Dublin Translations Into Greek and Latin VerseRobert Yelverton Tyrrell Hodges Figgis, 1890 - 519 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 19.
Strana 8
... , lives . L.M. But in them Nature's copy's not eterne . M. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; Then be thou jocund : ere the bat hath flown τόν γε κοίρανον κατίσχει τύμβος , ὑπνώσσει βα- θύν , 8 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... , lives . L.M. But in them Nature's copy's not eterne . M. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; Then be thou jocund : ere the bat hath flown τόν γε κοίρανον κατίσχει τύμβος , ὑπνώσσει βα- θύν , 8 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Strana 10
... Hath rung night's yawning peal , there shall be done A deed of dreadful note . What's to be done ? M. Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck , Till thou applaud the deed . Come , seeling night , Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful ...
... Hath rung night's yawning peal , there shall be done A deed of dreadful note . What's to be done ? M. Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck , Till thou applaud the deed . Come , seeling night , Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful ...
Strana 28
... war upon herself , Unwomanlike ; and treads down use and wont , And the sweet common honour that she hath , Love , and the cry of children . SWINBURNE . ΔΙΚΑΣ Δ ' ΕΡΕΙΔΕΤΑΙ ΠΥΘΜΗΝ . εἰ γάρ τις , 28 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... war upon herself , Unwomanlike ; and treads down use and wont , And the sweet common honour that she hath , Love , and the cry of children . SWINBURNE . ΔΙΚΑΣ Δ ' ΕΡΕΙΔΕΤΑΙ ΠΥΘΜΗΝ . εἰ γάρ τις , 28 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Strana 48
... , an agony Of lamentation , like a wind , that shrills All night in a waste land , where no one comes , Or hath come since the making of the world . TENNYSON . κάπειθ ̓ ἑώρων ναῦν τιν ̓ ὡς κατήγετο , ἰδεῖν κνεφαία , 48 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
... , an agony Of lamentation , like a wind , that shrills All night in a waste land , where no one comes , Or hath come since the making of the world . TENNYSON . κάπειθ ̓ ἑώρων ναῦν τιν ̓ ὡς κατήγετο , ἰδεῖν κνεφαία , 48 DUBLIN TRANSLATIONS .
Strana 62
... hath smooth'd his wrinkled front , And now - instead of mounting barbed steeds , To fright the souls of fearful adversaries- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute . SHAKSPEARE . NUNC EST BIBENDUM ...
... hath smooth'd his wrinkled front , And now - instead of mounting barbed steeds , To fright the souls of fearful adversaries- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute . SHAKSPEARE . NUNC EST BIBENDUM ...
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Strana 182 - AND after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.
Strana 426 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Strana 84 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature, Possess it merely.
Strana 94 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; The long day wanes ; the slow moon climbs ; the deep Moans round with many voices.
Strana 202 - Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite? It breathes in the air, it shines in the light, It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain, And sweetly distils in the dew and the rain.
Strana 498 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death.
Strana 504 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Strana 46 - And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 'Quick, quick ! I fear it is too late, and I shall die.
Strana 250 - And even the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped — what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share ; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see those joys the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.
Strana 390 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun, at noon, Eight up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.