...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...

...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...

...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...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance •' Come and ssx The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your my O'er step*...

...us a translation of an EJegy, by William Augustus Schle, 78. Oh Rome! my country! city of the'soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps...

...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...

...Awakening without wounding the touch'd heart, Yet fare thee well — upon Socrate's ridge we part. LXXVIII. Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans...control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of...

...£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...

...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...

...there is a mixture of pathos and sublimity worthy of the subject ; and we cannot give it higher praise. Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart nuibtturn to ther, Lone mother of dead em pires! and coutruul lu their shut breasts their petty uiiseiy....

...661 Seine Elegie über Rom in dem 4ten Canto von ChiUe Harold ist eine der schönsten, die ich kenne. Oh Rome! my country , city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn lt> thee, JLons mother of dead empires ! and control Der Krieger wacht noch eb' der Morgen blinkt....