The Iliad, tr. by mr. Pope. [With notes partly by W. Broome. Preceded by] An essay on ... Homer [by T. Parnell]. (Google eBook)

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Page 153 - Those silver hairs, that venerable face ; His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see ! In all my equal, but in misery ! Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate Expels him helpless from his peaceful state...
Page 29 - twas thy deed: Death and black Fate approach! 'tis I must bleed. No refuge now, no succour from above, Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove, Propitious once, and kind! then welcome Fate! 'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire, Let future ages hear it and admire!
Page 26 - Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight: It fits us now a noble stand to make, And here, as brothers, equal fates partake.
Page 138 - Whose days the feast and wanton dance employ. Gluttons and flatterers, the contempt of Troy ! Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run, And speed my journey to redeem my son?
Page 12 - Nor must thy corse lie honour'd on the bier, Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a tear ! Far from our pious rites those dear remains Must feast the vultures on the naked plains.
Page 176 - I am sure, seriously rejoices with me at the period of my labours. To him, therefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, I desire to dedicate it, and to have the honour and satisfaction of placing together in this manner the names of Mr. Congreve and of A. POPE.
Page 7 - Through the thick gloom of some tempestuous night Orion's dog (the year when autumn weighs) And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays; Terrific glory ! for his burning breath Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death . So flam'd his fiery mail.
Page 24 - Jove lifts the golden balances, that show The fates of mortal men, and things below: Here each contending hero's lot he tries, And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight.
Page 16 - We greet not here as man conversing man, Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain; No season now for calm familiar talk, Like youths and maidens in an evening walk; War is our business, but to whom is given To die or triumph, that determine Heaven!
Page 14 - But woman-like to fall, and fall without a blow? We greet not here as man conversing man, Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain; No season now for calm familiar talk, Like youths and maidens in an...

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