The Latin Poets: An Anthology

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T.Y. Crowell, 1905 - 365 páginas
 

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Página 51 - So all the world by thee at first was made, And dayly yet thou doest the same repayre ; Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad, Ne ought on earth that lovely is and fayre, But thou the same for pleasure didst prepayre : Thou art the root of all that joyous is : Great God of men and women, queene of th...
Página 304 - But the kind hosts their entertainment grace With hearty welcome, and an open face : In all they did, you might discern with ease A willing mind, and a desire to please.
Página 318 - In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow ; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
Página 293 - The fowls, long beating on their wings in vain, Despair of land, and drop into the main. Now hills and vales no more distinction know And levelled nature lies opprest below. The most of mortals perish in the flood, The small remainder dies for want of food. A mountain of stupendous height there stands Betwixt the...
Página 293 - The expanded waters gather on the plain, They float the fields, and overtop the grain ; Then rushing onwards with a sweepy sway, Bear flocks, and folds, and labouring hinds away.
Página 303 - Philemon seized it with a prong, And from the sooty rafter drew it down, Then cut a slice, but scarce enough for one; Yet a large portion of a little Store, Which for their sakes alone he wish'd were more.
Página 304 - The second course succeeds like that before, Plums, apples, nuts, and, of their wintry store, Dry figs and grapes, and wrinkled dates were set In canisters, to enlarge the little treat ; All these a milk-white honeycomb surround, Which in the midst the country banquet crowned.
Página 300 - O'er-runs her at the sitting turn, and licks His chaps in vain, and blows upon the flix: She 'scapes, and for the...
Página 292 - The Northern breath, that freezes floods, he binds, With all the race of cloud-dispelling winds ; The South he loosed, who night and horror brings, And fogs are shaken from his flaggy wings.
Página 42 - No single thing abides ; but all things flow. Fragment to fragment clings — the things thus grow Until we know and name them. By degrees They melt, and are no more the things we know.

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