The Sonnets of Europe: A Volume of Translations

Samuel Waddington
White and Allen, 1886 - 278 páginas
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Página 256 - Heaven-born, the Soul a heaven-ward course must hold ; Beyond the visible world she soars to seek (For what delights the sense is false and weak) Ideal Form, the universal mould. The wise man, I affirm, can find no rest In that which perishes : nor will he lend His heart to aught which doth on time depend. "Tis sense, unbridled will, and not true love, That kills the soul: love betters what is best, Even here below, but more in Heaven above.
Página 55 - Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee Glory to that eternal Peace is paid, Who such divinity to thee imparts As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts.
Página 260 - Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame. Oh, God! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress...
Página 256 - No mortal object did these eyes behold When first they met the placid light of thine. And my Soul felt her destiny divine, And hope of endless peace in me grew bold : Heaven-born, the Soul a heaven-ward course must hold ; Beyond the visible world she soars to seek (For what delights the sense is false and weak) Ideal Form, the universal mould. The wise man, I affirm...
Página 24 - I FIND no peace, and all my war is done; I fear and hope, I burn, and freeze like ice...
Página xxiv - The only true motive for putting poetry into a fresh language must be to endow a fresh nation, as far as possible, with one more possession of beauty.
Página 78 - The people is a beast of muddy brain That knows not its own strength, and therefore stands Loaded with wood and stone ; the powerless hands Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein : One kick would be enough to break the chain ; But the beast fears, and what the child demand It does ; nor its own terror understands, Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain. Most wonderful ! with its own hand it ties And gags itself— gives itself death and war For pence doled out by kings from its own store.
Página 51 - With your fair eyes a charming light I see, For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain; Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain Which my lame feet find all too strong for me; Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly; Heavenward your spirit stirreth me to strain; El'en as you will, I blush and blanch again, Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky.
Página 121 - When you are very old, at evening You'll sit and spin beside the fire, and say, Humming my songs, Ah well, ah well-a-day! When I was young, of me did Ronsard sing.' None of your maidens that doth hear the thing, Albeit with her weary task foredone, But wakens at my name, and calls you one Blest, to be held in long remembering. I shall be low beneath the earth, and laid On sleep, a phantom in the myrtle shade, While you beside the fire, a grandame grey, My love, your pride, remember and regret; Ah,...
Página 253 - Era il bel viso suo, quale esser suole da primavera alcuna volta il cielo, quando la pioggia cade, ea un tempo il sole si sgombra intorno il nubiloso velo. E come il rosignuol dolci carole mena nei rami alor del verde stelo, cosi alle belle lagrime le piume si bagna Amore, e gode al chiaro lume. 66 E ne la face de...

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