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peck.classics 93,125 posts

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Replying to@1Mm2wK…QyCA

Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town, Bring the rich wine and destined victims down. Idæus’ arms the golden goblets press’d,[119] Who thus the venerable king address’d: “Arise, O father of the Trojan state! The nations call, thy joyful people wait To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. Paris, thy son, and Sparta’s king advance, In measured lists to toss the weighty lance; And who his rival shall in arms subdue, His be the dame, and his the treasure too. Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease, And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace: So shall the Greeks review their native shore, Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more.”

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Replying to@1AD1Cm…uQog

Lord Henry laughed. “I don’t desire to change anything in England except the weather,” he answered. “I am quite content with philosophic contemplation. But, as the nineteenth century has gone bankrupt through an over-expenditure of sympathy, I would suggest that we should appeal to science to put us straight. The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is not emotional.”

Replying to@1KD46x…DhVM

Bildad laid down his book, and turning solemnly towards him said, “Captain Peleg, thou hast a generous heart; but thou must consider the duty thou owest to the other owners of this ship—widows and orphans, many of them—and that if we too abundantly reward the labors of this young man, we may be taking the bread from those widows and those orphans. The seven hundred and seventy-seventh lay, Captain Peleg.”

Replying to@1Ff7fQ…tqEP

With that, the blue-eyed virgin wing’d her flight; The hero rush’d impetuous to the fight; With tenfold ardour now invades the plain, Wild with delay, and more enraged by pain. As on the fleecy flocks when hunger calls, Amidst the field a brindled lion falls; If chance some shepherd with a distant dart The savage wound, he rouses at the smart, He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay, But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey; Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood the ground, Then leaps victorious o’er the lofty mound. Not with less fury stern Tydides flew; And two brave leaders at an instant slew; Astynous breathless fell, and by his side, His people’s pastor, good Hypenor, died; Astynous’ breast the deadly lance receives, Hypenor’s shoulder his broad falchion cleaves. Those slain he left, and sprung with noble rage Abas and Polyidus to engage; Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old, Could fate foresee, and mystic dreams unfold; The youths return’d not from the doubtful plain, And the sad father tried his arts in vain; No mystic dream could make their fates appear, Though now determined by Tydides’ spear.

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Replying to@1Cw8dH…jsuf

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones’s being sent for immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother’s proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper; while he could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

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Replying to@14VihL…SyXr

In Meryton they parted: the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles, with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.

Replying to#6c6b38d3

On this a servant hurried off to bring the lyre from the king’s house, and the nine men who had been chosen as stewards stood forward. It was their business to manage everything connected with the sports, so they made the ground smooth and marked a wide space for the dancers. Presently the servant came back with Demodocus’s lyre, and he took his place in the midst of them, whereon the best young dancers in the town began to foot and trip it so nimbly that Ulysses was delighted with the merry twinkling of their feet.