Your search returned 2 results in 2 document
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 2, line 1 (search)
Some prayers were offered which refused would bring
Reproach on heaven. One whose livid arms
Were dark with blows, whose cheeks with tears bedewed,
Cried, 'Now, unhappy mothers, rend the lock,
Nor keep your sorrows till the battle day :
Now ye may weep: when either chieftain wins
Rejoice ye must.' Thus sorrow stirs itself.
Meanwhile the men in seeking either camp
And marching onward in the path to war,
Address the cruel gods in just complaint.
Happy the youths who born in Punic days
On Cannae's uplands or by Trebia's stream
Fought and were slain! What wretched lot is ours!
No peace we ask for: let the nations rage;
Rouse fiercest cities! may the world find arms
To wage a war with Rome: let Parthian hosts
Rush forth from Susa; Scythian Ister curb
' No more the Massagete: unconquered Rhine
' Let loose from furthest North her fair-haired tribes:
' Elbe, pour thy Suevians forth! Let us be foes
' Of all the peoples. May the Getan press
' Here, and the Dacian there; Pompeius meet
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 7, line 337 (search)
The teeming life that once Italia knew?
Not all the earth can furnish her with men:
Untenanted her dwellings and her fields:
Slaves till her soil: one city holds us all:
Crumbling to ruin, the ancestral roof
Finds none on whom to fall; and Rome herself,
Void of her citizens, draws within her gates
The dregs of all the world. That none might wage
A civil war again, thus deeply drank
Pharsalia's fight the life-blood of her sons.
Dark in the calendar of Rome for aye,
The days when Allia and Cannae fell:
And shall Pharsalus' morn, darkest of all,
Stand on the page unmarked? Alas, the fates!
Not plague nor pestilence nor famine's rage,
Not cities given to the flames, nor towns
Trembling at shock of earthquake shall weigh down
Such heroes lost, when Fortune's ruthless hand
Lops at one blow the gift of centuries,
Leaders and men embattled. How great art thou,
Rome, in thy fall! Stretched to the widest bounds
War upon war laid nations at thy feet
Till flaming Titan nigh to either pole