Apelles and His Contemporaries: A Novel

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T. O. H. P. Burnham, 1860 - 342 Seiten

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Seite 34 - See what a grace is seated on this brow ! Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars to threaten and command ; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.
Seite 266 - subtle flame Kan quick through all my vital frame; O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chilled; My blood with gentle horrors thrilled; My feeble pulse forgot to play, I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Seite 136 - Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid. Sweet ivy, lend thine aid, and intertwine With blushing roses and the clustering vine. Thus shall your lasting leaves, with beauties hung, Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung.
Seite 266 - And hears and sees thee all the while Softly speak and sweetly smile. 'Twas this deprived my soul of rest, And raised such tumults in my breast; For, while I gazed in
Seite 44 - For it made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman.
Seite 168 - Some time let gorgeous Tragedy, In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes' or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine. MILTON.
Seite 302 - would have said, But changed his words for shame, and only prayed, "Give me the likeness of my ivory maid." The golden goddess, present at the prayer, Well knew he meant the inanimated fair, And gave the sign of granting his desire, For thrice in cheerful flames ascends the fire.
Seite 68 - shall hear and learn the secret power Of harmony in tones and numbers hit By voice or hand, and various measur'd verse.
Seite 266 - hung; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chilled; My blood with gentle horrors thrilled; My feeble pulse forgot to play, I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Seite 274 - though no more A sojourner on earth's tempestuous shore; Fled to the peaceful islands of the blest, Where Youth and Love, forever beaming, rest; Or joyful wandering o'er Elysian ground, Among sweet flowers, where not a thorn is found ! No winter freezes there, no summer fires, No sickness weakens, and no

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