Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 Seiten |
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Seite vii
... head of the men of his year without verse - writing . I have had throughout the invaluable aid of my friend Professor Davies , and some of the principal contributors have from time to time favoured me with suggestions . But I was not ...
... head of the men of his year without verse - writing . I have had throughout the invaluable aid of my friend Professor Davies , and some of the principal contributors have from time to time favoured me with suggestions . But I was not ...
Seite xi
... head SWINBURNE 220 There was a king in Thulé I see a man's life is a tedious one . This shalt thou Sustain not , nor thy son endure to see . Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny . Come , is the bride ready to go to church Here she lies ...
... head SWINBURNE 220 There was a king in Thulé I see a man's life is a tedious one . This shalt thou Sustain not , nor thy son endure to see . Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny . Come , is the bride ready to go to church Here she lies ...
Seite 38
... ; cut me off the heads Of all the favourites , that the absent king In deputation left behind him here , When he was personal in the Irish war . SHAKSPEARE . σταίη πρὸς αὐτοῦ , βαιὸς ὁ μὲν ὁ δ ̓ αὖ 38 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... ; cut me off the heads Of all the favourites , that the absent king In deputation left behind him here , When he was personal in the Irish war . SHAKSPEARE . σταίη πρὸς αὐτοῦ , βαιὸς ὁ μὲν ὁ δ ̓ αὖ 38 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Seite 58
... head Supported by wan hands , which hid his face And would not be withdrawn : -no groan , no sigh Was audible , and we might only learn . By short convulsive tremblings of his frame That life still flickered in it - yet at last , By ...
... head Supported by wan hands , which hid his face And would not be withdrawn : -no groan , no sigh Was audible , and we might only learn . By short convulsive tremblings of his frame That life still flickered in it - yet at last , By ...
Seite 220
... head That crowns its lovely body , till death's hour Waste it ; but now the dew of dawn and birth Is fresh upon it from thy womb , and we Behold it born how beauteous ; one day more I see the world's wheel of the circling sun Roll up ...
... head That crowns its lovely body , till death's hour Waste it ; but now the dew of dawn and birth Is fresh upon it from thy womb , and we Behold it born how beauteous ; one day more I see the world's wheel of the circling sun Roll up ...
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Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 94 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; The long day wanes ; the slow moon climbs ; the deep Moans round with many voices.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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...
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.