Florence in Poetry, History, and Art

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Mayer and Miller Company, 1913 - 354 страница

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Страница 187 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity: Himself from God he could not free; He builded better than he knew : The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Страница 59 - OFT have I seen at some cathedral door A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er ; Far off the noises of the world retreat ; The loud vociferations of the street Become an tmdistinjruishable roar.
Страница 249 - Four great walls in the New Jerusalem Meted on each side by the angel's reed, For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me To cover — the three first without a wife, While I have mine!
Страница 218 - He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.
Страница 51 - TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom ; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume...
Страница 123 - Eden of thy hand ; Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear See fragment shadows of the crossing deer ; And with that serviceable nymph I stoop The crystal from its restless pool to scoop. I see no longer ! I myself am there, Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share.
Страница 60 - ... But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves, And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers ! Ah ! from what agonies of heart and brain, What exultations trampling on despair, What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong, What passionate outcry of a soul in pain, Uprose this poem of the earth and air, This mediaeval miracle of song...
Страница 329 - I came as one whose thoughts half linger, Half run before; The youngest to the oldest singer That England bore. I found him whom I shall not find Till all grief end, In holiest age our mightiest mind, Father and friend.
Страница 61 - ... the woe From which thy song and all its splendors came ; And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name, The ice about thy heart melts as the snow On mountain heights, and in swift overflow Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame. Thou makest full confession ; and a gleam, As of the dawn on some dark forest cast, Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase ; Lethe and Eunoe — the remembered dream And the forgotten sorrow — bring at last That perfect pardon which is perfect peace.
Страница 141 - That sets us praising, - why not stop with him? Why put all thoughts of praise out of our head With wonder at lines, colours, and what not? Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms! Rub all out, try at it a second time. Oh, that white smallish female with the breasts, She's just my niece . . . Herodias, I would say, Who went and danced and got men's heads cut off! Have it all out!

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