Readings on the Purgatorio of Dante: Chiefly Based on the Commentary of Benvenuto Da Imola, Volume 1

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Macmillan, 1889 - 467 pages
 

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Page 396 - The martyr first, whose eagle eye Could pierce beyond the grave; Who saw his Master in the sky, And called on Him to save.
Page 188 - I was speaking in prayer, even the man Gabriel, whom I had seen in the vision at the beginning, being caused to fly swiftly, touched me about the time of the evening oblation.
Page 292 - Therefore is the name of it called Babel ; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth : and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.
Page 189 - With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass Floated redundant.
Page 288 - How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning ! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations ! 'for thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God : I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north : I will ascend above the heights of the clouds ; I will be like the Most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit.
Page 297 - And it came to pass, as he was worshipping in the house of Nisroch his god, that Adrammelech and Sharezer his sons smote him with the sword: and they escaped into the land of Armenia. And Esarhaddon his son reigned in his stead.
Page 330 - These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.
Page 277 - For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night. Thou earnest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
Page 330 - The days of the years of my pilgrimage are a hundred and thirty years: few and evil have the days of the years of my life been...
Page 421 - Esce di mano a Lui, che la vagheggia Prima che sia, a guisa di fanciulla, Che piangendo e ridendo pargoleggia, L' anima semplicetta, che sa nulla, Salvo che, mossa da lieto fattore, Volentier torna a ciò che la trastulla.

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