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Browsing named entities in P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams). You can also browse the collection for Troy (Turkey) or search for Troy (Turkey) in all documents.

Your search returned 166 results in 107 document sections:

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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 147 (search)
'T was night, and sleep possessed all breathing things; when, lo! the sacred effigies divine, the Phrygian gods which through the flames I bore from fallen Troy, seemed in a vision clear to stand before me where I slumbering lay, bathed in bright beams which from the moon at full streamed through the latticed wall: and thus they s away. “Apollo's word, which in far Delos the god meant for thee, is uttered here. Behold, he sends ourselves to this thy house, before thy prayer is made. We from Troy's ashes have companioned thee in every fight; and we the swollen seas, guided by thee, in thine own ships have crossed; our power divine shall set among the stars wned our stock two-branched, of our great sires the twofold line, and that his thought had strayed, in new confusion mingling ancient names; then spoke: “O son, in Ilium's doom severe afflicted ever! To my ears alone this dark vicissitude Cassandra sang. I mind me now that her wild tongue foretold such destiny. For oft she called a
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 320 (search)
ws and lowly voice she cried : “O, happy only was that virgin blest, daughter of Priam, summoned forth to die in sight of Ilium, on a foeman's tomb! No casting of the lot her doom decreed, nor came she to her conqueror's couch a slave. Myself from burning Ilium carried far o'er seas and seas, endured the swollen pride of that young scion of Achilles' race, and bore him as his slave a son. When he sued for Hermione, of Leda's line, and nuptial-bond with Lacedaemon's Iords, I, the slave-wife, tower divine did waft thee to our shore, not knowing whither? Tell me of the boy Ascanius! Still breathes he earthly air? In Troy she bore him—is he mourning still that mother ravished from his childhood's eyes? what ancient valor stirs the manly soul glad at heart gave guidance to his house, though oft his words fell faltering and few, with many a tear. Soon to a humbler Troy I lift my eyes, and of a mightier Pergamus discern the towering semblance; there a scanty stream runs on in Xanthus' name,
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 356 (search)
Day followed day, while favoring breezes beckoned us to sea, and swelled the waiting canvas as they blew. Then to the prophet-priest I made this prayer: “Offspring of Troy, interpreter of Heaven! Who knowest Phoebus' power, and readest well the tripod, stars, and vocal laurel leaves to Phoebus dear, who know'st of every bird the ominous swift wing or boding song, o, speak! For all my course good omens showed, and every god admonished me to sail in quest of Italy's far-distant shores; but lone Celaeno, heralding strange woe, foretold prodigious horror, vengeance dark, and vile, unnatural hunger. How elude such perils? Or by what hard duty done may such huge host of evils vanquished be?” Then Helenus, with sacrifice of kine in order due, implored the grace of Heaven, unloosed the fillets from his sacred brow, and led me, Phoebus, to thy temple's door, awed by th' o'er-brooding godhead, whose true priest, with lips inspired, made this prophetic so
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 441 (search)
order, and conceals them well in her deep cave, where they abide unchanged in due array. Yet not a care has she, if with some swinging hinge a breeze sweeps in, to catch them as they whirl: if open door disperse them flutterlig through the hollow rock, she will not link their shifted sense anew, nor re-invent her fragmentary song. Oft her unanswered votaries depart, scorning the Sibyl's shrine. But deem not thou thy tarrying too Iong, whate'er thy stay. Though thy companions chide, though winds of power invite thy ship to sea, and well would speed the swelling sail, yet to that Sibyl go. Pray that her own lips may sing forth for thee the oracles, uplifting her dread voice in willing prophecy. Her rede shall tell of Italy, its wars and tribes to be, and of what way each burden and each woe may be escaped, or borne. Her favoring aid will grant swift, happy voyages to thy prayer. Such counsels Heaven to my lips allows. arise, begone! and by thy glorious deeds set Troy among the stars!
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 472 (search)
wind so fair; and answering him, Apollo's priest made reverent adieu: “Anchises, honored by the love sublime of Venus, self and twice in safety borne from falling Troy, chief care of kindly Heaven, th' Ausonian shore is thine. Sail thitherward! For thou art pre-ordained to travel far o'er yonder seas; far in the distance lies thaand I go; but ye have won repose. No leagues of sea await your cleaving keel. Not yours the quest of fading Italy's delusive shore. Here a new Xanthus and a second Troy your labor fashioned and your eyes may see— more blest, I trust, less tempting to our foes! If e'er on Tiber and its bordering vales I safely enter, and these eyess! If e'er on Tiber and its bordering vales I safely enter, and these eyes behold our destined walls, then in fraternal bond let our two nations live, whose mutual boast is one Dardanian blood, one common story. Epirus with Hesperia shall be one Troy in heart and soul. But this remains for our sons' sons the happy task and car
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 588 (search)
retched in supplication. We turned back and scanned him well. All grime and foulness he, with long and tangled beard, his savage garb fastened with thorns; but in all else he seemed a Greek, and in his country's league of arms sent to the seige of Troy. Then he beheld the Dardan habit, and our Trojan steel, he somewhat paused, as if in dread dismay such sight to see, and falteringly moved; but soon with headlong steps he sought the shore, ejaculating broken sobs and prayers: “By stars above! By gods on high! O, hear! By this bright heavenly air we mortals breathe, save me, sweet Trojans! Carry me away unto what land ye will! I ask no more. I came, I know it, in the ships of Greece; and I did war, 't is true, with Ilium's gods. O, if the crime deserve it, fling my corse on yonder waves, and in the boundless brine sink me forever! Give me in my death the comfort that by human hands I die.” He clasped our knees, and writhing on his own clung fast. We bid him tell his race and name, and b
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 613 (search)
“My home was Ithaca, and I partook the fortunes of Ulysses evil-starred. My name is Achemenides, my sire was Adamastus, and I sailed for Troy, being so poor,—O, that I ne'er had change the lot I bore! In yon vast Cyclops' cave my comrades, flying from its gruesome door, left me behind, forgotten. 'T is a house of gory feasts of flesh, 't is deep and dark, and vaulted high. He looms as high as heaven; I pray the blessed gods to rid the earth of the vile monster! None can look on him, none speak with him. He feeds on clotted gore of disembowelled men. These very eyes saw him seize two of our own company, and, as he lolled back in the cave, he clutched and dashed them on the stones, fouling the floor with torrent of their blood; myself I saw him crunch with his teeth the dripping, bloody limbs still hot and pulsing on his hungry jaw. But not without reward! For such a sight Ulysses would not brook, and Ithaca forgot not in such strait the name he bore. For soon as, gorged with feasting an
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 105 (search)
, with mingling blood and sworn, perpetual peace. His wife thou art; it is thy rightful due to plead to know his mind. Go, ask him, then! For humbly I obey!” With instant word Juno the Queen replied: “Leave that to me! But in what wise our urgent task and grave may soon be sped, I will in brief unfold to thine attending ear. A royal hunt in sylvan shades unhappy Dido gives for her Aeneas, when to-morrow's dawn uplifts its earliest ray and Titan's beam shall first unveil the world. But I will pour black storm-clouds with a burst of heavy hail along their way; and as the huntsmen speed to hem the wood with snares, I will arouse all heaven with thunder. The attending train shall scatter and be veiled in blinding dark, while Dido and her hero out of Troy to the same cavern fly. My auspices I will declare—if thou alike wilt bless; and yield her in true wedlock for his bride. Such shall their spousal be!” To Juno's will Cythera's Queen inclined assenting brow, and laughed such guile
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 160 (search)
Meanwhile low thunders in the distant sky mutter confusedly; soon bursts in full the storm-cloud and the hail. The Tyrian troop is scattered wide; the chivalry of Troy, with the young heir of Dardan's kingly line, of Venus sprung, seek shelter where they may, with sudden terror; down the deep ravines the swollen torrents roar. In that same hour Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign; the flash of lightnings on the consts roar. In that same hour Queen Dido and her hero out of Troy to the same cavern fly. Old Mother-Earth and wedlock-keeping Juno gave the sign; the flash of lightnings on the conscious air were torches to the bridal; from the hills the wailing wood-nymphs sobbed a wedding song. Such was that day of death, the source and spring of many a woe. For Dido took no heed of honor and good-name; nor did she mean her loves to hide; but called the lawlessness a marriage, and with phrases veiled her shame.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 4, line 296 (search)
of my kingdom? Did our mutual joy not move thee; nor thine own true promise given once on a time? Nor Dido, who will die a death of sorrow? Why compel thy ships to brave the winter stars? Why off to sea so fast through stormy skies? O, cruelty! If Troy still stood, and if thou wert not bound for alien shore unknown, wouldst steer for Troy through yonder waste of waves? Is it from me thou takest flight? O, by these flowing tears, by thine own plighted word (for nothing more my weakness left to miTroy through yonder waste of waves? Is it from me thou takest flight? O, by these flowing tears, by thine own plighted word (for nothing more my weakness left to miserable me), by our poor marriage of imperfect vow, if aught to me thou owest, if aught in me ever have pleased thee—O, be merciful to my low-fallen fortunes! I implore, if place be left for prayer, thy purpose change! Because of thee yon Libyan savages and nomad chiefs are grown implacable, and my own Tyrians hate me. Yes, for thee my chastity was slain and honor fair, by which alone to glory I aspired, in former days. To whom dost thou in death abandon me? my guest!—since but this name is left
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