Ovid, 2. köide

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Harper & brothers, 1836
 

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Page 156 - But suffer inmate souls secure to dwell, Lest from their seats your parents you expel ; With rabid hunger feed upon your kind, Or from a beast dislodge a brother's mind.
Page 154 - And plough'd with pains, thy else ungrateful field ? From his yet reeking neck to draw the yoke, That neck, with which the surly clods he broke ; And to the hatchet yield thy husbandman, , Who finish'd Autumn, and the Spring began J Nor this alone ! but Heav'n itself to bribe, We to the gods our impious acts ascribe : First recompense with death their creatures...
Page 153 - And gorge the' ungodly maw with meats obscene. ' Not so the golden age, who fed on fruit, Nor durst with bloody meals their mouths pollute. Then birds in airy space might safely move, And timorous hares on heaths securely rove: Nor needed fish the guileful hooks to fear, For all was peaceful; and that peace sincere.
Page 155 - To think of death, as but an idle thing. Why thus affrighted at an empty name, A dream of darkness, and fictitious flame ? Vain themes of wit, which but in poems pass...
Page 63 - Receive of fresh reports a flowing tide; A thousand crannies in the walls are made; Nor gate nor bars exclude the busy trade. 'Tis built of brass, the better to diffuse The spreading sounds, and multiply the news; Where echoes in repeated echoes play: A mart for ever full, and open night and day. 70 Nor silence is within, nor voice express, But a deaf noise of sounds that never cease; Confused, and chiding, like the hollow roar Of tides, receding from the insulted shore.
Page 156 - And as the fountain still supplies her store, The wave behind impels the wave before; Thus in successive course the minutes run, And urge their predecessor minutes on...
Page 83 - Then when he saw the promised hour was near, He thus bespoke the god, that guides the year : — Immortal offspring of my brother Jove, My brightest nephew, and whom best I love, Whose hands were join'd with mine, to raise the wall Of...
Page 167 - To inclose his body, and his soul expel. Ill customs by degrees to habits rise, 111 habits soon become exalted vice : What more advance can mortals make in sin, So near perfection, who with blood begin ? Deaf to the calf that lies beneath the knife, Looks up, and from her butcher begs her life...
Page 53 - And mock their forms, the leaves on trees not more, Nor bearded ears in fields, nor sands upon the shore.
Page 71 - The hero snatch'd it up, and toss'd in air Full at the front of the foul ravisher. He falls ; and falling vomits forth a flood Of wine, and foam, and brains, and mingled blood. Half roaring, and half neighing through the hall, Arms, arms...

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