Notes of a Twelve Years' Voyage of Discovery in the First Six Books of the Eneis

الغلاف الأمامي
Meinhold and Sons, 1853 - 586 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 5 - My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful...
الصفحة 37 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
الصفحة 37 - Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow. Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.
الصفحة 86 - Apparet domus intus et atria longa patescunt, apparent Priami et veterum penetralia regum; armatosque vident stantes in limine primo.
الصفحة 84 - For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
الصفحة 98 - Notre chair change bientôt de nature : notre corps prend un autre nom; même celui de cadavre, dit Tertullien, parce qu'il nous montre encore quelque forme humaine, ne lui demeure pas longtemps : il devient un je ne sais quoi, qui n'a plus de nom dans aucune langue...
الصفحة 13 - Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled Each on his rock transfixed...
الصفحة 37 - Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers. And such she was; her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.
الصفحة 9 - Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram, Perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna : Quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna Est iter in silvis, ubi caelum condidit umbra luppiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem.
الصفحة 36 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago; The Scipios...

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