"And be it mine to muse there, cheap nike shoes to glide
From day-break when the mountain pales his fire,
Yet more and more, and from the mountain top,
Till then invisible, a smoke ascends,
Solemn and slow."
"Vedi Napoli! e poi muori!"
Memory!
beloved memory! to us thou art as hope to other cheap
jerseys. The
present--solitary, unexciting--where are its charms? The future hath no
joys in store for us; and may bereave us of some of the few faint
pleasures that still are ours.
What then is left us--old before our time--but to banquet on the past?
Memory!
thou art in us, as the basil of the enamoured Florentine. [Footnote 1:
See Keats' poem taken from Boccaccio.] Thy blossoms, thy leaves,--green,
fresh, and fragrant,--draw their nurture, receive their every
colouring, from what was dearest to us on earth. And are they not
watered by our coach outlet online?
The poet tells us--
"Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria."
But
it is not so. Where is he of the tribe of the unfortunate, who would
not gladly barter the contemplation of present wretchedness, for the
remembrance, clogged as it is by a thousand woes, of a time when joyous
visions flitted across life's path?
Yes! though the contrast, the succeeding moment, should cut him to the soul.
But
"Joy's recollection is no longer joy,
Whilst sorrow's memory is a sorrow still."
Ah! there's the rub! yet, better to think it was joy, than gaze unveiled on the cold reality around; than view the wreck--the grievous wreck--a few short years have made.
We
care not,--and, alas! to such as we have in our mind's eye, these are
the only cases allowed,--we care not! whether rapture has been succeeded
by apathy, or whether the feelings continue as deeply enlisted--the
thoughts as intensely concentrated;--but--in the servitude of despair!
And
again we say--gentle memory! let us dream over our past joys! ay! and
brood over our sorrows--undeserved--as in this hour of solitude, we may
justly deem them.
Yes! let us again live over our days of
suffering, and deem it wiser to steep our soul in tears, than let it
freeze with an iced coating of michael
kors outlet.
And shall adversity--that touchstone--softened as our hearts shall thus be--shall it pass over us, and improve us not?
No! it has purifying and cleansing qualities; and for us, it has them not in vain.
We
are not dust, to be more defiled by michael
kors outlet store; nor are we as the turbid
stream, which passing over driven snow, becomes more impure by the close
contact.
Thee, Mnemosyne! let us still adore; content rather to
droop, fade, and die--martyrs to thee! than linger on as beasts of the
forest, that know thee not. No hope may be ours to animate the future:
let us still cling to thee, though thine influence sadden the past.
Away! we are on the placid sea! and Naples lies before us.
The
sun had just risen from ocean's bed, attired in his robe of gold; as
our travellers watched from the deck of their Sparonara, to catch the
first view of the "garden of the world," as the Neapolitans fondly style
their michael
kors outlet online,
A dim haze was abroad, the mists were slowly
stealing up the mountains, as their vessel glided on; a light breeze
anon filling its canvas, then dying away, and leaving the sails to flap
against the loosened cordage.
2012年10月8日星期一
2012年9月28日星期五
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Lovest thou music? hast loved? or been beloved? or both perchance?
Steal forth when night holds her starry court, and the guitars around are tinkling, as more than one rich voice deplores his mistress's cruelty, in hopes she may now relent. But see! there is one, who puts in requisition neither music's spell, nor flattery's lay.
See! he approaches. His cloak wrapped around him, he cautiously treads the tranquil street.
He gains the portico--the signal is given. Who but an expectant maiden could hear one so slight?
Hark! a sound! cautiously the lattice opens--above him blushes the fair one! How brightly her dark eye flashes! how silver soft the tones of her voice!
The stern father--the querulous mother--the tricked duenna--all--all are slumbering. She leans forward, and her ear drinks in his honied words; as her head is supported by her snowy arm.
And now he whispers more passionately. She answers not, but hides her face in her hands. She starts! she throws back her hair from her brow; she waves a white fazzolet, and is gone.
Not thus flies the lover. He crouches beneath the Ionic portico, his figure hardly discernible. A bolt--the last bolt is withdrawn. A form is dimly seen within--retiring, timid, repentant.
Sweet the task to calm that throbbing heart, or teach it to throb no more with fear!
But let him of melancholy mood, wander to the deserted village. A more fearful calamity has befallen it, than ever attended the soft shades, of the one conjured up by the poet.
Here the demon Plague, with baneful wing, and pestilential influence, tarried for many days; till not one--no! not one soul of that village train--that did not join his bygone fathers.
Stray along its grass-grown roofless tenements! where your echo alone breaks the silence, as it startles from its resting-place the slumbering owl--for who would dwell in abodes so marked for destruction? Stray there! think of the gentle contadina diffusing happiness around her! then think of her as she supports the youth she loves--as she clasps his faint form--and drinks in a poisonous contagion from his pallid lip.
Think of her as the disease seizes on its new victim--still attempting to prop up his head--to reach the cup, that may relieve his maddening thirst,--until, giddy and overpowered, she sinks at last; but--beside him!
Think of their dying together! that at least is a solace.
Do not the scene and the thought draw a tear?
Steal forth when night holds her starry court, and the guitars around are tinkling, as more than one rich voice deplores his mistress's cruelty, in hopes she may now relent. But see! there is one, who puts in requisition neither music's spell, nor flattery's lay.
See! he approaches. His cloak wrapped around him, he cautiously treads the tranquil street.
He gains the portico--the signal is given. Who but an expectant maiden could hear one so slight?
Hark! a sound! cautiously the lattice opens--above him blushes the fair one! How brightly her dark eye flashes! how silver soft the tones of her voice!
The stern father--the querulous mother--the tricked duenna--all--all are slumbering. She leans forward, and her ear drinks in his honied words; as her head is supported by her snowy arm.
And now he whispers more passionately. She answers not, but hides her face in her hands. She starts! she throws back her hair from her brow; she waves a white fazzolet, and is gone.
Not thus flies the lover. He crouches beneath the Ionic portico, his figure hardly discernible. A bolt--the last bolt is withdrawn. A form is dimly seen within--retiring, timid, repentant.
Sweet the task to calm that throbbing heart, or teach it to throb no more with fear!
But let him of melancholy mood, wander to the deserted village. A more fearful calamity has befallen it, than ever attended the soft shades, of the one conjured up by the poet.
Here the demon Plague, with baneful wing, and pestilential influence, tarried for many days; till not one--no! not one soul of that village train--that did not join his bygone fathers.
Stray along its grass-grown roofless tenements! where your echo alone breaks the silence, as it startles from its resting-place the slumbering owl--for who would dwell in abodes so marked for destruction? Stray there! think of the gentle contadina diffusing happiness around her! then think of her as she supports the youth she loves--as she clasps his faint form--and drinks in a poisonous contagion from his pallid lip.
Think of her as the disease seizes on its new victim--still attempting to prop up his head--to reach the cup, that may relieve his maddening thirst,--until, giddy and overpowered, she sinks at last; but--beside him!
Think of their dying together! that at least is a solace.
Do not the scene and the thought draw a tear?
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We often hear Malta abused. Byron is the stale authority; and every snub-nosed cynic turns up his prominent organ, and talks of "sirocco, sun, and sweat." Byron disliked it--he had cause. He was there at a bad season, and was suffering from an attack of bile. We know of no place abroad, where the English eye will meet with so little to offend it, and so much to please and impress.
There is such a blending together of European, Asiatic, and African customs; there is such a variety in the costumes one meets; there is such grandeur in their palaces--such glory in their annals; such novelty in their manners and habits; such devotion in their religious observances; such simplicity and yet such beauty, in the dress of the women; and their wearers possess such fascinations; that we defy the most fastidious of critics, who has really resided there, to deny to Malta many of those attributes, with which he would invest that place, on whose beauty and agremens, he may prefer of all others to descant.
With the commonplace observer, its superb harbour, studded with gilded boats; its powerful fortifications, where art towers over nature, and where the eye looks up a rock, and catches a bristling battery; the glare of its scenery, with no foliage to cover the white stone;--all these, together with the different way in which the minutiae of life are transacted,--will call forth his attention, and demand his notice.
Art thou a poet, or a fancied warrior? What scene has been more replete with noble exploits? In whose breasts did the flame of chivalry burn brighter, than in those of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem? Not a name meets thee, that has not belonged to a hero! If thou grievest to find all dissimilar but the name; yet mayest thou still muse, contemplative, over the tomb and ashes of him, whom thy mind has shadowed forth, as a noble light in a more romantic age.
Art thou a moralist, a thinking Christian? Thou mayest there trace--and the pursuit shall profit thee--the steps of the sainted apostle; he who was so signally called forth, to hear witness to the truth of ONE, whom he had erst reviled. Yon cordelier will show you the bay, where his vessel took refuge in its distress; and will tell you, that yon jagged rock first gave its dangerous welcome, to the bark of his patron saint.
There is such a blending together of European, Asiatic, and African customs; there is such a variety in the costumes one meets; there is such grandeur in their palaces--such glory in their annals; such novelty in their manners and habits; such devotion in their religious observances; such simplicity and yet such beauty, in the dress of the women; and their wearers possess such fascinations; that we defy the most fastidious of critics, who has really resided there, to deny to Malta many of those attributes, with which he would invest that place, on whose beauty and agremens, he may prefer of all others to descant.
With the commonplace observer, its superb harbour, studded with gilded boats; its powerful fortifications, where art towers over nature, and where the eye looks up a rock, and catches a bristling battery; the glare of its scenery, with no foliage to cover the white stone;--all these, together with the different way in which the minutiae of life are transacted,--will call forth his attention, and demand his notice.
Art thou a poet, or a fancied warrior? What scene has been more replete with noble exploits? In whose breasts did the flame of chivalry burn brighter, than in those of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem? Not a name meets thee, that has not belonged to a hero! If thou grievest to find all dissimilar but the name; yet mayest thou still muse, contemplative, over the tomb and ashes of him, whom thy mind has shadowed forth, as a noble light in a more romantic age.
Art thou a moralist, a thinking Christian? Thou mayest there trace--and the pursuit shall profit thee--the steps of the sainted apostle; he who was so signally called forth, to hear witness to the truth of ONE, whom he had erst reviled. Yon cordelier will show you the bay, where his vessel took refuge in its distress; and will tell you, that yon jagged rock first gave its dangerous welcome, to the bark of his patron saint.
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Malta! the snowy sail shivers in the wind--the waves, chafed by our intruding keel, are proudly foaming--sea birds soar, screaming their farewell aloft--as we wave our hand to thee for ever! What is our feeling, as we see thee cheap jerseys hourly?
Regret! unfeigned regret!
Albeit we speed to our native land, on the wing of a bark as fleet as ever--but it matters not--thou hast seen the best of our days.
Visions conjured up by thee, have the unusual power, to banish anticipations of Almack's glories, and of home flirtations.
We are recalling balls enjoyed in thee, loved island! the valse spun round with the darling fleet-footed Maltese, who during its pauses leant back on our arm, against which her spangled zone throbbed, from the pulsations of her wholesale jerseys.
Dreams of turtle and of grand master--the fish, not the official--and of consecutive iced champagne, mock our sight! But more--yes! far more than all, are we reminded of thy abode--thou dispenser of cheering liquids! thou promoter of convivial happiness! meek Saverio! How swiftly glided the mirth-loving nights as--the enchanting strains of the prima donna hushed--we adjourned to thy ever to be praised bottegua!
With what precision didst thou there mete out the many varied ingredients--the exact relative proportions--which can alone embody our conception of the nectar of the Gods, punch a la cheap football jerseys!
Whose cigars ever equalled thine, thou prince of Ganymedes? and when were cigars more justly appreciated, than as our puffs kept time with the trolling ditty, resounding through the walls of thy domain?
The luxury of those days!
Then would Sol come peeping in upon us; as unwelcome and unlooked-for a visitant, as to the enamoured Juliet, when she sighing told her lover that
"'Twas but a meteor that the sun exhaled,
To be to him that night a torch-bearer,
And light him on his way to Mantua."
Then, with head dizzy from its gladness, with heart unduly elate, has the Strada Teatro seen us, imperiously calling for the submissive caleche. Arrived in our chamber, how gravely did we close its shutters! With what a feeling of satisfied enjoyment, did we court the downy freshness of the snow-white sheet!
Sweet and deep were our slumbers--for youth's spell was upon us, and our fifth lustre had not yet heralded us to serious thoughts and anxious cares.
Awoke by the officious valet, and remorseless friend, deemest though our debauch was felt? No! an effervescent draught of soda calmed us; we ate a blood orange, and smoked a cigar!
Regret! unfeigned regret!
Albeit we speed to our native land, on the wing of a bark as fleet as ever--but it matters not--thou hast seen the best of our days.
Visions conjured up by thee, have the unusual power, to banish anticipations of Almack's glories, and of home flirtations.
We are recalling balls enjoyed in thee, loved island! the valse spun round with the darling fleet-footed Maltese, who during its pauses leant back on our arm, against which her spangled zone throbbed, from the pulsations of her wholesale jerseys.
Dreams of turtle and of grand master--the fish, not the official--and of consecutive iced champagne, mock our sight! But more--yes! far more than all, are we reminded of thy abode--thou dispenser of cheering liquids! thou promoter of convivial happiness! meek Saverio! How swiftly glided the mirth-loving nights as--the enchanting strains of the prima donna hushed--we adjourned to thy ever to be praised bottegua!
With what precision didst thou there mete out the many varied ingredients--the exact relative proportions--which can alone embody our conception of the nectar of the Gods, punch a la cheap football jerseys!
Whose cigars ever equalled thine, thou prince of Ganymedes? and when were cigars more justly appreciated, than as our puffs kept time with the trolling ditty, resounding through the walls of thy domain?
The luxury of those days!
Then would Sol come peeping in upon us; as unwelcome and unlooked-for a visitant, as to the enamoured Juliet, when she sighing told her lover that
"'Twas but a meteor that the sun exhaled,
To be to him that night a torch-bearer,
And light him on his way to Mantua."
Then, with head dizzy from its gladness, with heart unduly elate, has the Strada Teatro seen us, imperiously calling for the submissive caleche. Arrived in our chamber, how gravely did we close its shutters! With what a feeling of satisfied enjoyment, did we court the downy freshness of the snow-white sheet!
Sweet and deep were our slumbers--for youth's spell was upon us, and our fifth lustre had not yet heralded us to serious thoughts and anxious cares.
Awoke by the officious valet, and remorseless friend, deemest though our debauch was felt? No! an effervescent draught of soda calmed us; we ate a blood orange, and smoked a cigar!
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"The moon was shining brightly--dancing on the silver side of the olive trees--and illuminating the green michael kors outlet.
"This was smooth and verdant.
"My spirits were more than usually buoyant, when suddenly my pony stopped.
"I could not conceive the reason.
"I looked before me. Immediately in front of me, was the shattered trunk of an old olive tree--it had been blasted by lightning--and sitting quietly at its foot--I saw my own mother, Giorgio! as clearly as I see you now. I could not be mistaken. She wore the same embroidered vest and Albanian shawl, as when I had last seen her.
"She conversed with me calmly for many minutes, and--which surprised me much at the time--I felt no dread, and asked her and answered many questions.
"She told me I should die early, in a foreign land; and many--many more things, which I dare not repeat; for I cannot contemplate the possibility of their being true.
"At the time, I told you I felt composed: without any sense of alarm or surprise. For many days afterwards, however, I never left my bed of michael kors outlet store.
"I told my kinsman all the circumstances, and he discovered beyond a doubt, that it was on that very day, the twelve-month previous, that my poor mother had been murdered."
Sir Henry and George tried to smile at Acme's story, and account for what she had seen;--but her manner was so impressive, and her ingenious reasonings--delivered in the most earnest tone--seemed to confute so entirely all their speculations, that they were at length content to deem it "wondrous strange."
In the best and wisest of us, there is such a tendency to believe in a mysterious link, connecting the living and the departed; that a story of this nature, in exciting our feelings, serves to paralyse our reasoning faculties, and leaves us half converts, to the doctrines that we faintly combat.
They looked forth again on the scene. The mountains of Calabria were frowning on them. The village was far behind--and not a straggling light marked its situation.
Numberless stars were reflected on the glassy water, whose serenity was no longer ruffled by wing of sea bird, which long ere now had returned to its "wave girded nest."
Our party and the watch were the only lingerers on deck.
"This was smooth and verdant.
"My spirits were more than usually buoyant, when suddenly my pony stopped.
"I could not conceive the reason.
"I looked before me. Immediately in front of me, was the shattered trunk of an old olive tree--it had been blasted by lightning--and sitting quietly at its foot--I saw my own mother, Giorgio! as clearly as I see you now. I could not be mistaken. She wore the same embroidered vest and Albanian shawl, as when I had last seen her.
"She conversed with me calmly for many minutes, and--which surprised me much at the time--I felt no dread, and asked her and answered many questions.
"She told me I should die early, in a foreign land; and many--many more things, which I dare not repeat; for I cannot contemplate the possibility of their being true.
"At the time, I told you I felt composed: without any sense of alarm or surprise. For many days afterwards, however, I never left my bed of michael kors outlet store.
"I told my kinsman all the circumstances, and he discovered beyond a doubt, that it was on that very day, the twelve-month previous, that my poor mother had been murdered."
Sir Henry and George tried to smile at Acme's story, and account for what she had seen;--but her manner was so impressive, and her ingenious reasonings--delivered in the most earnest tone--seemed to confute so entirely all their speculations, that they were at length content to deem it "wondrous strange."
In the best and wisest of us, there is such a tendency to believe in a mysterious link, connecting the living and the departed; that a story of this nature, in exciting our feelings, serves to paralyse our reasoning faculties, and leaves us half converts, to the doctrines that we faintly combat.
They looked forth again on the scene. The mountains of Calabria were frowning on them. The village was far behind--and not a straggling light marked its situation.
Numberless stars were reflected on the glassy water, whose serenity was no longer ruffled by wing of sea bird, which long ere now had returned to its "wave girded nest."
Our party and the watch were the only lingerers on deck.
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"'Featherstone gave a piercing scream! Some of the sepoys were by this time up--and fired.
"'The tiger trailed off--the blood spouting down his striped wholesale jerseys.
"'We came up--it was all over!
"'The first stroke of that terrific paw had laid the unfortunate man's scull bare. On his shoulder, were the marks of the animal's teeth.
"'The horse was still writhing in agony. One of my pistols relieved him.
"'We bore Featherstone to the nearest cantonment, and buried him there.'"
"How terrible!" said Acme, as she gave a slight shudder. "Englishmen are generally more sceptical on these cheap jerseys than we are; and disbelieve supernatural appearances, which we are accustomed to think are not unfrequent. I could tell you many stories, which, in my native island, were believed by our enemies the Turks, as well as by ourselves: but if you would like it, I will tell you a circumstance that occurred to myself, the reality of which I dare not doubt.
"You have often, Giorgio! heard me revert with pain, to the horrible scene which took place, on the recapture of our little isle by the infidel Turks; when my family were massacred, and only poor Acme left to tell their tale."
Here the young bride put her handkerchief to her face, and wept bitterly. George put his arm round her and soothed her. She continued her narrative.
"You know my escape, and how I was sent to a kinsman, who had promised to have me sent to my kind friends in Malta. He was a Corfuote, and it was in Corfu I remained for a long--a very long time--and there first met my dear friend, Zoee Scalvo-Forressi. I was then very young. We lived in the Campagna--about four miles from each other.
"We had both our Greek ponies, and used often to pass the evenings together; and at length knew our michael kors outlet so well, that often it was night before we parted.
"One night, we had been singing together at her house, and it was later than usual when I cantered home.
"About four months had elapsed previous to my landing in Corfu, and I had been eight months there; although at the time, I paid little attention to these circumstances.
"My road lay through an olive grove. I had arrived in its centre, where a small knoll stretched away on my right; on whose summit, was a white Greek monastery, backed by some dark cypress trees.
"'The tiger trailed off--the blood spouting down his striped wholesale jerseys.
"'We came up--it was all over!
"'The first stroke of that terrific paw had laid the unfortunate man's scull bare. On his shoulder, were the marks of the animal's teeth.
"'The horse was still writhing in agony. One of my pistols relieved him.
"'We bore Featherstone to the nearest cantonment, and buried him there.'"
"How terrible!" said Acme, as she gave a slight shudder. "Englishmen are generally more sceptical on these cheap jerseys than we are; and disbelieve supernatural appearances, which we are accustomed to think are not unfrequent. I could tell you many stories, which, in my native island, were believed by our enemies the Turks, as well as by ourselves: but if you would like it, I will tell you a circumstance that occurred to myself, the reality of which I dare not doubt.
"You have often, Giorgio! heard me revert with pain, to the horrible scene which took place, on the recapture of our little isle by the infidel Turks; when my family were massacred, and only poor Acme left to tell their tale."
Here the young bride put her handkerchief to her face, and wept bitterly. George put his arm round her and soothed her. She continued her narrative.
"You know my escape, and how I was sent to a kinsman, who had promised to have me sent to my kind friends in Malta. He was a Corfuote, and it was in Corfu I remained for a long--a very long time--and there first met my dear friend, Zoee Scalvo-Forressi. I was then very young. We lived in the Campagna--about four miles from each other.
"We had both our Greek ponies, and used often to pass the evenings together; and at length knew our michael kors outlet so well, that often it was night before we parted.
"One night, we had been singing together at her house, and it was later than usual when I cantered home.
"About four months had elapsed previous to my landing in Corfu, and I had been eight months there; although at the time, I paid little attention to these circumstances.
"My road lay through an olive grove. I had arrived in its centre, where a small knoll stretched away on my right; on whose summit, was a white Greek monastery, backed by some dark cypress trees.
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"They had had good sport, and were returning jerseys wholesale, when they suddenly came on a party of natives, headed by the Rajah.
"They were mounted on elephants, and surrounding a jungle, in which, as some sepoys had reported, lay a tiger.
"You know Lockhart's manner--animated and enthusiastic--making one see the scene he is describing.
"I will try and clothe the rest of the story in his own words, although I can hardly hope it will make the same impression on you, that its recital did on me.
"'Well, Sir! we all said we would see the sport--all but Featherstone--who said something about coming on.
"'We were engaged to dine with Sir John M----, who was in that part of the world, on some six-and-eightpenny mission about jerseys cheap.
"'The beaters went in, firing and shouting--intending to make him break towards the hunting party.
"'We all drew up on one side, to be in view, but out of the way; Featherstone was next me. He suddenly grasped my arm, and pointed to the jungle, his teeth chattering--his face ashy pale. I turned and saw the tiger!--a splendid beast--certainly!
"'He seemed not to notice us, and stalked on with an innocent yep! yep! like a sick hound's, more than anything else.
"'Suddenly his eye caught us, and flashed fire. At the first view, he crouched to the earth, then came on us, bounding like a tost foot-ball. More magnificent leaps I never beheld! We were struck dumb--but fired--and turned our horses' heads!--all but Featherstone.
"'I shall remember the tones of his voice to my dying cheap nike shoes.
"'"The cat! Lockhart! the cat!"
"'I don't know whether his horse refused the spur--or whether the rider's nerve was gone: but neither appeared to make an effort, till the animal was close on them.
"'The horse gave one plunge--and had hardly recovered his feet, when down went horse and rider.
"They were mounted on elephants, and surrounding a jungle, in which, as some sepoys had reported, lay a tiger.
"You know Lockhart's manner--animated and enthusiastic--making one see the scene he is describing.
"I will try and clothe the rest of the story in his own words, although I can hardly hope it will make the same impression on you, that its recital did on me.
"'Well, Sir! we all said we would see the sport--all but Featherstone--who said something about coming on.
"'We were engaged to dine with Sir John M----, who was in that part of the world, on some six-and-eightpenny mission about jerseys cheap.
"'The beaters went in, firing and shouting--intending to make him break towards the hunting party.
"'We all drew up on one side, to be in view, but out of the way; Featherstone was next me. He suddenly grasped my arm, and pointed to the jungle, his teeth chattering--his face ashy pale. I turned and saw the tiger!--a splendid beast--certainly!
"'He seemed not to notice us, and stalked on with an innocent yep! yep! like a sick hound's, more than anything else.
"'Suddenly his eye caught us, and flashed fire. At the first view, he crouched to the earth, then came on us, bounding like a tost foot-ball. More magnificent leaps I never beheld! We were struck dumb--but fired--and turned our horses' heads!--all but Featherstone.
"'I shall remember the tones of his voice to my dying cheap nike shoes.
"'"The cat! Lockhart! the cat!"
"'I don't know whether his horse refused the spur--or whether the rider's nerve was gone: but neither appeared to make an effort, till the animal was close on them.
"'The horse gave one plunge--and had hardly recovered his feet, when down went horse and rider.
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