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
Author | : . Homerus |
Publisher | : Rarebooksclub.com |
Total Pages | : 174 |
Release | : 2013-09 |
ISBN-10 | : 123010867X |
ISBN-13 | : 9781230108674 |
Rating | : 4/5 (7X Downloads) |
Download or read book 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 written by . Homerus and published by Rarebooksclub.com. This book was released on 2013-09 with total page 174 pages. Available in PDF, EPUB and Kindle. Book excerpt: This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1874 edition. Excerpt: ...eye J Why is she silent, while her son is nigh? The latent cause, O sacred seer, reveal!' "' Nor this (replies the seer) will I conceal. Know, to the spectres that thy beverage taste, The scenes of life recur, and actions past: They, seal'd with truth, return the sure reply; 4 Trinacrian, i.e. three-pointed, an epithet applied to Sicily from its form. The rest, repell'd, a train oblivious fly.' "The phantom-prophet ceased, and sunk from sight, To the black palace of eternal night. "Still in the dark abodes of death I stood, When near Anticlea moved, and drank the blood. Straight all the mother in her soul awakes, And, owning her Ulysses, thus she speaks: 'Comest thou, my son, alive, to realms beneath, The dolesome realms of darkness and of death? Comest thou alive from pure, ethereal day? Dire is the region, dismal is the way! Here lakes profound, there floods oppose their waves, There the wide sea with all his billows raves! Or (since to dust proud Troy submits her towers) Comest thou a wanderer from the Phrygian shores? Or say, since honour call'd thee to the field, Hast thou thy Ithaca, thy bride, beheld?' "' Source of my life, ' I cried, ' from earth I fly To seek Tiresias in the nether sky, To learn my doom; for, toss'd from woe to woe, In every land Ulysses finds a foe: Nor have these eyes beheld my native shores, Since in the dust proud Troy submits her towers. "'But, when thy soul from her sweet mansion fled, Say, what distemper gave thee to the dead? Has life's fair lamp declined by slow decays, Or swift expired it in a sudden blaze? Say, if my sire, good old Laertes, lives? If yet Telemachus, my son, survives? Say, by his rule is my dominion awed, Or crush'd by traitors with an iron rod? Say, if my spouse...