The Iliad, tr. by A. Pope

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Page 151 - Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run? Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be, A widow I, a helpless orphan he? For sure such courage length of life denies, And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. Greece in her single heroes strove in vain; Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain.
Page 189 - O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head ; Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies : The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blne vault, and bless the useful light.
Page 3 - Judgment itself can at best but steal wisely : for Art is only like a prudent steward that lives on managing the riches of Nature. Whatever praises may be given to works of Judgment, there is not even a single beauty in them, to which the Invention must not contribute.
Page 29 - ACHILLES' wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing ! That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain ; Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore; Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.
Page 80 - Lean'd on the walls and bask'd before the sun: Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice, A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
Page 153 - Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore ; As thine, Andromache ! thy griefs I dread ; I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led...
Page 104 - Tydides rushing to the war. As when the winds, ascending by degrees, First move the whitening surface of the seas, The billows float in order to the shore, The wave behind rolls on the wave before; Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise, Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies.
Page 154 - No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle and direct the loom. Me glory summons to the martial scene ; The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger, as the first in fame.
Page 154 - Andromache ! my soul's far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart.? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth, And such the hard condition of our birth : No force can then resist, no flight can save ; All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.
Page 272 - Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, Whom those that envy dare not imitate ! Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, Which claims no less the fearful than the brave, For lust of fame I should not vainly dare In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war.

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