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I cannot likewise forbear observing, that we are all guilty in some measure of the same narrow way of thinking which we meet with in this abstract of the Indian journal, when we fancy the customs, dresses, and manners of other countries are ridiculous and extravagant if they do not resemble those of our own. Felices errore suo. LUCAN i. 454. Happy in their mistake.
So he pretended that he always killed the boys, cut them up, and burnt them to ashes, after which he moulded the ashes into human shape, and restored them to life as new beings. See Catlin's North-American Indians, vol. i, for initiations and ordeals among the Mandans. De Errore, c. 22.
At this rate, he pleasantly adds, what should hinder us inhabitants of the Low Countries from asserting that Ulysses built the city of Ulyssinga, and Circe founded that of Circzea or Ziriczee?" Murphy. Fabuloso errore. Storied, celebrated in song, cf. fabulosus Hydaspes. Hor. Od. 1, 227.
For this Reason, we now find Luxury and Avarice taking Possession of the same Heart, and dividing the same Person between them. To which I shall only add, that since the discarding of the Counsellors above-mentioned, Avarice supplies Luxury in the room of Plenty, as Luxury prompts Avarice in the place of Poverty. No. 56. Friday, May 4, 1711. Addison. 'Felices errore suo ... Lucan.
Adonis, Attis and Osiris, p. 229. References to Prudentius, and to Firmicus Maternus, De errore 28. 8. That is, "By the slaughter of the bull and the slaughter of the ram born again into eternity." Pagan Christs, p. 315. Mysteres de Mithra, Bruxelles, 1902, p. 153. Whether Mr.
Ceterum et Ulixem quidam opinantur longo illo et fabuloso errore in hunc Occanum delatum, adisse Germaniae terras, Asciburgiumque, quod in ripa Rheni situm hodieque incolitur, ab illo constitutum nominatumque.
'Naturane nobis, inquit, datum dicam, an errore quodam, ut, cum ea loca videamus, in quibus memoria dignos viros acceperimus multum esse versatos, magis moveamur, quam siquando eorum ipsorum aut facta audiamus aut scriptum aliquod legamus? Velut ego nunc moveor.
Then young Randall was a poet. He had won the Newdigate. The subject was Andrea del Sarto, one of my favourite painters il pittore senza errore and his prize poem it had, of course, to be academic in form was excellent. It said just the things about him which Browning somehow missed, and which I had always been impotently wanting to say.
Crimine quo merui iuvenis, placidissime divom, Quove errore miser, donis ut solus egerem, Somne, tuis? Tacet omne pecus, volueresque, feraeque, Et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos; Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror Aequoris, et terris maria inclinata quiescunt.
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