The Iliad of Homer, Libro 1;Libro 6;Libro 22

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Sibley & Ducker, 1896 - 173 páginas
 

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Página 149 - Honor and shame from no condition rise ; Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
Página 64 - O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers! protect my son! Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, Against his country's foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age! So when triumphant from successful toils Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame.' While pleased amidst the general shouts of Troy, His...
Página 145 - No wonder, such celestial charms For nine long years have set the world in arms! What winning graces! what majestic mien! She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen. Yet hence, oh Heav'n! convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race.
Página 149 - So spake the grisly terror ; and in shape, So speaking, and so threatening, grew ten-fold More dreadful and deform : on the other side, Incensed with indignation, Satan stood Unterrified, and like a comet burned, That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge In the Arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war.
Página 139 - From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements : from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting...
Página 63 - Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, As thine, Andromache! Thy griefs I dread: I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led, In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes of which so large a part was thine!
Página 116 - Nineteen one mother bore— Dead, all are dead ! How oft, alas ! has wretched Priam bled ! Still one was left, their loss to recompense ; His father's hope, his country's last defence.
Página 17 - And gloomy darkness roll'd around his head. The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. On mules and dogs th' infection first began, And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man.
Página 63 - My soul impels me to the embattled plains! Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father's glories, and my own. "Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates! (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
Página 118 - ... one, and one of good ; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, Blessings to these, to those distributes ills; To most, he mingles both : the wretch decreed To taste the bad, unmix'd, is cursed indeed; Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven.

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