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| Antony Brade | ||
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Τὸ
Ε̋αρ.
Πορφυρέν μείδησε φερανθέοϛ ἄνθεοϛ ὤρη .
Γαι̑α δὲ κυανέη χλοερὴν ἐστέψατο ποίην. κ.τ.λ .
[Here] smiles the purple spring's bloom-bearing time;
And swart earth does her glossy green hair trim;
Decks with fresh leaflets every bursting limb.
Here drink the pure and quickening dew of morn
The laughing meads; and the soft rose is born.
The shipmen, lithe, plough the wide-foaming seas,
Bellying their sails with frolic Zephyr's breeze.
And, aye, the brisk-tongued bird-race plies its song;
Kingfishers seaward; swallows, roofs among.
Πορφυρέν μείδησε φερανθέοϛ ἄνθεοϛ ὤρη .
Γαι̑α δὲ κυανέη χλοερὴν ἐστέψατο ποίην. κ.τ.λ .
[Here] smiles the purple spring's bloom-bearing time;
And swart earth does her glossy green hair trim;
Decks with fresh leaflets every bursting limb.
Here drink the pure and quickening dew of morn
The laughing meads; and the soft rose is born.
The shipmen, lithe, plough the wide-foaming seas,
Bellying their sails with frolic Zephyr's breeze.
And, aye, the brisk-tongued bird-race plies its song;
Kingfishers seaward; swallows, roofs among.
Meleagros, Idyll. To Spring.
| Antony Brade | ||