Euripides

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William Blackwood and Sons, 1872 - Greek drama - 204 pages
 

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Page 33 - I HAVE observed, that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that conduce very much to the right understanding of an author.
Page 107 - O ! wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro. Tis new to thee.
Page 205 - A Manual of Palaeontology, for the Use of Students. With a General Introduction on the Principles of Palaeontology.
Page 100 - My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded with my tears, " Still strove to speak : my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. " The high masts flicker'd as they lay afloat ; The crowds, the temples, waver'd, and the shore ; The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat ; Touch'd ; and I knew no more.
Page 89 - The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council ; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Page 109 - Somtyme with the lord of Palatye, Ageyn another hethen in Turkye : And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vileinye ne sayde In al his lyf, un-to no maner wight. He was a verray parfit gentil knight.
Page 205 - Engravings, 3s. Outlines of Natural History, for Beginners ; being Descriptions of a Progressive Series of Zoological Types.
Page 85 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Page 100 - I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears : My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded with my tears, " Still strove to speak : my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black -bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die.
Page 33 - And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

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