Stories from Ovid [selected from the Metamorphoses] with notes by R.W. Taylor

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Pàgina 89 - And all their echoes, mourn. The willows and the hazel copses green Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Pàgina 53 - Not that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world...
Pàgina 83 - Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Pàgina 113 - The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling swine...
Pàgina 87 - em, if thou canst : leave working. SONG. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Pàgina 75 - Into the Euboic sea. Others more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battle; and complain that fate Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance.
Pàgina 87 - Had ye been there; for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son? Whom universal Nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His goary visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore.
Pàgina 17 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Pàgina 100 - Frustra, Medea, repugnas: Nescio quis deus obstat' ait; 'mirumque, nisi hoc est, Aut aliquid certe simile huic, quod amare vocatur. Nam cur iussa patris nimium mihi dura videntur?
Pàgina 23 - Vix prece finita, torpor gravis occupat artus, mollia cinguntur tenui praecordia libro, in frondem crines, in ramos bracchia crescunt : 550 pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret, ora cacumen obit.

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