The Odyssey, tr. by A. Pope, with notes by T.A. Buckley. [Followed by] The battle of the frogs and mice [tr.] by archdeacon Parnell

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الصفحة 163 - With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
الصفحة 183 - High at the head a branching olive grows, And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs.
الصفحة 240 - Jove fix'd it certain, that whatever day Makes man a slave takes half his worth away.
الصفحة 1 - Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound; Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall, Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray'd, Their manners noted, and their states survey'd...
الصفحة 94 - Visits each plant, and waters all the ground ; While that in pipes beneath the palace flows, And thence its current on the town bestows : To various use their various streams they bring, The people one, and one supplies the king.
الصفحة 66 - THE saffron Morn, with early blushes spread, Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed ; With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, And gild the courts of Heaven with sacred light...
الصفحة xvii - The critic eye, that microscope of wit, Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit. How parts relate to parts, or they to whole, The body's harmony, the beaming soul, Are things which Kuster, Burman, Wasse, shall see When man's whole frame is obvious to a flea.
الصفحة 163 - Now I the strength of Hercules behold, A towering spectre of gigantic mould, A shadowy form! for high in heaven's abodes Himself resides, a god among the gods; There in the bright assemblies of the skies, He nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns his joys. Here hovering ghosts, like fowl, his shade surround, And clang their pinions with terrific sound; Gloomy as night he stands, in act to throw Th' aerial arrow from the twanging bow.
الصفحة 173 - Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms. When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves, The rough rock roars ; tumultuous boil the waves, Boisterous and gentle sounds.
الصفحة 211 - O thou ! that dost thy happy course prepare With pure libations and with solemn prayer : By that dread power to whom thy vows are paid ; By all the lives of these ; thy own dear head, Declare sincerely to no foe's demand Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.

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