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Document | Max. Freq | Min. Freq | ||
---|---|---|---|---|
Homer, The Iliad (ed. Samuel Butler) | 194 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Aeschylus, Agamemnon (ed. Robert Browning) | 50 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Homer, Odyssey | 48 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Euripides, Rhesus (ed. Gilbert Murray) | 34 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge) | 32 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Aeschylus, Agamemnon (ed. Herbert Weir Smyth, Ph. D.) | 32 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Euripides, Hecuba (ed. E. P. Coleridge) | 22 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Euripides, Iphigenia in Aulis (ed. E. P. Coleridge) | 20 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) | 18 | 0 | Browse | Search |
Euripides, Helen (ed. E. P. Coleridge) | 18 | 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 Ilium (Turkey) or search for Ilium (Turkey) in all documents.
Your search returned 8 results in 6 document sections:
Lydia, by all above,
Why bear so hard on Sybaris, to ruin him with love?
What change has made him shun
The playing-ground, who once so well could bear the dust and sun?
Why does he never sit
On horseback in his company, nor with uneven bit
His Gallic courser tame?
Why dreads he yellow Tiber, as 'twould sully that fair frame?
Like poison loathes the oil,
His arms no longer black and blue with honourable toil,
He who erewhile was known
For quoit or javelin oft and oft beyond the limit thrown?
Why skulks he, as they say
Did Thetis' son before the dawn of Ilion's fatal day,
For fear the manly dress
Should fling him into danger's arms, amid the
Lycian press?
What the time from Inachus
To Codrus, who in patriot battle fell,
Who were sprung from Aeacus,
And how men fought at Ilion,—this you tell.
What the wines of Chios cost,
Who with due heat our water can allay,
What the hour, and who the host
To give us house-room,—this you will not say
Ho, there! wine to moonrise, wine
To midnight, wine to our new augur too!
Nine to three or three to nine,
As each man pleases, makes proportion true.
Who the uneven Muses loves,
Will fire his dizzy brain with three times three;
Three once told the Grace approves;
She with her two bright sisters, gay and free,
Shrinks, as maiden should, from strife:
But I'm for madness. What has dull'd the fire
Of the Berecyntian fife?
Why hangs the flute in silence with the lyre?
Out on niggard-handed boys!
Rain showers of roses; let old Lycus hear,
Envious churl, our senseless noise,
And she, our neighbour, his ill-sorted fere.
You with your bright clustering hair,
Your beauty, Telephus, like evening's sky,
Rhoda loves