Named Entity Results, Troy (Turkey)

Then loomed o'er Troy the apparition vast of her dread foes divine; I seemed to see all Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy, of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown. So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow (when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down) sways ominously her trembling,Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy, of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown. So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow (when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down) sways ominously her trembling, leafy top, and drops her smitten head; till by her wounds vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan, and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn. I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven, threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires, through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell. Troy, of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown. So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow (when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down) sways ominously her trembling, leafy top, and drops her smitten head; till by her wounds vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan, and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn. I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven, threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires, through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell.

Soon came I to my father's ancient seat, our home and heritage. But lo! my sire (whom first of all I sought, and first would bear to safe asylum in the distant hills) vowed he could never, after fallen Troy, live longer on, or bear an exile's woe. “O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betrays the cruel taint of time, whose powers be still unpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight. If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare, this dwelling had been safe. It is too much that I have watched one wreck, and for too Iong outlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus! Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell. My own hand will procure it; or my foe will end me of mere pity, and for spoil will strip me bare. It is an easy loss to have no grave. For many a year gone by, accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this world a useless burden, since that fatal hour when Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King, his lightnings o'er me breathed and blasting f

er to all the gods, in holy awe of that auspicious star, and thus exclaimed: “Tarry no moment more! Behold, I come! Whithersoe'er ye lead, my steps obey. Gods of my fathers, O, preserve our name! Preserve my son, and his! This augury is yours; and Troy on your sole strength relies. I yield, dear son; I journey at thy side.” He spoke; and higher o'er the blazing walls leaped the loud fire, while ever nearer drew the rolling surges of tumultuous flame. “Haste, father, on these bending shoulders cl all,— and she alone came not, while husband, friends, and son made search in vain. What god, what man, did not my grief accuse in frenzied word? In all the ruined land what worse woe had I seen? Entrusting then my sire, my son, and all the Teucrian gods to the deep shadows of a slanting vale where my allies kept guard, I tried me back to that doomed town, re-girt in glittering arms. Resolved was I all hazards to renew, all Troy to re-explore, and once again offer my life to perils witho

e; the very silence breathed a terror on my soul. I hastened then back to my fallen home, if haply there her feet had strayed; but the invading Greeks were its possessors, though the hungry fire was blown along the roof-tree, and the flames rolled raging upward on the fitful gale. To Priam's house I haste, and climb once more the citadel; in Juno's temple there, the chosen guardians of her wasted halls, Phoenix and dread Ulysses watched the spoil. Here, snatched away from many a burning fane, Troy's treasures lay,—rich tables for the gods, thick bowls of messy gold, and vestures rare, confusedly heaped up, while round the pile fair youths and trembling virgins stood forlorn. Yet oft my voice rang dauntless through the gloom, from street to street I cried with anguish vain; and on Creusa piteously calling, woke the lamenting echoes o'er and o'er. While on this quest I roamed the city through, of reason reft there rose upon my sight— O shape of sorrow!— my Creusa's ghost, hers truly, tho<

The night had passed, and to my friends once more I made my way, much wondering to find a mighty multitude assembled there of friends new-come,—matrons and men-at-arms, and youth for exile bound,— a doleful throng. From far and near they drew, their hearts prepared and their possessions gathered, to sail forth to lands unknown, wherever o'er the wave I bade them follow. Now above the crest of loftiest Ida rose the morning-star, chief in the front of day. The Greeks held fast the captive gates of Troy. No help or hope was ours any more. Then, yielding all, and lifting once again my aged sire, for refuge to the distant hills I f

When Asia's power and Priam's race and throne, though guiltless, were cast down by Heaven's decree, when Ilium proud had fallen, and Neptune's Troy in smouldering ash lay level with the ground, to wandering exile then and regions wild the gods by mTroy in smouldering ash lay level with the ground, to wandering exile then and regions wild the gods by many an augury and sign compelled us forth. We fashioned us a fleet within Antander's haven, in the shade of Phrygian Ida's peak (though knowing not whither our fate would drive, or where afford a resting-place at last), and my small band of warriors us on the winds of Fate to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede my native shore, the haven and the plains where once was Troy. An exile on the seas, with son and followers and household shrines, and Troy's great guardian-gods, I took my way. us on the winds of Fate to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede my native shore, the haven and the plains where once was Troy. An exile on the seas, with son and followers and household shrines, and Troy's great guardian-gods, I took my way.

For once this Polydorus, with much gold, ill-fated Priam sent by stealth away for nurture with the Thracian king, what time Dardania's war Iooked hopeless, and her towers were ringed about by unrelenting siege. That king, when Ilium's cause was ebbing low, and fortune frowned, gave o'er his plighted faith to Agamemnon's might and victory; he scorned all honor and did murder foul on Polydorus, seizing lawlessly on all the gold. O, whither at thy will, curst greed of gold, may mortal hearts be driven? Soon as my shuddering ceased, I told this tale of prodigies before the people's chiefs, who sat in conclave with my kingly sire, and bade them speak their reverend counsel forth. All found one voice; to leave that land of sin, where foul abomination had profaned a stranger's right; and once more to resign our fleet unto the tempest and the wave. But fit and solemn funeral rites were paid to Polydorus. A high mound we reared of heaped-up earth, and to his honored shade built a perpetual alt

Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone: “Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me a hearth and home, and to this war-worn band defensive towers and offspring multiplied in an abiding city; give to Troy a second citadel, that shall survive Achilles' wrath and all our Argive foe. Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way? Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place? Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular, and on our spirits move.

d the wandering tribe's return. Then spake my father, pondering olden days and sacred memories of heroes gone: “Hear, chiefs and princes, what your hopes shall be! The Isle of Crete, abode of lofty Jove, rests in the middle sea. Thence Ida soars; there is the cradle of our race. It boasts a hundred cities, seats of fruitful power. Thence our chief sire, if duly I recall the olden tale, King Teucer sprung, who first touched on the Trojan shore, and chose his seat of kingly power. There was no Ilium then nor towered Pergama; in lowly vales their dwelling; hence the ancient worship given to the Protectress of Mount Cybele, mother of Gods, what time in Ida's grove the brazen Corybantic cymbals clang, or sacred silence guards her mystery, and lions yoked her royal chariot draw. Up, then, and follow the behests divine! Pour offering to the winds, and point your keels unto that realm of Minos. It is near. if Jove but bless, the third day's dawn should see our ships at Cretan land.” So, havin