The Odyssey of Homer

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Ingram, Cooke, 1853 - Epic poetry, Greek - 377 pages

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Page 168 - The sun ne'er views the uncomfortable seats, When radiant he advances, or retreats: Unhappy race! whom endless night invades, Clouds the dull air, and wraps them round in shades.
Page 186 - With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
Page 270 - He knew his lord :— he knew, and strove to meet (In vain he strove), to crawl, and kiss his feet; Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes, Salute his master, and confess his joys.
Page 195 - Blest is the man ordained our voice to hear, The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear. Approach ! Thy soul shall into raptures rise ; Approach ! and learn new wisdom from the wise.
Page 138 - And gloomy mischiefs labour in his mind. A form enormous ! far unlike the race Of human birth, in stature, or in face ; As some lone mountain's monstrous growth he stood, Crown'd with rough thickets, and a nodding wood.
Page 66 - From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow; But from the breezy deep the blest inhale The fragrant murmurs of the western gale.
Page 42 - Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun descends, And twilight gray her evening shade extends. Then thus the blue ey'd maid: O full of days! Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways. Now immolate the tongues, and mix the wine, Sacred to Neptune and the powers divine. The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the deep, And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep: Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast, Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.
Page 311 - Jove, and ethereal thrones! with heaven to friend, If the long series of my woes shall end; Of human race now rising from repose, Let one a blissful omen here disclose: And to confirm my faith, propitious Jove! Vouchsafe the sanction of a sign above.
Page 197 - Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms. When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves, The rough rock roars ; tumultuous boil the waves, Boisterous and gentle sounds.
Page 1 - Troy, and raz'd her heav'n-built wall, Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray'd, Their manners noted, and their states survey'd. On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore, Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore...

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