طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
Achaians Achilles Agamemnon aged Ajax answered arms arrow Atreus Atrides battle bear beside blood bore born brass brave breast bring brought cause chariot chief child combat counsel daughter dear death deep Diomed drew earth eyes fall father fear fell field fight fleet followed friends galleys gave give goddess gods Grecian Greece Greeks hand hast hath heart heaven Hector held Helen honor host Jove Juno Jupiter king laid leave loved Mars Menelaus mighty moved Nestor never night noble o'er obeyed once Pallas Paris pass Priam princes ranks reach rest round rushed sent shield ships side slain slew smote sons spake speak spear stand steeds stood strength strong swift tent thee thou took town Trojans Troy turned Ulysses valiant wall warlike warriors wounded wrath
الصفحة 4 - Apollo hearkened. Down he came, Down from the summit of the Olympian mount, Wrathful in heart. His shoulders bore the bow And hollow quiver : there the arrows rang Upon the shoulders of the angry god, As on he moved. He came as comes the night ; And, seated from the ships aloof, sent forth •' An arrow : terrible was heard the clang Of that resplendent bow. At first he smote The mules and the swift dogs ; and then on man He turned the deadly arrow. All around Glared evermore the frequent funeral-piles.
الصفحة 206 - And eyeing with affright the horse-hair plume That grimly nodded from the lofty crest. At this both parents in their fondness laughed; And hastily the mighty Hector took The helmet from his brow and laid it down Gleaming upon the ground, and, having kissed His darling son and tossed him up in play, Prayed thus to Jove and all the gods of heaven...
الصفحة 207 - Received him, weeping as she smiled. The chief Beheld, and, moved with tender pity, smoothed Her forehead gently with his hand and said: "Sorrow not thus, beloved one, for me. No living man can send me to the shades Before my time; no man of woman born, Coward or brave, can shun his destiny. But go thou home, and tend thy labors there — The web, the distaff — and command thy maids To speed the work. The cares of war pertain To all men born in Troy, and most to me.
الصفحة 206 - So speaking, to the arms of his dear spouse He gave the boy; she on her fragrant breast Received him, weeping as she smiled. The chief Beheld, and, moved with tender pity, smoothed Her forehead gently with his hand and said: "Sorrow not thus, beloved one, for me. No living man can send me to the shades Before my time; no man of woman born, Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.
الصفحة 204 - Then answered Hector, great in war : " All this I bear in mind, dear wife ; but I should stand Ashamed before the men and long-robed dames Of Troy, were I to keep aloof and shun The conflict, coward-like.
الصفحة 205 - But not the sorrows of the Trojan race, Nor those of Hecuba herself, nor those Of royal Priam, nor the woes that wait My brothers many and brave, — who all at last. Slain by the pitiless foe, shall lie in dust,— Grieve me so much as thine, when some mailed Greek Shall lead thee weeping hence, and take from thee Thy day of freedom. Thou in Argos then Shalt, at another's bidding, ply the loom. And from the fountain of Messeis draw Water, or from the Hypereian spring.
الصفحة v - I have sought to attain what belongs to the original — affluent narrative style which shall carry the reader forward without the impediment of unexpected inversions and capricious phrases, and in which, if he find nothing to stop at and admire, there will at least be nothing to divert his attention from the story and the characters of the poem, from the events related and the objects described.
الصفحة 206 - O Jupiter and all ye deities, Vouchsafe that this my son may yet become Among the Trojans eminent like me, And nobly rule in Ilium. May they say, 'This man is greater than his father was!' When they behold him from the battlefield Bring back the bloody spoil of the slain foe, That so his mother may be glad at heart.
الصفحة 203 - Too brave! thy valor yet will cause thy death. Thou hast no pity on thy tender child, Nor me, unhappy one, who soon must be Thy widow. All the Greeks will rush on thee To take thy life. A happier lot were mine, If I must lose thee, to go down to earth, For I shall have no hope when thou art gone — Nothing but sorrow.