Poetische Personification in griechischen Dichtungen: mit Berücksichtigung lateinischer Dichter und Shakespeare's, Part 1

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Buchh. des Waisenhauses, 1868 - Greek language - 286 pages
 

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Contents

Στέφανος ηηά Οοπιροβϊίίΐ οοΓοηα ωΐαηά Ορμο δακτύ λιος Οκήπτρον
136
Λόμος δώμα ϋάλαμος άοπιιιβ ηΗ ηουββ ίοπίΒ 161
139
θρόνος ιιηά Οοωροδίία ίΙίΓοηβ βηίΙπΌηβά
147
Ζίρμα δίφρος ίππος ιιηά ΟυηιροδΐίΒ όχημα απηίδ φΙΒάήξΆ Χαλινός ζνγόν Γοία τνηββί Κέντρον μάστιξ ήαβΐΐηπι
149
Τόξον ξίφος δνΌΓΙ βέλος 1ηοβ λί0 Λόφος αίγίς ασπίς οΐρβιΐδ ΕΊα
157
Λίχτυον αρχνς ρ13 Ιφιβιΐδ πέδη δεσμός οαίβηα Μαοβ
162
ΟΙνιΐδ ήλος Αμάν πιβίβΓθ βοίηβ ΒΪοΜβ Μάχελλα ίαη Πέλεχυς 3χβ 8ηβΓδ ΡιίΓδβ Πλάστιγξ τάλαντον Πηδά λιον οϊαξ ΐι1βπΐ8οα1ιιιη Κερχίς δίβπιβη Κ...
163
Λνήρ άνθρωπος νοπιιι
174
Βήάβ ίο νοο Ιο οβίιτοίη
176
Μηίιΐδ πιατϊίιβ ηϊΛβΓβ οοιταχ ννμφεύειν γάμος γαμεϊν ίο νβά ίο πιπγ γυνή νύμφη αύλλεχτρος
178
Μήτηρ γενέτειρα μαία ναΙβι ρβηβίπχ ηιοίηβι
185
Μητρυιά
193
Μαιοΰααι λοχεύεσαι ηήάνηίβ Έξαμβλίαχειν
204
θυγάτηρ χάρη εχγονος ήΐία ίΠΐοΙα
210
αδελφός αυτοχαοίγνητος ίΓίβΓ 1Γθί1ιβΓ διδνμάων ίνϊη
221
Παρθένος ιιηιΐ Οοηιροδϊίίΐ χόρη νΪΓο ηιίάβηηβά ηιΐάβη
227
Ίΐβαν ήβάαχειν ιινβηίδ νουίΐι νοαίηίιιΐ οηΐΐά οηίΐάηοοοΐ
235
ΠΙνειν πότης πότις ΙηββΓβ οοηιΜ1βΓβ Ιιίοιιΐιΐδ
245
Κοιμαν χοιμίζειν μεταχοιμίζειν εύνάζειν χατεννάζιιν
254
βίββρ
259
Κλαίιιν δαχρναν ΙοπηιΓβ Ιικτϊηι ββΓβ ίο νββρ ίβΓ
266
Νοσίϊν νόθος νόσημα αειοίΓβ βΓθίιΐ8 πιοΛιΐδ ίο δίοΐίβη
273
θνήαχίΐν ηηά Οοπιροβϋ ιηοπ ίο άίβ Ιοίΐι
279

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Page 69 - Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success: that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor; this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips.
Page 118 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did I wonder at the...
Page 249 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Page 31 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : Even so my sun one early morn did shine With...
Page 181 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
Page 67 - Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale...
Page 229 - Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then...
Page 188 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Page 58 - Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty; Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.
Page 63 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past : which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...

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