The Tragedies of Sophocles: Literally Translated Into English Prose, with Notes

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W. Jackson, 1837 - 307 pages
 

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Page 167 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Page 42 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead, Ere the first day of death is fled ; The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress...
Page 243 - Of every hearer ; for it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours.
Page 290 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Page 235 - The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order...
Page 273 - Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd, In scandal busy, in reproaches bold: With witty malice studious to defame, Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim: But chief he gloried with licentious style To lash the great, and monarchs to revile. His figure such as might his soul proclaim; One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame: His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread, Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head.
Page 248 - What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ! Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Page 167 - And it came to pass at the end of two months, that she returned unto her father, who did with her according to his vow which he had vowed: and she knew no man. And it was a custom in Israel, that the daughters of Israel went yearly to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite four days in a year.
Page 132 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Page 65 - Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land, renowned for the steed ; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky Colonus ; where the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her plaintive note in the green vales...

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