From “Childe Harold,” Canto IV.
THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
...
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From “Don Juan,” Canto II.
THEN rose from sea to sky the wild farewell—
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave,—
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawned around her like a hell,...
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From the Latin by Henry King
From “The Metamorphoses”
WEARY and travel-worn,—her lips unwet
With water,—at a straw-thatched cottage door
The wanderer knocked. An ancient crone came forth
And saw her need, and hospitable brought
Her bowl of barley-...
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From the Latin by Goldwin Smith
From “Elegies” Book I. II.
DEAR girl, what boots it thus to dress thy hair,
Or flaunt in silken garment rich and rare,
To reek of perfume from a foreign mart,
And pass thyself for other than thou art—
Thus Nature’s...
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From the Greek by Richard Garnett
’TWIXT good and ill my wavering fortune see
Swayed in capricious instability,
Most like the moon, whose ceaseless wax and wane
Cannot two nights the self-same form retain;
Viewless at first, then a dim streak revealed,...
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From the Latin by Charles Abraham Elton
YES,—I am poor, Callistratus! I own;
And so was ever; yet not quite unknown,
Graced with a knight’s degree; nor this alone:
But through the world my verse is often sung;
And “That is he!” sounds buzzed from every...
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From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,” Canto III.
SKY, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye
With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
To make these felt and feeling, well may be
Things that have made me watchful; the far roll
Of your...
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From the Latin by Dr. James Cranstoun
ORPHEUS, ’t is said, the Thracian lyre-strings sweeping,
Stayed the swift stream and soothed the savage brute;
Cithæron’s rocks, to Thebes spontaneous leaping,
Rose into walls before Amphion’s lute.
With dripping...
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My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, Tom Moore,
Here ’s a double health to thee!
Here ’s a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky ’s above me,
Here ’s a heart...
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LOW-ANCHORED cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the daisied banks and violets...
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