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Polybius, Histories 38 0 Browse Search
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 22 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 18 0 Browse Search
Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War 18 0 Browse Search
Strabo, Geography 16 0 Browse Search
T. Maccius Plautus, Menaechmi, or The Twin Brothers (ed. Henry Thomas Riley) 14 0 Browse Search
Plato, Letters 14 0 Browse Search
Aristotle, Politics 10 0 Browse Search
Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation 10 0 Browse Search
Plato, Laws 6 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 Tarentum (Italy) or search for Tarentum (Italy) in all documents.

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Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 28 (search)
read. Yes, all “await the inevitable hour;” The downward journey all one day must tread. Some bleed, to glut the war-god's savage eyes; Fate meets the sailor from the hungry brine; Youth jostles age in funeral obsequies; Each brow in turn is touch'd by Proserpine. Me, too, Orion's mate, the Southern blast, Whelm'd in deep death beneath the Illyrian wave. But grudge not, sailor, of driven sand to cast A handful on my head, that owns no grave. So, though the eastern tempests loudly threat Hesperia's main, may green Venusia's crown Be stripp'd, while you lie warm; may blessings yet Stream from Tarentum's guard, great Neptune, down, And gracious Jove, into your open lap! What! shrink you not from crime whose punishment Falls on your innocent children? it may hap Imperious Fate will make yourself repent. My prayers shall reach the avengers of all wrong; No expiations shall the curse unbind. Great though your haste, I would not task you long; Thrice sprinkle dust, then scud before the w
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 3, Poem 5 (search)
ne worth, expell'd by fear, Returns not to the worthless slave. Break but her meshes, will the deer Assail you? then will he be brave Who once to faithless foes has knelt; Yes, Carthage yet his spear will fly, Who with bound arms the cord has felt, The coward, and has fear'd to die. He knows not, he, how life is won; Thinks war, like peace, a thing of trade! Great art thou, Carthage! mate the sun, While Italy in dust is laid!” His wife's pure kiss he waved aside, And prattling boys, as one disgraced, They tell us, and with manly pride Stern on the ground his visage placed. With counsel thus ne'er else aread He nerved the fathers' weak intent, And, girt by friends that mourn'd him, sped Into illustrious banishment. Well witting what the torturer's art Design'd him, with like unconcern The press of kin he push'd apart And crowds encumbering his return, As though, some tedious business o'er Of clients' court, his journey lay Towards Venafrum's grassy floor, Or Sparta-built Tarentum's ba