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The Poems of Catullus, Tr. Into Engl. Verse, with Notes by T. Martin
Gaius Valerius Catullus
No preview available - 2016
addressed appears arms beauty bliss breast bride brother Cæsar called Catullus charm dear death deep delight desire divine doom ears English epigram expression eyes fair fear feeling fire flower gaze give gods grace hand hear heart hope hour Hymen Hymenæus infra Jove kind kiss known language leaves Lesbia less light lines lips live look lost lover maid maiden mind mistress mother nature never night o'er once original Page passion poem poet present probably reading referred rest Roman round says scarcely seems shore smile song soon soul speaks spirit stars sure sweet tears tell thee Theseus thine things thou thought translator true turn verses virgin waters wild wish write written wrote young youth
Page 169 - Come, let us go while we are in our prime; And take the harmless folly of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the...
Page 228 - Ah ! see the virgin rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe foorth with bashfull modestee, That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may ! Lo ! see soone after how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display ! Lo ! see soone after how she fades and falls away...
Page 207 - And being ravish'd thus, Come, I will drink a tun To my Propertius. Now, to Tibullus next, This flood I drink to thee; — But stay, I see a text, That this presents to me. Behold! Tibullus lies Here burnt, whose small return Of ashes scarce suffice To fill a little urn. Trust to good verses then; They only will aspire, When pyramids, as men, Are lost i' th
Page 242 - And strike to dust the imperial towers of Troy; Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, And hew triumphal arches to the ground. What wonder then, fair nymph ! thy hairs should feel The conquering force of unresisted steel?
Page 238 - Tell that I am forsaken ; do my face (If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila ; strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leaveless ; lei the rocks Groan with continual surges, and behind me Make all a desolation ; look, look, wenches, A miserable life of this poor picture.
Page 162 - Her voice is hovering o'er my soul — it lingers O'ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings. The blood and life within those snowy fingers Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. My brain is wild, my breath comes quick — The blood is listening in my frame, And thronging shadows, fast and thick, Fall on my overflowing eyes ; My heart is quivering like a flame ; As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies.
Page 167 - Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns that set may rise again, But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Page 168 - Must my heart still break? Love makes me write what shame forbids to speak. Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score ; Then to that twenty, adde an hundred more : A thousand to that hundred ; so kisse on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let's kisse afresh, as when we first begun.