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Showing: 11-20 results of 897

PREFACE. The idea of translating Catullus in the original metres adopted by the poet himself was suggested to me many years ago by the admirable, though, in England, insufficiently known, version of Theodor Heyse (Berlin, 1855). My first attempts were modelled upon him, and were so unsuccessful that I dropt the idea for some time altogether. In 1868, the year following the publication of my larger critical edition of Catullus, I again took up... more...

The editor of the new edition of Mother Goose's Melodies knows much more about the curious history of the Boston edition than I do. And the reader will not need, even in these lines of mine, any light on the curious question about Madam Vergoose, or her son-in-law Mr. Fleet, or the Contes de Ma Mere l'Oye, which are so carefully discussed in the preface. All this is admirably discussed also in Mr. William Whitmore's paper published in Albany in... more...

Dear Mr. Smithers, By every right I ought to choose you to edit and bring out Sir Richard Burton's translation of Catullus, because you collaborated with him on this work by a correspondence of many months before he died. If I have hesitated so long as to its production, it was because his notes, which are mostly like pencilled cobwebs, strewn all over his Latin edition, were headed, "NEVER SHEW HALF-FINISHED WORK TO WOMEN OR FOOLS." The reason... more...

by Virgil
BOOK I Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,And in the doubtful war, before he wonThe Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,And settled sure succession in his line,From whence the race of Alban fathers come,And the long glories of majestic Rome. O Muse! the causes and... more...

INTRODUCTION The impersonal character of the Homeric poems has left us entirely in the dark as to the birthplace, the history, and the date, of their author. So complete is the darkness which surrounds the name of Homer that his very existence has been disputed, and his works have been declared to be an ingenious compilation, drawn from the productions of a multitude of singers. It is not my intention here to enter into the endless and barren... more...


I. LIFE. POEMS. I. REAL RICHES. 'T is little I could care for pearls  Who own the ample sea;Or brooches, when the Emperor  With rubies pelteth me; Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines;  Or diamonds, when I seeA diadem to fit a dome  Continual crowning me. II. SUPERIORITY TO FATE. Superiority to fate  Is difficult to learn.'T is not conferred by any,  But possible to earn A... more...

IN MEMORIAM. (A. L. Gordon.) At rest! Hard by the margin of that seaWhose sounds are mingled with his noble verse,Now lies the shell that never more will houseThe fine, strong spirit of my gifted friend.Yea, he who flashed upon us suddenly,A shining soul with syllables of fire,Who sang the first great songs these lands can claimTo be their own; the one who did not seemTo know what royal place awaited himWithin the Temple of the Beautiful,Has... more...

SUSAN BLUE. Oh, Susan Blue, How do you do? Please may I go for a walk with you? Where shall we go? Oh, I know— Down in the meadow where the cowslips grow! [5] BLUE SHOES. Little Blue Shoes Mustn't go Very far alone, you know Else she'll fall down, Or, lose her way; Fancy—what Would mamma say? Better put her little hand Under sister's wise command. When she's a little... more...

I. Thou tak'st no heed of me,I am as naught to thee;         Cruel Beloved, arise!Lovely and languid thou,Sleep still upon thy brow,         Dreams in thine eyes.From out thy garment flowsFragrance of many a rose—         Airs of delightCaught in the moonlit hoursLying among the... more...

A BOOK FOR KIDS THE BAKER   I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes)--Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;But I wouldn't be a baker if . . . I couldn't eat the cakes.Would you?THE DAWN DANCEWhat do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn?Blue Wrens... more...