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Ajax arms attend base bear behold beneath birth blood bring cause charge Chief CHOR CHORUS command daring dark daughters dead dear death deed dost thou dreadful e'en EDIP ELEC eyes fate father fear feel force friends gave give glory gods grace grief hand hast thou hated hath head hear heard heart hence hold honour hope ills Jocasta Jove king land lead leave light live lord mind mortal mother mournful NEOP never o'er once pain PHIL pity pow'r present rage raise realms receive reverence round sense shalt sight sons soon soul speak steps stranger sufferings tell Thebes thee thine things thou art thou hast thought Tiresias toils tomb train ULYS unhappy virgin voice wilt thou wish woes wound wretched
Page 41 - Of law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power...
Page 94 - Well, stranger, to these rural seats Thou comest, this region's blest retreats, Where white Colonus lifts his head, And glories in the bounding steed. Where sadly sweet the frequent nightingale Impassion'd pours her evening song, And charms with varied notes each verdant vale, The ivy's dark-green boughs among ; Or shelter'd 'midst the cluster'd vine, Which high above, to form a bow'r Safe from the sun or stormy show'r, Loves its thick branches to entwine ; Where frolic Bacchus always roves, And...
Page 233 - midst surrounding frosts, and vapours chill, Presid'st on bleak Dodona's vocal hill: (Whose groves the Selli, race austere! surround, Their feet unwash'd, their slumbers on the ground; Who hear, from rustling oaks, thy dark decrees; And catch the fates, low-whispered in the breeze;) Hear, as of old! Thou gav'st, at Thetis' prayer, Glory to me, and to the Greeks despair.
Page 192 - Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more : it is a tale Told by an ideot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
Page 94 - O'er the rich bosom of the ground, Quick spring the plants, the flow'rs around Here oft to raise the tuneful song The virgin band of Muses deigns ; And car-borne Venus guides her golden reins Strophe 2.
Page 128 - But in short space we stopp'd, we backwards turn'd Our eyes ; the man was no where to be found ; He was not ; but we saw the king alone ; He stood) and o'er his face his hands he spread Shading his eyes, as if with terror struck At something horrible to human sight. Thus long he stood not, but we saw him soon The Earth adoring, and Olympus high, Seat of th' immortal gods, with ardent pray'r.
Page 309 - As, wearied with the tossing of the waves, They saw me sleeping on the shore, beneath This rock's rude covering, with malignant joy They left me, and sail'd hence. Think from that sleep, my son, how I awoke, When they were gone ! Think on my tears, my groans. — Such ills lamenting, when I saw my ships, With which I hither sail'd, all out at sea, And steering hence ; no mortal in the place ; Not one to succour me; — not one to lend His lenient hand to mitigate my wound ! On every side I roll'd...
Page 241 - is before the tent of Ajax, the " last in station ; so that it has the " camp and fleet of the Grecians " stretching along the shore to the " west, a valley terminated by " mount Ida lying to the east. " The simplicity of the ancient " drama generally confined the " whole representation to one " place, from which the chorus " was not allowed to depart. So...
Page 119 - Shakespeare must have read it in the original, if he read it. at all. The similarity, however, is not so striking as to accuse him of plagiarism, nor so startling as to lessen his claim to originality. We annex a portion from (Edipus : " Get thee hence, thou hast no father here Detested wretch — thou vilest of the vile— And take these curses with thee on thy head, Which I call down ; by arms thy native land 'Never may'st thou recover, nor again Visit the vales of Argos : may's!
Page 41 - ... with stately step the sky: Their father the Olympian king; No mixture of man's mortal mould; Nor shall Oblivion's sable wing In shades their active virtues fold. In them the god is great, nor fears The withering waste of years. Antistrophe 1. The tyrant Pride engenders. Pride With wealth o'erfilled, with greatness vain, Mounting with Outrage at her side, The splendid summit if she gain, Falls headlong from the dangerous brow, Down dash'd to ruin's gulf below.