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P. Vergilius Maro, Georgics (ed. J. B. Greenough), Book 3, line 440 (search)
iron a man dare lance The ulcer's mouth ope: for the taint is fed And quickened by confinement; while the swain His hand of healing from the wound withholds, Or sits for happier signs imploring heaven. Aye, and when inward to the bleater's bones The pain hath sunk and rages, and their limbs By thirsty fever are consumed, 'tis good To draw the enkindled heat therefrom, and pierce Within the hoof-clefts a blood-bounding vein. Of tribes Bisaltic such the wonted use, And keen Gelonian, when to Rhodope He flies, or Getic desert, and quaffs milk With horse-blood curdled. Seest one far afield Oft to the shade's mild covert win, or pull The grass tops listlessly, or hindmost lag, Or, browsing, cast her down amid the plain, At night retire belated and alone; With quick knife check the mischief, ere it creep With dire contagion through the unwary herd. Less thick and fast the whirlwind scours the main With tempest in its wake, than swarm the plagues Of cattle; nor seize they single lives alone
P. Vergilius Maro, Georgics (ed. J. B. Greenough), Book 4, line 453 (search)
hat plagues thee thus, Nor light the debt thou payest; 'tis Orpheus' self, Orpheus unhappy by no fault of his, So fates prevent not, fans thy penal fires, Yet madly raging for his ravished bride. She in her haste to shun thy hot pursuit Along the stream, saw not the coming death, Where at her feet kept ward upon the bank In the tall grass a monstrous water-snake. But with their cries the Dryad-band her peers Filled up the mountains to their proudest peaks: Wailed for her fate the heights of Rhodope, And tall Pangaea, and, beloved of Mars, The land that bowed to Rhesus, Thrace no less With Hebrus' stream; and Orithyia wept, Daughter of Acte old. But Orpheus' self, Soothing his love-pain with the hollow shell, Thee his sweet wife on the lone shore alone, Thee when day dawned and when it died he sang. Nay to the jaws of Taenarus too he came, Of Dis the infernal palace, and the grove Grim with a horror of great darkness—came, Entered, and faced the Manes and the King Of terrors, the stone
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 2, line 193 (search)
ere turnde to ashes with the rocks and mountains where they stood. Then Athe, Cilician, Taure and Tmole and Oeta flamed hie, And Ide erst full of flowing springs was then made utter drie. The learned virgins daily haunt, the sacred Helicon, And Thracian Hemus (not as yet surnamde Oeagrion,) Did smoke both twaine: and Aetna hote of nature aye before, Encreast by force of Phebus flame now raged ten times more. The forkt Parnasus, Eryx, Cynth, and Othrys then did swelt And all the snow of Rhodope did at that present melt. The like outrage Mount Dindymus, and Mime and Micale felt. Cytheron borne to sacred use with Osse, and Pindus hie And Olymp greater than them both did burne excessively. The passing colde that Scithie had defended not the same But that the barren Caucasus was partner of this flame. And so were eke the Airie Alpes and Appennyne beside, For all the Cloudes continually their snowie tops doe hide. Then wheresoever Phaeton did chaunce to cast his vew, The worl
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 6, line 587 (search)
It was the time that wives of Thrace were wont to celebrate The three yeare rites of Bacchus which were done a nighttimes late. A nighttimes soundeth Rhodope of tincling pannes and pots: A nighttimes giving up hir house abrode Queene Progne trots Disguisde like Bacchus other froes and armed to the proofe With all the frenticke furniture that serves for that behoofe. Hir head was covered with a vine. About hir loose was tuckt A Reddeeres skin, a lightsome Launce upon hir shoulder ruckt. In post gaddes terrible Progne through the woods, and at hir heeles A flocke of froes. And where the sting of sorrow which she feeles Enforceth hir to furiousnesse, she feynes it to proceede Of Bacchus motion. At the length she finding out in deede The outset Graunge howlde out, and cride, Now well, and open brake The gates, and streight hir sister thence by force of hand did take, And veyling hir in like attire of Bacchus, hid hir head With Ivie leaves, and home to Court hir sore amazed led. As
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 7, line 337 (search)
ctioned by all the annals designate With consular titles? Happier far the Medes And blest Arabia, and the Eastern lands Held by a kindlier fate in despot rule! That nation serves the worst which serves with shame. No guardian gods watch over us from heaven: Jove "Hath Jove no thunder?" Ben Jonson, 'Catiline,' iii., 2. is no king; let ages whirl along In blind confusion: from his throne supreme Shall he behold such carnage and restrain His thunderbolts? On Mimas shall he hurl His fires, on Rhodope and OEta's woods Unmeriting such chastisement, and leave This life to Cassius' hand? On Argos fell At grim Thyestes' feastCompare Book I., line 603. untimely night By him thus hastened; shall Thessalia's land Receive full daylight, wielding kindred swords In fathers' hands and brothers'? Careless of men Are all the gods. Yet for this day of doom Such vengeance have we reaped as deities May give to mortals; for these wars shall raise Our parted Caesars to the gods; and Rome Shall deck thei
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