Letters from Europe: Comprising the Journal of a Tour Through Ireland, England, Scotland, France, Italy, and Switzerland in the Years 1825, '26, and '27, Volume 1

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Página 12 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Página 85 - On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all Paradise before your eye. To rest, the cushion and soft Dean invite, Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
Página 149 - O, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
Página 376 - tis to cast one's eyes so low ! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yon' tall, anchoring bark, Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight.
Página 522 - O'er dust ! a charity their dogs enjoy. What could I do? what succour? what resource? With pious sacrilege, a grave I stole ; With impious piety, that grave I wrong'd ; Short in my duty ; coward in my grief! More like her murderer, than friend, I crept, With soft-suspended step, and, muffled deep In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last sigh. I whisper'd what should echo through their realms ; Nor writ her name, whose tomb should pierce the skies.
Página 255 - No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, ' No storied urn nor animated bust ;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.
Página 278 - Others embarked on board a ship on the coast of Buchan, and were conveyed to Norway, from whence they travelled to Sweden. In the month of May, the duke of Cumberland advanced with the army into the Highlands, as far as Fort Augustus, where he encamped; and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword.
Página 159 - MANY OF HIS ANCESTORS AND HIS MOTHER ARE BURIED, LIE THE REMAINS OF GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON, LORD BYRON, OF ROCHDALE, IN THE COUNTY OF LANCASTER, THE AUTHOR OF "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
Página 138 - Ye brown o'erarching groves, That contemplation loves, Where willowy Camus lingers with delight ! Oft at the blush of dawn I trod your level lawn, Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia silver-bright In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, With Freedom by my side, and soft-eyed Melancholy.

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