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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.

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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 62 (search)
ss behest of mine, impelled him to such harm? Who traces here the hand of Juno, or of Iris sped from heaven? Is it an ignoble stroke that Italy around the new-born Troy makes circling fire, and Turnus plants his heel on his hereditary earth, the son of old Pilumnus and the nymph divine, Venilia? For what offence would Troy bring sTroy bring sword and fire on Latium, or enslave lands of an alien name, and bear away plunder and spoil? Why seek they marriages, and snatch from arms of love the plighted maids? An olive-branch is in their hands; their ships make menace of grim steel. Thy power one day ravished Aeneas from his Argive foes, and gave them shape of cloud and fl rouse a city pregnant with loud wars, and fiery hearts provoke? That fading power of Phrygia, do I, forsooth, essay to ruin utterly? O, was it I exposed ill-fated Troy to Argive foe? For what offence in vast array of arms did Europe rise and Asia, for a rape their peace dissolving? Was it at my word th' adulterous Dardan shepherd
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 96 (search)
w, Earth's utmost cavern shook; the realms of light were silent; the mild zephyrs breathed no more, and perfect calm o'erspread the levelled sea. “Give ear, ye gods, and in your hearts record my mandate and decree. Fate yet allows no peace 'twixt Troy and Italy, nor bids your quarrel end. Therefore, what Chance this day to either foe shall bring, whatever hope either may cherish,—the Rutulian cause and Trojan have like favor in my eyes. The destinies of Italy constrain the siege; which for the ain the siege; which for the fault of Troy fulfills an oracle of woe. Yon Rutule host I scatter not. But of his own attempt let each the triumph and the burden bear; for Jove is over all an equal King. The Fates will find the way.” The god confirmed his sentence by his Stygian brother's wave, the shadowy flood and black, abysmal shore. He nodded; at the bending of his brow Olympus shook. It is the council's end. Now from the golden throne uprises Jove; the train of gods attend him to the d
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 362 (search)
llas spied th' Arcadian band, unused to fight on foot, in full retreat, the Latins following close— who also for the roughness of the ground were all unmounted: he (the last resource of men in straits) to wild entreaty turned and taunts, enkindling their faint hearts anew: “Whither, my men! O, by your own brave deeds, O, by our lord Evander's happy wars, the proud hopes I had to make my name a rival glory,—think not ye can fly! Your swords alone can carve ye the safe way straight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throng is fiercest, thickest, there and only there your Country's honor calls for men like you, and for your captain Pallas. Nay, no gods against us fight; we are but mortal men pressed by a mortal foe. Not more than ours the number of their lives or swords. Behold, the barrier of yonder spreading sea emprisons us, and for a craven flight yon lands are all too small. Ha! Shall we steer across the sea to Troy?” He said, and sprang full in the centre of his gathere
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 439 (search)
e, Alcides, and give aid divine to this great deed. Let Turnus see these hands strip from his half-dead breast the bloody spoil! and let his eyes in death endure to see his conqueror!” Alcides heard the youth: but prisoned in his heart a deep-drawn sigh, and shed vain tears; for Jove, the King and Sire, . spoke with benignant accents to his son: “To each his day is given. Beyond recall man's little time runs by: but to prolong life's glory by great deeds is virtue's power. Beneath the lofty walls of fallen Troy fell many a son of Heaven. Yea, there was slain Sarpedon, my own offspring. Turnus too is summoned to his doom, and nears the bounds of his appointed span.” So speaking, Jove turned from Rutulia's war his eyes away. But Pallas hurled his lance with might and main, and from its hollow scabbard flashed his sword. The flying shaft touched where the plated steel over the shoulders rose, and worked its way through the shield's rim—then falling, glanced aside from Turnus' gian
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 510 (search)
No doubtful rumor to Aeneas breaks the direful news, but a sure messenger tells him his followers' peril, and implores prompt help for routed Troy. His ready sword reaped down the nearest foes, and through their line clove furious path and broad; the valiant blade through oft-repeated bloodshed groped its way, proud Turnus, unto thee! His heart beholds Pallas and Sire Evander, their kind board in welcome spread, their friendly league of peace proffered and sealed with him, the stranger-guest. So Sulmo's sons, four warriors, and four of Ufens sprung, he took alive—to slay as victims to the shades, and pour a stream of captives' blood upon a flaming pyre. Next from afar his hostile shaft he threw at Mago, who with wary motion bowed beneath the quivering weapon, as it sped clean over him; then at Aeneas' knees he crouched and clung with supplicating cry: “O, by thy father's spirit, by thy hope in young Iulus, I implore thee, spare for son and father's sake this life of mine. A lofty house
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 633 (search)
She ceased; and swiftly from the peak of heaven moved earthward, trailing cloud-wrack through the air, and girdled with the storm. She took her way to where Troy's warriors faced Laurentum's line. There of a hollow cloud the goddess framed a shape of airy, unsubstantial shade, Aeneas' image, wonderful to see, and decked it with a Dardan lance and shield, a crested helmet on the godlike head; and windy words she gave of soulless sound, and motion like a stride—such shapes, they say, the hovering phantoms of the dead put on, or empty dreams which cheat our slumbering eyes. Forth to the front of battle this vain shade stalked insolent, and with its voice and spear challenged the warrior. At it Turnus flew, and hurled a hissing spear with distant aim; the thing wheeled round and fled. The foe forthwith, thinking Aeneas vanquished, with blind scorn flattered his own false hope: “Where wilt thou fly, Aeneas? Wilt thou break a bridegroom's word? This sword will give thee title to some land t
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 689 (search)
At Jove's command Mezentius, breathing rage, now takes the field and leads a strong assault against victorious Troy. The Tuscan ranks meet round him, and press hard on him alone, on him alone with vengeance multiplied their host of swords they draw. As some tall cliff, projecting to the sea, receives the rage of winds and waters, and untrembling bears vast, frowning enmity of seas and skies,— so he. First Dolichaon's son he slew, Hebrus; then Latagus and Palmus, though they fled amain; he smote with mighty stone torn from the mountain, full upon the face of Latagus; and Palmus he let lie hamstrung and rolling helpless; he bestowed the arms on his son Lausus for a prize, another proud crest in his helm to wear; he laid the Phrygian Euanthus Iow; and Mimas, Paris' comrade, just his age,— born of Theano's womb to Amycus his sire, that night when royal Hecuba, teeming with firebrand, gave Paris birth: one in the city of his fathers sleeps; and one, inglorious, on Laurentian strand. As when
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 11, line 122 (search)
and ever armed with spite and slanderous word against young Turnus, made this answering plea: “O prince of mighty name, whose feats of arms are even mightier! Trojan hero, how shall my poor praise exalt thee to the skies? Is it thy rectitude or strenuous war most bids me wonder? We will bear thy word right gladly to the city of our sires; and there, if Fortune favor it, contrive a compact with the Latin King. Henceforth let Turnus find his own allies! Ourselves will much rejoice to see thy destined walls, and our own shoulders will be proud to bear the stone for building Troy.” Such speech he made, and all the common voice consented loud. So twelve days' truce they swore, and safe from harm Latins and Teucrians unmolested roved together o'er the wooded hills. Now rang loud steel on ash-tree bole; enormous pines, once thrusting starward, to the earth they threw; and with industrious wedge asunder clove stout oak and odorous cedar, piling high harvest of ash-trees on the creaking wa
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 11, line 243 (search)
braved all perils to our journey's end and clasped that hand whereof the dreadful stroke wrought Ilium's fall. The hero built a town, Argyripa, hereditary name, near mount Garganus in Apulian land: plind tempts ye from peace away, and now ensnares in wars unknown? Look how we men that dared lay Ilium waste (I speak not of what woes in battling neath her lofty walls we bore, nor of dead warriors Venus. Urge me not, I pray, to conflicts in this wise. No more for me of war with Trojans after Ilium's fall! I take no joy in evils past, nor wish such memory to renew. Go, lay these gifts, broughthave known the stature of him when he lifts his shield, and swings the whirlwind of his spear. If Troy two more such sons had bred, the Dardan horde had stormed at Argos' gates, and Greece to-day were for her fallen fortunes grieving sore. Our lingering at Ilium's stubborn wall, our sluggard conquest halting ten years Iong, was his and Hector's work. Heroic pair! Each one for valor notable, and e
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 11, line 376 (search)
en talk, such as thy tongue in safety tosses forth; so long as walls hold back thy foes, and ere the trenches flow with blood of brave men slain. O, rattle on in fluent thunder—thy habitual style! Brand me a coward, Drances, when thy sword has heaped up Trojan slain, and on the field thy shining trophies rise. Now may we twain our martial prowess prove. Our foe, forsooth, is not so far to seek; around yon wall he lies in siege: to front him let us fly! Why art thou tarrying? Wilt thou linger here, a soldier only in thy windy tongue, and thy swift, coward heels? Defeated, I? Foul wretch, what tongue that honors truth can tell of my defeat, while Tiber overflows with Trojan blood? while King Evander's house in ruin dies, and his Arcadians lie stripped naked on the field? O, not like thee did Bitias or the giant Pandarus misprize my honor; nor those men of Troy whom this good sword to death and dark sent down, a thousand in a day,—though I was penned a prisoner in the ramparts of my f
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