Selections from My Journal, During a Residence in the Mediterranean

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W. Clowes and Sons, 1836 - 128 pages
 

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Page 128 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Page 128 - Gul in her bloom ; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit ; And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Page 65 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
Page 128 - Gul in her bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute: Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
Page 47 - But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. In florid beauty groves and fields appear, Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
Page 50 - Low lies that land, yet blest with fruitful stores, Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores ; And none, ah ! none, so lovely to my sight, Of all the lands which heaven o'erspreads with light.
Page 49 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 66 - The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below; XC Death in the front, Destruction in the rear! Such was the scene - what now remaineth here?
Page 44 - Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
Page 61 - Shipwreck. Pallas and Plato are forgotten, in the recollection of Falconer and Campbell : — " Here in the dead of night by Lonna's steep, The seaman's cry was heard along the deep.

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