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Browsing named entities in a specific section of M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley). Search the whole document.

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Lesbos (Greece) (search for this): book 8, card 536
g the guile. Then he, ' Abide, my wife, And son, I pray you; from the shore afar ' Await my fortunes; mine shall be the life ' To test their honour.' But Cornelia still Withstood his bidding, and with arms outspread Frenzied she cried: ' And whither without me, ' Cruel, departest? Thou forbad'st me share ' Thy risks Thessalian; dost again command ' That I should part from thee? No happy star ' Breaks on our sorrow. If from every land ' Thou dost debar me, why didst turn aside ' In flight to Lesbos? On the waves alone ' Am I thy fit companion? ' Thus in vain, Leaning upon the bulwark, dazed with dread; Nor could she turn her straining gaze aside, Nor see her parting husband. All the fleet Stood silent, anxious, waiting for the end: Not that they feared the murder which befell, But lest their leader might with humble prayer Kneel to the king he made. As Magnus passed, A Roman soldier from the Pharian boat, Septimius, salutes him. Gods of heaven! There stood he, minion to a barbarous kin
Pharsalus (Greece) (search for this): book 8, card 536
t, anxious, waiting for the end: Not that they feared the murder which befell, But lest their leader might with humble prayer Kneel to the king he made. As Magnus passed, A Roman soldier from the Pharian boat, Septimius, salutes him. Gods of heaven! There stood he, minion to a barbarous king, Nor bearing still the javelin of Rome; But vile in all his arms; giant in form Fierce, brutal, thirsting as a beast may thirst For carnage. Didst thou, Fortune, for the sake Of nations, spare to dread Pharsalus field This savage monster's blows? Or dost thou place Throughout the world, for thy mysterious ends, Some ministering swords for civil war? Thus, to the shame of victors and of gods, This story shall be told in days to come: A Roman swordsman, once within thy ranks, Slave to the orders of a puny prince, Severed Pompeius' neck. And what shall be Septimius' fame hereafter? By what name This deed be called, if Brutus wrought a crime? Now came the end, the latest hour of all: Rapt to the boa
hey choose Achillas for the work of death; And where the treacherous shore in Casian sands Runs out, and shallow waters of the sea Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat He and his partners in the monstrous crime With swords embark. Ye gods! and shall the Nile And barbarous Memphis and th' effeminate crew That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise Its thoughts to such an enterprise? Do thus Our fates press on the world? Is Rome thus fallen That in our civil frays the Pharian sword Finds place, or Egypt? 0, may civil war Be thus far faithful that the hand which strikes Be of our kindred; and the foreign fiend Held worlds apart! Pompeius, great in soul, Noble in spirit, had deserved a death From Caesar's self. And, king, hast thou no fear At such a ruin of so great a name? And dost thou dare when heaven's high thunder rolls, Thou, puny boy, to mingle with its tones Thine impure utterance? Had he not won A world by arms, and thrice in triumph scaled The sacred Capitol, and vanquished kings,
se Achillas for the work of death; And where the treacherous shore in Casian sands Runs out, and shallow waters of the sea Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat He and his partners in the monstrous crime With swords embark. Ye gods! and shall the Nile And barbarous Memphis and th' effeminate crew That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise Its thoughts to such an enterprise? Do thus Our fates press on the world? Is Rome thus fallen That in our civil frays the Pharian sword Finds place, or Egypt? 0, mf the victor? 'Twas enough To cause forbearance in a Pharian king, That he was Roman. Wherefore with thy sword Dost stab our breasts? Thou know'st not, impious boy, How stand thy fortunes; now no more by right Hast thou the sceptre of the land of Nile; For prostrate, vanquished in the civil wars Is he who gave it. Furling now his sails, Magnus with oars approached th' accursed land, When in their little boat the murderous crew Drew nigh. and feigning from th' Egyptian court A ready welcome, bla
Memphis (Egypt) (search for this): book 8, card 536
Then they all decree The crime's accomplishment. Proud is the boy king Of such unwonted honour, that his slaves So soon give power for so great a deed. They choose Achillas for the work of death; And where the treacherous shore in Casian sands Runs out, and shallow waters of the sea Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat He and his partners in the monstrous crime With swords embark. Ye gods! and shall the Nile And barbarous Memphis and th' effeminate crew That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise Its thoughts to such an enterprise? Do thus Our fates press on the world? Is Rome thus fallen That in our civil frays the Pharian sword Finds place, or Egypt? 0, may civil war Be thus far faithful that the hand which strikes Be of our kindred; and the foreign fiend Held worlds apart! Pompeius, great in soul, Noble in spirit, had deserved a death From Caesar's self. And, king, hast thou no fear At such a ruin of so great a name? And dost thou dare when heaven's high thunder rolls, Thou, puny boy,