Latin verse

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Heathcote William Garrod
Clarendon Press, 1912 - Latin poetry - 531 pages

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Page 496 - Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees ; And the first Cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep ! by any stealth : So do not let me...
Page 495 - Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish, and restore the light ; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth : Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Page 474 - tis his fancy to run ; At night he reclines on his Thetis's breast. So when I am wearied with wandering all day ; To thee, my delight, in the evening I come : No matter what beauties I saw in my way : They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
Page 110 - Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
Page 144 - Cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos fecerit arbitria, non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te restituet pietas.
Page 476 - I can enjoy her while she's kind; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes her wings, and will not stay, I puff the prostitute away. The little or the much she gave is quietly resigned; Content with poverty my soul I arm, And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
Page 144 - EXEGI monumentum aere perennius Regalique situ pyramidum altius, Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens Possit diruere aut innumerabilis Annorum series et fuga temporum. Non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei Vitabit Libitinam. Usque ego postera Crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium Scandet cum tacita Virgine pontifex.
Page 70 - Ille mi par esse deo videtur, ille, si fas est, superare divos, qui sedens adversus identidem te, spectat et audit dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te, Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi • • • lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus flamma demanat, sonitu suopte tintinant aures, gemina teguntur lumina nocte.
Page 494 - Of those fierce darts despair at me doth throw; 0 make in me those civil wars to cease; 1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light, A rosy garland and a weary head; And if -these things, as being thine by right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
Page 448 - To vessels of their sex, which none could ever fill. As for the dog, the furies, and their snakes, The gloomy caverns, and the burning lakes, And all the vain infernal trumpery, They neither are, nor were, nor e'er can be.

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