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"Here Epicurus hath his fiery tomb, And with him all his followers, who maintain That soul and body share one common doom"; and is still better rendered by Dr. Parsons, "Here in their cemetery on this side, With his whole sect, is Epicurus pent, Who thought the spirit with its body died." "Suo cimitero da questa parte hanno Con Epieuro tutti i suoi seguaci, Che l'anima col corpo morta fanno."
He had never seen a bottle with a metal top, or one that unscrewed, or anything that seemed to effect such wonderful changes by merely pointing it at a man. His mountaineer intellect, prone to "spells" and "charms," saw in it at once an instrument of morta: witchcraft. With a paling face, he began edging toward his gun.
You will never reason about it, nor doubt, nor talk; the tide flows underneath into the laguna morta, and never wholly flows out. God has painted in man's mind the possible; and he has painted the delusions, the impossible and that is woman?" "Impossible," she murmured. "Oh, no, not that!" Her eyes compelled him; her hand dropped to his hand. Venice sank into a gray blot in the lagoon.
"Whatever you like, cara mia." And, standing by the piano, her arms hanging loose, she began a chant such as the peasants use working under the olives. Her voice was small and deep, with a peculiar thick sweetness that suited the song, half humourous, half pathetic. These were the words she sang: "Vorrei morir di morte piccinina, Morta la sera e viva la mattina.
Aaron, who was just surveying the Frutte, which consisted of two rather old pomegranates and various pale yellow apples, with a sprinkling of withered dried figs. At the moment, they all looked like a Natura Morta arrangement. "But do you think I might ?" said Francis moodily. Angus pursed his lips with a reckless brightness. "Why not? I see no reason why you shouldn't," he said.
Yes, there was water, and yet The mystery of it was a mystery she had never known to brood even over a white northern sea in a twilight hour of winter, was deeper than the mystery of the Venetian laguna morta, when the Angelus bell chimes at sunset, and each distant boat, each bending rower and patient fisherman, becomes a marvel, an eerie thing in the gold.
But the nobles were never quiet, always they plotted the death of the Doge Giovanni da Morta, or Boccanegra. It was with the latter they were successful in 1363, when they poisoned him at a banquet in honour of the King of Cyprus for they had possessed themselves of a city in that island.
"Whatever you like, cara mia." And standing by the piano, her arms hanging loose, she began a chant such as the peasants use working under the olives. Her voice was small and deep, with a peculiar thick sweetness that suited the song, half-humorous, half-pathetic. These were the words she sang: Vorrei morir di morte piccinina, Morta la sera e viva la mattina.
In choosing our beds at the inn, I perceived one chamber locked, and desired it might be opened; upon which the cameriere declared with some reluctance, "Besogna dire a su' eccellenza; poco fa, che una bestia e morta in questa camera, e non e ancora lustrata," "Your Excellency must know that a filthy Beast died lately in that Chamber, and it is not yet purified and put in order."
"Yes, a live friend is better than a dead one. Mortua est hurdy-gurda!" Savoyard shakes his head vehemently. "No no, Eccellenza, non e morta!" and strikes up a lively air on the slandered instrument. The Savoyard's face brightens-he looks happy; the mice run from the grave into his bosom. Pisistratus, affected, and putting the question in Latin. "Have you a father?"
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