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Soohrab; A Poem, Freely Tr. from the Original Persian of Firdousee, Being a ...
James Atkinson,Firdawsi Firdawsi
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2018
Seite 129 - 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 pass'd away.
Seite 67 - NAY, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure : those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front...
Seite 100 - Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames , and statesmen old In bearded majesty , appear.
Seite 116 - Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
Seite 133 - Roll on, ye stars ! exult in youthful prime, Mark with bright curves the printless steps of time ; Near and more near your beamy cars approach, And lessening orbs on lessening orbs encroach ; Flowers of the sky ! ye, too, to age must yield. Frail as your silken sisters of the field ! Star after star from heaven's high arch shall rush, Suns sink on suns, and systems systems crush, Headlong, extinct, to one dark centre fall, And death, and night, and chaos mingle all ! Till o'er the wreck, emerging...
Seite 21 - I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.
Seite xix - Milton would not have excelled in dramatic writing; he knew human nature only in the gross, and had never studied the shades of character, nor the combinations of concurring, or the perplexity of contending passions. He had read much, and knew what books could teach; but had mingled little in the world, and was deficient in the knowledge which experience must confer.
Seite 139 - Vaunt not, in thy pride; Upon myself this sorrow have I brought, Thou but the instrument of fate — which wrought My downfall ; thou art guiltless — guiltless quite ; O ! had I seen my father in the fight, My glorious father ! Life will soon be o'er, And his great deeds enchant my soul no more ! Of him my mother gave the mark and sign, For him I sought, and what an end is mine ! My only wish on earth, my constant sigh, Him to behold, and with that wish I die.