Palæstra musarum; or, Materials for translation into Greek verse, selected by B.H. Kennedy

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Benjamin Hall Kennedy
1856
 

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Стр. 207 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.
Стр. 164 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame ; nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Стр. 245 - That very time I saw (but thou could'st not), Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Стр. 344 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Стр. 172 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back...
Стр. 169 - If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats...
Стр. 327 - Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose. Another side, umbrageous grots and caves Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant...
Стр. 221 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : — Yare, yare ', good Iras ; quick. — Methinks, I hear Antony call ; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act...
Стр. 103 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Стр. 238 - As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard : no man cried, God save him...

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