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Browsing named entities in P. Vergilius Maro, Georgics (ed. J. B. Greenough).

Found 270 total hits in 87 results.

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Nile (search for this): book 3, card 1
rove, On foot shall strive, or with the raw-hide glove; Whilst I, my head with stripped green olive crowned, Will offer gifts. Even 'tis present joy To lead the high processions to the fane, And view the victims felled; or how the scene Sunders with shifted face, and Britain's sons Inwoven thereon with those proud curtains rise. Of gold and massive ivory on the doors I'll trace the battle of the Gangarides, And our Quirinus' conquering arms, and there Surging with war, and hugely flowing, the Nile, And columns heaped on high with naval brass. And Asia's vanquished cities I will add, And quelled Niphates, and the Parthian foe, Who trusts in flight and backward-volleying darts, And trophies torn with twice triumphant hand From empires twain on ocean's either shore. And breathing forms of Parian marble there Shall stand, the offspring of Assaracus, And great names of the Jove-descended folk, And father Tros, and Troy's first founder, lord Of Cynthus. And accursed Envy there Shall dread th
Hellespont (Turkey) (search for this): book 4, card 103
But when the swarms fly aimlessly abroad, Disport themselves in heaven and spurn their cells, Leaving the hive unwarmed, from such vain play Must you refrain their volatile desires, Nor hard the task: tear off the monarchs' wings; While these prove loiterers, none beside will dare Mount heaven, or pluck the standards from the camp. Let gardens with the breath of saffron flowers Allure them, and the lord of Hellespont, Priapus, wielder of the willow-scythe, Safe in his keeping hold from birds and thieves. And let the man to whom such cares are dear Himself bring thyme and pine-trees from the heights, And strew them in broad belts about their home; No hand but his the blistering task should ply, Plant the young slips, or shed the genial showers.
India (India) (search for this): book 2, card 109
les throng gayest; Bacchus, lastly, loves The bare hillside, and yews the north wind's chill. Mark too the earth by outland tillers tamed, And Eastern homes of Arabs, and tattooed Geloni; to all trees their native lands Allotted are; no clime but India bears Black ebony; the branch of frankincense Is Saba's sons' alone; why tell to thee Of balsams oozing from the perfumed wood, Or berries of acanthus ever green? Of Aethiop forests hoar with downy wool, Or how the Seres comb from off the leaves Their silky fleece? Of groves which India bears, Ocean's near neighbour, earth's remotest nook, Where not an arrow-shot can cleave the air Above their tree-tops? yet no laggards they, When girded with the quiver! Media yields The bitter juices and slow-lingering taste Of the blest citron-fruit, than which no aid Comes timelier, when fierce step-dames drug the cup With simples mixed and spells of baneful power, To drive the deadly poison from the limbs. Large the tree's self in semblance like
Saba (search for this): book 2, card 109
Not that all soils can all things bear alike. Willows by water-courses have their birth, Alders in miry fens; on rocky heights The barren mountain-ashes; on the shore Myrtles throng gayest; Bacchus, lastly, loves The bare hillside, and yews the north wind's chill. Mark too the earth by outland tillers tamed, And Eastern homes of Arabs, and tattooed Geloni; to all trees their native lands Allotted are; no clime but India bears Black ebony; the branch of frankincense Is Saba's sons' alone; why tell to thee Of balsams oozing from the perfumed wood, Or berries of acanthus ever green? Of Aethiop forests hoar with downy wool, Or how the Seres comb from off the leaves Their silky fleece? Of groves which India bears, Ocean's near neighbour, earth's remotest nook, Where not an arrow-shot can cleave the air Above their tree-tops? yet no laggards they, When girded with the quiver! Media yields The bitter juices and slow-lingering taste Of the blest citron-fruit, than which no aid Comes timelier
Paestum (Italy) (search for this): book 4, card 116
And I myself, were I not even now Furling my sails, and, nigh the journey's end, Eager to turn my vessel's prow to shore, Perchance would sing what careful husbandry Makes the trim garden smile; of Paestum too, Whose roses bloom and fade and bloom again; How endives glory in the streams they drink, And green banks in their parsley, and how the gourd Twists through the grass and rounds him to paunch; Nor of Narcissus had my lips been dumb, That loiterer of the flowers, nor supple-stemmed Acanthus, with the praise of ivies pale, And myrtles clinging to the shores they love. For 'neath the shade of tall Oebalia's towers, Where dark Galaesus laves the yellowing fields, An old man once I mind me to have seen— From Corycus he came—to whom had fallen Some few poor acres of neglected land, And they nor fruitful' neath the plodding steer, Meet for the grazing herd, nor good for vines. Yet he, the while his meagre garden-herbs Among the thorns he planted, and all round White lilies, vervains, a
Dodona (Greece) (search for this): book 1, card 118
s. Soon one with hand-net scourges the broad stream, Probing its depths, one drags his dripping toils Along the main; then iron's unbending might, And shrieking saw-blade,—for the men of old With wedges wont to cleave the splintering log;— Then divers arts arose; toil conquered all, Remorseless toil, and poverty's shrewd push In times of hardship. Ceres was the first Set mortals on with tools to turn the sod, When now the awful groves 'gan fail to bear Acorns and arbutes, and her wonted food Dodona gave no more. Soon, too, the corn Gat sorrow's increase, that an evil blight Ate up the stalks, and thistle reared his spines An idler in the fields; the crops die down; Upsprings instead a shaggy growth of burrs And caltrops; and amid the corn-fields trim Unfruitful darnel and wild oats have sway. Wherefore, unless thou shalt with ceaseless rake The weeds pursue, with shouting scare the birds, Prune with thy hook the dark field's matted shade, Pray down the showers, all vainly thou shalt ey
Bactria (Afghanistan) (search for this): book 2, card 136
But no, not Mede-land with its wealth of woods, Nor Ganges fair, and Hermus thick with gold, Can match the praise of Italy; nor Ind, Nor Bactria, nor Panchaia, one wide tract Of incense-teeming sand. Here never bulls With nostrils snorting fire upturned the sod Sown with the monstrous dragon's teeth, nor crop Of warriors bristled thick with lance and helm; But heavy harvests and the Massic juice Of Bacchus fill its borders, overspread With fruitful flocks and olives. Hence arose The war-horse stepping proudly o'er the plain; Hence thy white flocks, Clitumnus, and the bull, Of victims mightiest, which full oft have led, Bathed in thy sacred stream, the triumph-pomp Of Romans to the temples of the gods. Here blooms perpetual spring, and summer here In months that are not summer's; twice teem the flocks; Twice doth the tree yield service of her fruit. But ravening tigers come not nigh, nor breed Of savage lion, nor aconite betrays Its hapless gatherers, nor with sweep so vast Doth the sc
Clitumnus (Italy) (search for this): book 2, card 136
air, and Hermus thick with gold, Can match the praise of Italy; nor Ind, Nor Bactria, nor Panchaia, one wide tract Of incense-teeming sand. Here never bulls With nostrils snorting fire upturned the sod Sown with the monstrous dragon's teeth, nor crop Of warriors bristled thick with lance and helm; But heavy harvests and the Massic juice Of Bacchus fill its borders, overspread With fruitful flocks and olives. Hence arose The war-horse stepping proudly o'er the plain; Hence thy white flocks, Clitumnus, and the bull, Of victims mightiest, which full oft have led, Bathed in thy sacred stream, the triumph-pomp Of Romans to the temples of the gods. Here blooms perpetual spring, and summer here In months that are not summer's; twice teem the flocks; Twice doth the tree yield service of her fruit. But ravening tigers come not nigh, nor breed Of savage lion, nor aconite betrays Its hapless gatherers, nor with sweep so vast Doth the scaled serpent trail his endless coils Along the ground, or wr
Rome (Italy) (search for this): book 2, card 136
, the Ligurian, and with these The Volscian javelin-armed, the Decii too, The Marii and Camilli, names of might, The Scipios, stubborn warriors, ay, and thee, Great Caesar, who in Asia's utmost bounds With conquering arm e'en now art fending far The unwarlike Indian from the heights of Rome. Hail! land of Saturn, mighty mother thou Of fruits and heroes; 'tis for thee I dare Unseal the sacred fountains, and essay Themes of old art and glory, as I sing The song of Ascra through the towns of Rome. , the Ligurian, and with these The Volscian javelin-armed, the Decii too, The Marii and Camilli, names of might, The Scipios, stubborn warriors, ay, and thee, Great Caesar, who in Asia's utmost bounds With conquering arm e'en now art fending far The unwarlike Indian from the heights of Rome. Hail! land of Saturn, mighty mother thou Of fruits and heroes; 'tis for thee I dare Unseal the sacred fountains, and essay Themes of old art and glory, as I sing The song of Ascra through the towns of Rome.
Asia (search for this): book 2, card 136
t and, Benacus, thee With billowy uproar surging like the main? Or sing her harbours, and the barrier cast Athwart the Lucrine, and how ocean chafes With mighty bellowings, where the Julian wave Echoes the thunder of his rout, and through Avernian inlets pours the Tuscan tide? A land no less that in her veins displays Rivers of silver, mines of copper ore, Ay, and with gold hath flowed abundantly. A land that reared a valiant breed of men, The Marsi and Sabellian youth, and, schooled To hardship, the Ligurian, and with these The Volscian javelin-armed, the Decii too, The Marii and Camilli, names of might, The Scipios, stubborn warriors, ay, and thee, Great Caesar, who in Asia's utmost bounds With conquering arm e'en now art fending far The unwarlike Indian from the heights of Rome. Hail! land of Saturn, mighty mother thou Of fruits and heroes; 'tis for thee I dare Unseal the sacred fountains, and essay Themes of old art and glory, as I sing The song of Ascra through the towns of Rome.
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