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Polybius, Histories 296 0 Browse Search
Diodorus Siculus, Library 36 0 Browse Search
Aristotle, Politics 22 0 Browse Search
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden) 22 0 Browse Search
M. Tullius Cicero, Orations, for Quintius, Sextus Roscius, Quintus Roscius, against Quintus Caecilius, and against Verres (ed. C. D. Yonge) 18 0 Browse Search
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams) 18 0 Browse Search
Flavius Josephus, Against Apion (ed. William Whiston, A.M.) 18 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 12 0 Browse Search
Sallust, The Jugurthine War (ed. John Selby Watson, Rev. John Selby Watson, M.A.) 12 0 Browse Search
Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War 10 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams). You can also browse the collection for Carthage (Tunisia) or search for Carthage (Tunisia) in all documents.

Your search returned 9 results in 9 document sections:

P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 12 (search)
In ages gone an ancient city stood— Carthage, a Tyrian seat, which from afar made front on Italy and on the mouths of Tiber's stream; its wealth and revenues were vast, and ruthless was its quest of war. 'T is said that Juno, of all lands she loved, most cherished this,—not Samos' self so dear. Here were her arms, her chariot; even then a throne of power o'er nations near and far, if Fate opposed not, 't was her darling hope to 'stablish here; but anxiously she heard that of the Trojan blood there was a breed then rising, which upon the destined day should utterly o'erwhelm her Tyrian towers, a people of wide sway and conquest proud should compass Libya's doom;—such was the web the Fatal Sisters spun. Such was the fear of Saturn's daughter, who remembered well what long and unavailing strife she waged for her loved Greeks at Troy. Nor did she fail to meditate th' occasions of her rage, and cherish deep within her bosom proud its griefs and wrongs: the choice by Paris made; her scorned <
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 335 (search)
ltar and the infamy that darkened now their house. His counsel was to fly, self-banished, from her ruined land, and for her journey's aid, he whispered where his buried treasure lay, a weight unknown of silver and of gold. Thus onward urged, Dido, assembling her few trusted friends, prepared her flight. There rallied to her cause all who did hate and scorn the tyrant king, or feared his cruelty. They seized his ships, which haply rode at anchor in the bay, and loaded them with gold; the hoarded wealth of vile and covetous Pygmalion they took to sea. A woman wrought this deed. Then came they to these lands where now thine eyes behold yon walls and yonder citadel of newly rising Carthage. For a price they measured round so much of Afric soil as one bull's hide encircles, and the spot received its name, the Byrsa. But, I pray, what men are ye? from what far land arrived, and whither going?” When she questioned thus, her son, with sighs that rose from his heart's depths, this answer gave
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 90 (search)
But soon the chosen spouse of Jove perceived the Queen's infection; and because the voice of honor to such frenzy spoke not, she, daughter of Saturn, unto Venus turned and counselled thus: “How noble is the praise, how glorious the spoils of victory, for thee and for thy boy! Your names should be in lasting, vast renown—that by the snare of two great gods in league one woman fell! it 'scapes me not that my protected realms have ever been thy fear, and the proud halls of Carthage thy vexation and annoy. Why further go? Prithee, what useful end has our long war? Why not from this day forth perpetual peace and nuptial amity? Hast thou not worked thy will? Behold and see how Iove-sick Dido burns, and all her flesh 'The madness feels! So let our common grace smile on a mingled people! Let her serve a Phrygian husband, while thy hands receive her Tyrian subjects for the bridal dowe
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 238 (search)
god flew downward from his mother's mountain-sire, parted the winds and skimmed the sandy merge of Libya. When first his winged feet came nigh the clay-built Punic huts, he saw Aeneas building at a citadel, and founding walls and towers; at his side was girt a blade with yellow jaspers starred, his mantle with the stain of Tyrian shell flowed purple from his shoulder, broidered fair by opulent Dido with fine threads of gold, her gift of love; straightway the god began: “Dost thou for lofty Carthage toil, to build foundations strong? Dost thou, a wife's weak thrall, build her proud city? Hast thou, shameful loss! Forgot thy kingdom and thy task sublime? From bright Olympus, I. He who commands all gods, and by his sovran deity moves earth and heaven—he it was who bade me bear on winged winds his high decree. What plan is thine? By what mad hope dost thou linger so Iong in lap of Libyan land? If the proud reward of thy destined way move not thy heart, if all the arduous toil to thine ow
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 331 (search)
ow of marriage. Had my destiny decreed, that I should shape life to my heart's desire, and at my own will put away the weight of foil and pain, my place would now be found in Troy, among the cherished sepulchres of my own kin, and Priam's mansion proud were standing still; or these my loyal hands had rebuilt Ilium for her vanquished sons. But now to Italy Apollo's power commands me forth; his Lycian oracles are loud for Italy. My heart is there, and there my fatherland. If now the towers of Carthage and thy Libyan colony delight thy Tyrian eyes; wilt thou refuse to Trojan exiles their Ausonian shore? I too by Fate was driven, not less than thou, to wander far a foreign throne to find. Oft when in dewy dark night hides the world, and flaming stars arise, Anchises' shade looks on me in my dreams with angered brow. I think of my Ascanius, and the wrong to that dear heart, from whom I steal away Hesperia, his destined home and throne. But now the winged messenger of Heaven, sent down by Jo
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 659 (search)
cruel death his omen as he sails!” She spoke no more. But almost ere she ceased, her maidens all thronged to obey her cry, and found their Queen prone fallen on the sword, the reeking steel still in her bloody hands. Shrill clamor flew along the lofty halls; wild rumor spread through the whole smitten city: Ioud lament, groans and the wail of women echoed on from roof to roof, and to the dome of air the noise of mourning rose. Such were the cry if a besieging host should break the walls of Carthage or old Tyre, and wrathful flames o'er towers of kings and worshipped altars roll. Her sister heard. Half in a swoon, she ran with trembling steps, where thickest was the throng, beating her breast, while with a desperate hand she tore at her own face, and called aloud upon the dying Queen. “Was it for this my own true sister used me with such guile? O, was this horrid deed the dire intent of altars, Iofty couch, and funeral fires? What shall I tell for chiefest of my woes? Lost that I am! W
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 5, line 1 (search)
Meanwhile Aeneas, now well launched away, steered forth with all the fleet to open sea, on his unswerving course, and ploughed the waves, sped by a driving gale; but when his eyes looked back on Carthage, they beheld the glare of hapless Dido's fire. Not yet was known what kindled the wild flames; but that the pang of outraged love is cruel, and what the heart of desperate woman dares, they knew too well, and sad foreboding shook each Trojan soul. Soon in mid-sea, beyond all chart of shore, when only seas and skies were round their way, full in the zenith loomed a purple cloud, storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave grew black and angry; from his Iofty seat the helmsman Palinurus cried, “Alas! What means this host of storms encircling heaven? What, Neptune, wilt thou now?” He, having said, bade reef and tighten, bend to stronger stroke, and slant sail to the wind; then spake again: “High-souled Aeneas, not if Jove the King gave happy omen, would I have good hope of making Italy th<
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 1 (search)
Meanwhile Olympus, seat of sovereign sway, threw wide its portals, and in conclave fair the Sire of gods and King of all mankind summoned th' immortals to his starry court, whence, high-enthroned, the spreading earth he views— and Teucria's camp and Latium's fierce array. Beneath the double-gated dome the gods were sitting; Jove himself the silence broke: “O people of Olympus, wherefore change your purpose and decree, with partial minds in mighty strife contending? I refused such clash of war 'twixt Italy and Troy. Whence this forbidden feud? What fears seduced to battles and injurious arms either this folk or that? Th' appointed hour for war shall be hereafter—speed it not!— When cruel Carthage to the towers of Rome shall bring vast ruin, streaming fiercely down the opened Alp. Then hate with hate shall vie, and havoc have no bound. Till then, give o'er, and smile upon the concord I de
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 16 (search)
Queen would deign accord unto the Teucrian people,—O my sire, I pray thee by yon smouldering wreck of Troy to let Ascanius from the clash of arms escape unscathed. Let my own offspring live! Yea, let Aeneas, tossed on seas unknown, find some chance way; let my right hand avail to shelter him and from this fatal war in safety bring. For Amathus is mine, mine are Cythera and the Paphian hills and temples in Idalium. Let him drop the sword, and there live out inglorious days. By thy decree let Carthage overwhelm Ausonia's power; nor let defence be found to stay the Tyrian arms! What profits it that he escaped the wasting plague of war and fled Argolic fires? or that he knew so many perils of wide wilderness and waters rude? The Teucrians seek in vain new-born Troy in Latium. Better far crouched on their country's ashes to abide, and keep that spot of earth where once was Troy! Give back, O Father, I implore thee, give Xanthus and Simois back! Let Teucer's sons unfold once more the tale of