Foliorum silvula, selections for translation into Latin and Greek verse, by H.A. HoldenHubert Ashton Holden 1866 |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 90.
Strana
... NOTES BY THE REVEREND HUBERT ASHTON HOLDEN LL.D. HEAD MASTER OF IPSWICH SCHOOL LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE EDITOR OF ARISTOPHANES ETC. Fourth Edition CAMBRIDGE DEIGHTON BELL AND CO LONDON BELL AND DALDY 1866 260. f . 10 ...
... NOTES BY THE REVEREND HUBERT ASHTON HOLDEN LL.D. HEAD MASTER OF IPSWICH SCHOOL LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE EDITOR OF ARISTOPHANES ETC. Fourth Edition CAMBRIDGE DEIGHTON BELL AND CO LONDON BELL AND DALDY 1866 260. f . 10 ...
Strana
... Notes and a complete Index of Sub- jects have been added ; while to each Extract a descriptive Heading has been prefixed . SCHOOL HOUSE , IPSWICH July 16 , 1862 THE Fourth Edition , which has been carefully revised ,
... Notes and a complete Index of Sub- jects have been added ; while to each Extract a descriptive Heading has been prefixed . SCHOOL HOUSE , IPSWICH July 16 , 1862 THE Fourth Edition , which has been carefully revised ,
Strana 29
... notes to hear , and if she praise thy matin song , tell her , the sounds that soothe her ear to Damon's native plains belong . Tell her , in livelier plumes arrayed the bird from Indian groves may shine : but ask the lovely partial maid ...
... notes to hear , and if she praise thy matin song , tell her , the sounds that soothe her ear to Damon's native plains belong . Tell her , in livelier plumes arrayed the bird from Indian groves may shine : but ask the lovely partial maid ...
Strana 34
... notes , CEAS the craft of Siren choirs ; hush the seductive voice that floats upon the languid wires . Music's ethereal fire was given not to dissolve our clay , but draw Promethean beams from heaven , and purge the dross away . Weak ...
... notes , CEAS the craft of Siren choirs ; hush the seductive voice that floats upon the languid wires . Music's ethereal fire was given not to dissolve our clay , but draw Promethean beams from heaven , and purge the dross away . Weak ...
Strana 35
... note express the joy I feel , -when thou art kind . W. SHENSTONE 117 AUTUMN PENSIVE Autumn ! how I grieve thy sorrowing face to see , when languid suns are taking leave of every drooping tree . Ah , let me not , with heavy eye , this ...
... note express the joy I feel , -when thou art kind . W. SHENSTONE 117 AUTUMN PENSIVE Autumn ! how I grieve thy sorrowing face to see , when languid suns are taking leave of every drooping tree . Ah , let me not , with heavy eye , this ...
Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
Časté výrazy a frázy
AGATHIAS arms beauty behold beneath birds blest bloom bosom boughs bower breast breath bright brow charms clouds cold crowned dark dead death delight doth dream earth eyes fair fame fear flowers gentle golden grace grave green grief grove hast hath heart heaven hills hour J. W. DONALDSON light live LORD LORD BYRON lyre MELEAGER MILTON morn mourn murmur Muse ne'er never night nymph o'er pain peace plain rest rill rise rocks rose round S. T. COLERIDGE shade shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound SPENSER spring St John's College stars storm stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought toil trees Trinity College twas vale voice W. E. AYTOUN wandering waves weep wild winds wings woods youth γὰρ δὲ ἐν καὶ μὲν οὐ τὸ τὸν
Populárne pasáže
Strana 36 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Strana 84 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow : And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Strana 351 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The...
Strana 362 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Strana 87 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Strana 54 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Strana 189 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair and wise is she ; The heaven such grace did lend her That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair ? for beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling ; To her let us garlands bring.
Strana 70 - What objects are the fountains of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? what shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance...
Strana 402 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Strana 34 - The Epitaph Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...