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Demosthenes, Speeches 31-40 42 0 Browse Search
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 30 0 Browse Search
Demosthenes, Speeches 11-20 10 0 Browse Search
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington) 4 0 Browse Search
Strabo, Geography 4 0 Browse Search
Diodorus Siculus, Library 4 0 Browse Search
Aeschylus, Persians (ed. Herbert Weir Smyth, Ph. D.) 4 0 Browse Search
Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound (ed. Herbert Weir Smyth, Ph. D.) 4 0 Browse Search
Dinarchus, Speeches 2 0 Browse Search
Aristotle, Economics 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington). You can also browse the collection for Bosporus (Turkey) or search for Bosporus (Turkey) in all documents.

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Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 2, Poem 13 (search)
planting thee, Accurst he rear'd thee from the ground, The bane of children yet to be, The scandal of the village round. His father's throat the monster press'd Beside, and on his hearthstone spilt, I ween, the blood of midnight guest; Black Colchian drugs, whate'er of guilt Is hatch'd on earth, he dealt in all— Who planted in my rural stead Thee, fatal wood, thee, sure to fall Upon thy blameless master's head. The dangers of the hour! no thought We give them; Punic seaman's fear Is all of Bosporus, nor aught Reeks he of pitfalls otherwhere; The soldier fears the mask'd retreat Of Parthia; Parthia dreads the thrall Of Rome; but Death with noiseless feet Has stolen and will steal on all. How near dark Pluto's court I stood, And Aeacus' judicial throne, The blest seclusion of the good, And Sappho, with sweet lyric moan Bewailing her ungentle sex, And thee, Alcaeus, louder far Chanting thy tale of woful wrecks, Of woful exile, woful war! In sacred awe the silent dead Attend on each: but
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 3, Poem 4 (search)
orentan mould. “Bears, vipers, spared him as he lay, The sacred garland deck'd his hair, The myrtle blended with the bay: The child's inspired: the gods were there.” Your grace, sweet Muses, shields me still On Sabine heights, or lets me range Where cool Praeneste, Tibur's hill, Or liquid Baiae proffers change. Me to your springs, your dances true, Philippi bore not to the ground, Nor the doom'd tree in falling slew, Nor billowy Palinurus drown'd. Grant me your presence, blithe and fain Mad Bosporus shall my bark explore; My foot shall tread the sandy plain That glows beside Assyria's shore; 'Mid Briton tribes, the stranger's foe, And Spaniards, drunk with horses' blood, And quiver'd Scythians, will I go Unharm'd, and look on Tanais' flood. When Caesar's self in peaceful town The weary veteran's home has made, You bid him lay his helmet down And rest in your Pierian shade. Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to see Mild thoughts take root. The nations know How with descending thunder he