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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Euripides, Rhesus (ed. Gilbert Murray). Search the whole document.

Found 15 total hits in 3 results.

Thrace (Greece) (search for this): card 284
SHEPHERD. I know not rightly, though one well may guess.P. 17, l. 284 ff. The description of the march of the mountaineers, the vast crowd, the noise, the mixture of all arms, suggests personal observation. A great many fifth-century Athenians had probably served some time or other in Thrace. 'Tis hard to land at night, with such a press Of spears, on a strange coast, where rumours tell Of foes through all the plain-land. We that dwell On Ida, in the rock, Troy's ancient root And hearth-stone, were well frighted, through the mute And wolfish thickets thus to hear him break. A great and rushing noise those Thracians make, Marching. We, all astonied, ran to drive Our sheep to the upmost heights. 'Twas some Argive, We thought, who came to sweep the mountain clear And waste thy folds; till suddenly our ear Caught at their speech, and knew 'twas nothing Greek. Then all our terror fled. I r
Argive (Greece) (search for this): card 284
l frighted, through the mute And wolfish thickets thus to hear him break. A great and rushing noise those Thracians make, Marching. We, all astonied, ran to drive Our sheep to the upmost heights. 'Twas some Argive, We thought, who came to sweep the mountain clear And waste thy folds; till suddenly our ear Caught at their speech, and knew 'twas nothing Greek. Then all our terror fled. I ran to seek Some scout or pioneer who leds of that host no pen could write Nor reckon; 'tis a multitudinous sight, Long lines of horsemen, lines of targeteers, Archers abundant; and behind them veers A wavering horde, light-armed, in Thracian weed. A friend is come to Ilion in her need 'Gainst whom no Argive, let him fly or stand, Shall aught avail nor 'scape his conquering hand. LEADER. Lo, when the Gods breathe gently o'er a town, All runs to good, as water-streams run down.
Ilium (Turkey) (search for this): card 284
knew 'twas nothing Greek. Then all our terror fled. I ran to seek Some scout or pioneer who led the van And called in Thracian: "Ho, what child of man Doth lead you? From what nation do ye bring This host with aid to Ilion and her king?" He told me what I sought, and there I stood Watching; and saw one gleaming like a God, Tall in the darkness on a Thracian car. A plate of red gold mated, like a bar, His coursers' necks, white, of that host no pen could write Nor reckon; 'tis a multitudinous sight, Long lines of horsemen, lines of targeteers, Archers abundant; and behind them veers A wavering horde, light-armed, in Thracian weed. A friend is come to Ilion in her need 'Gainst whom no Argive, let him fly or stand, Shall aught avail nor 'scape his conquering hand. LEADER. Lo, when the Gods breathe gently o'er a town, All runs to good, as water-streams run down.