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Browsing named entities in a specific section of M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley). Search the whole document.

Found 15 total hits in 4 results.

Libya (Libya) (search for this): book 7, card 647
shall he Enter the city, who on such a field Finds happiness? Whate'er in lands unknown Thine exiled lot, whate'er the Pharian king May place upon thee, trust thou in the gods; Trust the long story of the favouring fates: 'Twere worse to conquer. Then forbid the tear, The nation's grief, the weeping of mankind, And let the world adore thee in defeat As in thy triumphs. With unaltered gaze Look down upon the kings, thy subjects still; Look on the realms and cities which they hold, Egypt and Libya, gifts from thee of yore; And choose the country that befits thy death. Larissa first was witness of thy fall, Thy noble mien, as victor of the fates; And loud in sorrow, yet with gifts of price Fit for a conqueror flung back her gates And poured her citizens forth. ' Our homes and fanes To thee are open; would it were our lot With thee to perish; of thy mighty name Still much survives and conquered by thyself, Thyself alone, still couldst thou to the war All nations call and challenge fate
Pharsalia (New York, United States) (search for this): book 7, card 647
uth, although Cornelia was not by her husband's side at his murder, she was present at the scene. Then upon his steed, Though fearing not the weapons at his back, Pompeius fled, his mighty soul prepared To meet his final doom. He saw thy field, Pharsalia, tearless and without a groan; For solemn grief and majesty of mien Were in his face, as for the woes of Rome. No pride in him the day of victory found, Nor rout shall find despair; alike in days When fickle Fortune triple triumph gave And whenleeting past How wast thou great! Seek thou the wars no more, And call the gods to witness that for thee Henceforth no man shall die. The fights to come On Afric's mournful shore, by Pharos' stream And fateful Munda, and the final scene Of dire Pharsalia's battle are not thine. Thy name no more shall stir the world to war, But those great rivals biding with us yet, Caesar and Liberty; and not for thee When thou hadst fled the field, but for itself The dying Senate still upheld the fight. Find's
Munda (Ohio, United States) (search for this): book 7, card 647
Rome. No pride in him the day of victory found, Nor rout shall find despair; alike in days When fickle Fortune triple triumph gave And when she fled, her lord. The burden laid Of thine impending fate, thou partest free To muse upon the happy days of yore. Hope now has fled; but in the fleeting past How wast thou great! Seek thou the wars no more, And call the gods to witness that for thee Henceforth no man shall die. The fights to come On Afric's mournful shore, by Pharos' stream And fateful Munda, and the final scene Of dire Pharsalia's battle are not thine. Thy name no more shall stir the world to war, But those great rivals biding with us yet, Caesar and Liberty; and not for thee When thou hadst fled the field, but for itself The dying Senate still upheld the fight. Find'st thou not solace thus to quit the field Nor witness all the horrors of its close? Look back upon the crimsoned ranks of war, The rivers turbid with ensanguined stream; Then pity thou thy kinsman. How shall he Ent
Egypt (Egypt) (search for this): book 7, card 647
nsman. How shall he Enter the city, who on such a field Finds happiness? Whate'er in lands unknown Thine exiled lot, whate'er the Pharian king May place upon thee, trust thou in the gods; Trust the long story of the favouring fates: 'Twere worse to conquer. Then forbid the tear, The nation's grief, the weeping of mankind, And let the world adore thee in defeat As in thy triumphs. With unaltered gaze Look down upon the kings, thy subjects still; Look on the realms and cities which they hold, Egypt and Libya, gifts from thee of yore; And choose the country that befits thy death. Larissa first was witness of thy fall, Thy noble mien, as victor of the fates; And loud in sorrow, yet with gifts of price Fit for a conqueror flung back her gates And poured her citizens forth. ' Our homes and fanes To thee are open; would it were our lot With thee to perish; of thy mighty name Still much survives and conquered by thyself, Thyself alone, still couldst thou to the war All nations call and chall