Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 Seiten |
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Seite 16
... soul , 6 Behold this fruit , whose gleaming rind engrav'n 66 ' For the most fair , " would seem to award it thine , As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt The knolls of Ida , loveliest in all grace Of movement , and the charm of married ...
... soul , 6 Behold this fruit , whose gleaming rind engrav'n 66 ' For the most fair , " would seem to award it thine , As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt The knolls of Ida , loveliest in all grace Of movement , and the charm of married ...
Seite 62
... steeds , To fright the souls of fearful adversaries- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute . SHAKSPEARE . NUNC EST BIBENDUM . νῦν δὴ σκεδάσας χειμῶνα δύης ἥλιος 63 62 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... steeds , To fright the souls of fearful adversaries- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute . SHAKSPEARE . NUNC EST BIBENDUM . νῦν δὴ σκεδάσας χειμῶνα δύης ἥλιος 63 62 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Seite 114
... soul , hour after hour , Clings to the mass of life ; yet , clinging , leans ; And , leaning , makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall : beneath this crag , Huge as despair , as if in weariness , The melancholy ...
... soul , hour after hour , Clings to the mass of life ; yet , clinging , leans ; And , leaning , makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall : beneath this crag , Huge as despair , as if in weariness , The melancholy ...
Seite 138
... Death , who kings and tars despatches , In vain Tom's life has doff'd , For though his body's under hatches , His soul is gone aloft . DIBDIN . καὶ μὴν εὐπλοΐης τότ ̓ , Αμύντιχε , καὐτὸς ὀνήσει , 138 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... Death , who kings and tars despatches , In vain Tom's life has doff'd , For though his body's under hatches , His soul is gone aloft . DIBDIN . καὶ μὴν εὐπλοΐης τότ ̓ , Αμύντιχε , καὐτὸς ὀνήσει , 138 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Seite 140
... soul was yearning , And now peace laps her round . Her cabin'd , ample spirit Panted and strove for breath ; To - night it doth inherit The vasty halls of death . MATTHEW ARNOLD . ΕΥΡΕΝ ΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΙΗΝ . Ζηνοφίλῃ ῥόδ ̓ ἐμῇ , ῥόδ ̓ ἐμῇ ...
... soul was yearning , And now peace laps her round . Her cabin'd , ample spirit Panted and strove for breath ; To - night it doth inherit The vasty halls of death . MATTHEW ARNOLD . ΕΥΡΕΝ ΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΙΗΝ . Ζηνοφίλῃ ῥόδ ̓ ἐμῇ , ῥόδ ̓ ἐμῇ ...
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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.