Translations of English poetry into Latin verse: designed as part of a new method of instructing in LatinTrübner, 1868 - Всего страниц: 202 |
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Стр. 28 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Стр. 10 - THE SEA. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Стр. 122 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free...
Стр. x - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Стр. 46 - Caledonia ! stern and wild, meet nurse for a poetic child, • land of brown heath and shaggy wood, land of the mountain and the flood, land of my sires!
Стр. 40 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.
Стр. x - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary...
Стр. viii - Faintly as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Стр. 124 - Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o
Стр. xiv - Tis midnight : on the mountains brown The cold, round moon shines deeply down ; Blue roll the waters, blue the sky Spreads like an ocean hung on high, Bespangled with those isles of light, So wildly, spiritually bright ; Who ever gazed upon them shining And turn'd to earth without repining, Nor wish'd for wings to flee away, And mix with their eternal ray...