Greece and Turkey in Europe

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1878
 

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Seite 39 - Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Seite 182 - They fought like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain; They conquered; but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won, Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly as to a night's repose— Like flowers at set of sun.
Seite 150 - Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move : Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love ! My days are in the yellow leaf ; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone...
Seite 183 - She wore no funeral weeds for thee, Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, The heartless luxury of the tomb : But she remembers thee as one Long loved and for a season gone. For thee her poets' lyre is wreathed. Her marble wrought, her music breathed : For thee she rings the birthday bells ; Of thee her babes...
Seite 167 - Salamis ! Their azure arches, through the long expanse, More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints along their summits driven Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven ; Till darkly shaded from the land, and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.
Seite 124 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet ; Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one?
Seite 125 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad. 15 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! Our virgins dance beneath the shade...
Seite 183 - ... the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come, when his task of fame is wrought— Come, with her laurel-leaf...
Seite 181 - Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's...
Seite 41 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

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