Extracts from mr. Pope's translation corresponding with The beauties of Homer selected from the Iliad, by W. Holwell (Google eBook)

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1776
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Page 69 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are past away.
Page 76 - Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates! (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
Page 98 - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head...
Page 77 - Embitters all thy woes by naming me. The thoughts of glory past, and present shame A thousand griefs shall waken at the name. May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Press'd with a load of monumental clay! Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep.
Page 77 - And placed the beaming helmet on the ground; Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, Thus to the gods preferr'da father's prayer: "O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers!
Page 76 - Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, As thine, Andromache! Thy griefs I dread: I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led, In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes of which so large a part was thine!
Page 307 - Nineteen one mother bore — Dead, all are dead ! How oft, alas ! has wretched Priam bled ? Still one was left, their loss to recompense ; His father's hope, his country's last defence.
Page 282 - Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, In all the raging impotence of woe. At length he roll'd in dust, and thus begun, Imploring all, and naming one by one: 'Ah!
Page 160 - As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,) Precipitate the...
Page 20 - The' assembly placed, the king of men express'd The counsels labouring in his artful breast. ' Friends and confederates! with attentive ear Receive my words, and credit what you hear.

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