Atalanta in Calydon: A TragedyTicknor and Fields, 1866 - 113 sidor |
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ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ALTHEA Amphiaraus Arcadian Artemis Atalanta Bassarid blood boar born brand breast breath burn Calydon CENEUS child CHORUS cleaves Colchis crown dead death divide dreams earth Eneus Euenus Eurythemis Eurytion eyelids face fair fate fear fiery fill fire flame flesh flower foam fruit gods gold grief hair hast thou hath heaven HERALD honor hounds hounds of spring Iasius Itylus king land laugh Lest light lightening limbs lips live maiden MELEAGER men's mother mouth night pity PLEXIPPUS praise queen raiment risen stars round sake SECOND MESSENGER SEMICHORUS sing slain slay sleep smite snow sorrow soul spears spoil spring stars streams strong sweet swift sword Symplegades tears thee Thestius thine eyes thine hand things thou art thou hast thunder thy feet TOXEUS weep wert wild Wilt thou wind words Zeus ἀλλ γὰρ ἐν καὶ οὐδ ποτ τε τοὺς
Populära avsnitt
Sida 3 - When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus, For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain.
Sida 15 - BEFORE the beginning of years, There came to the making of man Time, with a gift of tears; Grief, with a glass that ran; Pleasure, with pain for leaven; * Summer, with flowers that fell; Remembrance fallen from heaven, And madness risen from hell; Strength without hands to smite; Love that endures for a breath; " Night, the shadow of light, And life, the shadow of death.
Sida 48 - Seen above other gods and shapes of things, Swift without feet and flying without wings, Intolerable, not clad with death or life, Insatiable, not known of night or day, The lord of love and loathing and of strife, Who gives a star, and takes a sun away ; Who shapes the soul, and makes her a barren wife To the earthly body and grievous growth of clay; Who turns the large limbs to a little flame, And binds the great sea with a little sand...
Sida 16 - A time to serve and to sin; They gave him light in his ways, And love, and a space for delight, And beauty and length of days, And night, and sleep in the night. His speech is a burning fire; With his lips he travaileth; In his heart is a blind desire, In his eyes foreknowledge of death; He weaves, and is clothed with derision; Sows, and he shall not reap; His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.
Sida 36 - ... discern or declare ? In the uttermost ends of the sea The light of thine eyelids and hair, The light of thy bosom as fire Between the wheel of the sun And the flying flames of the air ? Wilt thou turn thee not yet nor have pity, But abide with despair and desire, And the crying of armies undone, Lamentation of one with another, And breaking of city by city; The dividing of friend against friend, The severing of brother and brother...
Sida 86 - CHORUS. Not with cleaving of shields And their clash in thine ear, When the lord of fought fields Breaketh spearshaft from spear, Thou art broken, our lord, thou art broken, with travail and labour and fear.
Sida 4 - Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, Maiden most perfect, lady of light...
Sida 30 - But fair for me thou wert, O little life, Fruitless, the fruit of mine own flesh, and blind, More than much gold, ungrown, a foolish flower.
Sida 68 - Hath taken away to slay them; yea, and she, She the strange woman, she the flower, the sword, Red from spilt blood, a mortal flower to men, Adorable, detestable — even she Saw with strange eyes, and with strange lips rejoiced, Seeing these mine own slain of mine own, and me Made miserable above all miseries made, A grief among all women in the world, A name to be washed out with all men's tears. CHORUS. Strengthen thy spirit; is this not also a god, Chance, and the wheel of all necessities?
Sida 33 - What hadst them to do being born, Mother, when winds were at ease, As a flower of the springtime of corn, A flower of the foam of the seas ? For bitter thou wast from thy birth, Aphrodite, a mother of strife...