Ion; a tragedy [by sir T.N. Talfourd. In verse]. [Another] By T.N. Talfourd


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Side 115 - Firm midst the gladness of heroic sports ; We shall not ask to guard our country's peace One selfish passion, or one venal sword.
Side 70 - Through the proud halls of time-embolden'd guilt Portents of ruin, hear me ! — In your presence, For now I feel ye nigh, I dedicate This arm to the destruction of the king And of his race ; O keep me pitiless : Expel all human weakness from my frame, That this keen weapon shake not when his heart Should feel its point ; and if he has a child Whose blood is needful to the sacrifice My country asks, harden my soul to shed it ! — Was not that thunder 1 Ctes.
Side 18 - Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when Nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
Side 14 - By strangers' bounty cherish'd, like a wave, That from the summer sea a wanton breeze Lifts for a moment's sparkle, will subside Light as it rose, nor leave a sigh in breaking.
Side 113 - Nay, do not think of me, my son ! my son ! What ails thee? When thou shouldst reflect the joy Of Argos, the strange paleness of the grave Marbles thy face. Ion. Am I indeed so pale ? It is a solemn office I assume ; Yet thus, with Phoebus
Side 114 - And learn'd the need of luxury. I grant For thee and thy brave comrades, ample share Of such rich treasure as my stores contain, To grace thy passage to some distant land, Where, if an honest cause engage thy sword, May glorious laurels wreath it ! In our realm We shall not need it longer.
Side 70 - Ye eldest gods, Who in no statues of exactest form Are palpable ; who shun the azure heights Of beautiful Olympus, and the sound Of ever-young Apollo's minstrelsy ; Yet, mindful of the empire which ye held Over dim Chaos, keep revengeful wrath On falling nations, and on kingly lines About to sink for ever : ye, who shed Into the passions of earth's giant brood...
Side 118 - That altar unattended. [He goes to the altar. Gracious gods ! In whose mild service my glad youth was spent, Look on me now ; — and if there is a Power, As at this solemn time I feel there is, Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes The Spirit of the Beautiful that lives Jn earth and heaven ; to ye I offer up This conscious being, full of life and love, For my dear country's welfare.
Side 32 - Touch'd the calm lake, and wreathed its images In sparkling waves ! Recall the dallying hope That on the margin of assurance trembled, As loth to lose in certainty too bless'd, Its happy being ; taste in thought again Of the stolen sweetness of those evening walks, When pansied turf was air to winged feet, And circling forests, by ethereal touch Enchanted, wore the livery of the sky...
Side 51 - I have yet power to punish insult — look I use it not, Agenor ! — Fate may dash My sceptre from me, but shall not command My will to hold it with a feebler grasp ; Nay, if few hours of empire yet are mine, They shall be...

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