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Fransa. Əlavə edilib 8 ay əvvəl. Qəbul edildi 5196 mesajlar.
Oflayn
| Göndərən | Mətn | Qəbul edildi |
|---|---|---|
| ***3604 | Grant him his life, or take us both away; For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.' In vain the beetle's friendly labour; The eagle clut | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | To make the desert her resort, And other brav'ries of this sort. Poor Jupiter in silence heard The uproar of his fav | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | vain, that year it was her fate To live a mourning mother, desolate. The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; The beetle found and das | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | mountain wood, For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. The bird, once Ganymede, now made Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | yal robes some dirt, Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. When Jupiter inform'd he | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | etch, would venture there to break them. And no one did. Their enemy, this time, Upsoaring to a place sublime, Let fall upon his ro | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | e in the wrong. But still, their hatred was so old and strong, These enemies could not be reconciled; And, that the general peace | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | By help of my translation, The beasts hold conversation, In French, as ne'er they did before. Indeed, to claim a little more, | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | The plants and trees,[2] with smiling features, Are turn'd by me to talking creatures. Who says, that this is not enchanting? 'Ah,' says th | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | charming stories. A bard might brighten up their glories, No doubt. I try,--what one more wise must do. Thus much I have accomplish'd hitherto:-- | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | oy, Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay,-- Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, Th | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine; But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, I dare not arrogate the magic skill, To ornament these | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | e critics, 'hear what vaunting! From one whose work, all told, no more is Than half-a-dozen baby stories.'[3] Would you a theme more credible | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | , my censors, In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? Then list! For ten long years the men of Troy, By means that only heroes can empl | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | eir blood of thousand heroes, all in vain,-- When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, Of lofty size before their city stood, Whose flanks immense t | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | Than my attempt to suit your taste? Some men, more nice than wise, There's nought that satisfies. | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | he sage Ulysses hold, Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine Would bear within the fated town unseen, | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | Alcippus, in the sad belief, None, save her sheep and dog, would know her grief. Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, And hears the gentle | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | u ill To wield the old heroic quill.' Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is:-- Long sigh'd and pined the jealous Amaryllis For her | 1 il əvvəl |
| ***3604 | To wreak upon its very gods their rage-- Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. Which well its crafty authors did repay.... 'Enough, enough,' our c | 1 il əvvəl |
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