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" Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod... "
Hermes; oder kritisches Jahrbuch der Literatur - l. oldal
1819
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

Outlines of History: Illustrated by Numerous Geographical and Historical ...

Marcius Willson - 1854 - 845 oldal
...; but for his country he has no such hopes of renewed existence : her prosperity is sunk forever. " Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead fmjtiret ! and control In their shut'breasts tlieir petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance...

A Tennessean Abroad: Or, Letters from Europe, Africa, and Asia

Randal William McGavock - 1854 - 398 oldal
...Church—The Vatican and other Palaces—The Pope, Cardinals, and Government of the Papal States. " 0 Rome 1 my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires, and control In their shut breasts their petty misery." OUR first care, after arriving here, was to...

Selections from the writings of lord Byron, by a clergyman [W. Elwin].

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1854
...the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien. CHILDE HAROLD. — Canto IV. EOME. OH Home ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the...heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and...

A Tennessean Abroad or Letter from Europe, Africa, and Asia

Bandal W MacGavock - 1854
...Palaces—The Pope, Cardinals, and G-overnment of the Papal States. " 0 Rome! my country! city of the soul I The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires, and control In their shut breasts their petty misery." OUR first care, after arriving here, was to...

The Works of Lord Byron: Embracing His Suppressed Poems, and a Sketch of His ...

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1854 - 1071 oldal
...wounding the touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Borne ! thce, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are...

Memories Over the Water: Or, Stray Thoughts on a Long Stroll

Henry Maney - 1854 - 329 oldal
...Between Baccano and La Storta, from an elevated point, we caught sight of the dome of St. Peter's " Oh I Rome ! my country! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must tarn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What...

Notes and Queries

1855
...of Chilile Harold and tliu Gcrusalemme Librntta has never, to my knowledge, been noted : * Oh Komc ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the...heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! nml control In their shut broads their petty misery. What are our woes ami siiKY-rancc ? Come and MO...

Questions of the Soul

Isaac Thomas Hecker - 1855 - 294 oldal
...every soul feels, and feels as the greatest of all needs, when it would earnestly give itself to God. " Oh, Rome ! my country ! City of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee." * * Byron. XIX. "Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit? I will pluck it...

A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent ...

Sarah Josepha Buell Hale - 1855 - 570 oldal
...With an immaeulate eharm whieh eannot be defaeed. Byrm's Childe Harold. Oh, Rome ! my eountry ! eity of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and eontrol In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferanee ? Come and...

The Works of Lord Byron: Including the Suppressed Poems ; Also a Sketch of ...

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1855 - 764 oldal
...wounding th« touch'd hcaii. Yet fare theo well — upon Soracte'r ridge we riart BYRON'S WORKS. LXXVHI. o for anything \ca lhan Ihc loss of a para, ' melted ; the padre thce, Lone mother of dead empires ! mid control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What arc...




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