Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 páginas |
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Página ix
... of our discontent You all look strangely on me ; and you most O gentlemen , see , see ! dead Henry's wounds Thy voice is heard thro ' rolling drums . . SHAKSPEARE 68 TENNYSON 72 PAGE Then this most wretched father went his way Shall.
... of our discontent You all look strangely on me ; and you most O gentlemen , see , see ! dead Henry's wounds Thy voice is heard thro ' rolling drums . . SHAKSPEARE 68 TENNYSON 72 PAGE Then this most wretched father went his way Shall.
Página 8
... looks ; Be bright and jovial among your guests to- night . So shall I , love ; and so , I pray , be you : Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ; Present him eminence , both with eye and tongue : Unsafe the while , that we Must lave our ...
... looks ; Be bright and jovial among your guests to- night . So shall I , love ; and so , I pray , be you : Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ; Present him eminence , both with eye and tongue : Unsafe the while , that we Must lave our ...
Página 16
... look'd And listen'd , the full - flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart . My own none , Beautiful - brow'd Enone , my own soul , 6 Behold this fruit , whose gleaming rind engrav'n 66 ' For the most fair , " would seem to award ...
... look'd And listen'd , the full - flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart . My own none , Beautiful - brow'd Enone , my own soul , 6 Behold this fruit , whose gleaming rind engrav'n 66 ' For the most fair , " would seem to award ...
Página 26
... look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? Gardener , for telling me these news of woe Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow . G. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse , I would my skill were subject to ...
... look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? Gardener , for telling me these news of woe Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow . G. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse , I would my skill were subject to ...
Página 44
... look ; thou wilt not beam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been Of a more fatal nature . He is gone : I follow . BYRON . ἀνδρῶν θ ̓ ὑπόντων , ἐγκεχρωσμένων φλογί , φυὴν φρόνημά τ 44 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... look ; thou wilt not beam on one To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been Of a more fatal nature . He is gone : I follow . BYRON . ἀνδρῶν θ ̓ ὑπόντων , ἐγκεχρωσμένων φλογί , φυὴν φρόνημά τ 44 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
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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.