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So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple: 0, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ;
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities :
But out upon this half-faced fellowship!

SHAKESPEARE.

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Ν.

EOLKEV

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Θ.

ήν γ' ανταφής βορράθεν ές νότον κλέος,
τω δ' ούν αμιλλάσθωσαν ως ανεπτάμην
λέοντεγείρων μάλλον ή φοβών πτάκα.
έoικεν ανήρ ένθεος λαμπρου τινός
έργου φέρεσθαι του φρονείν έξω δραμών.
ω θεοί, τόδ' ως πήδημαν ευχερώς δοκώ
πηδών σελήνης αρπάσαι τ' ευδοξίαν
χρυσώπαπ' αργυρωπος, ές τε ποντίους
βυθούς κολυμβών ένθα μη κέλσει στάθμη
κομών κατακλυσθείσαν εξανασπάσαι,
εφ' ώ τον εκσώσαντα την παμπησίαν
τιμής άλυπον του μεθέξoντoς φορείν:
η δ' αμφίλεκτος ερρέτων κοινωνία.

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THE DYING SWAN.

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The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow : at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear ;
And floating about the under sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;

corol

OLOR MORIENS.

Quae loca ferali penitus dulcedine cantus cepit olor moriens. primo summissa venire murmura plorantis liquidoque arguta susurro,

mo summissa ve

dum vaga depressis humili sub nubibus ala

grassatur trepidando aut longe nenia serpens

aut propior: sed mox plenum increbrescere carmen

morte triumphantis, graviorque in sidera paean mille rapi numeris et gloria fervere cantus:

mosses

As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is rollid
Thro’ the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willow-branches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marish-flowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were fooded over with eddying song.

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TENNYSON.

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