Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 páginas |
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Página xv
... leave life that was made lovely , we thought , with love . W. MELVILLE 506 SHAKSPEARE 508 • MILTON 510 TENNYSON 512 · TYRRELL 514 SWINBURNE 516 LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS . [ The numbers indicate the page INDEX OF FIRST LINES . XV.
... leave life that was made lovely , we thought , with love . W. MELVILLE 506 SHAKSPEARE 508 • MILTON 510 TENNYSON 512 · TYRRELL 514 SWINBURNE 516 LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS . [ The numbers indicate the page INDEX OF FIRST LINES . XV.
Página 8
... leave this . O , full of scorpions is my mind , dear wife ! Thou know'st that Banquo , and his Fleance , lives . L.M. But in them Nature's copy's not eterne . M. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; Then be thou jocund : ere the ...
... leave this . O , full of scorpions is my mind , dear wife ! Thou know'st that Banquo , and his Fleance , lives . L.M. But in them Nature's copy's not eterne . M. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; Then be thou jocund : ere the ...
Página 22
... leave thee , Paradise ? thus leave Thee , native soil ? these happy walks and shades , Fit haunt of gods ? where I had hoped to spend , Quiet though sad , the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both ! O flowers , That never ...
... leave thee , Paradise ? thus leave Thee , native soil ? these happy walks and shades , Fit haunt of gods ? where I had hoped to spend , Quiet though sad , the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both ! O flowers , That never ...
Página 32
... leave to breathe awhile . Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms , as I have done this day . I have paid Percy , I have made him sure . P. He is , indeed ; and living to kill thee . I prithee lend me thy sword . F. Nay , before God ...
... leave to breathe awhile . Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms , as I have done this day . I have paid Percy , I have made him sure . P. He is , indeed ; and living to kill thee . I prithee lend me thy sword . F. Nay , before God ...
Página 74
... leaves had fallen ; the branches bare Made a perpetual moaning in the air ; And screaming from their eyries overhead , The ravens sail'd athwart the sky of lead . With his own hand he lopp'd the boughs , and bound Faggots that crackled ...
... leaves had fallen ; the branches bare Made a perpetual moaning in the air ; And screaming from their eyries overhead , The ravens sail'd athwart the sky of lead . With his own hand he lopp'd the boughs , and bound Faggots that crackled ...
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Página 182 - AND after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.
Página 426 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Página 84 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature, Possess it merely.
Página 94 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; The long day wanes ; the slow moon climbs ; the deep Moans round with many voices.
Página 202 - Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite? It breathes in the air, it shines in the light, It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain, And sweetly distils in the dew and the rain.
Página 498 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death.
Página 504 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Página 46 - And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 'Quick, quick ! I fear it is too late, and I shall die.
Página 250 - And even the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped — what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share ; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see those joys the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.
Página 390 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun, at noon, Eight up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.