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Achilles Ajax appears armies arms bands battle bear bending beneath blaze blood bold bound brave breaſt breath calls chief clouds command dart dead death deep deſcends divine dreadful earth ev'ry eyes fair fall fame fate father fear field fierce fight fire firſt flames force fury give glory gods golden grace Grecian Greece Greeks grief hand head hear heart heav'n Hector hero hoſt Jove king laſt lies light lines living mighty mind moving muſt night o'er once Patroclus plain pow'r prince prize proud race rage riſe roll round ſaid ſee ſhall ſhe ſhield ſhore ſhould ſkies ſome ſon ſoul ſpear ſpoke ſpread ſtand ſtill ſuch tears thee theſe thick thoſe thou thought thro train trembling Trojan troops Troy turns walls warriours waves whole whoſe winds wound youth
Seite 69 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are past away.
Seite 98 - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head...
Seite 77 - Embitters all thy woes by naming me. The thoughts of glory past, and present shame A thousand griefs shall waken at the name. May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Press'd with a load of monumental clay! Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep.
Seite 77 - And placed the beaming helmet on the ground; Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, Thus to the gods preferr'da father's prayer: "O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, And all ye deathless powers!
Seite 76 - Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, As thine, Andromache! Thy griefs I dread: I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led, In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes of which so large a part was thine!
Seite 307 - Nineteen one mother bore — Dead, all are dead ! How oft, alas ! has wretched Priam bled ? Still one was left, their loss to recompense ; His father's hope, his country's last defence.
Seite 282 - Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, In all the raging impotence of woe. At length he roll'd in dust, and thus begun, Imploring all, and naming one by one: 'Ah!
Seite 160 - As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,) Precipitate the...