The Greek Anthology: As Selected for the Use of Westminster, Eton, and Other Public Schools

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H. G. Bohn, 1852 - 518 Seiten
 

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Seite 72 - Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid ; Sweet ivy wind thy boughs, and intertwine With blushing roses and the clustering vine : Thus will thy lasting leaves with beauties hung, Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung ; Whose soul, exalted like a god of wit, Among the Muses and the Graces writ.
Seite 448 - CLING to thy home ! if there the meanest shed Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head, And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board, — Unsavory bread, and herbs that scattered grow Wild on the river brink or mountain brow, Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide More heart's repose than all the world beside.
Seite 358 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and...
Seite 191 - FROM Colophon some deem thee sprung, From Smyrna some, and some from Chios ; These, noble Salamis have sung, While those proclaim thee born in los ¡ And others cry up Thessaly The mother of the Lapithas.
Seite 43 - Venus, take my votive glass, Since I am not what I was ; What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.
Seite 108 - AN EPITAPH. MY name — my country — what are they to thee? What, whether base or proud my pedigree ? Perhaps I far surpass'd all other men — Perhaps I fell below them all — what then ? Suffice it, stranger ! that thou seest a tomb — Thou know'st its use — -it hides — no matter whom.
Seite 439 - Milesian ladies, who, when their city was invaded by the Gauls, escaped by self-destruction from the insults offered to them ; the translation by Merivale : — " Then let us hence, Miletus dear ; sweet native land, farewell ; Th' insulting wrongs of lawless Gauls we fear, whilst here we dwell. Three virgins of Milesian race, to this dire fate compell'd By Celtic Mars — yet glad we die, that we have ne'er beheld 'Spousals of blood, nor sunk to be vile handmaids to our foes, But rather owe our thanks...
Seite 266 - SEEK not to glad these senseless stones With fragrant ointments, rosy wreaths ; No warmth can reach our mouldering bones From lustral fire, that vainly breathes. Now let me revel whilst I may: The wine, that o'er my grave is shed, Mixes with earth, and turns to clay — No honours can delight the dead.
Seite 148 - WITH courage seek the kingdom of the dead; The path before you lies, It is not hard to find, nor tread; No rocks to climb, no lanes to thread; But broad, and straight, and even still, And ever gently slopes down-hill; You cannot miss it, though you shut your eyes.
Seite 126 - Never in anger with the meaner sort Be mov'd to a contemptuous harsh retort, Deriding their distresses ; nor despise In hasty speech their wants and miseries. Jove holds the balance, and the gods dispense For all mankind riches and indigence. Among the...

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