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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 5, line 42 (search)
ollowers on the shore, and from a fair green hillock gave this word: “Proud sons of Dardanus, whose lofty line none but the gods began! This day fulfils the annual cycle of revolving time, since the dear relics of my god-like sire to earth we gave, and with dark offerings due built altars sorrowful. If now I err not, this is my day—ye gods have willed it so! — for mourning and for praise. Should it befall me exiled in Gaetulia's wilderness, or sailing some Greek sea, or at the walls of dire Mycenae, still would I renew unfailing vows, and make solemnity with thankful rites, and worshipful array, at altars rich with gifts. But, lo, we come, beyond all hope, where lie the very bones of my great sire. Nor did it come to pass without divine intent and heavenly power, that on these hospitable shores we stand. Up, then! For we will make a festal day, imploring lucky winds! O, may his spirit grant me to build my city, where his shrines forever shall receive perpetual vows made in his name! T<
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 7, line 212 (search)
o'er the flood thy realm to find. Nor star deceived, nor strange, bewildering shore threw out of our true course; but we are come by our free choice and with deliberate aim to this thy town, though exiled forth of realms once mightiest of all the sun-god sees when moving from his utmost eastern bound. From Jove our line began; the sons of Troy boast Jove to be their sire, and our true King is of Olympian seed. To thine abode Trojan Aeneas sent us. How there burst o'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae's kings a tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom all Asia's world with Europe clashed in war, that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest isle has banished to the Ocean's rim, or he whose dwelling is the ample zone that burns betwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms, far severed from the world. We are the men from war's destroying deluge safely borne over the waters wide. We only ask some low-roofed dwelling for our fathers' gods, some friendly shore, and, what to all is free, water
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 7, line 341 (search)
r yielded all her soul, but made her plea in gentle accents such as mothers use; and many a tear she shed, about her child, her darling, destined for a Phrygian's bride: “O father! can we give Lavinia's hand to Trojan fugitives? why wilt thou show no mercy on thy daughter, nor thyself; nor unto me, whom at the first fair wind that wretch will leave deserted, bearing far upon his pirate ship my stolen child? Was it not thus that Phrygian shepherd came to Lacedaemon, ravishing away Helen, the child of Leda, whom he bore to those false Trojan lands? Hast thou forgot thy plighted word? Where now thy boasted love of kith and kin, and many a troth-plight given unto our kinsman Turnus? If we need an alien son, and Father Faunus' words irrevocably o'er thy spirit brood, I tell thee every land not linked with ours under one sceptre, but distinct and free, is alien; and 't is thus the gods intend. Indeed, if Turnus' ancient race be told, it sprang of Inachus, Acrisius, and out of mid-Mycenae.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 9, line 123 (search)
n of this land is ours already; thousands of sharp swords Italia's nations bring. Small fear have I of Phrygia's boasted omens. What to me their oracles from heaven? The will of Fate and Venus have achieved their uttermost in casting on Ausonia's fruitful shore yon sons of Troy. I too have destinies: and mine, good match for theirs, with this true blade will spill the blood of all the baneful brood, in vengeance for my stolen wife. Such wrongs move not on Atreus' sons alone, nor rouse only Mycenae to a righteous war. Say you, ‘Troy falls but once?’ One crime, say I, should have contented them; and now their souls should little less than loathe all womankind. These are the sort of soldiers that be brave behind entrenchment, where the moated walls may stem the foe and make a little room betwixt themselves and death. Did they not see how Troy's vast bulwark built by Neptune's hand crumbled in flame? Forward, my chosen brave! Who follows me to cleave his deadly way through yonder battlem
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 11, line 243 (search)
Simois' wave) have paid the penalty in many a land with chastisement accurst and changeful woe, till Priam's self might pity. Let the star of Pallas tell its tale of fatal storm, off grim Caphereus and Eubcea's crags. Driven asunder from one field of war, Atrides unto farthest Egypt strayed, and wise Ulysses saw from Aetna's caves the Cyclops gathering. Why name the throne of Pyrrhus, or the violated hearth whence fled Idomeneus? Or Locri cast on Libya's distant shore? For even he, Lord of Mycenae by the Greeks obeyed, fell murdered on his threshold by the hand of that polluted wife, whose paramour trapped Asia's conqueror. The envious gods withheld me also from returning home to see once more the hearth-stone of my sires, the wife I yearn for, and my Calydon, the beauteous land. For wonders horrible pursue me still. My vanished followers through upper air take wing, or haunt and rove in forms of birds the island waters o'er: ah me, what misery my people feel! The tall rocks ring wit
P. Vergilius Maro, Georgics (ed. J. B. Greenough), Book 3, line 95 (search)
ourse and go, When youthful hope is highest, and every heart Drained with each wild pulsation? How they ply The circling lash, and reaching forward let The reins hang free! Swift spins the glowing wheel; And now they stoop, and now erect in air Seem borne through space and towering to the sky: No stop, no stay; the dun sand whirls aloft; They reek with foam-flakes and pursuing breath; So sweet is fame, so prized the victor's palm. 'Twas Ericthonius first took heart to yoke Four horses to his car, and rode above The whirling wheels to victory: but the ring And bridle-reins, mounted on horses' backs, The Pelethronian Lapithae bequeathed, And taught the knight in arms to spurn the ground, And arch the upgathered footsteps of his pride. Each task alike is arduous, and for each A horse young, fiery, swift of foot, they seek; How oft so-e'er yon rival may have chased The flying foe, or boast his native plain Epirus, or Mycenae's stubborn hold, And trace his lineage back to Neptune's birth.
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 6, line 1 (search)
y, and enclose the land, He bade his columns leave their rocky hold And seize on posts of vantage in the plain; Thus forcing Caesar to extend his troops On wider lines; and holding for his own Such space encompassed as divides from Rome Aricia,Aricia was situated on the Via Appia, about sixteen miles from Rome. There was a temple of Diana close to it, among some woods on a small lake. Aricia was Horace's first halting place on his journey to Brundisium sacred to that goddess chaste Of old Mycenae; or as Tiber holds From Rome's high ramparts to the Tuscan sea, Unless he deviate. No trumpet call Commands an onset, and the darts that fly Fly though forbidden; but the arm that flings For proof the lance, at random, here and there Deals impious slaughter. Weighty care compelled Each leader to withhold his troops from fight; For there the weary earth of produce failed Pressed by Pompeius' steeds, whose horny hoofs Rang in their gallop on the grassy fields And killed the succulence. They s
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