Aeneidea, Or, Critical, Exegetical, and Aesthetical Remarks on the Aeneis: With a Personal Collation of All the First Class Mss., Upwards of One Hundred Second Class Mss., and All the Principal Editions, Volum 3

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Williams and Norgate, 1889
 

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Pàgina 321 - ... oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn brushing with hasty steps the dews away to meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 'there at the foot of yonder nodding beech that wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, his listless length at noontide would he stretch, and pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Pàgina 177 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Pàgina 321 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Pàgina 412 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago; The Scipios...
Pàgina 280 - To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more Th...
Pàgina 413 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
Pàgina 113 - OLD King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.
Pàgina 724 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Pàgina 130 - I suck the liquid air, All amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree. Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours Thither all their bounties bring.
Pàgina 321 - O'er the Elysian flowers ; By those happy souls who dwell In yellow meads of asphodel, Or amaranthine bowers ; By the heroes' armed shades, Glittering through the gloomy glades ; By the youths that died for love, Wandering in the myrtle grove, Restore, restore Eurydice to life : Oh take the husband, or return the wife ! He sung, and hell consented To hear the poet's prayer ; Stern Proserpine relented, And gave him back the fair.

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