The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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C. Whittingham, 1822
 

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Página 206 - ... a shout, that tore hell's concave, and beyond frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
Página 205 - Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep; a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.
Página 61 - Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices, to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive...
Página 65 - There were giants in the earth in those days ; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.
Página 183 - Into one place, and let dry land appear. Immediately the mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky. So high as...
Página 71 - And the two kidneys, and the fat that is on them, which is by the flanks, and the caul that is above the liver, with the kidneys, it shall he take away...
Página 203 - More lovely, than Pandora, whom the Gods Endow'd with all their gifts, and O ! too like In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.
Página 50 - Far does the man all other men excel Who from his wisdom thinks in all things well, Wisely considering, to himself a friend, All for the present best, and for the end. Nor is the man without his share of praise Who well the dictates of the wise obeys ; But he that is not wise himself, nor can Hearken to wisdom, is a useless man.
Página 122 - Georgics go upon, is I think the meanest and least improving, but the most pleasing and delightful. Precepts of morality, besides the natural corruption of our tempers, which makes us averse to them, are so abstracted from ideas of sense, that they seldom give an opportunity for those beautiful descriptions and images which are the spirit and life of poetry.
Página 73 - There is a time when forty days they lie, And forty nights, conceal'd from human eye : But in the course of the revolving year, When the swain sharps the scythe, again appear.

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