The Works of Virgil:: Containing His Pastorals, Georgics, and Aeneis, Zväzok 3

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Jacob Tonson in the Strand., 1721 - 1043 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 781 - O ye gods, replace On his own head, and on his impious race! The living and the dead at his command Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied, The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died.
Strana 904 - And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire. Around the piles a careful troop attends, To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends ; Ling'ring along the shore, till dewy night New decks the face of heav'n with starry light.
Strana 901 - O Pallas, thou hast failed thy plighted word, To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword. I warned thee, but in vain, for well I knew What perils youthful ardour would pursue ; That boiling blood would carry thee too far ; Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war. O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom, Prelude of bloody fields and fights to come.
Strana 779 - The grot with beaten anvils groans around. By turns, their arms advance in equal time ; By turns, their hands descend, and hammers chime. They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs : The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs. While, at the Lemnian god's command, they urge Their labours thus, and ply th' JEolian forge, The cheerful morn salutes Evander's eyes, And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.
Strana 970 - And health and vigour are at once restored. lapis first perceived the closing wound, And first the footsteps of a god he found.
Strana 952 - He tries his goring horns against a tree, And meditates his absent enemy; He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand. Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms...
Strana 968 - The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field : Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried, And young Ascanius, weeping by his side, Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear His limbs from earth, supported on his spear.
Strana 840 - And all th' inferior world. From first to last, The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd. Then thus th' almighty sire began: "Ye gods, Natives or denizens of blest abodes, From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, This backward fate from what was first design'd?
Strana 778 - On their eternal anvils here he found The brethren beating, and the blows go round; A load of pointless thunder now there lies Before their hands to ripen for the skies.
Strana 887 - Tis now my bitter banishment I feel : This is a wound too deep for time to heal. My guilt thy growing virtues did defame ; My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name.

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