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138: Isaiah 23:8.
139: CHP IV 34, 1-2; in fact “Arqua, where he died; / The mountain Village …” ‘And on thy happy shore a temple still, Of small and delicate proportion, keeps, Upon a mild declivity of hill, Its memory of thee; beneath it sweeps [p.225] Thy current’s calmness; oft from out it leaps The finny darter with the glittering scales, Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps; While, chance, some scattered water-lily sails Down were the shallower wave still tells its bubbling tales.’— By mountain and cataract, through the land of existing beauty and heroic memory, the pilgrim at length reaches Rome:—Rome, first empress of the bodies, then of the souls, of all the civilized world, now owing its political and, perhaps, even its religious existence to the half contemptuous pity of those nations whom she formerly held in thraldom—Rome is the very ground on which we should have loved to cope with Childe Harold ‘———— in those sullen fits, For then he’s full of matter.’ 140 Nor have we been disappointed in our wishes and expectations; for the voice of Marius could not sound more deep and solemn among the ruined arches of Carthage than the strains of the Pilgrim among the broken shrines and fallen statues of her subduer. We can but touch partially upon these awful themes. The Palatine is thus described:— CVII. ‘Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown, Matted and massed together, hillocks heap’d On what were chambers, arch crushed, column strown In fragments – chok’d up vaults, and frescos steep’d In subterranean damps, where the owl peep’d, Deeming it midnight:—Temples, baths, or halls? Pronounce who can; for all that Learning reap’d From her research hath been, that these are walls— Behold the Imperial Mount! ’tis thus the mighty falls.’—p.56. And thus the Egerian grottos, with a classical allusion to the complaint of Juvenal, that art in adorning them had destroyed their simplicity, are described in the state of decay by which that simplicity has been restored. CXVI. ‘The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water-drops; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring with years unwrinkled, Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place, Whose green, wild margin now no more erase Art’s works; nor must the delicate waters sleep, Prisoned in marble, bubbling from the base Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o’er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy creep.’—p.61. [p.226] The Coliseum is described in the midnight gloom of a cloudless Italian sky; its vast area recalls the bloody games of the Romans and the poet has vied with the memorable sculptor who produced the dying Gladiator,—superior in this, that equalling the artist in his faculty of impressing on the fancy the agonies, he can extend his power into incorporeal realms, and body forth not only the convulsed features and stiffened limbs, but the mental feelings and throes of the expiring swordsman. CXL. ‘I see before me the Gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand—his manly brow 140: Shakespeare, As You Like It, II i 67-8; “he” is Jacques. Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low— And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him—he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. CXLI. ‘He heard it, but he heeded not—his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck’d not of the life he lost, nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, Download 1.07 Mb. Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: |
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