The Georgics of Virgil

الغلاف الأمامي
Richard Alsop, 1808 - 120 من الصفحات

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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات

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مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 101 - Shed scents unborrow'd of the vernal gale, As 'mid their rifled beds he wound his way, Chid the slow sun, and zephyr's long delay. Hence first his bees new swarms unnumber'd gave, And press'd from richest combs the golden wave ; Limes round his haunts diffus'da grateful shade, And verdant pines with many a cone array'd ; And every bud that gemm'd the vernal spray, Swell'd into fruit beneath th
الصفحة 55 - How blest the sage ! whose soul can pierce each cause Of changeful Nature, and her wondrous laws : Who tramples fear beneath his foot, and braves Fate, and stern death, and hell's resounding waves. Blest too, who knows each God that guards the swain, Pan, old Sylvanus, and the Dryad train.
الصفحة 117 - Alas! what fates our hapless love divide, What frenzy, Orpheus, tears thee from thy bride ! Again I sink;' a voice resistless calls, 'Lo! on my swimming eye cold slumber falls. Now, now farewell ! involv'd in thickest night, Borne far away, I vanish from thy sight, And stretch towards thee, all hope for ever o'er, These unavailing arms, ah! thine no more.
الصفحة 105 - A portion of the God, and heavenly mind ; For God goes forth, and spreads throughout the whole — Heaven, earth, and sea, the universal soul; Each at its birth from him all beings share, Both man and brute, the breath of vital air. There all...
الصفحة 105 - A portion of the God, and heavenly mind; For God goes forth, and spreads throughout the whole, Heaven, earth, and sea, the universal soul; Each, at its birth, from him all beings share, Both man and brute, the breath of vital air; To him return, and, loosed from earthly chain, Fly whence they sprung, and rest in God again; Spurn at the grave, and, fearless of decay, Dwell in high heaven, art star th
الصفحة 76 - Turns his prone urn, and flootls_t5ie parting year. Swains ! tend the lowly goat : though scorn'd of fame. Their useful breed no slight protection claim. Let rich Miletus vaunt her fleecy pride, And weigh with gold her robes in purple dy'd, Thou tell thy goats, what countless swarms abound ! Lo ! milk in gushing tides o'erflows the ground ! The more th' insatiate pails new loads demand, New floods exhaustless froth beneath thy hand.
الصفحة 97 - Thick fogs that float from beds of mud beneath, Caves from whose depth redoubled echoes rise, And rock to rock in circling shout replies. Now when the sun beneath the realms of night Dark winter drives, and robes the heavens with light, The bees o'er hill and dale, from flower to flower, In grove and lawn the purple spring devour, Sip on the wing, and lightly brushing lave Their airy plumage in th
الصفحة 58 - ... where he is treated for a day, or two at most, with great hospitality, but regarded with no less circumspection. The curiosities of the place are showed him in company with the Jesuit, and he can have no private conversation with any of the natives. In a reasonable time, he is civilly dismissed, with a guard to conduct him to the next district, without expense, where he is treated in the same manner, until he is out of the country of the missions. Cautions altogether as strict, and in the same...
الصفحة 97 - With narrow entrance guard, lest frosts congeal, Or summer suns the melting cells unseal. Hence not in vain the bees their domes prepare, And smear the chinks that open to the air, With flowers and fucus close each pervious pore, With wax cement, and thicken o'er and o'er. Stored for this use they hive the clammy dew, And load their garners with tenacious glue, As birdlime thick, or pitch, that slow distils In unctuous drops on Ida's pine-crowned hills. And oft, 'tis said, they delve beneath the...
الصفحة 118 - Tore yet unfledged from the maternal breast; She on the bough all night her plaint pursues, Fills the far woods with woe, and each sad note renews. No earthly charms had power his soul to move, No second hymeneal lured to love. 'Mid climes where Tanais freezes as it flows, 'Mid deserts hoary with Riphaean snows, Lone roam'd the bard, his ravish'd wife deplored, And the vain gift of hell's relenting lord.

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