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" 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... "
Notes of a Twelve Years' Voyage of Discovery in the First Six Books of the Eneis - Page 22
by James Henry - 1853 - 586 pages
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The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Volume 30

1818 - 638 pages
...be spoken to them by the mournful breezes of the surrounding desolation. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see...
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Blackwood's Magazine, Volume 3

1818 - 762 pages
...Augustus Schler 78. Oh Rome! my country! city of the loul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to 1 1 ice. Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are oar woe< and sutteranee ? Come and ice The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps...
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Spirit of the English Magazines, Volume 3

1818 - 502 pages
...and which this subject seems so well calculated to have excited. Lxxvin. Oh Rome ! my Country ! City of the Soul ! The Orphans of the heart must turn to...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance •' Come and ssx The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your my O'er...
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Literary Gazette and Journal of Belles Lettres, Arts, Sciences, Etc, Volume 2

William Jerdan, William Ring Workman, Frederick Arnold, John Morley, Charles Wycliffe Goodwin - 1818 - 862 pages
...source, and which this subject seems so "well [calculated to have excited. Oh Rome '. my Country ! City of the Soul ! The Orphans of the heart must turn to...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What arc our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, nnd plod your way O'er steps...
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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 3

1818 - 806 pages
...us a translation of an EJegy, by William Augustus Schle, 78. Oh Rome! my country! city of the'soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother...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...
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The British review and London critical journal

1818 - 574 pages
...which, though numerous, will not, we think, be thought too numerous. " Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The...
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The works of ... lord Byron, Volumes 7-8

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819 - 466 pages
...touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Socrate's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must, turn to...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...
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Hermes; oder kritisches Jahrbuch der Literatur, Volumes 1-2

1819 - 884 pages
...oerfagt er e$ ftd), ben (S'mbrucf weitet ju treibea ali nfc¡i;tg war. ,,Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires I and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woei and sufferance? Come and...
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The works, of ... lord Byron, Volume 7

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819 - 176 pages
...fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVI1F. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul f The orphans of the heart must turn to thee', Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see...
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Lord Byron's Works ...

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1821 - 478 pages
...'d heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and suilerance ? Come and see...
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