Horace, the Greatest of Lyric Poets: An Account of His Life, a Translation in Prose Or Verse of the Best of All His Writings; an Explanation of His Metres, an Estimate of His Qualities and Perennial InfluenceW. Greenwood, 1907 - 128 strán (strany) |
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Alcaeus Apollo Archytas Asclepiadean minor Augustus Bacchus bard bark bear beauty Beneath billows blest Book Caesar catalectic charm Colchian Dacian dactyl dear death delight doom dost doth dread dust earth ease Epistle Epode fate father fear fell fierce fire flames fury Glyconic Glyconic catalectic gods gold grace Greek hand happy hath heart honor Horace Horace's Horatian hour hymn Immortals Jove Jove's la tra la land lines Lollius lord lyre Maecenas metres Muse myrtle ne'er neath never night o'er ocean once Pelops pine plain poet poor Postumus praise prayer rich roar Roman Rome Sabine Sapphic Satires says Scythia shines shore shun sing sire slave smile song soul strain sweet thee theme thine thou Thracian to-day trá la trá trochee Troy turn Twas Venus Venusia verses Virgil wealth Whate'er Whilst wild wine wise youth
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Strana 23 - Religious scruples I have none." " Ah, but I have. I am but one Of the canaille — a feeble brother. Your pardon. Some fine day or other I'll tell you what it was." Oh, day Of woful doom to me ! Away The rascal bolted like an arrow, And left me underneath the harrow ; When, by the rarest luck, we ran At the next turn against the man, Who had the lawsuit with my bore. " Ha, knave !" he cried with loud uproar, " Where are you off to ? Will you here Stand witness ?
Strana 93 - Do the contractor and his laborers heap Vast piles of stone, the ocean back to sweep. But let him climb in pride, That lord of halls unblest, Up to his lordly nest, Yet ever by his side Climb Terror and Unrest ; Within the brazen galley's sides Care, ever wakeful, flits, And at his back, when forth in state he rides, Her withering shadow sits.
Strana 24 - So (but you'll think me garrulous) I'll write A full description of its form and site. In long continuous lines the mountains run, Cleft by a valley, which twice feels the sun — Once on the right, when first he lifts his beams ; Once on the left, when he descends in streams.
Strana 113 - The smoke from the rafter-beams languidly curls. Let the joys of the revel be parted between us. 'Tis the Ides of young April, the day which divides The month, dearest Phyllis, of ocean-sprung Venus, A day to me dearer than any besides. And well may I prize it, and hail its returning — My own natal day not more...
Strana 106 - I've reared a monument, my own, More durable than brass, Yea, kingly pyramids of stone In height it doth surpass. Rain shall not sap, nor driving blast Disturb its settled base, Nor countless ages rolling past Its symmetry deface.
Strana 22 - tis the fact." "You quicken my desire to get An introduction to his set." "With merit such as yours, you need But wish it, and you must succeed. He's to be won, and that is why Of strangers he's so very shy." "I'll spare no pains, no arts, no shifts! His servants I'll corrupt with gifts. To-day though driven from his gate, What matter? I will lie in wait, To catch some lucky chance; I'll meet Or overtake him in the street; I'll haunt him like his shadow. Nought In life without much toil is bought.
Strana 114 - Remember fond Phaethon's fiery sequel, And heavenward-aspiring Bellerophon's fate ; And pine not for one who would ne'er be your equal, But level your hopes to a lowlier mate. So, come, my own Phyllis, my heart's latest treasure — For ne'er for another this bosom shall long — And I'll teach, while your loved voice re-echoes the measure, How to charm away care with the magic of song.
Strana 75 - Let not the frowns of fate Disquiet thee, my friend, Nor, when she smiles on thee, do thou, elate With vaunting thoughts, ascend Beyond the limits of becoming mirth; For, Dellius, thou must die, become a clod of earth! "Whether thy days go down In gloom, and dull regrets, Or, shunning life's vain struggle for renown, Its fever and its frets, Stretch'd on the grass, with old Falernian wine, Thou giv'st the thoughtless hours a rapture all divine.
Strana 19 - Then, writhing to evade the bore, I quicken now my pace, now stop, And in my servant's ear let drop Some words, and all the while I feel Bathed in cold sweat from head to heel.
Strana 85 - He lives on little, and is blest, On whose plain board the bright Salt-cellar shines, which was his sires' delight, Nor terrors, nor cupidity's unrest, Disturb his slumbers light. Why should we still project and plan, We creatures of an hour ? Why fly from clime to clime, new regions scour? Where is the exile, who, since time began, To fly from self had power ? Fell care climbs brazen galleys...