Anacreon et Sappho

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Crozet, 1835 - 178 páginas
 

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Página 173 - Twas this deprived my soul of rest, And rais'd such tumults in my breast ; For while I gaz'd, in transport tost, My breath was gone, my voice was lost : My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame ; O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Página 171 - O, Venus, beauty of the skies, To whom a thousand temples rise, Gaily false in gentle smiles, Full of love-perplexing wiles : 0 goddess ! from my heart remove The wasting cares and pains of love.
Página 168 - Je le vis, je rougis, je pâlis à sa vue; Un trouble s'éleva dans mon âme éperdue; Mes yeux ne voyaient plus, je ne pouvais parler; Je sentis tout mon corps et transir et brûler.
Página 169 - Hesperus ! thou bringest all good things — Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer, To the young bird the parent's brooding wings, The welcome stall to the...
Página 117 - The vapours, which at evening weep, Are beverage to the swelling deep ; And when the rosy sun appears, He drinks the ocean's misty tears. The moon too quaffs her paly stream Of lustre from the solar beam. Then, hence with all your sober thinking ! Since Nature's holy law is drinking ; I'll make the laws of nature mine, And pledge the universe in wine ! ODE XXII.
Página 119 - Oh mother ! — I am wounded through — " I die with pain — in sooth I do ! " Stung by some little angry thing, " Some serpent on a tiny wing — " A bee it was — for once, I know,
Página 173 - Je sens de veine en veine une subtile flamme Courir par tout mon corps, sitôt que je te vois ; Et dans les doux transports où s'égare mon âme, Je ne saurais trouver de langue ni de voix. Un nuage confus se répand sur ma vue, Je n'entends plus; je tombe en de douces langueurs; Et pâle, sans haleine, interdite, éperdue, Un frisson me saisit, je tremble, je me meurs.
Página 114 - To-day I'll haste to quaff my wine, As if to-morrow ne'er should shine ; But if to-morrow comes, why then — I'll haste to quaff my wine again. And thus, while all our days are bright, Nor time has dimmed their bloomy light, Let us the festal hours beguile With mantling cup and cordial smile ; And shed from every bowl of wine The richest drop on Bacchus...
Página 127 - And every fount be milky showers. Thus, shade of him whom Nature taught To tune his lyre and soul to pleasure, Who gave to love his warmest thought, Who g:»ve to love his fondest measure...
Página 4 - L'enfant, d'un air enjoué, Ayant un peu secoué Les pièces de son armure Et sa blonde chevelure, Prend un trait, un trait vainqueur Qu'il me lance au fond du cœur.

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