All the odes of Pindar, tr. by J.L. Girdlestone

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Page 18 - Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Page 116 - Rocks, dens, and caves ! But I in none of these Find place or refuge ; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me...
Page 117 - Hath scathed the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth though bare Stands on the blasted heath.
Page 355 - THE NEW Testament, in an improved Version, upon the basis of Archbishop Newcome's new translation ; with a corrected text, and notes critical and explanatory.
Page 76 - Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Page 64 - No : my soul confides In that all-healing and all-forming Power, Who on the radiant day when Time was born, Cast his broad eye upon the wild of ocean, And calm'd it with a glance : then plunging deep His mighty arm, pluck'd from its dark domain This throne of freedom, lifted it to light, Girt it with silver cliffs, and call'd it Britain : He did, and will preserve it.
Page 32 - No tree, whose branches did not bravely spring ; No branch, whereon a fine bird did not sit; No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing ; No song but did contain a lovely dit: Trees, branches, birds, and songs were framed fit, For to allure frail mind to careless ease.
Page 32 - To bud out fair, and her sweet smells throw all around. No tree, whose branches did not bravely spring ; No branch, whereon a fine bird did not sit...
Page 32 - It was a chosen plot of fertile land, Emongst wide waves set, like a litle nest, As if it had by Natures cunning hand Bene choisely picked out from all the rest, And laid forth for ensample of the best: No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground, No arboret with painted blossomes drest, And smelling sweet, but there it might be found To bud out faire, and her...
Page 12 - Seek not another star to roll Along the desert air with livelier fires When the sun warms the brightening day ; Or shouldst thou try the tuneful lay Heroes illustrious feats to praise, Can wreath-bound victory nobler raise To Fame the loud triumphal strain Than from Olympia's sacred plain ? Rise then ye bards, whose soul the muse inspires, Through all his courts the happy Hiero sing Victorious ; strike your harps to Jove, Olympia's king !' as close or literal ; we have all the stiffness of translation,...

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