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Troy (Turkey) 84 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge).

Found 480 total hits in 129 results.

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Greece (Greece) (search for this): card 1100
Chorus Oh may the sacred blazing thunderbolt of the Aegean, hurled in might, smite the ship of Menelaus full in the middle, on its way in mid-sea, since he is carrying me away in bitter sorrow from the shores of Ilium to be a slave in Hellas, while the daughter of Zeus still keeps her golden mirrors, delight of maidens' hearts. Never may he reach his home in Laconia or his father's hearth and home, nor come to the town of Pitane Part of Sparta was so called. or the temple of the goddess Athve in Hellas, while the daughter of Zeus still keeps her golden mirrors, delight of maidens' hearts. Never may he reach his home in Laconia or his father's hearth and home, nor come to the town of Pitane Part of Sparta was so called. or the temple of the goddess Athena of “the Brazen House,” a temple on the acropolis. with the gates of bronze, having taken as his captive the one whose marriage brought disgrace on Hellas through its length and breadth and woful anguish on the streams of Sim
Troy (Turkey) (search for this): card 1118
Enter Talthybius and attendants, bearing the corpse of Astyanax on Hector's shield. Chorus Leader All me! ah me! new troubles fall on my country, to take the place of those that still are fresh! Behold, you hapless wives of Troy, the corpse of Astyanax, whom the Danaids have cruelly slain by hurling him from the battlements.
Phthia (search for this): card 1123
Talthybius Hecuba, one ship alone delays its plashing oars, and it is soon to sail to the shores of Phthia freighted with the remnant of the spoils of Achilles' son; for Neoptolemus is already out at sea, having heard that new calamities have befallen Peleus, for Acastus, son of Pelias, has banished him from the realm. Therefore he is gone, too quick to indulge in any delay, and with him goes Andromache, who drew many tears from me when she set out from the land, wailing her country and crying her farewell to Hector's tomb. And she begged her master leave to bury this poor dead child of Hector who breathed his last when hurled from the turrets; entreating too that he would not carry this shield, the terror of the Achaeans—this shield with plates of brass with which his father would gird himself—to the home of Peleus or to the same bridal bower where she, Andromache, the mother of this corpse, would be wed, a bitter sight to her, but let her bury the child in it instead of in a co
Troy (Turkey) (search for this): card 1156
Hecuba Place the shield upon the ground, Hector's shield so deftly rounded, a piteous sight, a bitter grief for me to see. O you Achaeans, more reason have you to boast of your prowess than your wisdom. Why have you in terror of this child been guilty of a murder never matched before? Did you fear that some day he would rear again the fallen walls of Troy? It seems then you were nothing after all, when, though Hector's fortunes in the war were prosperous and he had ten thousand other arms to back him, we still were daily overmatched; and yet, now that our city is taken and every Phrygian slain, you fear a tender child like this! I do not commend the fear of one who fears but never yet has reasoned out the cause.
Troy (Turkey) (search for this): card 1168
nd so rejoices; for fortune, like a madman in her moods, springs towards this man, then towards that; and no one ever experiences the same unchanging luck. Chorus Leader Look! all is ready and they are bringing at your bidding from the spoils of Troy adornment to put upon the dead. Hecuba Ah! my child, it is not as victor over your comrades with horse or bow—customs Troy esteems, without pursuing them to excess—that Hector's mother decks you now with ornaments from the store that once was yok. Chorus Leader Look! all is ready and they are bringing at your bidding from the spoils of Troy adornment to put upon the dead. Hecuba Ah! my child, it is not as victor over your comrades with horse or bow—customs Troy esteems, without pursuing them to excess—that Hector's mother decks you now with ornaments from the store that once was yours, though now Helen, whom the gods abhor, has bereft you of your own, yes, and robbed you of your life and caused your house to perish root and
Greece (Greece) (search for this): card 1168
or you, and to your tomb will lead my troops of friends, taking a fond farewell of you.” But now I am not to be buried by you, but you, the younger one, a wretched corpse, are buried by me, on whom old age has come with loss of home and children. Ah me, those kisses numberless, the nurture that I gave to you, those sleepless nights—they all are lost! What shall the bard inscribe upon your tomb about you? Argives once for fear of him slew this child? Foul shame should that inscription be to Hellas. O child, though you have no part in all your father's wealth, yet shall you have his brazen shield in which to find a tomb. Ah! shield that kept safe the comely arm of Hector, now have you lost your valiant keeper! How fair upon your handle lies his imprint, and on the rim that circles around are marks of sweat, that trickled often from Hector's brow as he pressed it against his beard in battle's stress. Come, bring forth, from such store as you have, adornment for the hapless dead, for f
Asia (search for this): card 1218
Hecuba About your body now I swathe this Phrygian robe of honor, which should have clad you on your marriage-day, wedded to the noblest of Asia's daughters. You too, dear shield of Hector, victorious parent of countless triumphs past, accept your crown, for though you share the dead child's tomb, death cannot touch you; for you merit honors far beyond those arms the arms of Achilles, which were set up as a prize, and won by Odysseus from Aias. that the crafty villain Odysseus won.
Ilium (Turkey) (search for this): card 122
You swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium over the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, to the bays of Troy, alas! where you tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; who murdered Priam, the father of fifty children; the cause why I, the unhappy Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this disastrous strand. Ohver against the tent of Agamemnon! As a slave I am led away from my home, an old woman, while from my head the hair is piteously shorn for grief. Ah! unhappy wives of those armored sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now a smouldering ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that over her fledgelings screams, will begin the strain; not the same as that I once sang to the gods, as I leaned on Priam's staff and beat with my foot in Phrygian time to lead the dance
Egypt (Egypt) (search for this): card 122
You swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium over the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, to the bays of Troy, alas! where you tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; who murdered Priam, the father of fifty children; the cause why I, the unhappy Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this disastrous strand. Oh that I should sit here, over against the tent of Agamemnon! As a slave I am led away from my home, an old woman, while from my head the hair is piteously shorn for grief. Ah! unhappy wives of those armored sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now a smouldering ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that over her fledgelings screams, will begin the strain; not the same as that I once sang to the gods, as I leaned on Priam's staff and beat with my foot in Phrygi
Troy (Turkey) (search for this): card 122
You swift-prowed ships, rowed to sacred Ilium over the deep dark sea, past the fair havens of Hellas, to the flute's ill-omened music and the dulcet voice of pipes, to the bays of Troy, alas! where you tied your hawsers, twisted handiwork from Egypt, in quest of that hateful wife of Menelaus, who brought disgrace on Castor, and on Eurotas foul reproach; who murdered Priam, the father of fifty children; the cause why I, the unhappy Hecuba, have wrecked my life upon this disastrous strand. Oh that I should sit here, over against the tent of Agamemnon! As a slave I am led away from my home, an old woman, while from my head the hair is piteously shorn for grief. Ah! unhappy wives of those armored sons of Troy! Ah! poor maidens, luckless brides, come weep, for Ilium is now a smouldering ruin; and I, like some mother-bird that over her fledgelings screams, will begin the strain; not the same as that I once sang to the gods, as I leaned on Priam's staff and beat with my foot in Phrygia
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