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t waif and castaway I found in beggary and gave him share— fool that I was!—in my own royal glory. His Iost fleet and his sorry crews I steered from death away. O, how my fevered soul unceasing raves! Forsooth Apollo speaks! His Lycian oracles! and sent by Jove the messenger of Heaven on fleeting air the ruthless bidding brings! Proud business for gods, I trow, that such a task disturbs their still abodes! I hold thee back no more, nor to thy cunning speeches give the lie. Begone! Sail on to Italy, thy throne, through wind and wave! I pray that, if there be any just gods of power, thou mayest drink down death on the mid-sea rocks, and often call with dying gasps on Dido's name—while I pursue with vengeful fire. When cold death rends the body from the breath, my ghost shall sit forever in thy path. Full penalties thy stubborn heart shall pay. They'll bring me never in yon deep gulf of death of all thy woe.” Abrupt her utterance ceased; and sick at heart she fled the light of day, as i
She with averted eyes and glance that rolled speechless this way and that, had listened long to his reply, till thus her rage broke forth: “No goddess gave thee birth. No Dardanus begot thy sires. But on its breast of stone Caucasus bore thee, and the tigresses of fell Hyrcania to thy baby lip their udders gave. Why should I longer show a lying smile? What worse can I endure? Did my tears draw one sigh? Did he once drop his stony stare? or did he yield a tear to my lament, or pity this fond heart? Why set my wrongs in order? Juno, now, and Jove, the son of Saturn, heed no more where justice lies. No trusting heart is safe in all this world. That waif and castaway I found in beggary and gave him share— fool that I was!—in my own royal glory. His Iost fleet and his sorry crews I steered from death away. O, how my fevered soul unceasing raves! Forsooth Apollo speaks! His Lycian oracles! and sent by Jove the messenger of Heaven on fleeting air the ruthless bidding brings! Proud business fo<
Hyrcania (Iran) (search for this): book 4, card 362
She with averted eyes and glance that rolled speechless this way and that, had listened long to his reply, till thus her rage broke forth: “No goddess gave thee birth. No Dardanus begot thy sires. But on its breast of stone Caucasus bore thee, and the tigresses of fell Hyrcania to thy baby lip their udders gave. Why should I longer show a lying smile? What worse can I endure? Did my tears draw one sigh? Did he once drop his stony stare? or did he yield a tear to my lament, or pity this fond heart? Why set my wrongs in order? Juno, now, and Jove, the son of Saturn, heed no more where justice lies. No trusting heart is safe in all this world. That waif and castaway I found in beggary and gave him share— fool that I was!—in my own royal glory. His Iost fleet and his sorry crews I steered from death away. O, how my fevered soul unceasing raves! Forsooth Apollo speaks! His Lycian oracles! and sent by Jove the messenger of Heaven on fleeting air the ruthless bidding brings! Proud business fo<