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Document | Max. Freq | Min. Freq | ||
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Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) | 554 | 0 | Browse | Search |
World English Bible (ed. Rainbow Missions, Inc., Rainbow Missions, Inc.; revision of the American Standard Version of 1901) | 226 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Flavius Josephus, Against Apion (ed. William Whiston, A.M.) | 154 | 0 | Browse | Search |
World English Bible (ed. Rainbow Missions, Inc., Rainbow Missions, Inc.; revision of the American Standard Version of 1901) | 150 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Flavius Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews (ed. William Whiston, A.M.) | 138 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Pausanias, Description of Greece | 92 | 0 | Browse | Search |
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley) | 54 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Demosthenes, Speeches 51-61 | 50 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation | 46 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Apollodorus, Library and Epitome (ed. Sir James George Frazer) | 42 | 0 | Browse | Search |
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Browsing named entities in Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge). You can also browse the collection for Egypt (Egypt) or search for Egypt (Egypt) in all documents.
Your search returned 1 result in 1 document section:
Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge), line 122 (search)
You swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium over the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, to the bays of Troy, alas! where you tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; who murdered Priam, the father of fifty children; the cause why I, the unhappy Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this disastrous strand. Oh that I should sit here, over against the tent of Agamemnon! As a slave I am led away from my home, an old woman, while from my head the hair is piteously shorn for grief. Ah! unhappy wives of those armored sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now a smouldering ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that over her fledgelings screams, will begin the strain; not the same as that I once sang to the gods, as I leaned on Priam's staff and beat with my foot in Phrygi