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Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 26 0 Browse Search
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams) 4 0 Browse Search
Polybius, Histories 2 0 Browse Search
Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation 2 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 Barca (Libya) or search for Barca (Libya) in all documents.

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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 31 (search)
ue thy grieving heart was cold to earlier wooers, Libya's now, and long ago in Tyre. Iarbas knew thy scorn, and many a prince and captain bred in Afric's land of glory. Why resist a love that makes thee glad? Hast thou no care what alien lands are these where thou dost reign? Here are Gaetulia's cities and her tribes unconquered ever; on thy borders rove Numidia's uncurbed cavalry; here too lies Syrtis' cruel shore, and regions wide of thirsty desert, menaced everywhere by the wild hordes of Barca. Shall I tell of Tyre's hostilities, the threats and rage of our own brother? Friendly gods, I bow, wafted the Teucrian ships, with Juno's aid, to these our shores. O sister, what a throne, and what imperial city shall be thine, if thus espoused! With Trojan arms allied how far may not our Punic fame extend in deeds of power? Call therefore on the gods to favor thee; and, after omens fair, give queenly welcome, and contrive excuse to make him tarry, while yon wintry seas are loud beneath Ori
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 630 (search)
She said. From point to point her purpose flew, seeking without delay to quench the flame of her loathed life. Brief bidding she addressed to Barce then, Sichaeus' nurse (her own lay dust and ashes in a lonely grave beside the Tyrian shore), “Go, nurse, and call my sister Anna! Bid her quickly bathe her limbs in living water, and procure due victims for our expiating fires. bid her make haste. Go, bind on thy own brow the sacred fillet. For to Stygian Jove it is my purpose now to consummate the sacrifice ordained, ending my woe, and touch with flame the Trojan's funeral pyre.” The aged crone to do her bidding ran with trembling zeal. But Dido (horror-struck at her own dread design, unstrung with fear, her bloodshot eyes wide-rolling, and her cheek twitching and fever-spotted, her cold brow blanched with approaching death)—sped past the doors into the palace garden; there she leaped, a frenzied creature, on the lofty pyre and drew the Trojan's sword; a gift not asked for use like this!<