Corsica: Picturesque, Historical, and Social: with a Sketch of the Early Life of Napoleon, and an Account of the Bonaparte, Paoli, Pozzo Di Borgo, and Other Principal Families: Suggested by a Tour in the Island in 1852

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Parry & M'Millan, 1855 - 514 pages

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Page 117 - Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura Che la diritta via era smarrita. Ahi quanto a dir qual...
Page 325 - Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided ; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.
Page 325 - Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil.
Page 327 - Greek whose father press'd the plain, Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy.
Page 325 - The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places ; how are the mighty fallen ! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon ; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice...
Page 326 - For Ilion now (her great defender slain) Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain. Who now protects her wives with guardian care? Who saves her infants from the rage of war? Now hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er...
Page 326 - O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan : very pleasant hast thou been unto me : thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
Page 327 - Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb; (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain;) Ungenerous insult, impotent and vain! Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace; No mark of pain, or violence of face: Rosy and fair! as Phoebus' silver bow Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below.
Page 327 - Some word thou would'st have spoke, which, sadly dear, My soul might keep, or utter with a tear; Which never, never could be lost in air, Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there!
Page 490 - Yet here all products and all plants abound, Sprung from the fruitful genius of the ground ; Fields waving high with heavy crops are seen, And vines that flourish in eternal green, Refreshing meads along the murmuring main, And fountains streaming down the fruitful plain.

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