The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1821 |
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Page 244
... . Winkelmann has made a strange blunder in the note , by saying the Ciceronian wolf was not in the Capitol , and that Dion was wrong in saying so . Ruminalis by the Comitium , by which he does not 244 NOTES TO THE FOURTH CANTO OF.
... . Winkelmann has made a strange blunder in the note , by saying the Ciceronian wolf was not in the Capitol , and that Dion was wrong in saying so . Ruminalis by the Comitium , by which he does not 244 NOTES TO THE FOURTH CANTO OF.
Page 245
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. Ruminalis by the Comitium , by which he does not seem to allude to the church of Saint Theodore . Rycquius was the first to make the mistake , and Winkelmann followed Rycquius . Flaminius Vacca tells ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. Ruminalis by the Comitium , by which he does not seem to allude to the church of Saint Theodore . Rycquius was the first to make the mistake , and Winkelmann followed Rycquius . Flaminius Vacca tells ...
Page 246
... Comitium to the Lateran , and thence brought to the Capitol . If it was found near the arch of Severus , it may have been one of the images which Orosius ' says was thrown down in the Forum by lightning when Alaric took the city . That ...
... Comitium to the Lateran , and thence brought to the Capitol . If it was found near the arch of Severus , it may have been one of the images which Orosius ' says was thrown down in the Forum by lightning when Alaric took the city . That ...
Page 248
... Comitium , is only talking of its ancient position as re- corded by Pliny ; and even if he had been remarking where it was found , would not have alluded to the church of Saint Theodore , but to a very different place , near which it ...
... Comitium , is only talking of its ancient position as re- corded by Pliny ; and even if he had been remarking where it was found , would not have alluded to the church of Saint Theodore , but to a very different place , near which it ...
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amidst amongst ancient Ariosto beauty beneath blood Boccaccio breast breath brow Cæsar called Canto Certaldo Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Chioza church Cicero Classical Tour clouds Comitium dead death Decameron deep divine Doge dust earth edit Egeria Emperor empire eyes fall fame feeling Ficus Ruminalis Flaminius Florence Florentine foes gaze Genoese glory gondoliers hath heart heaven hills Hist honour hyæna immortal inscription Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake light live Livy memory mind mortal mountains Muses Nardini nymph o'er Padua pass passion Petrarch poet quæ Roman Rome round ruin scene seems seen shore soul spirit spot stand Stanza star statue Storia delle arti Suetonius Tasso tears temple temple of Romulus thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tree triumphs valley Venetians Venice voice walls waves wind Winkelmann woes wolf words writer καὶ
Popular passages
Page 91 - 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 : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Page 20 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Page 92 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers : And such she was ; — her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased.
Page 132 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection; all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free!
Page 127 - Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn : Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.
Page 104 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest...
Page 96 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Page 56 - Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way, The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand : For here, not one, but many make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around : of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd His lightnings, — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation work'd, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd.
Page 112 - God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress...
Page 44 - Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake, Which feeds it as a mother who doth make A fair but froward infant her own care, Kissing its cries away as these awake; — Is it not better thus our lives to wear, Than join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict or bear?