Translations Chiefly from the Greek Anthology: With Tales and Miscellaneous PoemsR. Phillips, 1806 - 233 |
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Strona 4
... soul , to Thyrza's ear In all your shrouds the tender accents bear ; Great Jove shall calm with smiles the wave below , And bid for you the softest breezes blow . .III . Tears o'er my parted Thyrza's grave I shed , Affection's fondest ...
... soul , to Thyrza's ear In all your shrouds the tender accents bear ; Great Jove shall calm with smiles the wave below , And bid for you the softest breezes blow . .III . Tears o'er my parted Thyrza's grave I shed , Affection's fondest ...
Strona 13
... shell and lute high raise the strain divine , And rich libations pour on every shrine ! While to the pow'rs above our praises flow , Inspiring wine shall make us gods below :. In pleasant converse wrapt , the social soul Heeds not 13.
... shell and lute high raise the strain divine , And rich libations pour on every shrine ! While to the pow'rs above our praises flow , Inspiring wine shall make us gods below :. In pleasant converse wrapt , the social soul Heeds not 13.
Strona 14
... soul - How soon another race , Shall claim whate'er is mine of pow'r or place ; And o'er the mournful spot regardless go , Where my bones mingle with the earth below ! But ever shall my conscious heart rejoice At pleasure's breath and ...
... soul - How soon another race , Shall claim whate'er is mine of pow'r or place ; And o'er the mournful spot regardless go , Where my bones mingle with the earth below ! But ever shall my conscious heart rejoice At pleasure's breath and ...
Strona 15
... soul with new alarms . Like Boreas , rushing from his Thracian plains , Cloath'd in fierce lightnings and o'erwhelming rains , So rages in my soul the maddening power ; His parching fires my withering heart devour : A burning phrensy ...
... soul with new alarms . Like Boreas , rushing from his Thracian plains , Cloath'd in fierce lightnings and o'erwhelming rains , So rages in my soul the maddening power ; His parching fires my withering heart devour : A burning phrensy ...
Strona 19
... noisome broils and mournful wars ; But welcome thou congenial soul , And share my purse , and drain my bowl , Who canst in social knot combine The muse , good - humour , love , and wine ! FROM SIMONIDES . I. THE COMPLAINT OF DANAE . When ...
... noisome broils and mournful wars ; But welcome thou congenial soul , And share my purse , and drain my bowl , Who canst in social knot combine The muse , good - humour , love , and wine ! FROM SIMONIDES . I. THE COMPLAINT OF DANAE . When ...
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Translations Chiefly from the Greek Anthology: With Tales and Miscellaneous ... Robert Bland Podgląd niedostępny - 2009 |
Translations Chiefly from the Greek Anthology: With Tales and Miscellaneous ... Robert Bland Podgląd niedostępny - 2009 |
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
abbot Agathias amorous Anacreon antient Antipater ANTIPATER OF SIDON banquet bard beauty beneath blest bloom blushing breast breath brow charm'd Cleombrotus cold Corinth dark dead death delight E'en epigram EPITAPH Euripides eyes fair fancy fate fear flow flowers fragments fragrance funeral garlands gloomy glow golden slumbers grace grave Grecian Greece Greek GREEK ANTHOLOGY grief heart heroes honour hour howl Ibycus immortal Janet's Jove labour light living lover lyre maid melancholy Meleager memory Menander Menippus Mimnermus moral mournful muse Nature's never night NOTE nymphs o'er PAUL THE SILENTIARY plain pleasure Plutarch poem poet poetry pow'r preserved pride Rhuddlan rose round Sappho shade shore sigh sight sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul Spring sweet sweet noises tear tender thee thine thou thro toil tomb translation trembling Venus wave weep wild winds wine youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 127 - For others' good, or melt at others' woe. What can atone (oh, ever injur'd shade !) Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!
Strona 159 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweetened not thy breath...
Strona 147 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Strona 144 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
Strona l - em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one ; and, at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit of seeing how an ass would eat a macaroon, than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act.
Strona 167 - But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery. And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in peace.
Strona 166 - For God created man to be immortal, and made him to be an image of his own eternity. Nevertheless, through envy of the devil came death into the world : and they that do hold of his side do find it.
Strona 24 - I'll wreath my sword in myrtle bough, The sword that laid the tyrant low, When patriots, burning to be free, To Athens gave equality. " Harmodius, hail ! though reft of breath, Thou ne'er shall feel the stroke of death! The heroes' happy isles shall be The bright abode allotted thee.
Strona 155 - The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave; The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Strona 23 - All human things are subject to decay : And well the man of Chios tuned his lay — ' Like leaves on trees the race of man is found ; ' Yet few receive the melancholy sound, Or in their breasts imprint this solemn truth, For hope is near to all, but most to youth. Hope's vernal season leads the laughing hours, And strews o'er every path the fairest flowers : To cloud the scene, no distant mists appear ; Age moves no thought, and death awakes no fear. Ah ! how unmindful is the giddy...