The Book of Italian Travel (1580-1900)

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G. Richards, 1903 - 458 pages
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Page 352 - Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest : but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.
Page 24 - And now the Tempter thus his silence broke : " The city which thou seest no other deem Than great and glorious Rome, Queen of the Earth, So far renowned, and with the spoils enriched Of nations.
Page 14 - I was once in Italy myself; but I thank God my abode there was but nine days. And yet I saw in that little time in one city more liberty to sin than ever I heard tell of in our noble City of London in nine years.
Page 39 - My temper is not very susceptible of enthusiasm, and the enthusiasm which I do not feel, I have ever scorned to affect. But, at the distance of twenty-five years...
Page 354 - I wind among the leaves of the trees which have overgrown the tomb of Cestius, and the soil which is stirring in the sun-warm earth, and to mark the tombs, mostly of women...
Page 23 - I should think that your best line will be through the whole length of France to Marseilles, and thence by sea to Genoa; whence the passage into Tuscany is as diurnal as a Gravesend barge.
Page 13 - Vivre entre ses parents le reste de son aage! Quand revoiray-je, hélas! de mon petit village Fumer la cheminée, et en quelle saison Revoiray-je le clos de ma pauvre maison Qui m'est une province, et beaucoup d'avantage? Plus me plaist le...
Page 76 - We have been burning the bodies of Shelley and Williams on the sea-shore, to render them fit for removal and regular interment. You can have no idea what an extraordinary effect such a funeral pile has, on a desolate shore, with mountains in the back-ground and the sea before, and the singular appearance the salt and frankincense gave to the Same.
Page 74 - This Poem was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which are extended in ever winding labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air.
Page 33 - For wheresoe'er I turn my ravished eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise, Poetic fields encompass me around And still I seem to tread on classic ground; For here the Muse so oft her harp has strung, That not a mountain rears its head unsung, Renowned in verse each shady thicket grows, And every stream in heavenly numbers flows.

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