio, through the deserted Calle di Mezzo, my friend and I walk in darkness, pass the marble basements of the Salute, and push...
الصفحة 249 - ... as in science beauty and goodness assume the shape of truth, and in religion truth and beauty become goodness. The rigid definitions, the unmistakable laws of science, are not to be found in art. Whatever art has touched acquires a concrete sensuous embodiment, and thus ideas presented to the mind in art have lost a portion of their pure thought-essence. It is on this account that the religious conceptions of the Greeks were so admirably fitted for the art of sculpture, and certain portions of...

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