Renaissance in Italy: the Age of the Despots, Parte 1Charles Scribner's sons, 1915 - 495 pagine |
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Pagina 314 - Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art is vain ; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is nigh ? The one I know for sure, the other dread. Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul, that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.
Pagina 150 - Calaroga sotto la protezion del grande scudo in che soggiace il leone e soggioga. Dentro vi nacque l'amoroso drudo della fede cristiana, il santo atleta benigno a' suoi ed a
Pagina 257 - I will show you soon A better station." So, o'er the lagune We glided ; and from that funereal bark I leaned, and saw the city, and could mark How from their many isles, in evening's gleam, Its temples and its palaces did seem Like fabrics of enchantment piled to heaven. I was about to speak, when—" We are even Now at the point I meant," said Maddalo, And bade the gondolieri cease to row. " Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well If you hear not a deep and heavy bell.
Pagina 377 - From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay The realms of justice and of mercy trod, Then rose a living man to gaze on God, That he might make the truth as clear as day.
Pagina 387 - Now hath my life across a stormy sea Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall Of good and evil for eternity. Now know I well how that fond phantasy Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is...
Pagina 379 - Here helms and swords are made of chalices: The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart: His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short Must be the time ere even his patience cease. Nay let him come no more to raise the fees Of this foul sacrilege beyond report! For Rome still flays and sells him at the court, Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase.
Pagina 380 - With beauty by pure motions of its own ; And since tools fashion tools which else were none, Its life makes all that lives with living skill. Now, for that every stroke excels the more The higher at the forge it doth ascend, Her soul that fashioned mine hath sought the skies ; Wherefore unfinished I must meet my end, If God, the great Artificer, denies That aid which was unique on earth before.
Pagina 301 - He maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire...
Pagina 377 - ... his spirit came, and robed in clay The realms of justice and of mercy trod, Then rose a living man to gaze on God, That he might make the truth as clear as day. For that pure star that brightened with his ray The undeserving nest where I was born, The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn; None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. I speak of Dante, whose high work remains Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood, Who only to just men deny their wage.
Pagina 231 - On a poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.