The Works of the English Poets, Том 26Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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Samuel Johnson. POE M S BY MR . NICHOLAS ROWE . THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS . TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK . I TO THE READER . HOPE the reader will forgive the liberty I have taken in translating thefe Verfes fomewhat at large , without ...
Samuel Johnson. POE M S BY MR . NICHOLAS ROWE . THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS . TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK . I TO THE READER . HOPE the reader will forgive the liberty I have taken in translating thefe Verfes fomewhat at large , without ...
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... , Nor lightly from thy refolution fwerve ; The dazzling pomp of words does oft deceive , And sweet perfuafion wins the easy to believe . B 2 60 When When fools and lyars labour to perfuade , Be dumb THE GOLDEN VERSES . · 3.
... , Nor lightly from thy refolution fwerve ; The dazzling pomp of words does oft deceive , And sweet perfuafion wins the easy to believe . B 2 60 When When fools and lyars labour to perfuade , Be dumb THE GOLDEN VERSES . · 3.
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... do ? In what to God , to man , or to myself I owe ? Inquire fevere what - e'er from first to last , From morning's dawn , till evening's gloom , has paft . 120 If evil were thy deeds , repenting mourn , And B 3 If THE GOLDEN VERSES . 5.
... do ? In what to God , to man , or to myself I owe ? Inquire fevere what - e'er from first to last , From morning's dawn , till evening's gloom , has paft . 120 If evil were thy deeds , repenting mourn , And B 3 If THE GOLDEN VERSES . 5.
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... , Among the gods exalted fhalt thou shine , Immortal , incorruptible , divine : The tyrant death fecurely fhalt thou brave , And fcorn the dark dominion of the grave . B 4 165 170 A P O E E M O ON THE LATE THE GOLDEN VERSES . *
... , Among the gods exalted fhalt thou shine , Immortal , incorruptible , divine : The tyrant death fecurely fhalt thou brave , And fcorn the dark dominion of the grave . B 4 165 170 A P O E E M O ON THE LATE THE GOLDEN VERSES . *
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... verse would raise , And to thy own foft numbers tune thy praise ; Happy the youth infpir'd , beneath thy fhade , Thy verdant , ever - living laurels laid ! There , fafe , no pleasures , there no pains they know , But those which from ...
... verse would raise , And to thy own foft numbers tune thy praise ; Happy the youth infpir'd , beneath thy fhade , Thy verdant , ever - living laurels laid ! There , fafe , no pleasures , there no pains they know , But those which from ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Ah willow Albion's arms Atreus Atrides beneath blefs bleft blood boaſt breaſt Britain's Britannia's Britiſh brow Cæfar's cauſe charms crown diftant divine doft dreadful Ev'n eyes facred fafe faid fair fam'd fame fate fatire fceptre fcorn fear feas fecret fhade fhall fhining fhore fhould fide fight filent fing fire firft firſt fix'd flain fleep fmiling foes fome fong footh foul ftand ftill ftreams fuch fwain fweet fwell fword Gaul goddeſs gods grace hand heart heaven hecatomb hero himſelf Iliad Jove juſt kings lefs lyre maid monarch mortal Mufe Muſe muſt ne'er Nereids numbers nymph o'er paffion peace pleaſure praiſe pride prieſt race rage raiſe reign rife riſe ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhore ſkies ſmile ſpeak ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtill ſtood ſweet thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand verſe whofe whoſe youth
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Страница 187 - Oh judge, my bosom by your own. What mourner ever felt poetic fires ! Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires : Grief unaffected suits but ill with art, Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.
Страница 195 - Tyber's fhore, (Nor mean the tafk) each breathing buft explore, Line after line with painful patience trace, This Roman grandeur, that Athenian grace ; Vain care of parts ; if, impotent of foul, Th...
Страница 53 - The last humble boon that I crave, Is to shade me with cypress and yew; And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true. " Then to her new love let her go, And deck her in golden array, Be finest at...
Страница 189 - Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, A task well suited to thy gentle mind? Oh ! if sometimes thy spotless form descend : To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend ! When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms, When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms, In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart, And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart ; Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before, Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.
Страница 124 - O'er his paternal hills of snow, And into these tremendous speeches Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Страница 206 - The Sun's meridian rays Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze : Nor moon nor star in Heaven's blue arch is seen With kindly rays to silver o'er the green, Grateful to fairy eyes ; they secret take Their rest, and only wretched mortals wake.
Страница 120 - And view the hero with insatiate eyes. ' In Haga's towers he waits, till eastern gales Propitious rise to swell the British sails. Hither the fame of England's monarch brings The vows and friendships of the neighb'ring kings; Mature in wisdom, his extensive mind Takes in the blended interests of mankind, The world's great patriot.
Страница 190 - If pensive to the rural shades I rove, His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove: Twas there of Just and Good he...
Страница 109 - Accept, great Anne, the tears their memory draws, Who nobly perish'd in their sovereign's cause : For thou in pity bid'st the war give o'er, Mourn'st thy slain heroes, nor wilt venture more. Vast price of blood on each victorious day ! (But Europe's freedom doth that price repay.) Lamented triumphs ! when one breath must tell That Marlborough conquer'd, and that Dormer fell.
Страница 200 - Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands, And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair To gravel walks, and unpolluted air. Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies ; Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread, Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow, And chints, the rival of the showery bow.