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Among the day-dreams of the Rulers of Venice the island of Cyprus had long loomed large and fair Cyprus, the happy isle of romance, l'isola fortunata, sea-girdled, clothed with dense forests of precious woods, veined with inexhaustible mines of rich metals; a very garden of luscious fruits, garlanded with ever-blooming flowers a land flowing with milk and honey and steeped in the fragrance of wines that a god might covet.
Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! The dream flashes by, for the west-winds awake On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine With incense they stole from the rose and the pine. Love bless him, joy crown him, God speed his career! Mr.
It was a dreary exile; but it seemed to her that there was little else for her to do in life but dawdle through the long slow days, and bear the burden of living; at least until she came of age, and was independent, and could go where she pleased. Then there would be the wide world for her to wander over, instead of this sea-girdled garden of Jersey.
Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! The dream flashes by, for the west-winds awake On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine, With incense they stole from the rose and the pine.
Oh, it is divine, that sea-girdled, wind-drenched waste of moor and thicket! the strange little stunted forests in the hollows of the miniature hills do you remember?
Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! The stream flashes by, for the west-winds awake On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine, With incense they stole from the rose and the pine. Aug. 8, 1857.
Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! The dream flashes by, for the west-winds awake On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine, With incense they stole from the rose and the pine.
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