United States or Lithuania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
From his dissipation in cider-cellars and coal-holes, this rival of Tom and Jerry wrote a sonnet that applies well enough to Reynolds's own career: "Were this a feather from an eagle's wing, And thou, my tablet white! a marble tile Taken from ancient Jove's majestic pile And might I dip my feather in some spring, Adown Mount Ida threadlike wandering: And were my thoughts brought from some starry isle In Heaven's blue sea I then might with a smile Write down a hymn to fame, and proudly sing!
Could Pallas lay the Argive fleet in ashes, and sink the Argives in the sea, for one man's guilt, mad Oïlean Ajax? Her hand darted Jove's flying fire from the clouds, scattered their ships, upturned the seas in tempest; him, his pierced breast yet breathing forth the flame, she caught in a whirlwind and impaled on a spike of rock.
What art of mine can lengthen out thy day? can I contend with this ominous thing? Now, now I quit the field. Dismay not my terrors, disastrous birds; I know these beating wings, and the sound of death, nor do I miss high-hearted Jove's haughty ordinance. Is this his repayment for my maidenhood? what good is his gift of life for ever? why have I forfeited a mortal's lot?
Paul looked down his nose, and in a dry-at-dust voice recited the first verse of old Ben's immortal lyric. His voice quavered a little on the last lines 'But might I of Jove's nectar sip, I would not change from thine! and Gertrude broke in with a laugh and an airy little wave of her hand. 'Now, my dear M. Paul, she said, 'you are really and truly admirable.
Hot and fierce on both sides; charges of horse, shock after shock, bayonet-charges of foot; the great guns going like Jove's thunder, and the continuous tearing storm of small guns, very loud indeed: such a noise, as our poor Schoolmaster, who lives on this spot, thinks he will hear only once again, when the Last Trumpet sounds!
"Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint." J. R. Lowell has chosen the "Shepherd of King Admetus" for the subject of a short poem. He makes that event the first introduction of poetry to men.
I am only following your own instructions; you told me not to fight any of the blessed gods; but if Jove's daughter Venus came into battle I was to wound her with my spear. Therefore I am retreating, and bidding the other Argives gather in this place, for I know that Mars is now lording it in the field."
The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words upon the stone: "Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton, Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. He could not rule his father's car of fire, Yet was it much so nobly to aspire."
"More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endowed with all their gifts; and O, too like In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Jupiter, brought by Hermes, she ensnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire." Prometheus and Epimetheus were sons of Iapetus, which Milton changes to Japhet.
So let biddy spread her wing as wide as Jove's eagle, and eat gravel with Juno's peacock; and in this narration I keep company with my betters, who have not lowered their dignity by confessing their obligations to the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and to all those friendly creatures which dwell in the shelter of the house and the barnyard.
Word Of The Day