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alla altri anni aveva Bacone beauty Bruto Brutus Byron Cæsar Carlyle Cesare child ciò cosi dark dead death deep della doth dream earth eyes face fear flowers follow friends give hand hath hear heart heaven Hermia hold honour Inglesi Italy king Lady leaves light live look Lord Lysander man's mind mondo morte nature never night ogni once persons più poeta poor Prospero può pure quale quali quanto questo rest Ring round sempre Shakespeare Shelley sleep solo soltanto soul speak spirit sweet tears thee things thou thought true tutto uomini uomo virtue vita wind
Page 177 - I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me...
Page 173 - He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 317 - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 171 - There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Page 232 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, Dark-heaving, boundless, endless and sublime — The image of eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 153 - Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day with patient expectation To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome : And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores...
Page 319 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow; The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Page 274 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 232 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free. And many a tyrant since : their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts; — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Page 173 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.