The Brides of Florence, a Play in Five Acts, Illustrative of the Nmanner of the Middle Ages: With Historical Notes, and Minor Poems

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Hurst, Robinson, & Company, 1824
 

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252 ページ - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
228 ページ - Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in, the beauty of a thousand stars...
241 ページ - ... 1 suo infiammato viso fan biancheggiando i bei sudor più vivo: qual raggio in onda, le scintilla un riso ne gli umidi occhi tremulo e lascivo. Sovra lui pende; ed ei nel grembo molle le posa il capo, e '1 volto al volto attolle, ei famelici sguardi avidamente in lei pascendo si consuma e strugge.
238 ページ - Yes, in the days of Tarleton and Kemp, Before the stage was purged from barbarism, And brought to the perfection it now shines with. Then fools and jesters spent their wits, because The poets were wise enough to save their own For profitabler uses.
229 ページ - Blest as the immortal gods is he, The youth who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee all the while Softly speak and sweetly smile.
253 ページ - Of Englelond, to Canterbury they wende, The holy blisful martyr for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
249 ページ - In quella parte della terra prava Italica, che siede intra Rialto E le fontane di Brenta e di Piava, Si leva un colle, e non surge molt' alto, Là onde scese già una facella, Che fece alla contrada grande assalto.
207 ページ - Per correr miglior acqua alza le vele Omai la navicella del mio ingegno , Che lascia dietro a se mar si crudele : E canterò di quel secondo regno Ove l' umano spirito si purga E di salire al ciel diventa degno.
240 ページ - CROWNED with flowers I saw fair Amaryllis By Thyrsis sit, hard by a fount of crystal; And with her hand, more white than snow or lilies, On sand she wrote, ' My faith shall be immortal' : And suddenly a storm of wind and weather Blew all her faith and sand away together.
236 ページ - I've laugh'd Until I cr"yd again, to see what faces The rogue will make. Oh ! it does me good To see him hold out's chin, hang down his hands, And twirle his bawble. There is nere a part About him but breaks jests. I heard a fellow Once on the stage, cry doodle doodle dooe Beyond compare ; I'de give th' other shilling To see him act the Changling once again.

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