Greek Melic Poets

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Macmillan and Company, limited, 1900 - 564

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Strona 367 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each.
Strona 513 - And it came to pass at noon, that Elijah mocked them, and said, Cry aloud; for he is a god: either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or, peradventure, he sleepeth, and must be awaked.
Strona 328 - ... stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Strona 237 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light, You common people of the skies; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Strona 229 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Strona 348 - Sun, and sky, and breeze, and solitary walks, and summer holidays, and the greenness of fields, and the delicious juices of meats and fishes, and society, and the cheerful glass, and candlelight, and fireside conversations, and innocent vanities, and jests, and irony itself — do these things go out with life...
Strona 211 - Ye curs'd of gods and free-born men, Ye murderers of the laws, Though now ye glory in your lust, Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust, Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause.
Strona 217 - NOW winter nights enlarge The number of their hours ; And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine, Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine ! Now yellow waxen lights Shall wait on honey love While youthful revels, masques, and Courtly sights, Sleep's leaden spells remove. This time doth well dispense With lovers' long discourse ; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse.
Strona 234 - Athènes me montra mon superbe ennemi : Je le vis , je rougis , je pâlis à sa vue ; Un trouble s'éleva dans mon âme éperdue ; Mes yeux ne voyaient plus , je ne pouvais parler ; . i Je sentis tout mon corps et transir et brûler.
Strona 486 - Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand: O! that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek.

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