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Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 464 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams). You can also browse the collection for Greece (Greece) or search for Greece (Greece) in all documents.

Your search returned 14 results in 13 document sections:

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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 81 (search)
tled line, and sweep tumultuous from land to land: with brooding pinions o'er the waters spread, east wind and south, and boisterous Afric gale upturn the sea; vast billows shoreward roll; the shout of mariners, the creak of cordage, follow the shock; low-hanging clouds conceal from Trojan eyes all sight of heaven and day; night o'er the ocean broods; from sky to sky the thunders roll, the ceaseless lightnings glare; and all things mean swift death for mortal man. Straightway Aeneas, shuddering with amaze, groaned loud, upraised both holy hands to Heaven, and thus did plead: “O thrice and four times blest, ye whom your sires and whom the walls of Troy looked on in your last hour! O bravest son Greece ever bore, Tydides! O that I had fallen on Ilian fields, and given this life struck down by thy strong hand! where by the spear of great Achilles, fiery Hector fell, and huge Sarpedon; where the Simois in furious flood engulfed and whirled away so many helms and shields and heroes slain!
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 723 (search)
amous Atlas: of the moon he sang, the wanderer, and what the sun's vast labors be; then would his music tell whence man and beast were born, and whence were bred clouds, lightnings, and Arcturus' stormful sign, the Hyades, rain-stars, and nigh the Pole the great and lesser Wain; for well he knew why colder suns make haste to quench their orb in ocean-stream, and wintry nights be slow. Loudly the Tyrians their minstrel praised, and Troy gave prompt applause. Dido the while with varying talk prolonged the fateful night, and drank both long and deep of love and wine. Now many a tale of Priam would she crave, of Hector many; or what radiant arms Aurora's son did wear; what were those steeds of Diomed, or what the stature seemed of great Achilles. “Come, illustrious guest, begin the tale,” she said, “begin and tell the perfidy of Greece, thy people's fall, and all thy wanderings. For now,—Ah, me! Seven times the summer's burning stars have seen thee wandering far o'er alien lands an
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 13 (search)
Wearied of the war, and by ill-fortune crushed, year after year, the kings of Greece, by Pallas' skill divine, build a huge horse, a thing of mountain size, with timbered ribs of fir. They falsely say it has been vowed to Heaven for safe return, and spread this lie abroad. Then they conceal choice bands of warriors in the deep, dark side, and fill the caverns of that monstrous womb with arms and soldiery.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 40 (search)
Then from the citadel, conspicuous, Laocoon, with all his following choir, hurried indignant down; and from afar thus hailed the people: “O unhappy men! What madness this? Who deems our foemen fled? Think ye the gifts of Greece can lack for guile? Have ye not known Ulysses? The Achaean hides, caged in yonder beams; or this is reared for engin'ry on our proud battlements, to spy upon our roof-tops, or descend in ruin on the city. 'T is a snare. Trust not this horse, O Troy, whate'er it bode! I fear the Greeks, though gift on gift they bear.” So saying, he whirled with ponderous javelin a sturdy stroke straight at the rounded side of the great, jointed beast. A tremor struck its towering form, and through the cavernous womb rolled loud, reverberate rumbling, deep and long. If heaven's decree, if our own wills, that hour, had not been fixed on woe, his spear had brought a bloody slaughter on our ambushed foe, and Troy were standing on the earth this day! O Priam's towers, ye were unfallen
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 77 (search)
him (Ye know the deed), he from this world withdrew, and I in gloom and tribulation sore lived miserably on, lamenting loud my lost friend's blameless fall. A fool was I that kept not these lips closed; but I had vowed that if a conqueror home to Greece I came, I would avenge. Such words moved wrath, and were the first shock of my ruin; from that hour, Ulysses whispered slander and alarm; breathed doubt and malice into all men's ears, and darkly plotted how to strike his blow. Nor rest had he, t words moved wrath, and were the first shock of my ruin; from that hour, Ulysses whispered slander and alarm; breathed doubt and malice into all men's ears, and darkly plotted how to strike his blow. Nor rest had he, till Calchas, as his tool,- but why unfold this useless, cruel story? Why make delay? Ye count all sons of Greece arrayed as one; and to have heard thus far suffices you. Take now your ripe revenge! Ulysses smiles and Atreus' royal sons with liberal price your deed of blood repay.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 105 (search)
away war-wearied quite. O, would it had been so! Full oft the wintry tumult of the seas did wall them round, and many a swollen storm their embarcation stayed. But chiefly when, all fitly built of beams of maple fair, this horse stood forth,— what thunders filled the skies! With anxious fears we sent Eurypylus to ask Apollo's word; and from the shrine he brings the sorrowful commandment home: ‘By flowing blood and by a virgin slain the wild winds were appeased, when first ye came, ye sons of Greece, to Ilium's distant shore. Through blood ye must return. Let some Greek life your expiation be.’ The popular ear the saying caught, all spirits were dimmed o'er; cold doubt and horror through each bosom ran, asking what fate would do, and on what wretch Apollo's choice would fall. Ulysses, then, amid the people's tumult and acclaim, thrust Calchas forth, some prophecy to tell to all the throng: he asked him o'er and o'er what Heaven desired. Already not a few foretold the murderous plot, and<
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 145 (search)
me true! What means the monstrous fabric of this horse? Who made it? Why? What offering to Heaven, or engin'ry of conquest may it be?” He spake; and in reply, with skilful guile, Greek that he was! the other lifted up his hands, now freed and chainless, to the skies: “O ever-burning and inviolate fires, witness my word! O altars and sharp steel, whose curse I fled, O fillets of the gods, which bound a victim's helpless forehead, hear! 'T is lawful now to break the oath that gave my troth to Greece. To execrate her kings is now my solemn duty. Their whole plot I publish to the world. No fatherland and no allegiance binds me any more. O Troy, whom I have saved, I bid thee keep the pledge of safety by good Priam given, for my true tale shall my rich ransom be. The Greeks' one hope, since first they opened war, was Pallas, grace and power. But from the day when Diomed, bold scorner of the gods, and false Ulysses, author of all guile, rose up and violently bore away Palladium, her holy shr
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 268 (search)
That hour it was when heaven's first gift of sleep on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals. O, then my slumbering senses seemed to see Hector, with woeful face and streaming eyes; I seemed to see him from the chariot trailing, foul with dark dust and gore, his swollen feet pierced with a cruel thong. Ah me! what change from glorious Hector when he homeward bore the spoils of fierce Achilles; or hurled far that shower of torches on the ships of Greece! Unkempt his beard, his tresses thick with blood, and all those wounds in sight which he did take defending Troy. Then, weeping as I spoke, I seemed on that heroic shape to call with mournful utterance: “O star of Troy! O surest hope and stay of all her sons! Why tarriest thou so Iong? What region sends the long-expected Hector home once more? These weary eyes that look on thee have seen hosts of thy kindred die, and fateful change upon thy people and thy city fall. O, say what dire occasion has defiled thy tranquil brows? What mean tho
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 567 (search)
I stood there sole surviving; when, behold, to Vesta's altar clinging in dumb fear, hiding and crouching in the hallowed shade, Tyndarus' daughter!— 't was the burning town lighted full well my roving steps and eyes. In fear was she both of some Trojan's rage for Troy o'erthrown, and of some Greek revenge, or her wronged husband's Iong indignant ire. So hid she at that shrine her hateful brow, being of Greece and Troy, full well she knew, the common curse. Then in my bosom rose a blaze of wrath; methought I should avenge my dying country, and with horrid deed pay crime for crime. “Shall she return unscathed to Sparta, to Mycenae's golden pride, and have a royal triumph? Shall her eyes her sire and sons, her hearth and husband see, while Phrygian captives follow in her train? is Priam murdered? Have the flames swept o'er my native Troy? and cloth our Dardan strand sweat o'er and o'er with sanguinary dew? O, not thus unavenged! For though there be no glory if I smite a woman's crime, nor
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 278 (search)
So, safe at land, our hopeless peril past, we offered thanks to Jove, and kindled high his altars with our feast and sacrifice; then, gathering on Actium's holy shore, made fair solemnities of pomp and game. My youth, anointing their smooth, naked limbs, wrestled our wonted way. For glad were we, who past so many isles of Greece had sped and 'scaped our circling foes. Now had the sun rolled through the year's full circle, and the waves were rough with icy winter's northern gales. I hung for trophy on that temple door a swelling shield of brass (which once was worn by mighty Abas) graven with this line: SPOIL OF AENEAS FROM TRIUMPHANT FOES. Then from that haven I command them forth; my good crews take the thwarts, smiting the sea with rival strokes, and skim the level main. Soon sank Phaeacia's wind-swept citadels out of our view; we skirted the bold shores of proud Epirus, in Chaonian land, and made Buthrotum's port and towering town.
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