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Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 202 0 Browse Search
Polybius, Histories 132 0 Browse Search
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley) 56 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 44 0 Browse Search
Diodorus Siculus, Library 34 0 Browse Search
Apollodorus, Library and Epitome (ed. Sir James George Frazer) 28 0 Browse Search
Strabo, Geography 20 0 Browse Search
Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation 18 0 Browse Search
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams) 16 0 Browse Search
Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War 14 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington). You can also browse the collection for Libya (Libya) or search for Libya (Libya) in all documents.

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Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 1 (search)
Maecenas, born of monarch ancestors, The shield at once and glory of my life! There are who joy them in the Olympic strife And love the dust they gather in the course; The goal by hot wheels shunn'd, the famous prize, Exalt them to the gods that rule mankind; This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind Through triple grade of honours bid him rise, That, if his granary has stored away Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire; The man who digs his field as did his sire, With honest pride, no Attalus may sway By proffer'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas, The timorous captain of a Cyprian bark. The winds that make Icarian billows dark The merchant fears, and hugs the rural ease Of his own village home; but soon, ashamed Of penury, he refits his batter'd craft. There is, who thinks no scorn of Massic draught, Who robs the daylight of an hour unblamed, Now stretch'd beneath the arbute on the sward, Now by some gentle river's sacred spring; Some love the camp, the clarion's joyous ring, And ba
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 2, Poem 2 (search)
The silver, Sallust, shows not fair While buried in the greedy mine: You love it not till moderate wear Have given it shine. Honour to Proculeius! he To brethren play'd a father's part; Fame shall embalm through years to be That noble heart. Who curbs a greedy soul may boast More power than if his broad-based throne Bridged Libya's sea, and either coast Were all his own. Indulgence bids the dropsy grow; Who fain would quench the palate's flame Must rescue from the watery foe The pale weak frame. Phraates, throned where Cyrus sate, May count for blest with vulgar herds, But not with Virtue; soon or late From lying words She weans men's lips; for him she keeps The crown, the purple, and the bays, Who dares to look on treasure-heaps With unblench'd gaze.