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ancient arms beauty beneath brother called century character chief Church Cosimo court death despots died Duke English eyes face fair feeling field Florence Florentine flowers force Fosdinovo Francesco genius give golden grace green hand hath head heart heaven hills honour Italian Italy leaves less light literature living look Lorenzo lover master Medici mind mountain murder nature never night noble once painted palace Papacy Parma pass passion plain play poets Pope princes remains Renaissance republic returned rise Roman Rome rose round rule San Marino scene seems sense singing song soul spirit sweet thee things thou thought town true turned Vittoria walls whole winds young youth
Sayfa 62 - I moti tuoi, né di sospiri è degna La terra. Amaro e noia La vita, altro mai nulla; e fango è il mondo.
Sayfa 23 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Sayfa 277 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Sayfa 115 - And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth ; We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites. Sweetest breath and clearest eye (Like perfumes) go out and die ; And consequently this is done, As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings, Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
Sayfa 120 - FERD. Such a kind of thriving thing I would wish thee ; and ere long, thou may'st arrive At a higher place by't. Bos. Take your devils, Which hell calls angels...
Sayfa 122 - He says, in hell there's one material fire, And yet it shall not burn all men alike. Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience ! When I look into the fish-ponds in my garden, Methinks I see a thing armed with a rake, That seems to strike at me.
Sayfa 80 - ... things, — but for ornament he added countless antique statues in marble and bronze, pictures most choice, and musical instruments of every sort, nor would he admit anything there that was not very rare and excellent. Then at very great cost he collected a goodly number of most excellent and rare books in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, all of which he adorned with gold and with silver, esteeming this to be the chiefest excellence of his great palace...
Sayfa 110 - Upon the instant lose all use of speech, All vital motion, like a man had lain Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance.
Sayfa 114 - Miserable creature ! If thou persist in this, 'tis damnable. Dost thou imagine thou canst slide on blood, And not be tainted with a shameful fall ? Or, like the black and melancholic yew-tree, Dost think to root thyself in dead men's graves, And yet to prosper ] Instruction to thee Comes like sweet showers to over-harden'd ground ; They wet, but pierce not deep.