The epigrammatists: a selection, with notes and an intr. by H. P. DoddBell and Daldy, 1870 |
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Side xxxvii
... Death of her Pig , Cupid " : Oh dry that tear , so round and big ; Nor waste in sighs your precious wind ! Death only takes a single pig : Your lord and son are still behind . Men , however , there have always been who , even in the ...
... Death of her Pig , Cupid " : Oh dry that tear , so round and big ; Nor waste in sighs your precious wind ! Death only takes a single pig : Your lord and son are still behind . Men , however , there have always been who , even in the ...
Side 12
... death with Leonidas to life when his country was ruined . ON THOSE WHO FELL AT THERMOPYLE ( Jacobs I. 64 , xxvi . ) . Translated by Sterling . If well to die be valour's noblest part , In this with us no mortal men can vie : Freedom for ...
... death with Leonidas to life when his country was ruined . ON THOSE WHO FELL AT THERMOPYLE ( Jacobs I. 64 , xxvi . ) . Translated by Sterling . If well to die be valour's noblest part , In this with us no mortal men can vie : Freedom for ...
Side 13
Epigrammatists Henry Philip Dodd. Shall victor exult , or in death be laid low , With his back to the field , and his feet to the foe ! And , leaving in battle no blot on his name , Look proudly to Heaven from the death - bed of fame ...
Epigrammatists Henry Philip Dodd. Shall victor exult , or in death be laid low , With his back to the field , and his feet to the foe ! And , leaving in battle no blot on his name , Look proudly to Heaven from the death - bed of fame ...
Side 17
... DEATH ( Jacobs I. 106 , xxi . ) . Translated by Shelley . Thou wert the morning star among the living Ere thy fair light had fled ; Now , having died , thou art , as Hesperus , giving New splendour to the dead . Ausonius has a very ...
... DEATH ( Jacobs I. 106 , xxi . ) . Translated by Shelley . Thou wert the morning star among the living Ere thy fair light had fled ; Now , having died , thou art , as Hesperus , giving New splendour to the dead . Ausonius has a very ...
Side 26
... death of a shepherd is pathetically pictured by Ambrose Philips , in his third Pastoral : In yonder gloomy grove out - stretch'd he lay , His lovely limbs upon the dampy clay ; On his cold cheek the rosy hue decay'd , And , o'er his ...
... death of a shepherd is pathetically pictured by Ambrose Philips , in his third Pastoral : In yonder gloomy grove out - stretch'd he lay , His lovely limbs upon the dampy clay ; On his cold cheek the rosy hue decay'd , And , o'er his ...
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The Epigrammatists: A Selection, with Notes and an Intr. by H. P. Dodd Epigrammatists Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2015 |
The Epigrammatists: A Selection, with Notes and an Intr. by H. P. Dodd Epigrammatists Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2015 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Aaron Hill afterwards Ambrose Philips Anacreon beauty Ben Jonson Bishop blest Book born breast breath celebrated character charms Cupid dead dear death Delitiæ Delitiarum died distich doth Duke Dunciad Earl edition elegant English epigrammatic Epigrammatists epitaph eyes fair fame fate flourished B.C. following epigram Foundling Hospital Fugitive Pieces Gentleman's Magazine give grace grave Greek Anthology Greek epigram hath heart heaven honour Horace Walpole inscription Jacobs John Johnson King Lady Latin lines live London Lord lovers Martial Meleager mind monument mourn Muses ne'er never Nichols Notes and Queries o'er Oxford poet Poetical poetry Pope praise published Queen rose satire says Select Epigrams Shakespeare similar sleep smile soul stanza sweet Tadlow tears tell thee thine Thomas thou thought tomb Translated Venus verses virtue Westminster Westminster School wife William write written wrote
Populære avsnitt
Side 127 - tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture, and mean array.
Side 217 - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air ; And more inconstant than the wind...
Side xxxvi - I'll example you with thievery: The sun's a 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...
Side 142 - This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather.
Side 305 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Side 460 - But hail, thou goddess sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended.
Side 57 - When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Side 519 - Life ! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear : — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time ; Say not ' Good night ' — but in some brighter clime Bid me
Side 137 - Honour and shame from no condition rise ; Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Side 20 - Ay me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore. The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?