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P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 10, line 439 (search)
ides, once on earth Evander's guest, His son adjures you by those holy rites, That hospitable board, those genial nights; Assist my great attempt to gain this prize, And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes, His ravish'd spoils.” 'T was heard, the vain request; Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast. Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began: “Short bounds of life are set to mortal man. 'T is virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span. So many sons of gods, in bloody fight, Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light: My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe; Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow. Ev'n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath, And stands already on the verge of death.” This said, the god permits the fatal fight, But from the Latian fields averts his sight. Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw, And, having thrown, his shining fauchion drew The steel just graz'd along the shoulder joint, And mark'd it slightly with the glancing p
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 10, line 510 (search)
xpire, In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire. At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow; Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd: “By young Iulus, by thy father's shade, O spare my life, and send me back to see My longing sire, and tender progeny! A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: All these, and sums besides, which see no day, The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. If I survive, will Troy the less prevail? A single soul's too light to turn the scale.” He said. The hero sternly thus replied: “Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke All rules of war by one relentless stroke, When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone My father's shadow, but my living son.” Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left; Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd, Up to the hilts his shining
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 10, line 689 (search)
nclos'd, To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd, From his proud summit looking down, disdains Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains. Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled. At Latagus a weighty stone he flung: His face was flatted, and his helmet rung. But Palmus from behind receives his wound; Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground: His crest and armor, from his body torn, Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew. Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew, Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, The queen produc'd young Paris to his sire: But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain, Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain. And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred, With forest mast and fatt'ning marshes fed, When once he sees himself in toils inclos'd, By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos'd—/L> He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; Th' invaders dart their jav'lins from afar: All
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 11, line 225 (search)
While thus their factious minds with fury burn, The legates from th' Aetolian prince return: Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost And care employ'd, their embassy is lost; That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war, Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r. Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought, Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought. Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late, A foreign son is pointed out by fate; And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed, The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head. The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side, When late their titles in the field were tried: Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried. Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all The Latian senate to the council hall. The princes come, commanded by their head, And crowd the paths that to the palace lead. Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years, He takes the throne, and in the midst appears. Majestically sad, he sits in state, And bids his envoys their succe
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 11, line 243 (search)
yripa he calls, From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy, The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy. When introduc'd, our presents first we bring, Then crave an instant audience from the king. His needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd? We—for myself I speak, and all the name Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came, Omitting those who were in battle slain, Or borne by rolling Simois to the maanother's wife, Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life; Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy The foul polluters of his bed enjoy. The gods have envied me the sweets of life, My much lov'd cothe Queen of Love. Such arms this hand shall never more employ; No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy. I war not with its dust; nor am I glad To think of past events, or good or bad. Your presents I what a spring was in his arm, to throw! How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow! Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might, They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight: Th' invas
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 12, line 529 (search)
pierc'd his head. Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus' hand, In vain the strongest of th' Arcadian band: Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford Availing aid against th' Aenean sword, Which to his naked heart pursued the course; Nor could his plated shield sustain the force. Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow'rs, Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow'rs, Were doom'd to kill, while Heav'n prolong'd his date; But who can pass the bounds, prefix'd by fate? In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held Two palaces, and was from each expell'd: Of all the mighty man, the last remains A little spot of foreign earth contains. And now both hosts their broken troops unite In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight. Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line: Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads. They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space, Resolv'd on death, impatient of disgrace; And, where one falls, anot
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 12, line 593 (search)
mor fills the public place: Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace, And silent shame, are seen in ev'ry face. Latinus tears his garments as he goes, Both for his public and his private woes; With filth his venerable beard besmears, And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs. And much he blames the softness of his mind, Obnoxious to the charms of womankind, And soon seduc'd to change what he so well design'd; To break the solemn league so long desir'd, Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir'd. Now Turnus rolls aloof o'er empty plains, And here and there some straggling foes he gleans. His flying coursers please him less and less, Asham'd of easy fight and cheap success. Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind, The distant cries come driving in the wind, Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown'd; A jarring mixture, and a boding sound. “Alas!” said he, “what mean these dismal cries? What doleful clamors from the town arise?” Confus'd, he stops, and backward pu
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. John Dryden), Book 12, line 791 (search)
t to bless,) The laws of either nation be the same; But let the Latins still retain their name, Speak the same language which they spoke before, Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore. Call them not Trojans: perish the renown And name of Troy, with that detested town. Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign And Rome's immortal majesty remain.” Then thus the founder of mankind replies (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes) “Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir, Such endless anood th' Ausonian people sprung, Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue. The Trojans to their customs shall be tied: I will, myself, their common rites provide; The natives shall command, the foreigners subside. All shall be Latium; Troy without a name; And her lost sons forget from whence they came. From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow, Equal to gods, excelling all below. No nation more respect to you shall pay, Or greater off'rings on your altars lay.” Juno consents, wel<
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