Ion; a tragedy [by sir T.N. Talfourd. In verse].John Dicks, 1835 |
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ABRA ADRASTUS altar Apollo's Argive arm'd Art thou avenge bear bid thee blank verse bless blood brave breathe call'd CASSANDER chamber cherish'd child CLEMANTHE CLEON clove CRYTHES dare death delightful Dost thou drama dream duty embrace Enter AGENOR Enter CTESIPHON Enter ION Enter PHOCION Exeunt Exit eyes fall fancy fate father fear feel FLEET STREET friends gaze gentle gleam glorious glory gods gracious grief guard hand happy Hast thou hath headsman heart Heaven hope hour human idle IRUS king of Argos knife live look MEDON mournful neath never o'er palace pass'd playmate ponderous press'd rash SCENE SCENE II seek seem'd shalt shapes shed Shouts slave smile soldiers sorrow soul speak spirit strange sure sweet tell Temple thine things thou art thou hast thou wilt thou wouldst thought throne TIMOCLES tragedy tremble twill tyrant vex'd voice word youth
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30. oldal - Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourn'd, 'twill fall Like choicest music...
170. oldal - I cannot look upon thee ; let me go, And lose myself in darkness. Ion. Nay, old playmate, We part not thus — the duties of my state Will shortly end our fellowship ; but spend A few sweet minutes with me. Dost remember How in a night like this we climb'd yon walls — Two vagrant urchins, and with tremulous joy Skimm'd through these statue-border'd walks that gleam'd In bright succession ? Let us tread them now ; And think we are but older by a day, And that the pleasant walk of yesternight We...
29. oldal - Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when Nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
24. oldal - The coarsest reed that trembles in the marsh, If Heaven select it for its instrument, May shed celestial music on the breeze, As clearly as the pipe whose virgin gold Befits the lip of Phoebus ; — ye are wise ; And needed by your country ; ye are fathers ! I am a lone stray thing, whose little life By strangers...
143. oldal - Medon. — That wave received, instead of the fair nurseling, One of the slaves who bore him from thy sight In wicked haste to slay ; I'll give thee proofs. Adras. — Great Jove, I thank thee...
34. oldal - Has my speech Such blessed power ? I will not mourn it then, Though it hath told a secret I had borne Till death in silence : — how affection grew To this I know not ; — day succeeded day, Each fraught with the same innocent delights...
viii. oldal - Destiny, apart from all moral agencies, and to a prophecy indicating its purport in reference to the individuals involved in its chain, but to the idea of fascination, as an engine by which Fate may work its purposes on the innocent mind, and force it into terrible action most uncongenial to itself, but necessary to the issue.
30. oldal - Nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die...
189. oldal - There are a thousand joyous things in life, Which pass unheeded, in a life of joy, As thine hath been, till breezy sorrow comes To ruffle it; and daily duties, paid Hardly at first, at length will bring repose To the sad mind that studies to perform them.
21. oldal - Yes, Ion ! — why, he sickens at the word, Spite of his new-born strength : the sights of woe That he will seek have shed their paleness on him. — Has this night's walk shown more than common sorrow? Ion. I pass'd the palace where the frantic King Yet holds his crimson revel, whence the roar Of desperate mirth came mingling with the sigh Of death-subdued robustness, and the gleam Of festal lamps, 'mid spectral columns hung Flaunting o'er shapes of anguish, made them ghastlier.