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Document | Max. Freq | Min. Freq | ||
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Polybius, Histories | 84 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Pausanias, Description of Greece | 42 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War | 8 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Apollodorus, Library and Epitome (ed. Sir James George Frazer) | 8 | 0 | Browse | Search |
C. Julius Caesar, Commentaries on the Civil War (ed. William Duncan) | 8 | 0 | Browse | Search |
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams) | 4 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Homer, The Iliad (ed. Samuel Butler) | 4 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) | 2 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Apollodorus, Library and Epitome (ed. Sir James George Frazer) | 2 | 0 | Browse | Search |
C. Suetonius Tranquillus, The Lives of the Caesars (ed. Alexander Thomson) | 2 | 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 Aetolia (Greece) or search for Aetolia (Greece) in all documents.
Your search returned 2 results in 2 document sections:
When Turnus from Laurentum's bastion proud
published the war, and roused the dreadful note
of the harsh trumpet's song; when on swift steeds
the lash he laid and clashed his sounding arms;
then woke each warrior soul; all Latium stirred
with tumult and alarm; and martial rage
enkindled youth's hot blood. The chieftains proud,
Messapus, Ufens, and that foe of Heaven,
Mezentius, compel from far and wide
their loyal hosts, and strip the field and farm
of husbandmen. To seek auxiliar arms
they send to glorious Diomed's domain
the herald Venulus, and bid him cry:
“Troy is to Latium come; Aeneas' fleet
has come to land. He brings his vanquished gods,
and gives himself to be our destined King.
Cities not few accept him, and his name
through Latium waxes large. But what the foe
by such attempt intends, what victory
is his presumptuous hope, if Fortune smile,
Aetolia's lord will not less wisely fear
than royal Turnus or our Latin King.
“Less evil were our case, if long ago
ye had provided for your country's weal,
O Latins, as I urged. It is no time
to hold dispute, while, compassing our walls,
the foeman waits. Ill-omened war is ours
against a race of gods, my countrymen,
invincible, unwearied in the fray,
and who, though lost and fallen, clutch the sword.
If hope ye cherished of Aetolia's power,
dismiss it! For what hope ye have is found
in your own bosoms only. But ye know
how slight it is and small. What ruin wide
has fallen, is now palpable and clear.
No blame I cast. What valor's uttermost
may do was done; our kingdom in this war
strained its last thews. Now therefore I will tell
such project as my doubtful mind may frame,
and briefly, if ye give good heed, unfold:
an ancient tract have I, close-bordering
the river Tiber; it runs westward far
beyond Sicania's bound, and filth it bears
to Rutule and Auruncan husbandmen,
who furrow its hard hills or feed their flocks
along the stonier slopes. Let this demesne,
t