ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
Achilles Agamemnon Apollo Atreus aught Begin brave bring broad chief comes Daphnis dark death dreams earth ECLOGUE eyes fair fear fields flocks flowers gave gift goat gods grass Greeks green grow hand hard hath head hear heard heart heaven hills host Italy Jove kids King land leaves live look lord Lycidas maid mate mighty move muse neath never night Nymphs o'er once pipe play range rest rich rose round sacred scorn seas shadow sheep shepherds ships shore sing sire sleep soft songs sons soul spake spring stand stars stream sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou Tityrus Troy turn unto vine voice wild wind woods yield young Zeus
الصفحة 174 - Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
الصفحة 182 - Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?" Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitered locks, and stern bespake:— "How well could I have spared for thee, young Swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake, Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!
الصفحة 244 - Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. ' Stay,...
الصفحة 192 - Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief : 'Princess ! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
الصفحة 196 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
الصفحة 184 - The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door 130 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
الصفحة 226 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then brisk alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is — Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
الصفحة 186 - Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are...