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Page 198
But swollen with wind , and the rank mist they draw , Rot inwardly , and foul contagion spread : Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace , and nothing said . But that two - handed engine at the door Stands ready to ...
But swollen with wind , and the rank mist they draw , Rot inwardly , and foul contagion spread : Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace , and nothing said . But that two - handed engine at the door Stands ready to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Achilles Agamemnon anger Apollo Atreus aught bear Begin brave bring broad captains chief child comes Daphnis dark death dreams earth ECLOGUE Ev'n eyes fair fear fell fight flocks flowers followed gave gift goats gods Greeks green hand hard hath head hear heard heart heaven hills host King knew land leaves live look lord Lycidas maid mighty move muse ne'er neath never night o'er obey once pass pipe prayer ranged rest rich rose round sacred sate seas ships shore sing sire sleep songs sons soul spake spring stand stars stay stood stream strife sweet swift tell tent thee thine thing thou Troy turn unto voice walls wild wind woods wrath yield young Zeus
Popular passages
Page 186 - Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Page 210 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Page 194 - Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?" Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitered locks, and stern bespake:— "How well could I have spared for thee, young Swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake, Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!
Page 256 - Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. ' Stay,...
Page 204 - Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief : 'Princess ! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Page 208 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
Page 196 - The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door 130 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Page 238 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then brisk alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is — Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Page 198 - Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are...
Page 222 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Bibliographic information
| Title | Translations Into English and Latin Library of English literature Works of C.S. Calverley, v.3 |
| Author | Charles Stuart Calverley |
| Translated by | Charles Stuart Calverley |
| Publisher | Deighton, 1866 |
| Original from | Harvard University |
| Digitized | Jul 12, 2006 |
| Length | 279 pages |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |