Pope's Translation of Homer's Iliad: Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV, 1. könyv; 6. könyv; 22. könyv; 24. könyvGinn, 1900 - 114 oldal |
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Achilles Æneid æthereal Agamemnon Andromache Apollo arms Astyanax Atrides beauteous beheld brave breast Briseïs Calchas chariot chief Chryses corse coursers crown'd dame daughter dead death divine dreadful Eëtion Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fate father fear fierce fight fire fix'd flames flies fun'ral gates gen'rous gifts giv'n glory goddess godlike gods golden grace Grecian Greece Greeks grief hand heart heav'n heav'nly hecatomb Hector Hecuba Hephæstus Hermes heroes Homer says honour'd honours host Iliad Ilion Jove Jove's king lov'd Lycia maid mind monarch mortal mother mournful o'er Olympus Paris pass'd Patroclus Peleus Pelides Phoebus Phrygia Pirithoüs plain Pope Pope's pow'r pray'r press'd Priam priest prince prize race rage replies rev'rend round sacred shining shore sire skies slain sorrows soul spoke stern suppliant tears thee Thetis thine thou thro toils tow'rs trembling Trojan Troy vengeance walls warriors word wound wrath wretched Xanthus youth Zeus
Népszerű szakaszok
43. oldal - O thou ! whose glory fills the' etherial 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, While hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, And say,' This chief transcends his father's fame:' While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy,...
xxvi. oldal - And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays ; The long reflections of the distant fires Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field. Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, Whose umber'd arms by fits thick flashes send ; Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn, And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.
87. oldal - Cease: lest, neglectful of high Jove's command, I show thee, king! thou tread'st on hostile land; Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give o'er, And shake the purpose of my soul no more.
41. oldal - Thou, from this tower defend the' important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.
2. oldal - May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. But, oh ! relieve a wretched parent's pain, And give Chryseis to these arms again; If mercy fail, yet let my presents, move, And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.
43. oldal - 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.
40. oldal - Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'd To tender passions all his mighty mind; His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke; Her bosom labour'd with a boding sigh, And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
xxvi. oldal - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night! O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole; O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head.
3. oldal - 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.
40. oldal - 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.