I go towards the shore to drive my ship To mine own land, o'er the Sicilian wave.
Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone I can crush you and all your men together: I will descend upon the shore, though blind, Groping my way adown the steep ravine.
And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives.
EAGLE why soarest thou above that tomb? To what sublime and star-ypaven home
I am the image of swift Plato's spirit, Ascending heaven-Athens does inherit His corpse below.
A MAN who was about to hang himself, Finding a purse, then threw away his rope; The owner coming to reclaim his pelf, The halter found and used it. So is Hope Changed for Despair-one laid upon the shelf, We take the other. Under heaven's high cope Fortune is god-all you endure and do Depends on circumstance as much as you.
THOU wert the morning star among the living, Ere thy fair light had fled;
Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving New splendour to the dead.
KISSING Helena, together
With my kiss, my soul beside it Came to my lips, and there I kept it; For the poor thing had wandered thither To follow where the kiss should guide it! Oh cruel I, to intercept it!
SONNETS FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS
Τὰν ὅλα τὰν γλαυκὰν ὅταν ἄνεμος ατρέμα βάλλη, - 16. Το λο
WHEN winds that move not its calm surface sweep The azure sea, I love the land no more:
The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep
Tempt my unquiet mind.—But when the roar Of ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst, I turn from the drear aspect to the home Of earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed, When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody; Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea, Whose prey, the wandering fish, an evil lot Has chosen.-But I my languid limbs will fling Beneath the plane, where the brook's murmuring Moves the calm spirit but disturbs it not.
PAN loved his neighbour Echo- but that child Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping; The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild The bright nymph Lyda-and so the three went weeping.
As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr;
The Satyr, Lyda,—and thus love consumed
And thus to each-which was a woful matter- To bear what they inflicted, justice doomed them; For, inasmuch as each might hate the lover, Each, loving, so was hated.-Ye that love not Be warned-in thought turn this example over, That, when ye love, the like return ye prove not
SONNET FROM THE ITALIAN OF DANTE.
DANTE ALIGHIERI TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI.
GUIDO, I would that Lappo, thou, and I, Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend A magic ship, whose charmed sails should fly With winds at will where'er our thoughts might
So that no change, nor any evil chance,
Should mar our joyous voyage; but it might be, That even satiety should still enhance Between our hearts their strict community; And that the bounteous wizard then would place Vanna and Bice and my gentle love
Companions of our wandering, and would grace With passionate talk, wherever we might rove, Our time, and each were as content and free As I believe that thou and I should be.
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