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" 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... "
English Prose and Poetry (1137-1892). - Σελίδα 449
1916 - 792 σελίδες
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The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Τόμος 30

1818 - 638 σελίδες
...of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty...

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Τόμος 3

1818 - 806 σελίδες
...us a translation of an EJegy, by William Augustus Schle, 78. Oh Rome! my country! city of the'soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother...a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 79. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An...

The British review and London critical journal

1818 - 574 σελίδες
...of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. "The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty...

The works of ... lord Byron, Τόμοι 7-8

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819 - 466 σελίδες
...without wounding the touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Socrate's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. LXX1X. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe;...

The London Magazine, Τόμος 3

1821 - 746 σελίδες
...of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul t be dispensed with ; and, with their naked names...ever. Stripped of all that is imaginative in them, th U at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownlcss,...

Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord Byron

George Clinton - 1825 - 826 σελίδες
...sensitive mind than the noble poet's. He pours forth the following gloomy, but grand, apostrophe : Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty...

The North American Review, Τόμος 21

1825 - 504 σελίδες
...nobility, and with banners hanging over it. Let us take, for example, one of his most striking passages. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless wo ; An empty...

A Review of the Character and Writings of Lord Byron

Willard Phillips - 1826 - 194 σελίδες
...striking passages. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to tliee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless wo ; An empty...

Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1826 - 170 σελίδες
...orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breast their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance...a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. LXXIX. The Niobe of nations there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woes^...

Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord Byron

George Clinton - 1828 - 888 σελίδες
...sensitive mind than the noble poet's. He pours forth the following gloomy, but grand, apostrophe : Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty...




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