Four Heroick epistles of Ovid, tr. into Engl. verse (Google eBook)

Front Cover
1803
0 Reviews
  

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 61 - Your piety has paid All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade; But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life. These are the monuments of Helen's love: The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. You know in what deluding joys we pass'd The night that was by Heav'n decreed our last: For, when the fatal horse, descending down, Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th...
Page 67 - No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall I will do such things What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
Page 66 - Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Page 61 - His blotted form, and blushing to be known; And therefore first began: "O Teucer's race, Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace?
Page 61 - Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears, Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears. He scarcely knew him, striving to disown His blotted form, and blushing to be known; And therefore first began: "O Teucer's race, Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?
Page 5 - ... fond bosom as the icy plain : But to chaste love some god protection gives, Troy lies in ashes, and my husband lives. The Greeks return, at blazing altars bend, Barbaric spoils to Grecian gods suspend...
Page 15 - I remember where a poplar stands, That bears a record graven by your hands; Live poplar thou upon the margin green, Thou, on whose rugged bark these lines are seen ; 'When Paris bears CEnone to forsake, Back to his fountain head shall Xanthus make j Haste back, O Xanthns, and ye waters turn, Paris has left the widow'd nymph to mourn.
Page 14 - Who shew'd you thickets fittest for the chace, To craggy dens the savage brood to trace ? Oft by your side your meshy toils I rear'd, ' Oft o'er the mountain tops your dogs I cheer'd. You bade the wounded beech a word retain Read, and rever'd by every passing swain; As the trunk grows, still grows...
Page 36 - Ah whither rush ye ? hark, the winds forbid ) Nor chance your fury but the god has chid : Say what to Troy...

Bibliographic information