Your search returned 14 results in 7 document sections:
O ask not what those sons of war, Cantabrian, Scythian, each intend, Disjoin'd from us by Hadria's bar, Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spend A life so simple. Youth removes, And Beauty too; and hoar Decay Drives out the wanton tribe of Loves And Sleep, that came or night or day. The sweet spring-flowers not always keep Their bloom, nor moonlight shines the same Each evening. Why with thoughts too deep O'ertask a mind of mortal frame? Why not, just thrown at careless ease 'Neath plane or pine, our locks of grey Perfumed with Syrian essences And wreathed with roses, while we may, Lie drinking? Bacchus puts to shame The cares that waste us. Where's the slave To quench the fierce Falernian's flame With water from the passing wave? Who'll coax coy Lyde from her home? Go, bid her take her ivory lyre, The runaway, and haste to come, Her wild hair bound with Spartan tire.
War will not save us? Fling that prophecy on the doomed Dardan's head, or on thy own, thou madman! Aye, with thy vile, craven soul disturb the general cause. Extol the power of a twice-vanquished people, and decry Latinus' rival arms. From this time forth let all the Myrmidonian princes cower before the might of Troy; let Diomed and let Achilles tremble; let the stream of Aufidus in panic backward flow from Hadria's wave. But hear me when I say that though his guilt and cunning feign to feel fear of my vengeance, much embittering so his taunts and insult—such a life as his my sword disdains. O Drances, be at ease! In thy vile bosom let thy breath abide! But now of thy grave counsel and thy cause, O royal sire, I speak. If from this hour thou castest hope of armed success away, if we be so unfriended that one rout o'erwhelms us utterly, if Fortune's feet never turn backward, let us, then, for peace offer petition, lifting to the foe our feeble, suppliant hands. Yet would I pray some spa
Not thus did Fortune upon Caesar smile In all the parts of earth;The scene is the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic. Here was Diocletian's palace. but 'gainst his arms Dared somewhat, where Salona's lengthy waste Is laved by Hadria, and Iadar warm Meets with his waves the breezes of the west. There brave Curectae dwell, whose island home Is girded by the main; on whom relied Antonius, and, beleaguered by the foe, Upon the furthest margin of the shore (Safe from all ills but famine) placed his camp. But for his steeds the earth no forage gave, Nor golden Ceres harvest; and his troops Gnawed the dry herbage of the scanty turf Within their rampart lines. But when they knew That Basilus was on th' opposing shore With friendly force, by novel mode of flight They aim to reach him. Not the accustomed keel They lay, nor build the ship, but shapeless rafts Of timbers knit together, strong to bear All ponderous weight; on empty casks beneath By tightened chains made firm, in double rows Support
He bids them reach In ten days' march Brundusium, and recall From old Tarentum and from Hydrus lone His navy, and from Leucas' point remote, And the Salapian marsh where Sipus lies By rich Garganus, jutting from the shore In huge escarpment that divides the waves Of Hadria; on each hand, his seaward slopes Buffeted by the winds; or Auster borne From sweet Apulia, or the sterner blast Of Boreas rushing from Dalmatian strands. But Caesar entered safe without a guard Rome, trembling, taught to serve the garb of peace, Dictator named, to grant their prayers, forsooth: Consul, in honour of the roll of Rome. Then first of all the names by which we now Lie to our masters, men found out the use: For to preserve his right to wield the sword He mixed the civil axes with his brands; With eagles, fasces; with an empty word Clothing his power; and stamped upon the time A worthy designation; for what name Could better mark the dread Pharsalian year Than 'Caesar, Consul'?Caesar was named Dictator wh