English Songs from Foreign TonguesC. Scribner's sons, 1879 - 216 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
ALEMANNIC ask'd awake beaker beneath bliss BODENSTEDT brave breast bring charms child course cries Dame Venus dance deadly tide dear Franz Ding-dong bell Dong doth dream e'en e'er eyes flowers Folly FRENCH OF VOLTAIRE gainst GERMAN OF H go thou home God's golden grace grave grief grow happy hath heart Heav'n HEINE hope ITALIAN OF METASTASIO Jove kiss let me kiss life's lips lost MADAME DE LONGUEVILLE MADRIGAL maid MIRZA SCHAFFY ne'er neath never night Nightingale nought o'er once ope'd pain PEOPLE'S SONG pleasure pray prayer rejoice ring rose round Sans-Souci Sesostris sigh Sir Tannhäuser sleep smiles SONG OF MIRZA soul spark spied Spring steed storm stream sweet sweetly tears thee thine things thou art thought thy prayer traceless Twas virtue wave wealth weary weep wend wife wilt wind wings YOUNG CAPTIVE Zounds
Pasajes populares
Página v - I do not hesitate to read all the books I have named, and all good books, in translations. What is really best in any book is translatable, — any real insight or broad human sentiment. Nay, I observe that, in our Bible, and other books of lofty moral tone, it seems easy and inevitable to render the rhythm and music of the original into phrases of equal melody. The Italians have a fling at translators, — i traditori traduttori; l but I thank them.
Página vi - I rarely read any Latin, Greek, German, Italian, sometimes not a French book in the original, which I can procure in a good version. I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region under heaven. I should as soon think...
Página 66 - MOTHER'S GRAVE GRAVE, O mother, has been dug for thee Within a still — to thee a well-known — place. A shadow all its own above shall be, And flowers its threshold too shall ever grace. And even as thou died'st, so in thy urn Thou'lt lie unconscious of both joy and smart: And daily to my thought shalt thou return ; I dig for thee this grave within my heart. Translation of Frederick W. Ricord. T THE CHAPEL HERE aloft the chapel standeth, Peering down the valley still ; There beneath, by fount...
Página 44 - If each man's deeply hidden woe Were written out upon his brow, For many, then, our tears would flow, Who, rather, move our envy now. Alas, ho"w many, in whose breast, The keenest agonies exist, Make, in appearing to be blest, Their sum of happiness consist.
Página 195 - Throughout life's dark and ever devious way ; And though this Spirit may be hid from sight, He will, his presence, oftentimes betray. And they who search have made 'midst old and curious things, Will recollect that times existed when Good Genii liv'd and even talk'd with men ; And were kind friends especially to kings.
Página 213 - Oh, Hope's not a simple, a meaningless name, Within the fool's brains generated : The heart ever burns, in loud notes to proclaim : For purposes grand we're created ! Whenever the innermost voice aught repeats, The soul in its longings, that voice never cheats.
Página 197 - To Immortality ! ' And may I enter there? " " Yes," said the guide, " But chiefly on yourself you must depend, And obstacles encounter, without end. This goddess hath no facile, tender side By which you may approach, her grace to steal. In Pleasure, though more charms may be descried, The other will a truer love reveal. To please this being of immortal birth, Both mind and heart must be of Stirling worth.
Página 153 - Cheeks where rose and lily blended ; And, what these the more commended, Gave her, too, a charming spirit, Adding — which was no small merit — Talent deftly to expose it ; But, alas ! my Chloris knows it ! 1 53 THE DISCOMFORTS OF OLD AGE.
Página 198 - If mine, then, be the choice, A single moment will I not defer. I might in either of the twain rejoice : The first a moment's bliss could in me stir ; The second, through me, other's bliss command.
Página 60 - IN thought I raised me to the place where she • Whom still on earth I seek and find not, shines ; There 'mid the souls whom the third sphere confines, More fair I found her and less proud to me. She took my hand and said : Here shalt thou be With me ensphered, unless desires mislead; Lo ! I am she who made thy bosom bleed, Whose day ere eve was ended utterly : My bliss no mortal heart can understand ; Thee only do I lack, and that which thou So loved, now left on earth, my beauteous veil. Ah...