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Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War 78 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 48 0 Browse Search
Diodorus Siculus, Library 40 0 Browse Search
Demosthenes, Speeches 21-30 28 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding) 22 0 Browse Search
Apollodorus, Library and Epitome (ed. Sir James George Frazer) 22 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More) 20 0 Browse Search
Euripides, Rhesus (ed. Gilbert Murray) 20 0 Browse Search
Euripides, Hecuba (ed. E. P. Coleridge) 16 0 Browse Search
Xenophon, Anabasis (ed. Carleton L. Brownson) 16 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding). You can also browse the collection for Thrace (Greece) or search for Thrace (Greece) in all documents.

Your search returned 11 results in 8 document sections:

P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 2, line 193 (search)
id Cayster of this fire the raging heat was felt Among the quieres of singing Swannes that with their pleasant lay Along the bankes of Lidian brakes from place to place did stray. And Nyle for feare did run away into the furthest Clyme Of all the world, and hid his heade, which to this present tyme Is yet unfound: his mouthes all seven cleane voyde of water beene, Like seven great valleys where (save dust) could nothing else be seene. By like misfortune Hebrus dride and Strymon, both of Thrace. The Westerne Rivers Rhine and Rhone and Po were in like case: And Tyber unto whome the Goddes a faithfull promise gave Of all the world the Monarchie and soveraigne state to have. The ground did cranie everie where and light did pierce to hell And made afraide the King and Queene that in that Realme doe dwell. The Sea did shrinke and where as waves did late before remaine, Became a Champion field of dust and even a sandy plaine. The hilles erst hid farre under waves like Ilelandes did a
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 5, line 250 (search)
r workes than these are calles you to) Should else have bene of this our troupe, your saying is full true. To this our trade of life and place is commendation due. And sure we have a luckie lot and if the world were such As that we might in safetie live, but lewdnesse reignes so much That all things make us Maides afraide. Me thinkes I yet do see The wicked Tyran Pyren still: my heart is yet scarce free From that same feare with which it hapt us flighted for to bee. This cruell Pyren was of Thrace and with his men of war The land of Phocis had subdude, and from this place not far Within the Citie Dawlis reignde by force of wrongfull hand, One day to Phebus Temples warde that on Parnasus stand As we were going, in our way he met us courteously, And by the name of Goddesses saluting reverently Said: O ye Dames of Meonie (for why he knew us well) I pray you stay and take my hou.e untill this storme (there fell That time a tempest and a showre) be past: the Gods aloft
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 6, line 412 (search)
d thinke?) did neither come nor send. Warre barred them from courtesie the which they did entend. The King of Pontus with an host of savage people lay In siege before their famous waHes and curstly did them fray. Untill that Tereus, King of Thrace, approching to their ayde, Did vanquish him, and with renowne was for his labor payde. And sith he was so puissant in men and ready coyne, And came of mightie Marsis race, Pandion sought to joyne Aliance with him by and by, and gave him to his is daily race and travell Phebus drew, And on the shoring side of Heaven his horses downeward flew. A princely supper was prepaarde, and wine in golde was set: And after meate to take their rest the Princes did them get. But though the King of Thrace that while were absent from hir sight, Yet swelted he: and in his minde revolving all the night Hir face, hir gesture, and hir hands, imaginde all the rest (The which as yet he had not seene) as likte his fancie best. He feedes his flames himself
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 6, line 587 (search)
It was the time that wives of Thrace were wont to celebrate The three yeare rites of Bacchus which were done a nighttimes late. A nighttimes soundeth Rhodope of tincling pannes and pots: A nighttimes giving up hir house abrode Queene Progne trots Disguisde like Bacchus other froes and armed to the proofe With all the frenticke furniture that serves for that behoofe. Hir head was covered with a vine. About hir loose was tuckt A Reddeeres skin, a lightsome Launce upon hir shoulder ruckt. In post gaddes terrible Progne through the woods, and at hir heeles A flocke of froes. And where the sting of sorrow which she feeles Enforceth hir to furiousnesse, she feynes it to proceede Of Bacchus motion. At the length she finding out in deede The outset Graunge howlde out, and cride, Now well, and open brake The gates, and streight hir sister thence by force of hand did take, And veyling hir in like attire of Bacchus, hid hir head With Ivie leaves, and home to Court hir sore amazed led. As s
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 9, line 172 (search)
fowles were scaard from Stymphaly? Caught you the Stag in Maydenwood which did not runne but fly? Are you the hands whose puissance receyved for your pay The golden belt of Thermodon? Did you convey away The Apples from the Dragon fell that waked nyght and day? Ageinst the force of mee, defence the Centaures could not make, Nor yit the Boare of Arcadie: nor yit the ougly Snake Of Lerna, who by losse did grow and dooble force still take. What? is it I that did behold the pampyred Jades of Thrace With Maungers full of flesh of men on which they fed apace? Ist I that downe at syght thereof theyr greazy Maungers threw, And bothe the fatted Jades themselves and eke their mayster slew? The Nemean Lyon by theis armes lyes dead uppon the ground. Theis armes the monstruous Giant Cake by Tyber did confound. Uppon theis shoulders have I borne the weyght of all the skie. Joves cruell wyfe is weerye of commaunding mee. Yit I Unweerie am of dooing still. But now on mee is lyght An unc
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 9, line 630 (search)
was with her no end, He fled his countrie forbycause he would not so offend, And in a forreine land did buyld a Citie. Then men say That Byblis through despayre and thought all wholy did dismay. Shee tare her garments from her brest, and furiously shee wroong Her hands, and beete her armes, and like a bedlem with her toong Confessed her unlawfull love. But beeing of the same Dispoynted, shee forsooke her land and hatefull house for shame, And followed after flying Caune. And as the Froes of Thrace In dooing of the three yeere rites of Bacchus: in lyke cace The maryed wyves of Bubasie saw Byblis howling out Through all theyr champion feeldes, the which shee leaving, ran about In Caria to the Lelegs who are men in battell stout, And so to Lycia. Shee had past Crag, Limyre, and the brooke Of Xanthus, and the countrie where Chymaera that same pooke Hath Goatish body, Lions head and brist, and Dragons tayle, When woods did want: and Byblis now beginning for to quayle Through weeryness
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 13, line 399 (search)
, to th'entent He might bee out of daunger from the warres: wherin he ment Ryght wysely, had he not with him great riches sent, a bayt To stirre a wicked covetous mynd to treason and deceyt. For when the state of Troy decayd, the wicked king of Thrace Did cut his nurcechylds weazant, and (as though the sinfull cace Toogither with the body could have quyght beene put away) He threw him also in the sea. It happened by the way, That Agamemnon was compeld with all his fleete to stay Uppon the coast of Thrace, untill the sea were wexen calme, And till the hideous stormes did cease, and furious wynds were falne. Heere rysing gastly from the ground which farre about him brake, Achilles with a threatning looke did like resemblance make As when at Agamemnon he his wrongfull swoord did shake, And sayd: Unmyndfull part yee hence of mee, O Greekes, and must My merits thanklesse thus with mee be buryed in the dust? Nay, doo not so. But to th'entent my death dew honour have, Let Polyxene i
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 13, line 494 (search)
or all is lost. Nay yit remaynes (for whome I well can fynd In hart to live a little whyle) an imp unto my mynd Most deere, now only left alone, sumtyme of many mo The yoongest, little Polydore, delivered late ago To Polemnestor, king of Thrace, whoo dwelles within theis bounds. But wherefore doo I stay so long in wasshing of her wounds, And face berayd with gory blood? In saying thus, shee went To seaward with an aged pace and hory heare beerent. And (wretched woman) as shee calld fo, And wirryed it beetweene her teeth. And as shee opte her chappe To speake, in stead of speeche shee barkt. The place of this missehappe Remayneth still, and of the thing there done beares yit the name. Long myndfull of her former illes, shee sadly for the same Went howling in the feeldes of Thrace. Her fortune moved not Her Trojans only, but the Greekes her foes to ruthe: her lot Did move even all the Goddes to ruthe: and so effectually, That Hecub to deserve such end even Juno did denye.