Lord Byron e l'Italia ...R. Sandron, 1919 - 124 pages |
Common terms and phrases
21 Febbraio accenti Advertisement alcuni ammirazione amore Andrea Vaccà anzi appunto Ave Maria Bowles Byron e l'Italia byroniana Canto the fourth Canto the third Cavalier Servente ch'egli chè Childe Childe-Harold Childe-Harold's Pilgrimage cielo Corrado Zacchetti critica dantesca dell'Italia dice Don Juan earth Febbraio first Foscolo français Francesca da Rimini Giornale giudizio del Byron giusta grandi poeti Harold's Pilgrimage heaven Hobhouse hour immortale inspirazioni Italia Italy John Keats Keats l'Ariosto l'Hobbhouse lettera al Murray letteratura italiana libertà lingua lingua italiana lodi Lord Byron Louis Le Cardonnel Luigi Pulci Marin Faliero Moore Morgante nobile lord paese parole Petrarca Philippeville poema poesia poeta inglese poète poetica Proph Prophecy of Dante Pulci Ravenna Reggio Cal rimproveri Sandron Saul Saul alfieriano sentimenti Sepolcri Shelley Silvio Pellico sonetto song stranieri Tasso thou traduttore traduzione tragedia troppo Ugo Foscolo Venezia Venice versi zione
Popular passages
Page 55 - Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart ; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way, As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay.
Page 51 - I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter alL...
Page 109 - 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...
Page 27 - Where the car climb'd the Capitol; far and wide Temple and tower went down, nor left a site: — Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void, O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, And say, 'Here was, or is', where all is doubly night?
Page 57 - I,' says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly ; ' 'Twas one of my feats.' " ' Who shot the arrow? ' ' The poet-priest Milman (So ready to kill man), Or Southey or Barrow.
Page 41 - From the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze, And large black eyes that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once, To the high dama's brow, more melancholy, But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance, Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
Page 5 - Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopp'd by the axe, looks rough and little worth, But the sap lasts, — and still the seed we find Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North; So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.
Page 6 - And I will war, at least in words (and — should My chance so happen — deeds) with all who war With Thought ;— and of Thought's foes by far most rude Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. I know not who may conquer : if I could Have such a prescience, it should be no bar To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation Of every despotism in every nation.
Page 35 - Da tregua un poco: or l'aura aperta e pura Ti fia ristoro; vieni: alquanto siedi Tra i figli tuoi. SAUL. .... Che mi si dice? MICOL. Ah! padre!... SAUL. Chi sete voi?... Chi d'aura aperta e pura Qui favellò?... Questa? è caligin densa; Tenebre sono; ombra di morte.... Oh! mira; Più mi t'accosta; il vedi? il sol dintorno Cinto ha di sangue ghirlanda funesta.... Odi tu canto di sinistri augelli? Lugubre un pianto sull'aere si spande, Che me percuote, ea lagrimar mi sforza.... Ma che? Voi pur, voi...
Page 72 - To the kind reader of our sober clime This way of writing will appear exotic ; Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme, Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic, And revell'd in the fancies of the time, True knights, chaste dames, huge giants, kings despotic, But all these, save the last, being obsolete, I chose a modern subject as more meet.