Subjects and selections for Latin and Greek composition, by W. DobsonWilliam Dobson 1845 |
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Side 16
... thou , firm and good , But vainly wouldst stand forth alone in strife Against the Omnipotent . - Prometheus WEDNESDAY , September 10 . Into Latin Elegiacs . Unbound . But thou who own'st that earthly bed , Ah ! what will every dirge ...
... thou , firm and good , But vainly wouldst stand forth alone in strife Against the Omnipotent . - Prometheus WEDNESDAY , September 10 . Into Latin Elegiacs . Unbound . But thou who own'st that earthly bed , Ah ! what will every dirge ...
Side 21
... thou art implacable , more deaf To prayers , than winds and seas ; yet winds to seas Are reconciled at length , and sea to shore : Thy anger , unappeasable , still rages , Eternal tempest , never to be calmed . Why do I humble thus ...
... thou art implacable , more deaf To prayers , than winds and seas ; yet winds to seas Are reconciled at length , and sea to shore : Thy anger , unappeasable , still rages , Eternal tempest , never to be calmed . Why do I humble thus ...
Side 22
... thou that hear'st the tale , Learn the tenor of our song . Scotland , through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong . Gray , the Fatal Sisters . MONDAY , October 20 . Into Greek Iambics . CEDIP . Nor are now your vows Addrest ...
... thou that hear'st the tale , Learn the tenor of our song . Scotland , through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong . Gray , the Fatal Sisters . MONDAY , October 20 . Into Greek Iambics . CEDIP . Nor are now your vows Addrest ...
Side 24
... thou , impious man ! Aye , hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more ! Wouldst thou have honour and obedience Who art a torturer ? Father , never dream , Though thou mayst overbear this company , But ill must come of ill ...
... thou , impious man ! Aye , hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more ! Wouldst thou have honour and obedience Who art a torturer ? Father , never dream , Though thou mayst overbear this company , But ill must come of ill ...
Side 25
... thou art to die with Phocion ? " At the instant when he was to die , they asked what commands he had for his son , he answered , to forget this injury of the Athenians . -Spectator , No. 133 . MONDAY , November 10 . Into Latin ...
... thou art to die with Phocion ? " At the instant when he was to die , they asked what commands he had for his son , he answered , to forget this injury of the Athenians . -Spectator , No. 133 . MONDAY , November 10 . Into Latin ...
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Subjects and selections for Latin and Greek composition, by W. Dobson William Dobson Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1848 |
Populære avsnitt
Side 29 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire: Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Side 14 - No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all The multitude of angels, with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy...
Side 13 - Man's feeble race what ills await ! . Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove.
Side 10 - In that fair clime, the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose : And, in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched, Even from the blazing chariot of the sun, A beardless Touth, who touched a golden lute, And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.
Side 36 - Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more ! For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Side 28 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Side 31 - While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright Turn'd fiery red, sharp'ning in mooned horns Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported spears, as thick as when a field Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands, Lest on the thrashing-floor his hopeful sheaves ^ Prove chaff.
Side 12 - In yonder grave a druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave ; The year's best sweets shall duteous rise ^ To deck its poet's sylvan grave. In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp shall now be laid, That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, May love through life the soothing shade.
Side 15 - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O ! I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O ! the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
Side 28 - Heraclitus saith well, in one of his enigmas, " Dry light is ever the best," and certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is ever infused and drenched in his affections and customs.