Kottabos: College Miscellany, Issue 1; Issues 4-5W. McGee, 1869 |
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Page 8
... eyes , Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies . She once , perhaps , in village - plenty blest , Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn , Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ...
... eyes , Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies . She once , perhaps , in village - plenty blest , Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn , Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ...
Page 24
... eyes I raised — believe it , future years ! There stood a heavenly maid dissolved in tears . A silver radiance from her raiment gleam'd— A heavenly maid ! but sorely vex'd she seem'd . By rarest beauty , noblest majesty , I knew the ...
... eyes I raised — believe it , future years ! There stood a heavenly maid dissolved in tears . A silver radiance from her raiment gleam'd— A heavenly maid ! but sorely vex'd she seem'd . By rarest beauty , noblest majesty , I knew the ...
Page 26
College Miscellany. But hear the sacred Board : " Tis all my eye , There lies no magic in senarii : A man may carry just as much weight with him . Who never learn'd a foot of ancient rhythm . ' Be it so then the well - tried code discard ...
College Miscellany. But hear the sacred Board : " Tis all my eye , There lies no magic in senarii : A man may carry just as much weight with him . Who never learn'd a foot of ancient rhythm . ' Be it so then the well - tried code discard ...
Page 27
... fairest of all sparrows ; Cruel deed it was : O unhappy sparrow , ' Tis for thee that my darling is lamenting , ' Tis for thee that her eyes are red with weeping . A. P. G. GELLERT'S MONUMENT VON OESER . Als Gellert , der geliebte 27.
... fairest of all sparrows ; Cruel deed it was : O unhappy sparrow , ' Tis for thee that my darling is lamenting , ' Tis for thee that her eyes are red with weeping . A. P. G. GELLERT'S MONUMENT VON OESER . Als Gellert , der geliebte 27.
Page 95
... eyes . " Never , " you said again with accent low , And mournful smile , as smiles the marble , pale ; But the proud thought of what you might bestow Veiled you with blushes , as a jealous veil . Oh , what a word , and what a world of ...
... eyes . " Never , " you said again with accent low , And mournful smile , as smiles the marble , pale ; But the proud thought of what you might bestow Veiled you with blushes , as a jealous veil . Oh , what a word , and what a world of ...
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Common terms and phrases
18 NASSAU STREET Actaeon Admetus Aegle Apollo BELL AND DALDY Bifröst Cambridge clouds CULLINAN dark dead EDWARD DOWDEN Enone Ex-Sch eyes fair flowers gazed Greek verse gynaeceum hath heart heaven hero Hexameters JOHN TODHUnter KOTTABOS legend light lul lul—lo maid maiden Max Müller mihi miscellany mount Cithaeron Muse myth night o'er oh wul lul-lul Oxford Parson Pleisth poets puellae quum R. Y. TYRRELL Rede Rede Lecturer rose Sally smile soul Sun-God sweet thee Theocritus thine thou Trinity College TYRRELL University of Dublin Wilhelm Müller WILLIAM MCGEE wul lul-lul lul young Actaeon ἄρ ἀραγμὸς ἀχεῖ μέλος ἀχεῖ μέλος ἐν γὰρ δὲ κοττάβων ἀραγμὸς εἰ ἦν καὶ κοττάβων ἀραγμὸς ἀχεῖ μέλος ἐν δόμοισιν μὲν νῦν οἱ οὐ οὖν Πολὺς δὲ κοττάβων πρὸς σὺ τε τῆς τίς τὸ τὸν ὡς
Popular passages
Page 138 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. To die: to sleep; No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.
Page 114 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Page 8 - Ah, turn thine eyes Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head...
Page 8 - And even the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped — what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share ; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see those joys the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.
Page 138 - tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time.
Page 98 - My master carries me to church, And often am I blamed Because I leave him in the lurch As soon as text is named; I leave the church in sermon-time And slink away to Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Page 16 - O unexpected stroke, worse than of death! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both.
Page 8 - Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, And...
Page 8 - And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms — a garden and a grave ! Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride?
Page 28 - O well for the sailor lad That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill : But O for the touch of a vanished hand. And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break. At the foot of thy crags. O sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.