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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams) 6 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More) 2 0 Browse Search
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P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More), Book 3, line 251 (search)
be known by him a mother of a Deity, a joy almost denied to me! Great confidence has she in her great beauty—nevertheless, I shall so weave the web the bolt of Jove would fail to save her.—Let the Gods deny that I am Saturn's daughter, if her shade descend not stricken to the Stygian wave.” She rose up quickly from her shining throne, and hidden in a cloud of fiery hue descended to the home of Semele; and while encompassed by the cloud, transformed her whole appearance as to counterfeit old Beroe, an Epidaurian nurse, who tended Semele. Her tresses changed to grey, her smooth skin wrinkled and her step grown feeble as she moved with trembling limbs;— her voice was quavering as an ancient dame's, as Juno, thus disguised, began to talk to Semele. When presently the name of Jove was mentioned—artful Juno thus; (doubtful that Jupiter could be her love)— “When Jove appears to pledge his love to you, implore him to assume his majesty and all his glory, even as he does in presence o
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 5, line 604 (search)
e light-winged Iris to the ships of Troy, giving her flight good wind—still full of schemes and hungering to avenge her ancient wrong. Unseen of mortal eye, the virgin took her pathway on the thousand-colored bow, and o'er its gliding passage earthward flew. She scanned the vast assemblage; then her gaze turned shoreward, where along the idle bay the Trojan galleys quite unpeopled rode. But far removed, upon a lonely shore, a throng of Trojan dames bewailed aloud their lost Anchises, and with tears surveyed the mighty deep. “O weary waste of seas! What vast, untravelled floods beyond us roll!” So cried they with one voice, and prayed the gods for an abiding city; every heart loathed utterly the long, laborious sea. Then in their midst alighted, not unskilled in working woe, the goddess; though she wore nor garb nor form divine, but made herself one Beroe, Doryclus' aged wife, who in her happier days had lineage fair and sons of noble name; in such disguise she called the Trojan
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 5, line 623 (search)
nd; then, lifting high, waved it all flaming, and with furious arm hurled it from far. The Ilian matrons gazed, bewildered and appalled. But one, of all the eldest, Pyrgo, venerated nurse of Priam's numerous sons, exclaimed, “Nay, nay! This is no Beroe, my noble dames. Doryclus knew her not. Behold and see her heavenly beauty and her radiant eyes! What voice of music and majestic mien, what movement like a god! Myself am come from Beroe sick, and left her grieving sore that she, she only, had nBeroe sick, and left her grieving sore that she, she only, had no gift to bring of mournful honor to Anchises' shade.” She spoke. The women with ill-boding eyes looked on the ships. Their doubting hearts were torn 'twixt tearful passion for the beauteous isle their feet then trod, and that prophetic call of Fate to lands unknown. Then on wide wings soared Iris into heaven, and through the clouds clove a vast arch of light. With wonder dazed, the women in a shrieking frenzy rose, took embers from the hearth-stones, stole the fires upon the altars—faggots, br<