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 42 - wondering eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air. Jul. 0 Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Page 40 - Oh that she knew she were!— She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that ? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do intreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres, till they return.
Page 98 - the Lord. All the earth doth worship thee, the Father everlasting. To thee all Angels cry aloud; the Heavens, and all the Powers therein. To thee Cherubin and Seraphin continually do cry, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth; THE
Page 46 - one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 47
Page 60 - There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.—
Page 70 - Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame, That darkness does the face of earth intomb, When living light should kiss it ? Old M. 'Tis unnatural, E'en like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last A falcon,
Page 62 - marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. 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,
Page 32 - from the stroke of Cesar's fate Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail; For lo! the tyrant prostrate in the dust, And Eome again is free.
Page 70 - like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Rosse. And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange certain,) Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
Page 76 - III. Have Ia tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought; And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him ? who, in my wrath, Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised ? Who

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