Translations chiefly from the Greek anthology: with tales and miscellaneous poems

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Printed for R. Phillips, by J. M'Creery, 1806 - 233 Seiten
 

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Seite 127 - For others' good, or melt at others' woe. What can atone (oh, ever injur'd shade !) Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!
Seite 159 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweetened not thy breath...
Seite 147 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Seite 144 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
Seite l - em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one ; and, at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit of seeing how an ass would eat a macaroon, than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act.
Seite 167 - But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery. And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in peace.
Seite 166 - For God created man to be immortal, and made him to be an image of his own eternity. Nevertheless, through envy of the devil came death into the world : and they that do hold of his side do find it.
Seite 24 - I'll wreath my sword in myrtle bough, The sword that laid the tyrant low, When patriots, burning to be free, To Athens gave equality. " Harmodius, hail ! though reft of breath, Thou ne'er shall feel the stroke of death! The heroes' happy isles shall be The bright abode allotted thee.
Seite 155 - The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave; The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Seite 23 - All human things are subject to decay : And well the man of Chios tuned his lay — ' Like leaves on trees the race of man is found ; ' Yet few receive the melancholy sound, Or in their breasts imprint this solemn truth, For hope is near to all, but most to youth. Hope's vernal season leads the laughing hours, And strews o'er every path the fairest flowers : To cloud the scene, no distant mists appear ; Age moves no thought, and death awakes no fear. Ah ! how unmindful is the giddy...

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