A Pilgrim's ReliquaryW. Pickering, 1845 - 448 strani |
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admiration adorned amidst ancient antique Apsis arches architecture Avignon Baths of Titus beautiful behold Belfroy beneath broad Cæsars Castle Cathedral chamber Chambery Chapel Church City Colosseum colours CURIA HOSTILIA dark delight enchanting fancy flowers foliage Frascati Frescoes fscap garden Genius Genoa gloom glorious glory gold golden gorgeous Gothic graceful grandeur green groves heart Heaven hills huge illustrious Imperial Italian King lofty lustre luxuriant machicolated magnificent majestic mansions marble Marigold Window Masinissa melancholy Michael Baumgarten mighty Minster mouldering mountains never night noble Nuremberg o'er old minster once painted Palace Petrarch picturesque pile pillars POEMS Pompeii princely purple repose Rhine Rhone Roman Rome Ruin saloons scarcely sculptured seemed Sepulchre shew solemn steep streets sublime superb SUPPLENDA tapestry Temple Thermæ thing thou Tomb towers town trees Turin turrets Tyrian purple vast Vaucluse vault verdure village walls wild winds wonder woods worthy
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 168 - And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none assurance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even ! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see.
Stran 250 - A milk-white Hind,* immortal and unchanged, Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged ; Without unspotted, innocent within, She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin.
Stran 287 - Walk about Zion, and go round about her : Tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, Consider her palaces ; That ye may tell it to the generation following : For this God is our God for ever and ever : He will be our guide even unto death.
Stran 248 - Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running 'fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world...
Stran 66 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music!
Stran 312 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Stran 201 - Beware !" her vest of gold Broidered with flowers and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp, And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face ! So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart : It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody.
Stran 20 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Stran 298 - And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky. When o'er the green undeluged earth, Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign ! And when its yellow lustre smiled O'er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child To bless the bow of God.
Stran 89 - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit...