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ROUSSEAU had always a work going on, for rainy days and spare hours, such as his "Dictionary of Music:" a variety of works never tired; it was the single one which exhausted. METASTASIO looks with delight on his variety, which resembled the fruits in the garden of Armida E mentre spunta l'un, l'altro mature. While one matures, the other buds and blows.
I acknowledge the correctness and propriety of your remark; and yet beauties in poetry must be examined as carefully as blemishes, and even more." p. 92. Sì, mentre che parlò, mi si ricorda, Ch'io vidi le due luci benedette, Pur come batter d'occhi si concorda, He has left writings, the eloquence of which, according to Tiraboschi, is "worthy of a better age."
Fifty soldiers got in and set fire to the house. To escape the flames the refugees rushed out and were shot one by one as they emerged. Mentre was killed first; his son Leon, with his little eight-year-old sister in his arms, fell next: as he was not quite dead they put the barrel of a rifle to his ear and blew his brains out. Then came the turn of a family named Kieffer.
Non la conobbe il mondo mentre l'ebbe Con ibill'io, ch'a pianger qui rimasi. That attachment was not so much a single event, as the first link in a long chain which was coiled around my heart. It were a tedious and bitter history, even were it permitted, to tell you of all the sins and misfortunes to which in afterlife that passion was connected.
My only pleasant recollection of Ascot is that once, about midnight, as we were keeping watch together, a young Italian gunner from the Romagna sang to me. "'Addio, mia bell', addio! Cantava nel partir la gioventù, Mentre gl' imboscati si stavano Divertire, giornale in mano E la sigaretta. Per noi l'assalto Alla baionetta!
Ma qual pace noi perdiamo, Quali pene noi soffriam, Sol perche non confidiamo Tutto a Lui mentre preghiam. Already from this Mission sixteen earnest Christian members have returned to Italy, each having two Bibles, one to give away. Who can measure the leavening force of the gospel carried by the many who return and who are scattered up and down throughout all the lovely land of Italy.
Taylor, Lovejoy, Gardiner, Bakewell, Creighton, Hibben, Parodi, Salter, Carus, Lalande, Mentre, McTaggart, G. E. Moore, Ladd and others, especially not Professor Schinz, who has published under the title of Anti-pragmatisme an amusing sociological romance. Some of these critics seem to me to labor under an inability almost pathetic, to understand the thesis which they seek to refute.
Grato m’è ’l sonno e più l’esser di sasso; Mentre che ’l danno e la vergogna dura Non veder, non sentir m’è gran ventura; Però non mi destar; deh! parla basso! Dear is my sleep, more dear to be but stone; Whilst deep despair and dark dishonour reign Not to hear, not to feel is greatest gain; Then wake me not; speak in an undertone.
Ti tengo nella mente a tutte l'ore, Se lavoro, se velio, o sto a dormre ... E mentre dormo ancora un sonno grato, Mi trovo tutto lacrime bagnato! While she sang, there was a rap at the front-door, and, just as she concluded, the prim maid entered with a letter upon a salver. In an instant her heart gave a bound. She recognised the handwriting. It was Walter's.
Non la conobbe il mondo mentre l'ebbe Con ibill'io, ch'a pianger qui rimasi. That attachment was not so much a single event, as the first link in a long chain which was coiled around my heart. It were a tedious and bitter history, even were it permitted, to tell you of all the sins and misfortunes to which in afterlife that passion was connected.
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