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 100.
Strana 12
... rest . R T. MOORE TO HIS LADY THEN MISTRESS CARY ETIRED with purpose your fair worth to praise ' mongst Hampton shades and Phoebus ' grove of bays , I pluck'd a branch : the jealous god did frown and bade me lay th ' usurpéd laurel down ...
... rest . R T. MOORE TO HIS LADY THEN MISTRESS CARY ETIRED with purpose your fair worth to praise ' mongst Hampton shades and Phoebus ' grove of bays , I pluck'd a branch : the jealous god did frown and bade me lay th ' usurpéd laurel down ...
Strana 15
... rest ! Thus man , the sport of bliss and care , rises on time's eventful sea , and having swell'd a moment there thus melts into eternity . 61 62 PEACE T. MOORE WHIL HILE hunters bold ride homeward with the spoil ; while bugles ring and ...
... rest ! Thus man , the sport of bliss and care , rises on time's eventful sea , and having swell'd a moment there thus melts into eternity . 61 62 PEACE T. MOORE WHIL HILE hunters bold ride homeward with the spoil ; while bugles ring and ...
Strana 18
... rest , thy meek submission to thy God expressed ; when thy last look , ere thought and feeling fled , a mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed ; what to thy soul its glad assurance gave , its hope in death , its triumph o'er the grave ...
... rest , thy meek submission to thy God expressed ; when thy last look , ere thought and feeling fled , a mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed ; what to thy soul its glad assurance gave , its hope in death , its triumph o'er the grave ...
Strana 28
... rest . I weep - my tears revive it not : I sigh - it breathes no more on me ; its mute and uncomplaining lot is such as mine should be . VENUS AND ADONIS P. B. SHELLEY ' HE night of sorrow now is turned to day : THE her two blue windows ...
... rest . I weep - my tears revive it not : I sigh - it breathes no more on me ; its mute and uncomplaining lot is such as mine should be . VENUS AND ADONIS P. B. SHELLEY ' HE night of sorrow now is turned to day : THE her two blue windows ...
Strana 33
... rest while you may , for strife comes with manhood and waking with day . SIR W. SCOTT III LOCAL ATTACHMENT T was a barren scene and wild I where naked cliffs were rudely piled , but ever and anon between lay velvet tufts of loveliest ...
... rest while you may , for strife comes with manhood and waking with day . SIR W. SCOTT III LOCAL ATTACHMENT T was a barren scene and wild I where naked cliffs were rudely piled , but ever and anon between lay velvet tufts of loveliest ...
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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...