Virgil - Aeneid

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No stranger to trouble myself I am learning to care for the unhappy.

Virgil
Towards the ferry and the shore
The multitudinous phantoms pour;
Matrons, and men, and heroes dead,
And boys and maidens, yet unwed,
And youths who funeral fires have fed
Before their parents' eye.

Virgil
"Must I die," she said,
"And unreveng'd? 'tis doubly to be dead!
Yet even this death with pleasure I receive:
On any terms, 'tis better than to live."

Virgil
This gift which parents to their children owe,
This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!

Virgil
Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.

Virgil
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
Her neck refulgent, and disheveled hair,
Which, flowing from her shoulders, reached the ground,
And widely spread ambrosial scents around.
In length of train descends her sweeping gown;
And by her graceful walk the Queen of Love is known.

Virgil
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.

Virgil
There is but one safety to the vanquished—to hope not safety.

Virgil
By length of time
The scurf is worn away of each committed crime;
No speck is left of their habitual stains,
But the pure ether of the soul remains.

Virgil
How greatly changed from that Hector who came back arrayed in the armour of Achilles!

Virgil
Curst Love! what lengths of tyrant scorn
Wreak'st not on those of woman born?

Virgil
Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,
Are known or valued by the ghosts below?

Virgil
Such hopes I had indeed, while Heaven was kind.

Virgil
Here I am! Here I am! I am the one who did it! Aim your weapons at me!

Virgil
Thrice round her neck my eager arms I threw;
Thrice from my empty arms the phantom flew,
Swift as the wind, with momentary flight,
Swift as a fleeting vision of the night.

Virgil
Deep in her breast lives the silent wound.

Virgil
Each warrior from his own good lance
Shall reap the fruit of toil or chance.

Virgil
These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;
His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart.

Virgil
Arms! arms! my friends, with speed my arms supply,
'Tis our last hour, and summons us to die;
My arms!—in vain you hold me,—let me go—
Give, give me back this moment to the foe.
'Tis well—we will not tamely perish all,
But die revenged, and triumph in our fall.

Virgil
Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;
Of polish'd iv'ry this, that of transparent horn:
True visions thro' transparent horn arise;
Thro' polish'd iv'ry pass deluding lies.

Virgil
Dismiss these anxieties from your mind.

Virgil
All praised the sentence, pleas'd the storm should fall
On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all.

Virgil
Your honor, name, and praise shall never die.

Virgil
Nerved by strong courage to defy
The worst, and gain his end or die.

Virgil
There are two gates of Sleep. One is of horn, easy of passage for the shades of truth; the other, of gleaming white ivory, permits false dreams to ascend to the upper air.

Virgil
Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,
And throats of brass, inspired with iron lungs,
I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,
Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.

Virgil
Yet still despond not, but proceed
Along the path where Fate may lead.

Virgil
Hereupon he stopped and snatched up in his hand a bow and swift arrows, the weapons that trusty Achates carried.

Virgil
Unspeakable, O Queen, is the sorrow you bid me renew.

Virgil
The proffered medicine but provoked the pain.

Virgil