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The documents where this entity occurs most often are shown below. Click on a document to open it.

Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 44 0 Browse Search
Xenophon, Cyropaedia (ed. Walter Miller) 20 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 14 0 Browse Search
Xenophon, Anabasis (ed. Carleton L. Brownson) 10 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More) 10 0 Browse Search
John Conington, Commentary on Vergil's Aeneid, Volume 2 8 0 Browse Search
Diodorus Siculus, Library 6 0 Browse Search
Isocrates, Speeches (ed. George Norlin) 6 0 Browse Search
Andocides, Speeches 4 0 Browse Search
Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation 4 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 Lydia (Turkey) or search for Lydia (Turkey) in all documents.

Your search returned 2 results in 2 document sections:

Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 8 (search)
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?
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 13 (search)
Telephus—you praise him still, His waxen arms, his rosy-tinted neck; Ah! and all the while I thrill With jealous pangs I cannot, cannot check See, my colour comes and goes, My poor heart flutters, Lydia, and the dew, Down my cheek soft stealing, shows What lingering torments rack me through and through. Oh, 'tis agony te see Those snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken fray, Or those ruby lips, where he Has left strange marks, that show how rough his play! Never, never look to find A faithful heart in him whose rage can harm Sweetest lips, which Venus kind Has tinctured with her quintessential charm. Happy, happy; happy they Whose living love, untroubled by all strife, Binds them till the last sad day, Nor parts asunder but with parting lif