Pindarou Epinikoi Nemeonikais

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Macmillan, 1890 - Athletics - 272 pages

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Page 11 - First hymn they the Father Of all things : and then, The rest of Immortals, The action of men. The Day in his hotness, The strife with the palm; The Night in her silence, The Stars in their calm.
Page xviii - the thing which is cleft," etc. Similarly, CLKOVT) is the sharpener, Kparrfp is the mixer, etc. A Greek who called a thought an O.KOVJ\ was thus using a less startling image than we should use in calling it a whetstone — And such phrases are less audacious in proportion as they are old, ie near to the time when the language was still freshly conscious of the primary sense. Whether this be a sufficient defence for Pindar or no — Jebb does not say so, — the principle ought indeed, as he says,...
Page xxxii - ... vertus un air d'éternelle jeunesse. Capables de tout, elles ne se piquaient de rien ; leur sagesse était leur bonheur et leur santé ; elles fuyaient le désordre comme une souffrance, elles se préservaient soigneusement de tout ce qui pouvait porter atteinte ŕ leur beauté ; un rhythme secret réglait...
Page xviii - ... woos my willing soul with the spirit of fair-flowing strains." The image of the whetstone recurs in Isthm. v. 72 : if>aitjs KC vw v aKovav "well mightest thou say, such is he among athletes as the stone of Naxos among stones, the grinding whet that gives an edge to bronze." With regard to this metaphor, as to many others in Greek lyrics which are apt to strike us as harsh or even grotesque, there is a general principle which ought, I think, to be clearly perceived. Most IndoEuropean nouns expressed...
Page xiii - SOUL-LIGHT WHAT other woman could be loved like you, Or how of you should love possess his fill ? After the fulness of all rapture, still, — As at the end of some deep avenue A tender glamour of day, — there comes to view Far in your eyes a yet more hungering thrill, — Such fire as Love's soul-winnowing hands distil Even from his inmost ark of light and dew.
Page 60 - Lo, I send you, though at late hour, this honey mixed with white milk, fringed with the froth of blending, a draught of song conveyed in the breathings of Aeolian flutes.
Page xviii - I have 6—2 84 a thought upon my lips that lends keen motive to my song ; it woos my willing soul with the spirit of fair-flowing strains.
Page xviii - I was wending on a straight path : ' — where eSivdOriv seems to suggest the idea of turning quickly round and round until one no longer knows the points of the compass. The thought which inspires a strain is compared to the whetstone which sharpens the knife, — and here, again, note the mixture of metaphors : Sogav e^eo TIV eVl y\(l>cra-a aKovay Xfyvpa?, | a yu.

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