The works of Tibullus, tr. by J. Grainger, المجلد 1

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الصفحة 188 - Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares, And frantic Passions, hear thy soft control.
الصفحة 79 - And when I shall put thee out, I will cover the heaven, and make • the stars thereof dark • I will cover the sun with a cloud, and the moon shall not give her light. All the bright lights of heaven will I make dark over thee, and set darkness upon thy land, saith the Lord GOD.
الصفحة 142 - Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, Or some frail China jar receive a flaw ; Or stain her honour, or her new brocade; Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade ; Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball; Or whether Heaven has doom'd that Shock must fall.
الصفحة 79 - I will show wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and the terrible day of the Lord come.
الصفحة 187 - Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd ; From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve Down...
الصفحة 61 - TV impatient lover in the street would stay ! Nor dreamt that vengeance would his crimes repay. Now, now he moans his past misdeeds with tears, A prey to love, and all its frantic fears: Now he exclaims at female-scorn and hate; And from his soul abhors a bolted gate ! Like vengeance waits you ; trust th...
الصفحة 188 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
الصفحة 36 - And formed their simple shape of ductile clay. My little flock, ye wolves, ye robbers, spare, Too mean a plunder to deserve your toil; For wealthier herds the nightly theft prepare; There: seek a nobler prey, and richer spoil. For...
الصفحة 110 - ... mine an humble cot ! Saturnia! grant thy suppliant's timid prayer; And aid me, Venus ! from thy pearly chair. Yet, if the sisters, who o'er fate preside, My vows contemning, still detain my bride; Cease, breast, to heave ! cease, anxious blood, to flow ! Come, death ! transport me to the realms below.
الصفحة 142 - This day, black omens threat the brightest Fair That e'er deserv'da watchful spirit's care ; Some dire disaster, or by" force, or slight ; But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night.

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