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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. "
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord Byron - Σελίδα 400
των George Clinton - 1825 - 756 σελίδες
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The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Τόμος 30

1818 - 638 σελίδες
...to answer, only as it may be spoken to them by the mournful breezes of the surrounding desolation. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see...

Blackwood's Magazine, Τόμος 3

1818 - 762 σελίδες
...Augustus Schler 78. Oh Rome! my country! city of the loul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to 1 1 ice. Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are oar woe< and sutteranee ? Come and ice The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken...

Spirit of the English Magazines, Τόμος 3

1818 - 502 σελίδες
...poems from the same source, and which this subject seems so well calculated to have excited. Lxxvin. Oh Rome ! my Country ! City of the Soul ! The Orphans...misery. What are our woes and sufferance •' Come and ssx The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your my O'er step* of broken thrones and temples, ye f Whose...

Literary Gazette and Journal of Belles Lettres, Arts, Sciences, Etc, Τόμος 2

William Jerdan, William Ring Workman, Frederick Arnold, John Morley, Charles Wycliffe Goodwin - 1818 - 862 σελίδες
...preceding poems from the same source, and which this subject seems so "well [calculated to have excited. Oh Rome '. my Country ! City of the Soul ! The Orphans...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What arc our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, nnd plod your way O'er steps...

The British review and London critical journal

1818 - 574 σελίδες
...will conclude our extracts ; which, though numerous, will not, we think, be thought too numerous. " Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans...must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The...

Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold: Containing ...

John Cam Hobhouse Baron Broughton - 1818 - 596 σελίδες
...detailed examination must be made the study rather of a life than of a casual visit. 50 Stanza LXXVIII. Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples. The traveller who is neither very young nor very incurious, may enquire what previous instruction or...

Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold: Containing ...

John Cam Hobhouse Baron Broughton - 1818 - 396 σελίδες
...examination must be made the study rather of a life than of a casual visit. Stanza LXXVIII. Come and set. The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples. The traveller who is neither very young nor very incurious, may inquire what previous instruction or...

Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold: Containing ...

John Cam Hobhouse Baron Broughton - 1818 - 600 σελίδες
...must be made the study rather of a life than of a casual visit. 50 Stanza LXXVIII. Come and see TJie cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples. The traveller who is neither very young nor very incurious, may enquire what previous instruction or...

Hermes; oder kritisches Jahrbuch der Literatur, Τόμοι 1-2

1819 - 884 σελίδες
...£efer¿, Ьоф mciüíid; oerfagt er e$ ftd), ben (S'mbrucf weitet ju treibea ali nfc¡i;tg war. ,,Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans...heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires I and controul In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woei and sufferance? Come and...

The works, of ... lord Byron, Τόμος 7

George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1819 - 176 σελίδες
...fare thee well — upon Soracte's ridge we part. LXXVI1F. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul f 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 our woes and sufferance ? Come and see...




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