Foliorum silvula, selections for translation into Latin and Greek verse, by H.A. Holden, Том 1Hubert Ashton Holden 1864 |
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Сторінка 27
... delight , lay listening on the mountains , while they sung . EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS ' HE lady Mary Villiers lies THE under this stone ; with weeping eyes the parents that first gave her birth , and their sad friends , laid ...
... delight , lay listening on the mountains , while they sung . EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS ' HE lady Mary Villiers lies THE under this stone ; with weeping eyes the parents that first gave her birth , and their sad friends , laid ...
Сторінка 38
... delight . Dark is my day whyles her fayre light I mis , And dead my life that wants such lively blis . SWEE SONNET E. SPENSER WEET warriour ! when shall I have peace with you ? High time it is this warre now ended were , which I no ...
... delight . Dark is my day whyles her fayre light I mis , And dead my life that wants such lively blis . SWEE SONNET E. SPENSER WEET warriour ! when shall I have peace with you ? High time it is this warre now ended were , which I no ...
Сторінка 51
... delight , adieu ! I go but leave my spirit here . F. WRANGHAM TO VIOLETS WELCOME , maids of Honour , you do bring in the spring ; and wait upon her . She has Virgins many , fresh and fair ; yet you are more sweet than any . 141 142 Ye ...
... delight , adieu ! I go but leave my spirit here . F. WRANGHAM TO VIOLETS WELCOME , maids of Honour , you do bring in the spring ; and wait upon her . She has Virgins many , fresh and fair ; yet you are more sweet than any . 141 142 Ye ...
Сторінка 57
... delight the scene I view'd , WITH past joys and sorrows were renew'd ; my infant hopes and fears look'd lovely through the solitude of retrospective years . And still , in Memory's twilight bowers , the spirits into Latin Lyric Verse 57.
... delight the scene I view'd , WITH past joys and sorrows were renew'd ; my infant hopes and fears look'd lovely through the solitude of retrospective years . And still , in Memory's twilight bowers , the spirits into Latin Lyric Verse 57.
Сторінка 70
... delight , swifter far than happy night , art thou come and gone : as the earth when leaves are dead , as the night when sleep is sped , as the heart when joy is fled , I am left lone , alone . 184 185 Lilies for a bridal bed , roses for ...
... delight , swifter far than happy night , art thou come and gone : as the earth when leaves are dead , as the night when sleep is sped , as the heart when joy is fled , I am left lone , alone . 184 185 Lilies for a bridal bed , roses for ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
beauty beneath birds blest bloom breast breath bright brow calm clouds College COMEDY OF ERRORS Conic Sections crown dead death deep delight didst dost doth dream earth eyes fair fate fear flowers gentle glory golden grove happy hast hath hear heart heaven honour hour J. R. SEELEY J. W. DONALDSON life's light live Lord LORD BYRON lyre mourn ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er P. B. SHELLEY peace Pembroke College pleasure roses round shade shine shore sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song SOPHOCLES sorrow soul sound spirit spring St John's College stars storm stream summer sweet tears thee thine Third Edition thou art Trinity College unto vale voice waves weep whilst wild winds wings WORDSWORTH youth γὰρ δὲ ἐν ἐπὶ ἐς καὶ μὲν οὐ τὰ τε τὸ τὸν
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Сторінка 172 - 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 248 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is : What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce, My spirit ! Be thou me, impetuous one ! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth...
Сторінка 248 - WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With...
Сторінка 216 - Now strike the golden lyre again : A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Сторінка 9 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Сторінка 171 - No war, or battle's sound, Was heard the world around : The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.
Сторінка 267 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress...
Сторінка 145 - I'll never love thee more. As Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone ; My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.
Сторінка 46 - Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men. Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.