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The documents where this entity occurs most often are shown below. Click on a document to open it.

Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
Herodotus, The Histories (ed. A. D. Godley) 18 0 Browse Search
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington) 16 0 Browse Search
Euripides, Rhesus (ed. E. P. Coleridge) 14 0 Browse Search
Euripides, Orestes (ed. E. P. Coleridge) 12 0 Browse Search
Sophocles, Philoctetes (ed. Sir Richard Jebb) 10 0 Browse Search
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More) 8 0 Browse Search
Polybius, Histories 8 0 Browse Search
Homer, The Odyssey (ed. Samuel Butler, Based on public domain edition, revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy.) 8 0 Browse Search
Plato, Laws 8 0 Browse Search
Pausanias, Description of Greece 8 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge). You can also browse the collection for Ilium (Turkey) or search for Ilium (Turkey) in all documents.

Your search returned 16 results in 14 document sections:

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Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge), line 799 (search)
Chorus O Telamon, King of Salamis, the feeding-ground of bees, who have your home in a seagirt isle that lies near the holy hills where first Athena made the grey olive branch to appear, a crown for heavenly heads and a glory to happy Athens, you came, you came in knightly brotherhood with that great archer, Alcmena's son, to sack our city Ilium, in days gone by, [on your advent from Hellas];
Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge), line 860 (search)
etched woman away—wife I have no mind to call her, though she once was mine—for now she is one among the other Trojan women who share these tents as captives. For they, the very men who who toiled to take her with the spear, have granted to me to slay her, or, if I will, to spare and carry back with me to Argos. Now my purpose is not to put her to death in Troy, but to carry her to Hellas in my sea-borne ship, and then surrender her to death, a recompense to all whose friends were slain in Ilium. Ho! my servants, enter the tent, and drag her out to me by her hair foul with murder; and when a favoring breeze shall blow, to Hellas will we convey her. Hecuba O you that do support the earth and rest thereupon, whoever you are, a riddle past our knowledge! Zeus, owhether you are natural necessity, or man's intellect, to you I pray; for, though you tread over a noiseless path, all your dealings with mankind are guided by justice. Menelaus What is this? Strange the prayer you offer to
Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge), line 945 (search)
she pleads well in spite of all her villainy; this is monstrous! Hecuba First I will take up the cause of those goddesses, and prove how she perverts the truth. For I can never believe that Hera or the maiden Pallas would have been guilty of such folly, the one to sell her Argos to barbarians, or that Pallas ever would make her Athens subject to the Phrygians, coming as they did in mere wanton sport to Ida to contest the palm of beauty. For why should goddess Hera set her heart so much on such a prize? Was it to win a nobler lord than Zeus? or was Athena hunting down among the gods a husband, she who in her dislike of marriage won from her father the gift of remaining unwed? Do not seek to impute folly to the goddesses, in the attempt to adorn your own sin; never will you persuade the wise. Next you have said—what well may make men jeer—that Cypris came with my son to the house of Menelaus. Could she not have stayed quietly in heaven and brought you and Amyclae as well to Ilium
Euripides, The Trojan Women (ed. E. P. Coleridge), line 98 (search)
Hecuba Lift your head, unhappy one, from the ground; raise up your neck; this is Troy no more, no longer am I queen in Ilium. Though fortune change, endure your lot; sail with the stream, and follow fortune's tack, do not steer your ship of life against the tide, since chance must guide your course. Ah me! ah me! What else but tears is now my hapless lot, whose country, children, husband, all are lost? Ah! the high-blown pride of ancestors, humbled! how brought to nothing after all! What woe must I suppress, or what declare? [What plaintive dirge shall I awake?] Ah, woe is me! the anguish I suffer lying here stretched upon this hard pallet! O my head, my temples, my side! How I long to turn over, and lie now on this, now on that, to rest my back and spine, while ceaselessly my tearful wail ascends. For even this is music to the wretched, to chant their cheerless dirge of sorrow.
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