The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy

Sprednja platnica
Whittaker and Company, 1854 - 512 strani
 

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Stran 256 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.
Stran 128 - Thammuz came next behind, Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties, all a summer's day; While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded...
Stran 391 - I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes, to make many a ring For thy long fingers; tell thee tales of love; How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies ; How she...
Stran 151 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Stran 261 - More lovely, than Pandora, whom the gods Endowed with all their gifts ; and, O ! too like In sad event, when, to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.
Stran 190 - Castalian spring, might with this Paradise Of Eden strive ; nor that Nyseian isle Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea, and her florid son Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye ; Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, Mount Amara, though this by some supposed True Paradise, under the Ethiop line By Nilus...
Stran 240 - Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, Sleeking her soft alluring locks; By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance: Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answered have.
Stran 362 - And, missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Stran 48 - The star that bids the shepherd fold Now the top of heaven doth hold ; And the gilded car of day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream ; And the slope sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole ; Pacing toward the other goal Of his chamber in the east.
Stran 55 - In the sun's orb, made porous to receive And drink the liquid light ; firm to retain Her gather'd beams, great palace now of light. Hither, as to their fountain, other stars Repairing, in their golden urns draw light...

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