ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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alſo Amalberg Augen Augenblick beſten biſt Blick Branicki Bruſt Caſanova Chilperich Clementine derſelben deſſen Dichter dieſe eben ſo einſt endlich erſt erſten Erzählung fand faſt Fredegunde Freund Fürſt Fürſten Gedicht Geiſt Geſchichte Geſellſchaft Geſtalt geweſen Glück Gott Grafen großen Hand Hauſe Herr Herz Himmel hohen in's iſt Jahre jetzt König konnte Kunſt Land laſſen Leben Leſer lich Liebe Lord Byron Luſt Mann Menſch Menſchen möchte müſſen Nacht Otto der Schütz Poeſie Radegundis Reiſe Richard ſage ſagen ſagt ſagte ſah ſaß ſcheint Schickſal ſchien ſchnell ſchon ſchöne ſechs ſehe ſehen Sehnſucht ſehr ſein ſeine ſeit ſelbſt ſen ſey ſeyn ſich ſelbſt ſie ſich ſieht ſind ſo viel ſogleich ſolche ſoll ſollte ſondern ſonſt ſprach ſprechen ſtand Stefano Stefano's ſteht ſtets ſuchen ſuchte Tage Theil Thränen Thüringer Tomatis umſonſt unſer unſre Vater verlaſſen Victor vielleicht Voltaire ward Warſchau Weiſe weiß Welt wenigſtens Weſen wieder wohl Woiwoden wollen wollte Wort zwiſchen
الصفحة 213 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her...
الصفحة 226 - Welcome, to their roar! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead ! Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
الصفحة 220 - Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains ; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
الصفحة 224 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
الصفحة 205 - TITAN ! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise ; What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain...
الصفحة 226 - Is THY face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
الصفحة 220 - They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow. Around his waist are forests braced, The Avalanche in his hand ; But ere it fall, that thundering ball Must pause for my command. The Glacier's cold and restless mass Moves onward day by day ; But I am he who bids it pass, Or with its ice delay.
الصفحة 230 - Soft, as the memory of buried love ; Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above ; Was she— the daughter of that rude old Chief, Who met the maid with tears — but not of grief.
الصفحة 230 - The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul...
الصفحة 230 - Who hath not proved how feebly words essay To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess The might, the majesty of Loveliness...