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arms beam beauty beneath bids birds bloom bosom breast breath bright brow calm cheek cheer cold dark death deep despair doth dreams dwell earth eyes fair fate fear feel fell fierce fire flowers flowing gaze give gleaming gloom gone grave grief grove hall hand hath head hear heart heaven hope hour Italy land LEON life's light lips living lofty lonely look Lord lost maiden meet midst mountain mournful moved never night Note o'er pale passed reach rest rock roll rose round Save scene Sect shore shrine side sigh silent sleep smile soft song sorrow sought soul spirit Stanza star step stream sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought tomb unto vale waves weep wild winding wrong young youthful
Page 85 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
Page 79 - Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the parapet of the tocador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread out like a map below me ; all buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents sleeping, as it were, in the moonshine.
Page 46 - Tres Notus abreptas in saxa latentia torquet — Saxa vocant Itali mediis quae in fluctibus Aras — Dorsum immane mari summo ; tres Eurus ab alto In brevia et Syrtes urguet — miserabile visu — Illiditque vadis atque aggere cingit arenae.
Page 202 - In the midst of desolation and ruin we looked back to the past, cleared away the gloomy forest, and fancied every building perfect, with its terraces and pyramids, its sculptured and painted ornaments, grand, lofty, and imposing, and overlooking an immense inhabited plain ; we called back into life the strange people who gazed at us in sadness from the walls...
Page 81 - Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda ; at other times I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the notes of a single voice rising from some solitary street, and have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier serenading his lady's window ; a gallant custom of former days, but now sadly on the decline except in the remote towns and villages of Spain.
Page 201 - We could not but regard it as a holy place, dedicated to the gods, and consecrated by the religious observances of a lost and unknown people. Comparatively, the hand of ruin has spared it, and the great tablet, surviving the wreck of elements, stands perfect and entire. Lonely, deserted, and without any worshippers at its shrine, the figures and characters are distinct as when the people who reared it went up to pay their adorations before it. To us it was all a mystery ; silent, defying the most...
Page 202 - Valley" of Rasselas. In the romance of the world's history nothing ever impressed me more forcibly than the spcctacle of this once great and lovely city, overturned, desolate, and lost ; discovered by accident, overgrown with trees for miles around, and without even a name to distinguish it.
Page 102 - Place yourself in my situation. Could you have hunted London for a publisher, endured all the alternate hot and cold water thrown on all your exertions; bargained for what sum they might be pleased to give; and, after all, canvassed, examined, nay quarrelled over accounts the most intricate in the world?