The Passionate Pilgrim: Or, Eros and AnterosP. Davies, 1926 - 256 pages |
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Page 8
... Sepibus in nostris parvam te roscida mala ( dux ego vester eram ) vidi cum matre legentem ; alter ab undecimo tum te jam ceperat annus : ut vidi , ut perii ! . . . I was not many months older when the day came , fated to begin the ...
... Sepibus in nostris parvam te roscida mala ( dux ego vester eram ) vidi cum matre legentem ; alter ab undecimo tum te jam ceperat annus : ut vidi , ut perii ! . . . I was not many months older when the day came , fated to begin the ...
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Common terms and phrases
Aeneid Aeschylus aether affection amongst ancient answer appeared beneath better blessedness blessing bright Catullus child Collina confession consolation conviction Dante dark dark summit dear death deep delight Desiderata desire Désirée's despair earth earthly eternity experience exultation eyes faith fancy fate fear feel felt FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE friends glory Goethe grace happiness heart heaven Heracleitus holy hope human knew least less looked Lucretius MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI mind Monte Acuto mysterious narration Nature ness never noble Ombrone once palace Paradise passed passion PASSIONATE PILGRIM perhaps perplexity PETRARCH Phaedrus phrase Pistoia Plato pleasure poet present recollection regret remembrance rock scene secret seemed sense silence smile solitude sophism sorrow soul spirit stars strange summit surprized sweet sympathy Tacitus Tesoretto thee things thousand tion Trèves triumph true truly truth vanity vast vision voice wandering whilst words Wordsworth youth
Popular passages
Page 17 - We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two ? Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun And bleat the one at the other.
Page 197 - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
Page 100 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill : Tired with all these,...
Page 60 - He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him: He also will hear their cry, and will save them.
Page 145 - Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes ; and Adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needleworks and embroideries it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn ground than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground : judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed ; for Prosperity doth best discover vice, but Adversity doth...
Page 213 - In truth, the great Elements we know of, are no mean comforters : the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown — the Air is our robe of state — the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it — able, like David's harp, to make such a one as you forget almost the tempest cares of life.
Page 129 - OH THAT I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; When his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness...
Page 197 - Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay, Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
Page 71 - Another misery there is in affection ; that whom we truly love like our own selves, we forget their looks, nor can our memory retain the idea of their faces ; and it is no wonder, for they are ourselves, and our affection makes their looks our own.
Page 169 - Away! we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.