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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 372 (search)
ell my woes and burdens all, and thou could'st pause to heed the tale, first would the vesper star th' Olympian portals close, and bid the day in slumber lie. Of ancient Troy are we— if aught of Troy thou knowest! As we roved from sea to sea, the hazard of the storm cast us up hither on this Libyan coast. I am Aeneas, faithful evermore to Heaven's command; and in my ships I bear my gods ancestral, which I snatched away from peril of the foe. My fame is known above the stars. I travel on in quest of Italy, my true home-land, and I from Jove himself may trace my birth divine. With twice ten ships upon the Phryglan main I launched away. My mother from the skies gave guidance, and I wrought what Fate ordained. Yet now scarce seven shattered ships survive the shock of wind and wave; and I myself friendless, bereft, am wandering up and down this Libyan wilderness! Behold me here, from Europe and from Asia exiled still!” But Venus could not let him longer plain, and stopped his grief midw
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 1 (search)
A general silence fell; and all gave ear, while, from his lofty station at the feast, Father Aeneas with these words began :— A grief unspeakable thy gracious word, o sovereign lady, bids my heart live o'er: how Asia's glory and afflicted throne the Greek flung down; which woeful scene I saw, and bore great part in each event I tell. But O! in telling, what Dolopian churl, or Myrmidon, or gory follower of grim Ulysses could the tears restrain? 'T is evening; lo! the dews of night begin to fall from heaven, and yonder sinking stars invite to slumber. But if thy heart yearn to hear in brief of all our evil days and Troy's last throes, although the memory makes my soul shudder and recoil in pain, I will essay it
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 2, line 145 (search)
recian arm, till once more they obtain new oracles at Argos, and restore that god the round ships hurried o'er the sea. Now in Mycenae, whither they are fled, new help of heaven they find, and forge anew the means of war. Back hither o'er the waves they suddenly will come. So Calchas gave the meaning of the god. Warned thus, they reared in place of Pallas, desecrated shrine yon image of the horse, to expiate the woeful sacrilege. Calchas ordained that they should build a thing of monstrous size of jointed beams, and rear it heavenward, so might it never pass your gates, nor come inside your walls, nor anywise restore unto the Trojans their lost help divine. For had your hands Minerva's gift profaned, a ruin horrible—O, may the gods bring it on Calchas rather!—would have come on Priam's throne and all the Phrygian power. But if your hands should lift the holy thing to your own citadel, then Asia's host would hurl aggression upon Pelops' land, and all that curse on our own nation fal
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 3, line 1 (search)
When Asia's power and Priam's race and throne, though guiltless, were cast down by Heaven's decree, when Ilium proud had fallen, and Neptune's Troy in smouldering ash lay level with the ground, to wandering exile then and regions wild the gods by many an augury and sign compelled us forth. We fashioned us a fleet within Antander's haven, in the shade of Phrygian Ida's peak (though knowing not whither our fate would drive, or where afford a resting-place at last), and my small band of warriors I arrayed. As soon as smiled the light of summer's prime, my reverend sire Anchises bade us on the winds of Fate to spread all sail. Through tears I saw recede my native shore, the haven and the plains where once was Troy. An exile on the seas, with son and followers and household shrines, and Troy's great guardian-gods, I took my way.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 7, line 212 (search)
our line began; the sons of Troy boast Jove to be their sire, and our true King is of Olympian seed. To thine abode Trojan Aeneas sent us. How there burst o'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae's kings a tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom all Asia's world with Europe clashed in war, that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest isle has banished to the Ocean's rim, or he whose dwelling is the ample zone that burns betwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms, far severed from the world. We as decree to this thy realm did guide. Here Dardanus was born; and with reiterate command this way Apollo pointed to the stream of Tiber and Numicius' haunted spring. Lo, these poor tributes from his greatness gone Aeneas sends, these relics snatched away from Ilium burning: with this golden bowl Anchises poured libation when he prayed; and these were Priam's splendor, when he gave laws to his gathered states; this sceptre his, this diadem revered, and beauteous pall, handwork of Asia's queens.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 7, line 691 (search)
Messapus came, steed-tamer, Neptune's son, by sword and fire invincible: this day, though mild his people and unschooled in war, he calls them to embattled lines, and draws no lingering sword. Fescennia musters there, Aequi Falisci, and what clans possess Soracte's heights, Flavinia's fruitful farms, Ciminian lake and mountain, and the groves about Capena. Rank on rank they move, loud singing of their chieftain's praise: as when a flock of snowy swans through clouded air return from feeding, and make tuneful cry from their long throats, while Asia's rivers hear, and lone Cayster's startled moorland rings: for hardly could the listening ear discern the war-cry of a mail-clad host; the sound was like shrill-calling birds, when home from sea their soaring flock moves shoreward like a cloud.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 10, line 62 (search)
hands; their ships make menace of grim steel. Thy power one day ravished Aeneas from his Argive foes, and gave them shape of cloud and fleeting air to strike at for a man. Thou hast transformed his ships to daughters of the sea. What wrong if I, not less, have lent the Rutuli something of strength in war? Aeneas, then, is far away and knows not! Far away let him remain, not knowing! If thou sway'st Cythera, Paphos, and Idalium, why rouse a city pregnant with loud wars, and fiery hearts provoke? That fading power of Phrygia, do I, forsooth, essay to ruin utterly? O, was it I exposed ill-fated Troy to Argive foe? For what offence in vast array of arms did Europe rise and Asia, for a rape their peace dissolving? Was it at my word th' adulterous Dardan shepherd came to storm the Spartan city? Did my hand supply his armament, or instigate a war for Cupid's sake? Then was thy decent hour to tremble for thy children; now too late the folly of thy long lament to Heaven, and objurgation vain.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 11, line 243 (search)
ght pity. Let the star of Pallas tell its tale of fatal storm, off grim Caphereus and Eubcea's crags. Driven asunder from one field of war, Atrides unto farthest Egypt strayed, and wise Ulysses saw from Aetna's caves the Cyclops gathering. Why name the throne of Pyrrhus, or the violated hearth whence fled Idomeneus? Or Locri cast on Libya's distant shore? For even he, Lord of Mycenae by the Greeks obeyed, fell murdered on his threshold by the hand of that polluted wife, whose paramour trapped Asia's conqueror. The envious gods withheld me also from returning home to see once more the hearth-stone of my sires, the wife I yearn for, and my Calydon, the beauteous land. For wonders horrible pursue me still. My vanished followers through upper air take wing, or haunt and rove in forms of birds the island waters o'er: ah me, what misery my people feel! The tall rocks ring with their lament and cry. Naught else had I to hope for from that day when my infatuate sword on gods I drew, and outrag