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Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome, books 1-10 (ed. Rev. Canon Roberts) 30 0 Browse Search
Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome, books 1-10 (ed. Rev. Canon Roberts) 20 0 Browse Search
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington) 14 0 Browse Search
Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome, books 1-10 (ed. Rev. Canon Roberts) 14 0 Browse Search
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley) 8 0 Browse Search
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Leonard C. Smithers) 8 0 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 6 0 Browse Search
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Sir Richard Francis Burton) 6 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding) 6 0 Browse Search
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), The Works of Horace (ed. C. Smart, Theodore Alois Buckley) 4 0 Browse Search
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E. T. Merrill, Commentary on Catullus (ed. E. T. Merrill), Family and circumstances. (search)
untimely death in the Troad he records. 10. Yet there was apparently wealth enough in the family to enable even the younger brother to enjoy the advantages that wealth brought to the young Italian of that day. He was able early in his young manhood to go to Rome, and to make that city thenceforth his abiding-place (c. 68.34 ff.). He owned a villa at Sirmio (c. 31), and another on the edge of the Sabine hills (c. 44). And there is no indication that while at Rome he was busy with any pursuit that could fill his purse, although, like many another young Roman, he later obtained a provincial appointment, and went to Bithynia on the staff of the governor Memmius in the hope of wealth (cf. § 29 ff.). The hope, he tells us (cc. 10, 28), proved abortive, but Catullus had yet money enough -- perhaps even to purchase a
E. T. Merrill, Commentary on Catullus (ed. E. T. Merrill), Education (search)
day to Athens or to Rhodes. 14. Not books, but life, exercised over him the preeminent charm. And this life was not the life of the past, but of the present, - the busy, delirious whirl of life in the capital of the world. Into it he plunged with all the ardor of a lively and passionate nature. Rome was from that first moment his home, the centre of all his beloved activities. Verona, his Sabine villa, and even Sirmio, became to him but hospitals or vacation haunts. Once only did he leave Italy, and even his joy at reaching Sirmio again on his return (c. 31） could not long detain him from Rome. And at Rome death met him. 15. In life at Rome, then, Catullus found his full development as a poet. Already from the donning of the toga virilis, so he tells us (c. 68.
E. T. Merrill, Commentary on Catullus (ed. E. T. Merrill), Poem 44 (search)
for Tibur was a fashionable place of summer abode, while Sabinum was noted only as the country of frugal peasant life. pignore contendunt: cf. Verg. Ecl. 3.31 tu dic, mecum quo pignore certes. tua: since the villa was a part of the fundus. suburbana: Tibur (now Tivoli) was but 18 miles from Rome, and indeed, being placed on the abrupt edge of the Sabine hills as they descend to the plain, was visible from the city itself. malam: wretched, cf. Hor. AP 453 mala scabies. expuli: cf. Hor. Ep. 2.2.137 expulit elIeboro morbum . venter: the stomach inflicted a penalty for contemplated gluttony, instead of lending itself to the expected gratification. Sestianus: referring
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Sir Richard Francis Burton), CATULLUS TO HIS OWN FARM (search)
CATULLUS TO HIS OWN FARM O Farm our own, Sabine or Tiburtine, (For style thee "Tiburs" Who have not at heart To hurt Catullus, whereas all that have Wage any Wager thou be Sabine classed) But whether Sabine or of Tiburs truer To thy suburban Cottage fared I fain And fro' my bronchials drave that cursèd cough Which not unmerited oSabine classed) But whether Sabine or of Tiburs truer To thy suburban Cottage fared I fain And fro' my bronchials drave that cursèd cough Which not unmerited on me my maw, A-seeking sumptuous banquetings, bestowed. For I requesting to be Sestius' guest Read against claimant Antius a speech, Full-filled with poisonous pestilential trash. Hence a grave frigid rheum and frequent cough Shook me till fled I to thy bosom, where Repose and nettle-broth healed all my ills. Wherefore recruited nSabine or of Tiburs truer To thy suburban Cottage fared I fain And fro' my bronchials drave that cursèd cough Which not unmerited on me my maw, A-seeking sumptuous banquetings, bestowed. For I requesting to be Sestius' guest Read against claimant Antius a speech, Full-filled with poisonous pestilential trash. Hence a grave frigid rheum and frequent cough Shook me till fled I to thy bosom, where Repose and nettle-broth healed all my ills. Wherefore recruited now best thanks I give To thee for nowise punishing my sins: Nor do I now object if noisome writs Of Sestius hear I, but that cold and cough And rheum may plague, not me, but Sestius' self Who asks me only his ill writs to re
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Leonard C. Smithers), Poem 39 (search)
court, when counsel excites tears, he grins. If he be at funeral pyre where one mourns a son devoted, where a bereft mother's tears stream for her only son, he grins. Whatever it may be, wherever he is, whatever may happen, he grins. Such an ill habit has he—neither in good taste, I suppose, nor refined. Therefore take note from me, my good Egnatius. Whether you are from the city or Sabine or Tiburtine, or a thrifty Umbrian or a fat Etruscan, or a dark, toothy Lanuvian, or Transpadine (to touch upon my own folk also), or whoever of those who cleanly wash their teeth, still I wish you wouldn't grin forever everywhere; for nothing is more senseless than senseless giggling. Now you're a Celtiberian: and in the Celtiberian land early in the morning they piss and scrub their teeth an
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Leonard C. Smithers), Poem 44 (search)
O, Homestead of ours, whether Sabine or Tiburtine (for people in whose heart it is not to wound Catullus declare you Tiburtine, but those in whose heart it is, will wager anything you're Sabine) but whether Sabine or more truly Tiburtine, I was glad to be within yourSabine) but whether Sabine or more truly Tiburtine, I was glad to be within your rural country-home, and to cast off an ill cough from my chest, which—not unearned—my belly granted me, for grasping after luxurious meals. For, while I want to be Sestius' guest, I read his defence against the plaintiff Antius, crammed with venom and pestilence. Hence aSabine or more truly Tiburtine, I was glad to be within your rural country-home, and to cast off an ill cough from my chest, which—not unearned—my belly granted me, for grasping after luxurious meals. For, while I want to be Sestius' guest, I read his defence against the plaintiff Antius, crammed with venom and pestilence. Hence a chill heavy rheum and fitful cough shook me continually until I fled to your asylum, and brought me back to health with rest and nettle-broth. Therefore, refreshed, I give you utmost thanks, that you have not avenged my fault. Nor do I pray now for a
M. Tullius Cicero, On the Agrarian Law (ed. C. D. Yonge), chapter 25 (search)
an people. He orders that lands be sold. First of all I ask, What lands? in what situations? I do not wish the Roman people to be kept in suspense and uncertainty with obscure hopes and ignorant expectation. There is the Alban, and the Setino, and the Privernate, and the Fundan, and the Vescine, and the Falernian district; there is the district of Linternum, and Cuma, and Casinum. I hear. Going out at the other gate there is the Capenate, and Faliscan, and Sabine territory; there are the lands of Reati, and Venafrum, and Allifae, and Trebula. You have money enough to be able not only to buy all these lands and others like them, but even to surround them with a ring fence. Why do you not define them, nor name them, so that at least the Roman people may be able to consider what its own interests are-what is desirable for it—how much trust it thinks it desirable to repose in you in the matter of buying and sell
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 9 (search)
See, how it stands, one pile of snow, Soracte! 'neath the pressure yield Its groaning woods; the torrents' flow With clear sharp ice is all congeal'd. Heap high the logs, and melt the cold, Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask, That mellower vintage, four-year-old, From out the cellar'd Sabine cask. The future trust with Jove; when he Has still'd the warring tempests' roar On the vex'd deep, the cypress-tree And aged ash are rock'd no more. O, ask not what the morn will bring, But count as gain each day that chance May give you; sport in life's young spring, Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance, While years are green, while sullen eld Is distant. Now the walk, the game, The whisper'd talk at sunset held, Each in its hour, prefer their claim. Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarm The hiding-place of beauty tells, The token, ravish'd from the arm Or finger, that but ill rebels.
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 20 (search)
Not large my cups, nor rich my cheer, This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd, That day the applauding theatre Your welcome peal'd, Dear knight Maecenas! as 'twere fain That your paternal river's banks, And Vatican, in sportive strain, Should echo thanks. For you Calenian grapes are press'd, And Caecuban; these cups of mine Falernum's bounty ne'er has bless'd, Nor Formian vine.
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 22 (search)
No need of Moorish archer's craft To guard the pure and stainless liver; He wants not, Fuscus, poison'd shaft To store his quiver, Whether he traverse Libyan shoals, Or Caucasus, forlorn and horrent, Or lands where far Hydaspes rolls His fabled torrent. A wolf, while roaming trouble-free In Sabine wood, as fancy led me, Unarm'd I sang my Lalage, Beheld, and fled me. Dire monster! in her broad oak woods Fierce Daunia fosters none such other, Nor Juba's land, of lion broods The thirsty mother. Place me where on the ice-bound plain No tree is cheer'd by summer breezes, Where Jove descends in sleety rain Or sullen freezes; Place me where none can live for heat, 'Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me, That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet, Shall still enchant me.
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