Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 páginas |
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Página 269
... quod tibi , Note , contigit beato , aëris levis aemulo , Perennae labra basiolis tuis adire , ventilare tibi comas protervas ; huc , Note , huc ades , adferas vel unum , sicque di , Note , sic deae me amabunt , ut Iovis minime imbribus ...
... quod tibi , Note , contigit beato , aëris levis aemulo , Perennae labra basiolis tuis adire , ventilare tibi comas protervas ; huc , Note , huc ades , adferas vel unum , sicque di , Note , sic deae me amabunt , ut Iovis minime imbribus ...
Página 279
... et eia ! denuo . et exempla turpia ubi adfatim cumulaveris , hoc animum advortas quod loquar . S. hem ! hoc age . ROBERT Y. TYRRELL . THE NURSERY OF NATIONS . MEANTIME o'er rocky Thrace and SHAKSPEARE - HENRY IV . 279.
... et eia ! denuo . et exempla turpia ubi adfatim cumulaveris , hoc animum advortas quod loquar . S. hem ! hoc age . ROBERT Y. TYRRELL . THE NURSERY OF NATIONS . MEANTIME o'er rocky Thrace and SHAKSPEARE - HENRY IV . 279.
Página 298
... soon as text is named ; I leave the church in sermon - time And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart , And she lives in our alley . ad nos cum mea ventitat puella , confestim , quod 298 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... soon as text is named ; I leave the church in sermon - time And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart , And she lives in our alley . ad nos cum mea ventitat puella , confestim , quod 298 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Página 305
... quod lingua labat mediaque in voce resistit , atque amor eloquium praepedit ipse suum ? quod lateat tacito non enarrabile corde pluribus indiciis tu , mea vita , tenes . T. J. B. BRADY .. X MARY . 6 ' OH ! it's time I should KENNEDY ...
... quod lingua labat mediaque in voce resistit , atque amor eloquium praepedit ipse suum ? quod lateat tacito non enarrabile corde pluribus indiciis tu , mea vita , tenes . T. J. B. BRADY .. X MARY . 6 ' OH ! it's time I should KENNEDY ...
Página 315
... servit quis servitutem apud opulentum erum ; nam illi quidem lecto malaco malaci obdormiunt , nec curant quod servo exhibeant negotium . ROBERT Y. TYRRELL . DRINKING SONG . COME , old friend ! sit down DRYDEN - AMPHITRYON . 315.
... servit quis servitutem apud opulentum erum ; nam illi quidem lecto malaco malaci obdormiunt , nec curant quod servo exhibeant negotium . ROBERT Y. TYRRELL . DRINKING SONG . COME , old friend ! sit down DRYDEN - AMPHITRYON . 315.
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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.