T. Lucretius Carus,: Of the Nature of Things, in Six Books, Translated Into English Verse;

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J. Matthews, 1714 - 402ÆäÀÌÁö

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302 ÆäÀÌÁö - Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls...
302 ÆäÀÌÁö - Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
283 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay: To-morrow's falser than the former day; Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames No light; but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all, but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
98 ÆäÀÌÁö - The institution has, indeed, continued to our own time ; the garret is still the usual receptacle of the philosopher and poet ; but this, like many ancient customs, is perpetuated only by an accidental imitation, without knowledge of the original reason for which it was established.
11 ÆäÀÌÁö - He is everywhere confident of his own reason, and assuming an absolute command, not only over his vulgar reader, but even his patron Memmius. For he is always bidding him attend as if he had the rod over him, and using a magisterial authority while he instructs him.
138 ÆäÀÌÁö - High as the Mother of the Gods in place, And proud, like her, of an immortal race. Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, With golden turrets on her temples crown'd; A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; Her offspring all, and all command the sky.
206 ÆäÀÌÁö - The next, in place and punishment, are they Who prodigally throw their souls away; Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate. With late repentance now they would retrieve The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; Their pains and poverty desire to bear, To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air: But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, And with nine circling streams the captive souls inclose.
100 ÆäÀÌÁö - And craves no more than undisturb'd delight: Which minds unmix'd with cares, and fears, obtain; A Soul serene, a body void of pain. So little this corporeal frame requires; So bounded are our natural desires, That wanting all, and setting pain aside, With bare privation sence is satisfied.
73 ÆäÀÌÁö - tis fweet to vifit firft Untouch'd and virgin (beams, and quench! my third. I joy to crop frefli flowers, and get a crown For new and rare inventions of my own...

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