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Seller Rating:. Russell, Gordon. Published by Used Quantity Available: 1. Stock Image. Published by Grijalbo Mondadori. Used Paperback Quantity Available: 1. His father had joined the French army as a medical officer, and after the peace went to France, taking his son with him, where he forgot his native language, so that he had to learn it as a novice on his return to Spain. It is not improbable that his education in that country, where also he passed some time subsequently, gave Larra's mind that tendency for scepticism and perverted feeling which led to his miserable end.
From his earliest years he showed great aptitude for learning, and had studied the Greek, English and Italian languages, before he went to Valladolid to prepare for the profession of the law. After a short residence there, he went to Valencia on some disappointment he suffered, which, to one of his temperament, seemed a greater misfortune than what perhaps any other person would have considered it. At Valencia he obtained employment in a public office, which, however, did not suit his taste, and having then married, he returned to Madrid and determined to write for the public.
His first efforts were not successful, and have not been subsequently reprinted with his works, but after a short time he began writing a series of essays on passing events, under the signature of Figaro, which at once attained great popularity.
Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain/Notes
He also wrote several plays and a few poems, which, as written by Figaro, were favourably received. But the essays, under that title, were the foundation of his popularity. They were in the style of our essayists of the reign of Queen Anne, containing criticisms, and sketches of manners and characters, written in a style of great ease and elegance, marked with much wit and humour, as well as vigour. These works have been very many times reprinted in Spain, and also in France and South America.
The student who wishes to form a correct style in learning Spanish, cannot do better than take Larra for a model. By his writings he had attained a respectable place in literary society, and it was understood that his fortunes were thereby also in a state of competence. In his review of Quintana' s Life of Las Casas, he unreservedly subscribes to all the sentiments therein expressed. The latter is referred to by Arriaza also, and seems to have been an officer of great skill and bravery in his profession, as well as of most amiable qualities in private life. He was author of a learned Treatise on taking Observations of Longitude and Latitude at Sea, published at Madrid, With the copy of this work in my possession, there is bound up an unedited treatise of his original manuscript, 'On the Trigonometrical Calculation of the Height of Mountains.
The Spanish navy is at the present day much distinguished for the superior attainments and character of the officers, as well as in former years. Oh, golpe! Oh suerte! The two poems from Quintana are at pages 16 and 93 respectively of the fourth edition of his works, published in This able and enlightened statesman was born at Oviedo in , and died at Paris in His work, on the 'Rising, War, and Revolution of Spain,' is one well deserving of the fame it has attained, having been translated into all the principal languages of Europe.
He has been several times chosen member of the legislature, and had to undertake his share of public duties, but he has declined office, and in his whole public life shown a freedom from ambition, remarkable, as Del Rio intimates, from the contrast it presents with the conduct of other men of far inferior abilities. He has announced 'A History of the Regency of Queen Christina,' of which he has published a preliminary volume, comprising a detail of antecedent events.
He has also written various plays and poems, but not of such a character as to be worthy of his fame as a public speaker and journalist. For a just statement of these rights, see the late Earl of Carnarvon's ' Portugal and Galicia,' vol. O'er many a frozen, many a fiery alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death.
But these rules are only a continuation of Quinctilian's maxim, "Op time de ilia judicant aures. See note 23 to the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. Vi de la soberbia corte Las damas engalanadas Muy vistosas; Vi las bellezas del norte De blanca nieve formadas Y de rosas.
Sus ojos de azul del cielo, De oro puro parecia Su cabello; Bajo transparente velo Turgente el seno se via Blanco y bello. Mas que valen los brocados Las sedas y pedreria De la ciudad? Que los rostros sonrosados La blancura y gallardia Ni la beldad? Con mostrarse mi zagala, De blanco lino vestida, Fresca y pura, Condena la inutil gala Y se esconde confundida La hermosura. Y el pie leve Que al triscar por la pradera Ni las tiernas flores aja, Ni aun las mueve? Padre Dauro! Works of Martinez de la Rosa, edition of Barcelona, , vol. The other translations are taken from the same, pages , , 48 and 34 respectively.
In the prologue, he enters on the discussion, so common a few years since, as to the relative merits of what were called the Classical and Romantic schools of poetry, which discussion, it is to be hoped, may now be considered at an end. The pretensions of different writers, who affected to range themselves under one or other of these denominations, were in fact generally only the devices of mediocrity to shelter their deficiencies. As Martinez de la Rosa has well observed in this prologue, "I do not remember any one sublime passage, in whatever language it may be, that is not expressed with the utmost simplicity; and without this most essential quality, they cannot excite in the mind that lively and instantaneous impression which distinguishes them.
An Andalusian poet may be excused entering into hyperbolical praise of his countrywomen, but we find an English traveller almost as hyperbolical in praise of them also. Having been admitted an Advocate in the courts of law, he engaged, in , in the public service, and has held various offices under the government in the provinces. In he published a volume of poems, of which two,—one, 'The Black Butterfly,' and the other, an 'Ode to the Moon,'—Ochoa declares, in his opinion, "two of the most beautiful pieces that have been written for many years in Spain.
Ochoa, vol. In his poem of the 'Moro Esposito,' the Duke has inserted an interesting episode referring to his residence in Malta, "whose good and honest inhabitants he found under the dominion of the most wealthy, free, enlightened, noble and powerful nation that the sun admires from the zodiac. In the notes he details the particulars under which he arrived there, acknowledging gratefully the hospitality he had received. This name is pronounced Ped-ro. The true character of the monarch is yet a disputed question, and has only within the last year been offered as a subject for inquiry by the Spanish Academy.
The learned Llorente, in his 'Historical Notices,' vol. The legend of this prince's death has been variously given, and thus Salvador Bermudez de Castro, who has also a poem on the subject, takes some different details to those repeated by the Duke de Rivas. The traditions of the people have handed down Don Pedro's memory more favourably, and, perhaps, more justly, than the historians of the time, whose accounts no doubt were tinctured as darkly as they could be, partly to please the reigning monarch, and partly because Don Pedro had not been so submissive to priestly rule as they had desired.
Mas, ay! La sombra de la Padilla, Lanzando un hondo gemido Cruzar leve ante mi vista,.
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Aun en las losas se mira Una tenaz mancha oscura Ni las edades limpian! This romance was originally printed with the 'Moro Esposito,' Paris , vol. It was subsequently included among the 'Romances Historicos,' Madrid , p. The Alcazar of Seville has been described by so many travellers that it is unnecessary to add to their accounts of it, or to the graphic details of the romance.
desvanecen - Translation into English - examples Spanish | Reverso Context
The stain on the floor may remind the reader of the legends of Holy rood and the Alhambra, as well as of other places. This description of anger, as again at p. The two brothers of Fadrique, of whom Henry was his successor on the throne, after he had killed Don Pedro in fight by his own hand. Ay, ay, ay, that am kinky-haired and pure black kinks in my hair, Kafir in my lips; and my flat nose Mozambiques. Black of pure tint, I cry and laugh the vibration of being a black statue; a chunk of night, in which my white teeth are lightning; and to be a black vine which entwines in the black and curves the black nest in which the raven lies.
Black chunk of black in which I sculpt myself, ay, ay, ay, my statue is all black. They tell me that my grandfather was the slave for whom the master paid thirty coins. Ay, ay, ay, that the slave was my grandfather is my sadness, is my sadness. If he had been the master it would be my shame: that in men, as in nations, if being the slave is having no rights being the master is having no conscience. Ay, ay, ay wash the sins of the white King in forgiveness black Queen. Ay, ay, ay, the race escapes me and buzzes and flies toward the white race, to sink in its clear water; or perhaps the white will be shadowed in the black.
Ay, ay, ay my black race flees and with the white runs to become bronzed; to be one for the future, fraternity of America! Que uno en el otro encuentren. The sea and you.
The stroke of the sea upon my door is blue sensation between my toes, and your impetuous leap through my spirit is no less blue, an eternal birth. If I just had a ship of seagulls, and could for an instant stop them, and shout my voice that they fight in a simple duel of mystery! May there be a duel of music in the air the opened magnolias of their kisses, that the waves dress in passions and the passion dress in sailboats.
All the color of awakened aurora may the sea and you expand it into a dream that it carry my ship of seagulls and leave me in the water of two skies. Life straightened up to watch me pass.
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I began getting lost atom by atom of my flesh. Pilgrim in myself, I walked a long instant. I lingered on the route of that errant path. With myself on horseback I galloped through the shadow of time. I knew myself as a message far from the world. I felt myself a life inverted from the surface of colors and forms,. A clock has sounded the hour chosen by all.
The hour? All in one. The surroundings reconquer color and form. Men move unaware. Always the same flesh silently tightening on the familiar. I seek myself. I am still in the landscape far from my vision. I go on being a message from the world. The form that recedes and that was mine an instant. I Was My Own Route. I wanted to be like men wanted me to be:. But I was made of nows,. At each advancing step on my route forward. But the branch was unpinned forever,. Already my course now set in the present,.
I felt myself a blossom of all the soils of the earth,. And I was all in me as was life in me.. But I was made of nows;. Bitter song. Nothing troubles my being, but I am sad. Something slow and dark strikes me, though just behind this agony, I have held the stars in my hand. It must be the caress of the useless, the unending sadness of being a poet, of singing and singing, without breaking the greatest tragedy of existence.
To be and not want to be Forgive me, oh love, if I do not name you! Apart from your song I am dry wing. Death and I sleep together. Only when I sing to you, I awake. I don't want the sea to know that pains go through my breast. I don't want the sea to touch the shore of my earth.
I have run out of dreams, crazy from shadows in the sand. I don't want the sea to look at blue mourning in my path. My eyelids were auroras when the storm crossed! I don't want the sea to cry a new rainstorm at my door. All the eyes of the wind already cry me as dead. I'm going to make a seawall with my small happiness, light happiness of knowing myself, mind the hand that closes. I don't want the sea to arrive at the thirst of my poem, blind in the middle of light, broken in the middle of an absence. Elongate yourself in my spirit and let my soul lose itself in your rivulets, finding the fountain that robbed you as a child and in a crazed impulse returned you to the path.