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Сторінка 442 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios...
Сторінка 196 - Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet, Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.
Сторінка 465 - Castalian spring, might with this Paradise Of Eden strive ; nor that Nyseian isle Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea, and her florid son Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye ; Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, Mount Amara, though this by some supposed True Paradise, under the Ethiop line By Nilus...
Сторінка 419 - The oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving ; Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving ; No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Сторінка 247 - Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog...
Сторінка 62 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st...
Сторінка 312 - To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height ; To hear each other's whisper'd speech ; Eating the Lotos day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray ; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy...
Сторінка 287 - The wished-for wind was given: — I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea; And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be The foremost prow in pressing to the strand, — Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. 'Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved Wife! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life, — The paths which we had trod — these fountains, flowers, My...
Сторінка 288 - mid unfading bowers. Yet tears to human suffering are due ; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes. Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died ; And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees...