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Me, guilty me, make me your aim,
O Rutules! mine is all the blame;
He did no wrong, nor e'er could do;
That sky, those stars attest 'tis true;
Love for his friend too freely shown,
This was his crime, and this alone.

— John Conington The Aeneid of Virgil (1866)

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More quotes by John Conington

Then take, good sir, your pleasure while you may;
With life so short 'twere wrong to lose a day.

The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace (1869)

Blest pair! if aught my verse avail,
No day shall make your memory fail
From off the heart of time.

The Aeneid of Virgil (1866)

O Fortune, cruellest of heavenly powers,
Why make such game of this poor life of ours?

The Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry of Horace (1869)

Blank verse really deserving the name I believe to be impossible except to one or two eminent writers in a generation.

E'en here the tear of pity springs,
And hearts are touched by human things.

The Aeneid of Virgil (1866)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: John Conington (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.