The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volumen 18

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H. Hughs, 1779
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Página 239 - Tagus. forc'd the way. And in the brainpan warmly buried lay. Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, Descried not him who gave the fatal wound, Nor knew to fix revenge: 'But thou,' he cries, 'Shalt pay for both,' and at the pris'ner flies With his drawn sword.
Página 148 - Which thick with shades, and a brown horror, stood : Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, With whirlpools dimpled ; and, with downward force, That drove the sand along, he took his way, And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea. About him, and above, and round...
Página 20 - For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human wine While fast asleep the giant lay supine, Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw His indigested foam, and morsels raw; We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround...
Página 40 - Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen? This way, and that, he turns his anxious mind, And all expedients tries, and none can find. Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means — After long thought, to this advice he leans: Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair The fleet, and ship their men, with silent care.
Página 114 - O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light, No bird presumes to steer his airy flight ; Such deadly stenches from the depth arise, And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.
Página 199 - Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood, Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood. The triple porter of the Stygian seat, With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet, And, seiz'd with fear, forgot his mangled meat.
Página 139 - High as the Mother of the Gods in place, And proud, like her, of an immortal race. Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, With golden turrets on her temples crown'd; A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; Her offspring all, and all command the sky.
Página 127 - Tis here, in different paths, the way divides; The right to Pluto's golden palace guides; The left to that unhappy region tends, Which to the depth of Tartarus descends ; The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends.
Página 170 - The churls assemble ; for the fiend who lay In the close woody covert, urg'd their way. One with a brand yet burning from the flame, Arm'd with a knotty club another came; Whate'er they catch or find, without their care, Their fury makes an instrument of war.
Página 140 - Nysa's top descending on the plains, With curling vines around his purple reins. And doubt we yet through dangers to pursue The paths of honour, and a crown in view?

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