Pindar, tr. by C.A. Wheelwright

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Page 23 - See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand: O! that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek.
Page 35 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
Page xii - Whether th' immortal Gods he sings, In a no less immortal strain, Or the great acts of God-descended kings, Who in his numbers still survive and reign, Each rich embroidered line, Which their triumphant brows around, By his sacred hand is bound, Does all their starry diadems outshine.
Page 45 - Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah why With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast but place to die Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish.
Page 48 - Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight, And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite ; Along the street the new-made brides are led, With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed : The youthful dancers in a circle bound To the soft flute, and cithern's silver sound : Through the fair streets the matrons in a row Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show.
Page 51 - And pales of glittering tin th' enclosure grace. To this, one pathway gently winding leads, Where march a train with baskets on their heads, (Fair maids and blooming youths) that smiling bear The purple product of th
Page 2 - Oh! too convincing - dangerously dear In woman's eye the unanswerable tear That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue at once her spear and shield: Avoid it - Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers! What lost a world, and bade a hero fly? The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Page 20 - The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team; And great Orion's more refulgent beam; To which, around the axle of the sky, The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye, Still shines exalted on the ethereal plain, Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Page 30 - Go, the rich chariot instantly prepare ; The Queen, my Muse, will take the air ; Unruly Fancy with strong Judgment trace, Put in nimble-footed Wit, Smooth-pac'd Eloquence join with it, Sound Memory with young Invention place, Harness all the winged race.
Page 24 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

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