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Goder parea lo ciel di lor fiammelle; O settentrional vedovo sito Poiche privato sei di mirar quelle! The pleasure we felt on discovering the Southern Cross was warmly shared by those of the crew who had visited the colonies. In the solitude of the seas we hail a star as a friend, from whom we have long been separated.
They know for certain that the forest will not leave them to starve and when there is no more rice, durian, mangosteen etc., it is never difficult to catch a pheasant, monkey, rat, serpent or even a wild boar. Were they acquainted with Italian operas their favourite lines would certainly be: Non curiamo l'incerto domani Se quest' oggi n'è dato goder.
Goder pareva 'l ciel di lor fiammelle. O settentrional vedovo sito, Poi che privato sei di mirar quelle!" The sweetest oriental sapphire blue, Which the whole air in its pure bosom had, Greeted mine eyes, far as the heavens withdrew; So that again they felt assured and glad, Soon as they issued forth from the dead air, Where every sight and thought had made them sad.
Goder pareva il ciel di lor fiammelle. Beyond these again we see a second group arising, the supreme starry trinity of the Winter's Tale, the Tempest, and Cymbeline: and beyond these the divine darkness of everlasting and all-maternal night.
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