Such war the immortals wage; such horrors rend The world’s vast concave, when the gods contend. First silver-shafted Phœbus took the plain Against blue Neptune, monarch of the main. The god of arms his giant bulk display’d, Opposed to Pallas, war’s triumphant maid. Against Latona march’d the son of May. The quiver’d Dian, sister of the day, (Her golden arrows sounding at her side,) Saturnia, majesty of heaven, defied. With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands The sacred flood that rolls on golden sands; Xanthus his name with those of heavenly birth, But called Scamander by the sons of earth.
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“I, my Pross?” (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her, on occasion.)
A word concerning an incident in the last chapter.
“What are you two talking about?” said Lord Henry, strolling over to the table and putting his cup down. “I hope Dorian has told you about my plan for rechristening everything, Gladys. It is a delightful idea.”
[They play.]
[91] [ I suppose the lines I have enclosed in brackets to have been added by the author when she enlarged her original scheme by the addition of books i.-iv. and xiii. (from line 187)-xxiv. The reader will observe that in the corresponding passage (xii. 137-141) the prophecy ends with “after losing all your comrades,” and that there is no allusion to the suitors. For fuller explanation see “The Authoress of the Odyssey” pp. 254-255.]
“Nor have I.”
Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by the entrance of the lady from whom they sprang. Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.
“The gods again. Hark ye, dost thou not ever sing working about a coffin? The Titans, they say, hummed snatches when chipping out the craters for volcanoes; and the grave-digger in the play sings, spade in hand. Dost thou never?”
Moby-Dick — Chapter 69: The Dart
A Tale of Two Cities — Chapter 27: Book Second: --the Golden Thread (part 27/35)
[Illustration: ] THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE
Royal, talking to the pretty Duchess of Monmouth, who with her husband, a jaded-looking man of sixty, was amongst his guests. It was tea-time, and the mellow light of the huge, lace-covered lamp that stood on the table lit up the delicate china and hammered silver of the service at which the duchess was presiding. Her white hands were moving daintily among the cups, and her full red lips were smiling at something that Dorian had whispered to her. Lord Henry was lying back in a silk-draped wicker chair, looking at them. On a peach-coloured divan sat Lady Narborough, pretending to listen to the duke’s description of the last Brazilian beetle that he had added to his collection. Three young men in elaborate smoking-suits were handing tea-cakes to some of the women. The house-party consisted of twelve people, and there were more expected to arrive on the next day.
LAERTES. Come, my lord.
“I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper.
[90] [ Ulysses was, in fact, to become a missionary and preach Neptune to people who knew not his name. I was fortunate enough to meet in Sicily a woman carrying one of these winnowing shovels; it was not much shorter than an oar, and I was able at once to see what the writer of the “Odyssey” intended.]
“You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself, at least, that you will be able to do so. Lady Catherine’s great attentions to Mrs. Collins you have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other.”
“I am not crying,” said Miss Pross; “you are.”
“Yes; both pipes smoked out!” and withdrawing his own from his mouth, Stubb scattered the dead ashes over the water; and, for a moment, stood thoughtfully eyeing the vast corpse he had made.
“But I do not mean anything, sir. I do as I do.”