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From "of The Benefit We May Get By Our Enemies": Translated From Plutarch
16511. (HOMER. ILIAD, I. 255-6.)
Sure Priam will to mirth incline,
And all that are of Priam's line.
2. (AESCHYLUS. SEPTEM CONTRA THEBES, 600-1.)
Feeding on fruits which in the heavens do grow,
Whence all divine and holy counsels flow.
3. (EURIPIDES. ORESTES, 251-2.)
Excel then if thou canst, be not withstood,
But strive and overcome the evil with good.
4. (EURIPIDES. FRAGM. MLXXI.)
You minister to others' wounds a cure,
But leave your own all rotten and impure.
5. (EURIPIDES. CRESPHONTES, FRAGM. CCCCLV.)
Chance, taking from me things of highest price,
At a dear rate hath taught me to be wise.
6. (INCERTI.)
(He) Knaves' tongues and calumnies no more doth prize
Than the vain buzzing of so many flies.
7. (PINDAR. FRAGM. C.)
His deep, dark heart--bent to supplant--
Is iron, or else adamant.
8. (SOLON. FRAGM. XV.)
What though they boast their riches unto us?
Those cannot say that they are virtuous.
(The end)
Henry Vaughan's poem: From "Of The Benefit We May Get By Our Enemies": Translated From Plutarch
A Poet To His Beloved
I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams; White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-gray sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale fire of time: White woman with numberless dreams I bring you my passionate rhyme.(The end)William Butler Yeats's poem: Poet To His Beloved
Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty
When my arms wrap you round I press My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world; The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled In shadowy pools, when armies fled; The love-tales wove with silken thread By dreaming ladies upon cloth That has made fat the murderous moth; The roses that of old time were Woven by ladies in their hair, The dew-cold lilies ladies bore- A Poet To His Beloved
- From "of The Diseases Of The Mind And The Body": Translated From Plutarch
- Aedh Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
- From "the Mount Of Olives"
- To My Heart, Bidding It Have No Fear
- From "man In Glory": Translated From Anselm
- From The Epistle-dedicatory To "flores Solitudinis"
- The Cap And Bells
- The Valley Of The Black Pig
- Michael Robartes Asks Forgiveness Because Of His Many Moods