Specimens of Greek and Latin verse: chiefly translations

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H.G. Bohn, 1853 - English poetry - 154 pages

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Page 100 - The glorious company of the Apostles praise thee. The goodly fellowship of the Prophets praise thee. The noble army of Martyrs praise thee. The holy church throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee, the Father of an infinite majesty : thine honourable, true, and only Son ; also the Holy Ghost the comforter.
Page 8 - What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no ; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, " Let one living head, But one arise, — we come, we come ! " "Tis but the living who are dumb.
Page 6 - Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae!
Page 42 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres, till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head; The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
Page 12 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Page 54 - Thou makest darkness, that it may be night ; wherein all the beasts of the forest do move. 21 The lions, roaring after their prey, do seek their meat from GOD. 22 The sun ariseth, and they get them away together, and lay them down in their dens. 23 Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour, until the evening.
Page 26 - Their downy breast; the swan with arched neck Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet...
Page 10 - On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown, The Heracleidan blood might own.
Page 64 - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing : It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes.
Page 22 - And drenches with Elysian dew (List, mortals, if your ears be true), Beds of hyacinth and roses, Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound...

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