The Iliad, tr. by A. Pope, with notes by T.A. Buckley

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Theodore Alors W. Buckley

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Page 22 - Sheer o'er the crystal battlements : from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting sun Dropt from the zenith like a falling star...
Page 121 - And end with sorrows as they first begun. No parent now remains my griefs to share, No father's aid, no mother's tender care. The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire, Laid Thebe...
Page xxiv - Read Homer once, and you can read no more ; For all books else appear so mean, so poor, Verse will seem prose : but still persist to read. And Homer will be all the books you need.
Page 276 - The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, And starry pole. Thou also madest the night, Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day...
Page 117 - warrior hear the voice of fame. Oh, would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace, That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race ! Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end.
Page 56 - No wonder, such celestial charms For nine long years have set the world in arms! What winning graces! what majestic mien! She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen. Yet hence, oh Heav'n! convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race.
Page 176 - Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart: No more molest me on Atrides' part. Is it for him these tears are taught to flow, For him these sorrows ? for my mortal foe ? A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows : One should our interests and our passions be ; My friend must hate the man that injures me.
Page 439 - A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing...
Page 5 - The priest may pardon, and the god may spare." The prophet spoke : when with a gloomy frown The monarch started from his shining throne ; Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd with ire, And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire...
Page 4 - And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores ! If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane, Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain ; God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ, ^ Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy !" 60 Thus Chryses pray'd : the favouring power attends, And from Olympus

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