Sophocles

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W. Blackwood, 1871 - 181 Seiten
 

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Seite 10 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to...
Seite 81 - Let us make man to our image and likeness, and let him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and the beasts, and the whole earth, and every creeping creature that moveth upon the earth.
Seite 42 - I not been thus exiled from light, As in the land of darkness, yet in light, To live a life half dead, a living death...
Seite 137 - ... wooded to the peak, the lawns And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven, The slender coco's drooping crown of plumes, The lightning flash of insect and of bird, The lustre of the long convolvuluses That coil'd around the stately stems, and ran Ev'n to the limit of the land, the glows And glories of the broad belt of the world, All these he saw...
Seite 166 - Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father; But, you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound, In filial obligation, for some term To do obsequious sorrow: but to persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief; It shows a will most incorrect to heaven; A heart unfortified, a mind impatient; An understanding simple and unschool'd...
Seite 48 - Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his...
Seite 120 - But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world : now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
Seite 111 - Lo! I myself, but yesterday so strong, As new-dipt steel am weak and all unsexed By yonder woman: yea I mourn for them, Widow and orphan, left amid their foes. But I will journey seaward — where the shore Lies meadow-fringed — so haply wash away My sin, and flee that wrath that weighs me down. And, lighting somewhere on an untrodden way, I will bury this my...
Seite 53 - With its rich blood the pontiffs axe may stain ; " Thy little gods for humbler tribute call Than blood of many victims ; twine for them Of rosemary a simple coronal, And the lush myrtle's frail and fragrant stem. " The costliest sacrifice that wealth can make From the incensed Penates less commands A soft response, than doth the poorest cake, If on the altar laid with spotless hands.
Seite 110 - When Reason's day Sets rayless — joyless — quenched in cold decay, Better to die, and sleep The never-waking sleep, than linger on, And dare to live, when the soul's life is gone : But thou shalt weep, Thou wretched father, for thy dearest son, Thy best beloved, by inward Furies torn, The deepest, bitterest curse, thine ancient house hath borne ! NOVEMBER 29,

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