Odes of Anacreon, Том 1Hugh Maxwell, opposite Christ-church., 1804 - 301 стор. |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Achilles Tatius amorous Anacreon Anacreon and Sappho ancients Anthologia Antipater Athenæus Aulus Gellius Bacchus bard Barnes Bathyllus beauty bliss bloom blushing bosom bowers bowl breast breath brow Catullus charms Cupid dance dart Degen divine drink edition elegant epigram epithalamium epithet Eurypyle eyes feel fire flame flowers fragment Gail girl glow goblet golden grace hæc hallow'd heart Horace hymn imitated infant kiss Longepierre lyre Madame Dacier maid Maximus Tyrius Monsieur Muses nectar numbers nymph o'er Philostratus Plato poem poet poet's Polycrates Quæ quoted rose rosy Sappho says Scaliger shade shed sigh sing sleep smile song soul sparkle sweet tear tears of wine Teian tell thee Theocritus thine thou translation trembling Twas twine Vatican Venus vermil verses virgin Vossius wanton warm weeping wild wine wing youth δε Ει εις εν και μεν μοι ποτ τε ὡς
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Сторінка 188 - Rose, thou art the sweetest flower That ever drank the amber shower; Rose, thou art the fondest child Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild. Even the Gods, who walk the sky, Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
Сторінка 164 - Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, "My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wild bee's touch, How must the heart, ah, Cupid!
Сторінка 192 - But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Сторінка 63 - Behold this mirror with a sigh; The locks upon thy brow are few, And, like the rest, they're withering too ! " Whether decline has thinned my hair, I'm sure I neither know nor care ; But this I know, and this I feel, As onward to the tomb I steal, That still as death approaches nearer. The joys of life are sweeter, dearer ; And had I but an hour to live, That little hour to bliss I'd giw ! ODE VIII.
Сторінка 159 - Whatever buds, whatever blows, For thee it buds, for thee it grows. Nor yet art thou the peasant's fear ; To him thy friendly notes are dear ; For thou art mild as matin dew, And still, when summer's flowery hue Begins to paint the bloomy plain, We hear thy sweet prophetic strain ; Thy sweet, prophetic strain we hear, And bless the notes, and thee revere ! The Muses love thy shrilly tone; Apollo calls thee all his own ; 'Twas he who gave that voice to thee, 'Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy.
Сторінка 281 - Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Сторінка 233 - Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, Illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam Plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, Nunc in quadriviis et angiportis Glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
Сторінка 218 - Jove would give the leafy bowers A queen for all their world of flowers, The rose would be the choice of Jove, And blush, the queen of every grove.
Сторінка 194 - While virgin Graces, warm with May, Fling roses o'er her dewy way. The murmuring billows of the deep Have languished into silent sleep ; And mark ! the flitting sea-birds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave ; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky.
Сторінка 116 - Do villany, do, since you protest to do 't Like workmen. I 'll example you with thievery : The sun 'sa thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun...