English and Latin Poems: Original and Translated |
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arms beauty bless bosom cheer closed crowned dark dear death DELIVERED e'en e'er early earth fair faithful fall father feel flower friends gentle give grace grave hand happiness head hear heart Heaven holy honour hope hour illa John Latham late less life's light live look Lord memory mihi mind morn ne'er never night o'er once pain passed peace pleasure praise present quæ reading rose round scene seemed share sight soon sorrow soul sound spirit spread strain strength strong sure sweet taste tears tell thee thine thou thought tibi tongue turn twine voice wilt
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Page 224 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Page 222 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Page 202 - Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat...
Page 198 - Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry; The distant hills are looking nigh. How restless are the snorting swine ! The busy flies disturb the kine ; Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, The cricket, too, how sharp he sings ! Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws.
Page 110 - Del capo ch' egli avea diretro guasto. Poi cominciò: 'tu vuoi ch' io rinnovelli 'Disperato dolor che '1 cuor mi preme " Già pur pensando pria ch' io ne favelli. '' Ma se le mie parole esser den seme '' Che frutti infamia al traditor ch' io rodo, " Parlare e lagrimar vedrai insieme. '' Io non so chi tu sie, nè per che modo * Venuto se' quaggiù ; ma Fiorentino ''Mi sembri veramente quand' io t
Page 208 - And it seem'd, to a fanciful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret, On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas ! I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground. And such...
Page 196 - THE hollow winds begin to blow ; The clouds look black, the glass is low ; The soot falls down ; the spaniels sleep ; And spiders from their cobwebs peep.
Page 204 - And the scene where his melody charm'd me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. My fugitive years are all hasting away, And I must ere long lie as lowly as they, With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
Page 112 - M' avea mostrato per lo suo forame Più lune già, quand' io feci il mal sonno, Che del futuro mi squarciò il velame. Questi pareva a me maestro e donno, Cacciando il lupo ei lupicini al monte, Per che i Pisan veder Lucca non ponno. Con cagne magre, studiose e conte, Gualandi con Sismondi, e con Lanfranchi S' avea messi dinanzi dalla fronte.
Page 218 - ... bright ; The mayflower and the eglantine May shade a brow less sad than mine : But, lady, weave no wreath for me, Or weave it of the cypress tree...
Informations bibliographiques
| Titre | English and Latin Poems: Original and Translated |
| Auteur | John Latham |
| Éditeur | Privately printed, 1853 |
| Original provenant de | Université d'Oxford |
| Numérisé | 29 sept. 2006 |
| Longueur | 249 pages |
| Exporter la citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |