Greek mythology

"Φοβού τους Δαναούς και δώρα φέροντες."

"The Greeks used a wooden horse to get into Troy."

"When Pandora opened the jar, all the evil flooded out into the world."

"The only thing left inside the jar was Hope."

"Everything King Midas touched turned to gold."

"King Minos built a labyrinth to house the monster."

"Flora and Fauna"

"Icarus flew too close to the sun."

"The Twelve Tasks of Heracles."

"A Sisyphean Task."

"The phoenix rises from the ashes"

"Aphrodite rose from the waves"

"Pygmalion loathing their lascivious life, Abhorr'd all womankind, but most a wife: So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed, Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed. Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill, In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill; And carv'd in iv'ry such a maid, so fair, As Nature could not with his art compare, Were she to work; but in her own defence Must take her pattern here, and copy hence. Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires, Adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires. A very virgin in her face was seen, And had she mov'd, a living maid had been: One wou'd have thought she cou'd have stirr'd, but strove With modesty, and was asham'd to move. Art hid with art, so well perform'd the cheat, It caught the carver with his own deceit: He knows 'tis madness, yet he must adore, And still the more he knows it, loves the more: The flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft, Which feels so smooth, that he believes it soft. Fir'd with this thought, at once he strain'd the breast, And on the lips a burning kiss impress'd. 'Tis true, the harden'd breast resists the gripe, And the cold lips return a kiss unripe: But when, retiring back, he look'd again, To think it iv'ry, was a thought too mean: So wou'd believe she kiss'd, and courting more, Again embrac'd her naked body o'er."

"No fable made famous by the Greeks is to be neglected."

"The Ethiop gods have Ethiop lips, Bronze cheeks, and woolly hair; The Grecian gods are like the Greeks, As keen-eyed, cold and fair."

"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."

"First in the ranks see Joan of Arc advance, The scourge of England and the boast of France! Though burnt by wicked Bedford for a witch, Behold her statue plac'd in glory's niche; Her fetters burst, and just releas'd from prison, A virgin phoenix from her ashes risen."

"When fame's loud trump hath blown its noblest blast, Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last; And glory, like the phoenix midst her fires, Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires."

"Ask me no more if east or west The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies."

"And I said, I will perish with my nest, and I will multiply days as the phoenix. (Hebrew: chol)."

"The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise."

"In the sunrise … the Phoenix effect!?! Now what the heck does that mean: freaky after-image of a very freak dream … or harbinger of something worse?"

"You forget, fuzzy elf … I'm Phoenix. If I die it's only to be reborn — hopefully better and brighter than before."

"The facts in my head, they're so jumbled up … I don't know anymore what's real and what isn't — what actually happened … what's a lie. But it doesn't matter. Because the clutter doesn't affect my emotional realities — perhaps, in turn, because the Phoenix by nature responds better to feelings than rationality. I know who I am — who I care for, who I don't — that's what matters. The rest I can take or leave."

"There is another holy bird, called the Phoenix, which I have never seen but in pictures. He rarely appears in Egypt — only once in every 500 years, so they say, in Heliopolis — and he is supposed to come when his father dies. If the painter describes him truly, his plumage is part golden and part red, and he is very like an eagle in shape and size. They say that this bird comes from Arabia, bringing the body of his father embalmed in myrrh to the temple of the sun, and there he buries him. First he molds an egg of myrrh; then he puts his father in the middle of it. Lastly, he covers up the body with myrrh. This is what they say this bird does. But I do not believe them."

"A chattering crow lives out nine generations of aged men, but a stag's life is four time a crow's, and a raven's life makes three stags old, while the phoenix outlives nine ravens, but we, the rich-haired Nymphs daughters of Zeus the aegis-holder, outlive ten phoenixes."

"Do not expect again a phoenix hour, The triple-towered sky, the dove complaining, Sudden the rain of gold and heart's first ease Traced under trees by the eldritch light of sundown."

"Hurry! We burn For Rome’s so near us, for the phoenix moment When we have thrown off this traveller’s trance And mother-naked and ageless-ancient Wake in her warm nest of renaissance."

"My mom was a phoenix who always expected to rise again from the ashes of her latest disaster. And in spite of her self-doubts, she had a very strong sense of who she was. She had a sense of self-worth. She loved being Judy Garland. Did she secretly long to be Frances Gumm Somebody, Minnesota housewife? Are you kidding? She'd have run off with a vaudeville troupe just the way my grandfather did."

"Most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself. The Assyrians call it the Phoenix. It does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. When it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree. In this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odors. From the body of the parent bird a young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live a life as long as its predecessor. When this has grown up and gathered sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent’s sepulcher), and carries it to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun."

"I used to watch them as a kid. My granny told me about 'em. Some cold nights you see them dancin' in the sky over the Hub, burnin' green and gold..." "Oh, you mean the aurora coriolis," said Oats, trying to make his voice sound matter of fact. "But actually that's caused by magic particles hitting the-" "Dunno what it's caused by," said Granny sharply, "but what it is is the phoenix dancin'."

"Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there."

"There'll be that crowd, that barbarous crowd, through all the centuries, And who can say but some young belle may walk and talk men wild Who is my beauty's equal, though that my heart denies, But not the exact likeness, the simplicity of a child, And that proud look as though she had gazed into the burning sun, And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray. I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God's will be done: I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day."

"Let us consider that wonderful sign [of the resurrection] which takes place in eastern lands, that is, in Arabia and the countries round about. There is a certain bird which is called a phœnix. This is the only one of its kind, and lives five hundred years. And when the time of its dissolution draws near that it must die, it builds itself a nest of frankincense, and myrrh, and other spices, into which, when the time is fulfilled, it enters and dies. But as the flesh decays a certain kind of worm is produced, which, being nourished by the juices of the dead bird, brings forth feathers. Then, when it has acquired strength, it takes up that nest in which are the bones of its parent, and bearing these it passes from the land of Arabia into Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. And, in open day, flying in the sight of all men, it places them on the altar of the sun, and having done this, hastens back to its former abode. The priests then inspect the registers of the dates, and find that it has returned exactly as the five hundredth year was completed."

"As if the Phenix hasting to her rest Had gatherd all th’Arabian Spicerie T’enbalme her body in her Tombe, her nest,"

"The phœnix fair which rich Arabia breeds, When wasting time expires her tragedy, No more on Phœbus’ radiant rays she feeds, But heapeth up great store of spicery; And on a lofty towering cedar tree, With heavenly substance she herself consumes, From whence she young again appears to be, Out of the cinders of her peerless plumes."

"LET the bird of loudest lay On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey."

"SOCRATES: When you say this, will you be surprised if your arguments seem to move about instead of staying put? And will you accuse me of being Daedalus who makes them move, though you are yourself much more skillful than Daedalus and make them go round in a circle? Or do you not realize that our argument has moved around and come again to the same place? You surely remember that earlier the pious and the god loved were shown not to be the same but different from each other. Or do you not remember? EUTHYPHRO: I do. SOCRATES: Do you then not realize now that you are saying that what is dear to the gods is the pious? Is this not the same as the god-loved? Or is it not? EUTHYPHRO: It certainly is. SOCRATES: Either we were wrong when we agreed before, or, if we were right then, we are wrong now. EUTHYPHRO: That seems to be so."

"Hard rocks he soften'd with persuasive song, And sooth'd the rivers as they roll'd along. Yon beeches tall, that bloom near Zona, still Remain memorials of his vocal skill: His lays Pieria's listening trees admire, And move in measures to his melting lyre."

"Here the sweet bard his tuneful lyre unstrung, And ceas'd the heavenly music of his tongue; But, with the sound entranc'd, the listening ear Still thought him singing, and still seem'd to hear."

"I have soared aloft with poetry and with high thought, and though I have laid my hand to many a reflection, I have found nothing stronger than Necessity, nor is there any cure for it in the Thracian tablets set down by the voice of Orpheus nor in all the simples which Phoebus harvested in aid of trouble-ridden mortals and gave to the sons of Asclepius."

"In Greece the name rbhu appears as Orpheus, the famous poet and musician from Thrace who gave rise to the Orphic cult and mysteries. The later story about his descent into Hades to recover Eurydice may well be an echo of a rejuvenation attempt, while the shamanist aspect of the myth is maintained. Orpheus’s poetry and music links well with the rbhus’ poetic power in [the Rigveda]. It is therefore very curious that many philologists refuse to see this connection... There is no substantial reason, philological or semantic, why Greek Orpheus and Germanic elf should not be related to Sanskrit rbhu."

"[Orpheus] had abstained from the love of women, either because things ended badly for him, or because he had sworn to do so. Yet, many felt a desire to be joined with the poet, and many grieved at rejection. Indeed, he was the first of the Thracian people to transfer his affection to young boys and enjoy their brief springtime, and early flowering this side of manhood."

"The Orphics were an ascetic sect; wine, to them, was only a symbol, as, later, in the Christian sacrament. The intoxication that they sought was that of "enthusiasm," of union with the god. They believed themselves, in this way, to acquire mystic knowledge not obtainable by ordinary means. This mystical element entered into Greek philosophy with Pythagoras, who was a reformer of Orphism as Orpheus was a reformer of the religion of . From Pythagoras Orphic elements entered into the philosophy of Plato, and from Plato into most later philosophy that was in any degree religious."

"One thing left. I want to sing my own dirge. I pray to the sun, to this last minute of life: let my enemies pay with blood for what they did to me—I'm just a killed slave, easy fistful of death. But you, o humans, o human things—when a man is happy, a shadow could overturn it. When life goes wrong, a wet sponge erases the whole picture. You, you, I pity."

"What else remains, I will not taunt her with. Unhappy Odysseus, he does not know the sufferings that await him; or how these ills I and my Phrygians endure shall one day seem to him precious as gold. For beyond the ten long years spent at Troy he shall drag out other ten and then come to his country all alone . . . where dreadful Charybdis lurks in a narrow channel between the rocks; past Cyclops the savage shepherd, and Ligurian Circe who turns men to swine; shipwrecked often upon the salt sea-wave; longing to eat the lotus, and the sacred cattle of the sun, whose flesh shall utter in the days to come a human voice, bitter to Odysseus. In brief, he shall descend alive to Hades, and, though he shall escape the waters' flood, yet shall he find a thousand troubles in his country when he arrives."

"“See, men and women of Troy, come and see— look on Hector, if, while he was still alive, you would rejoice when he came back from war, for he was a great joy to all our city and its people.”At Cassandra's shout, no man or woman was left unaffected."

"Theseus was, of course, bravest of the brave, as all heroes are; but, unlike other heroes, he was as compassionate as he was brave, and a man of great intellect as well as great bodily strength. It was natural that the Athenians should have such a hero, because they valued thought and ideas, as no other part of the country did. In Theseus their ideal was embodied."

"From Themistocles began the saying, "He is a second Hercules.""

"The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned from Crete had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their places, in so much that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same."

"Men who hover over their opponents have no cause to evolve a science of wrestling; and Theseus is conventionally shown in combat with hulking of monstrous enemies, living by his wits. The tradition that he emulated the feats of Herakles may well embalm some ancient sneer at the over-compensation of a small assertive man. Napoleon comes to mind. If one examines the legend in this light, a well-defined personality emerges. It is that of a light-weight; brave and aggressive, physically tough and quick; highly sexed and rather promiscuous; touchily proud, but with a feeling for the underdog; resembling Alexander in his precocious competence, gift of leadership, and romantic sense of destiny."

"o miseri, quae tanta insania, ciues? creditis auectos hostis? aut ulla putatis dona carere dolis Danaum? sic notus Vlixes? aut hoc inclusi ligno occultantur Achiui, aut haec in nostros fabricata est machina muros, inspectura domos uenturaque desuper urbi, aut aliquis latet error; equo ne credite, Teucri. quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentis."

"Laocoön, and her two sons Pressured storm, tried to move No other more, emotion bound Martyred, misconstrued"

"Chaos: rudis indigestaque moles."

"Neu regio foret ulla suis animalibus orba, astra tenent caeleste solum formaeque deorum, cesserunt nitidis habitandae piscibus undae, terra feras cepit, volucres agitabilis aer."

"Sanctius his animal mentisque capacius altae deerat adhuc et quod dominari in cetera posset: natus homo est."

"Os homini sublime dedit caelumque videre iussit et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus."

"Aurea prima sata est aetas, quae vindice nullo, sponte sua, sine lege fidem rectumque colebat."

"Amor sceleratus habendi."

"Effodiuntur opes, inritamenta malorum. Iamque nocens ferrum ferroque nocentius aurum prodierat."

"Cuncta prius temptanda, sed inmedicabile curae ense recidendum, ne pars sincera trahatur."

"Nos duo turba sumus."

"Ei mihi, quod nullis amor est sanabilis herbis nec prosunt domino, quae prosunt omnibus, artes!"

"Pudet haec opprobria nobis et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli."

"Materiam superabat opus."

"Facies non omnibus una, non diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum."

"Medio tutissimus ibis."

"Heu! quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!"

"Vixque tenet lacrimas, quia nil lacrimabile cernit."

"Non bene conveniunt nec in una sede morantur maiestas et amor."

"Ultima semper exspectanda dies hominis, dicique beatus ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet."

"Extenuant vigiles corpus miserabile curae adducitque cutem macies et in aera sucus corporis omnis abit; vox tantum atque ossa supersunt: vox manet."

"Inopem me copia fecit."

"Unc duo concordes anima moriemur in una."

"Quoque magis tegitur, tectus magis aestuat ignis."

"Causa latet, vis est notissima fontis."

"Nec solem proprium natura nec aera fecit nec tenues undas."

"Fas est et ab hoste doceri."

"Pro superi, quantum mortalia pectora caecae noctis habent!"

"Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor."

"Nulla est sincera voluptas, sollicitumque aliquid laetis intervenit."

"Ignavis precibus Fortuna repugnat."

"Cura deum di sint, et, qui coluere, colantur."

"Serius aut citius sedem properamus ad unam."

"Ars adeo latet arte sua."

"Humana malignas cura dedit leges, et quod natura remittit, invida iura negant."

"Labitur occulte fallitque volatilis aetas, et nihil est annis velocius."

"In audaces non est audacia tuta."

"Audentes deus ipse iuvat!"

"Candida de nigris et de candentibus atra."

"Somne, quies rerum, placidissime, Somne, deorum, pax animi, quem cura fugit, qui corpora duris fessa ministeriis mulces reparasque labori."

"Pauperis est numerare pecus."

"Dum peiora timentur, est in vota locus: sors autem ubi pessima rerum, sub pedibus timor est securaque summa malorum."

"Quae natura negabat visibus humanis, oculis ea pectoris hausit."

"Nihil est toto, quod perstet, in orbe. Cuncta fluunt, omnisque vagans formatur imago."

"Tempus edax rerum, tuque, invidiosa vetustas, omnia destruitis vitiataque dentibus aevi paulatim lenta consumitis omnia morte!"

"Nascique vocatur incipere esse aliud, quam quod fuit ante, morique desinere illud idem."

"Sic tempora verti cernimus atque illas adsumere robora gentes, concidere has."

"Iamque opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira nec ignis nec poterit ferrum nec edax abolere vetustas."

"Cum volet, illa dies, quae nil nisi corporis huius ius habet, incerti spatium mihi finiat aevi: parte tamen meliore mei super alta perennis astra ferar, nomenque erit indelebile nostrum."

"[Ovid] took the one thing that was to him emotionally real—the love that unites and destroys men and women—and made an epic of it. [...] The Metamorphoses remains unique: it is the only epic of love."

"A worke very pleasaunt and delectable."

"The. xv. Booke of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis, trans. Arthur Golding (London: Willyam Seres, 1567)"

"Metamorphoses, trans. Rolfe Humphries (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955)"

"The Metamorphoses, trans. Horace Gregory (New York: The Viking Press, 1958)"

"Metamorphoses, trans. A. D. Melville (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986)"

"Metamorphoses, trans. Charles Martin (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2004)"

"ELYSIUM, n. An imaginary delightful country which the ancients foolishly believed to be inhabited by the spirits of the good. This ridiculous and mischievous fable was swept off the face of the earth by the early Christians -- may their souls be happy in Heaven!"

"Ye Furies, and dreadful Styx, ye sufferings of the damned, and Chaos for ever eager to destroy the fair harmony of words, and thou, Pluto, condemned to an eternity of ungrateful existence, Hell and Elysium, of which no Thessalian witch shall partake, Prosperine, for ever cut off from thy health-giving mother, and horrid Hecate, Cerberus, cursed with incessant hunger, ye Destinies, and Charon, endlessly murmuring at the task I impose of bringing back the dead again to the land of the living, hear me! -if I call on you with a voice sufficiently impious and abominable, if I have never sung this chant unsated with human gore, if I have frequently laid on your altars the fruit of the pregnant mother, bathing its contents with the reeking brain if I have placed on a dish before you the head and entrails of an infant on the point to be born- I ask not of you a ghost, already a tenant of the Tartarian abodes, and long familiarized to the shades below, but one who has recently quitted the light of day, and who yet hovers over the mouth of hell: let him hear these incantations, and immediately after descent to his destined place! Let him articulate suitable omens to the son of his general, having so late been himself a soldier of the great Pompey! Do this, as you love the very sound and rumour of a civil war!"

"But though the Shawnees consider the sun the type, if not the essence, of the Great Spirit, many also believe in an evil genius, who makes all sorts of bad things, to counterbalance those made by the Good Spirit. For instance, when the latter made a sheep, a rose, wholesome herbs, etc., the bad spirit matched them with a wolf, a thorn, poisonous plants, and the like. They also appear to think there is a kind of purgatory in which the spirits of the wicked may be cleansed before entering into their elysium."

"Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?"

"[From De Joinville]: Now, I hold that, in most matrimonial instances, it is as well to provide for repentance ; and wealth has its advantages and its alleviations in affairs of the heart, as in all other affairs. It was by means of a golden bough that Æneas passed the evil spirits of Tartarus, and gained Elysium in safety."

"I thank Providence who has guided my destinies, that I now live; nay, that I live happier than a king of Persia. You know, fathers and fellow-citizens, that I am wholly occupied with this academical garden; that it is my Rhodus, or rather my Elysium. There I possess all the spoils of the east and the west which I wished for; and which, in my belief, are far more precious than the silken garments of the Babylonians, and the porcelain vases of the Chinese. There I receive and convey instruction. There I admire the wisdom of the Creator, which manifests itself in so many various modes, and demonstrate it to others."

"Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium."

"Soon as thy son (believe the truths you hear) Shall in Elysium's blissful plains appear... In Hymen's silken chains the hero led, Must share the honours of Medea's bed."

"Joy, thou spark from Heav'n immortal, Daughter of Elysium! Drunk with fire, toward Heaven advancing Goddess, to thy shrine we come. Thy sweet magic brings together What stern Custom spreads afar; All men become brothers Where thy happy wing-beats are."

"How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy."

"I'll be as patient as a gentle stream And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love; And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil, A blessed soul doth in Elysium."

"Some, ’tis whisper’d, down in hell Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel."

"Devenere locos laetos et amoena vireta Fortunatonun nemorum, sedesque beatas."

"Hic manus, ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi, Quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat, Quique pii vates, et Phoebo digna locuti, Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes, Quique sui memores alios fecere merendo."

"The virtuous are then conveyed to Swarga or Elysium, whilst the wicked are driven to the different regions of Naraka or Tartarus."

"The wind, the fresh sea breeze, which excites, exalts and inebriates, whips the triumphant, proud figure of the goddess and, having the chiton modeled on the body, collects and shakes the edges while detaching, either inflating high, or knocking down to the ground, the himation. And a very effective means for achieving a grandiose effect is the swelling of the himation between the leg and the leg, which, greatly enriching the lower part of the figure and giving it a solid base, prepares the passage to the torso, to the chest, to the wings widely extended. Everything in this sculpture seems to make us sensitive to the capricious breeze of the sea, so that it almost seems to inhale the salty smell of the wide surface of the waters. (Pericle Ducati)"

"For the invincible impetus and the conquering energy, for the thrill of life transfused in marble, for the happy contrast between the tumultuous fluttering of the mantle and the adherence of the tunic to the belly and thighs}}, this statue is the most beautiful expression of the movement, which ancient art has transmitted to us. The sculptor has not only translated muscular strength and triumphant elegance, but the intensity of the sea breeze, of that breeze that Sully-Prudhomme makes us hear in an equally winged verse: Un peu du grand zéphir qui souffle à Salamine.... (Salomon Reinach)"

"For nothing in the world would I want to see the Colosseum rebuilt, with all the walls and steps in perfect condition, or a Parthenon painted in bright colors, or a Victory of Samothrace with her head. (Matilde Asensi)"

"A roaring automobile, which seems to run on machine guns, is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace. (Filippo Tommaso Marinetti)"

"But the most notable of all was an ivory statue of Jupiter, the work of Phidias, son of the Athenian Charmides, of such greatness that although the temple is very high, nevertheless it seems to exceed the right proportion: for the artist he sat down; and yet it almost touches the roof with its head: so we then see that if it were to stand up it would uncover the temple. And some described the size of that statue, among others Callimachus in iambic verses. The painter Panenos, his nephew, cooperated greatly with Phidias in that work, to whom he was assigned together with Phidias, and embellished the statue with the ornamentation of colours, and mainly in the part of the drapery. (Strabo)"

"Pediments of the temple of Zeus in Olympia"

"Apollo depicted in the western pediment The artist of the temple of Zeus at Olympia depicted his simultaneously powerful and spiritual superiority in the way grander and more realistic. In the midst of the wildest tumult, the god suddenly appears, and his outstretched arm imposes calm. It is impossible to bring to expression in a more compelling way the entrance of the divine with all its illuminating clarity and his omniscient gaze. (Walter Friedrich Otto)"

"Statue of Zeus in Olympia"

"With them came Atalanta, the daughter of Iasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth. Meleager saw and loved."

"The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy. Her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: "Atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your ruin." Terrified by this oracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of their persecutions,—"I will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and fail.""

"With lovers, ’twas of old the fashion By presents to convey their passion; No matter what the gift they sent, The Lady saw that love was meant. Fair Atalanta, as a favour, Took the boar’s head her Hero gave her; Nor could the bristly thing affront her, ’Twas a fit present from a hunter."

"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind, Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray By the golden illusions he flings in her way."

"Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, Maiden most perfect, lady of light, With a noise of winds and many rivers, With a clamour of waters, and with might; Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night."

"No race for girls, no apple bribes To tempt an Atalanta."

"The goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon, was at times inspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite was Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. She stole him away, and prevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. When his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. At length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice might at times be heard. Finally she turned him into a grasshopper."

"But when the Golden-thron’d Aurora made Tithonus Partner of her rosie Bed, (Tithonus too was of the Trojan Line, Resembling Gods in Face and Form Divine) For him she strait the Thunderer address’d, That with perpetual Life he might be bless’d: Jove heard her Pray’r, and granted her Request. But ah! how rash was she, how indiscreet! The most material Blessing to omit; Neglecting, or not thinking to provide, That Length of Days might be with Strength supply’d; And to her Lover’s endless Life, engage An endless Youth, incapable of Age. But hear what Fate befell this heav’nly Fair, In Gold enthron’d, the brightest Child of Air. Tithonus, while of pleasing Youth possess’d, Is by Aurora with Delight caress’d; Dear to her Arms, he in her Court resides, Beyond the Verge of Earth, and Ocean’s utmoft Tides, But, when she saw grey Hairs begin to spread, Deform his Beard, and disadorn his Head, The Goddess cold in her Embraces grew, His Arms declin’d, and from his Bed withdrew; Yet still a kind of nursing Care the show’d, And Food ambrosial, and rich Cloaths bestow’d: But when of Age he felt the sad Extream, And ev’ry Nerve was shrunk, and Limb was lame, Lock’d in a Room her useless Spouse she left, Of Youth, of Vigour, and of Voice bereft."

"Wake now my loue, awake; for it is time, The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, All ready to her siluer coche to clyme, And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed."

"O happy Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap, And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, Then need’st thou not—which ah! I grieve to grant— Repine at Jove, lull’d in his leman’s lap: That golden shower in which he did repose— One dewy drop it stains Which thy Aurora rains Upon the rural plains, When from thy bed she passionately goes."

"Rouse Memnons Mother from her Tythons Bed, That Shee thy Cariere may with Roses spred."

"Me only cruel immortality Consumes; I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-hair’d shadow roaming like a dream The ever-silent spaces of the East, Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn."

"I ask’d thee, ‘Give me immortality.’ Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile, Like wealthy men, who care not how they give. But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills, And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me, And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d To dwell in presence of immortal youth, Immortal age beside immortal youth, And all I was in ashes."

"Release me, and restore me to the ground; Thou seëst all things, thou wilt see my grave: Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth forget these empty courts, And thee returning on thy silver wheels."

"... Then we reached the isle Ææan, where the fair-haired Circe dwelt, An awful goddess, using human speech, Own sister to Æetes, that dark mind; And Helios who gives light to mortal men Begat them both, and Perse was their mother, Daughter of Ocean."

"... Now in the forest glades they found The house of Circe built of polished stone, With a wide outlook; and all round about Were mountain wolves and lions, which she herself Had charmed with the bad drugs she gave them: yet They sprang not at my men, but pranced about And fawned, their long tails wagging. As when dogs Fawn on their master coming from a feast, Because he always brings them bits of food To soothe their temper, so around them fawned The strong-clawed wolves and lions."

"And in the fair-haired goddess’ gate they stood, And heard the winning voice of Circe, singing Inside, as to and fro she went in front Of her great deathless web, a work like that Of goddesses, so fine, so fair and bright."

"And quickly she came out and opened wide The shining doors and bade them in, and all Followed her in, the fools. Eurylochus Remained behind, because he smelt a trap. She brought them in and seated them on chairs And settles, and prepared for them a mess Of cheese and barley meal and yellow honey With Pramnian wine, and in the food she mixed Dark drugs, to make them utterly forget Their native land. Now when she gave it them And they had drunk, she rapped them with her rod At once, and fell to penning them in styes: And so they had the heads and voice and bristles And shape of pigs, but even as before Their minds abode unchanged. Thus were they penned There crying, and before them Circe tossed Acorns and mast and cornel fruit for food, Such things as wallowing pigs are wont to eat."

"“Whither again, O luckless, roamest thou The wolds alone, unknowing of the country? Lo, there in Circe’s house thy men are penned Like pigs in close-shut styes. And art thou come To free them? Nay, I tell thee, thou thyself Shalt not return, but stay there with the others. But see, I will redeem thee from the peril And save thee. Take thou this good herb, and go To Circe’s house: ’twill keep the evil day Off from thy head. And I will show thee all The deadly arts of Circe. She will mix thee A potion and throw drugs into thy food. Nor even so shall she avail to witch thee, For the good herb that I shall give thee will not Permit of that. And I will tell thee all. When Circe raps thee with her tapering wand, Then do thou pull thy sharp sword from thy side And spring at her as thou wert fain to slay her; And she in fear wall bid thee lie with her. Then after that refuse thou not her bed, That she may free thy men and succour thee: But bid her swear by the great oath of heaven To plan thee no new hurt, lest when she hath Thee stripped, she make thee weakling and unmanned.”"

"‘“... Nay, but put up Thy sword into its sheath, and then let us Go up unto my bed, that met together In love we may put trust in one another.” ‘So said she, but I answered her and said: “How canst thou, Circe, bid me use thee gently, Thou, who hast turned my fellows into swine Within thy halls, and now dost hold me here With crafty mind, and bid me to thy room, Ay, to thy bed, that when thou hast me stripped, Thou mayest make me weakling and unmanned? No, no, not I! I have no mind to share Thy bed, O goddess, till thou first consent To swear a mighty oath that thou wilt not Devise new mischief for me to my hurt.” ‘So said I, and she swore as I required Forthwith, to hurt me not: and when she had sworn And made an end of swearing, then at last I went up into Circe’s gracious bed."

"Now meantime in her halls her maids were busy; Four maids, who do the service of her house; And they are children of the wells and woods And sacred streams that flow forth to the sea. One of her maids was spreading o’er the chairs Fine purple rugs above and under them A linen cover; while another drew Tables of silver up beside the seats And set on them gold baskets; and the third Mixed in a silver bowl the honeyed wine Most sweet, and served out golden cups; the fourth Brought water, and then kindled a big fire Beneath a mighty cauldron, and the water Drew hot, and when it boiled in the bright bronze, She set me in a bath and tempering it To comfortable warmth, she bathed me with it From the great cauldron, pouring water down My head and shoulders, till she took away Heart-breaking weariness from all my limbs. But when she had bathed and had anointed me With olive oil, a goodly cloak and tunic She wrapt around me, and then brought me in, And placed me on a silver-studded chair, A fine, rich chair, with a foot-stool beneath. Then a maid brought me water for my hands, And poured it from a fair gold jug for washing Above a silver basin, and drew up Near me a polished board; and a grave dame Brought and set bread and added many dainties, Providing generously of what she had, And bade me eat. But my heart liked it not: With other thoughts I sate, and boded evil. [...] “O Circe, what right-minded man could ever Endure to taste of meat and drink, before He had redeemed his men, and had beheld them With his own eyes? But if in kindliness Thou bidst me eat and drink, then let them go, That mine eyes may behold my trusty friends.” At that, out through the hall with wand in hand Went Circe, and she opened the stye-doors And drove them out like swine of nine years old: And there they stood before her, and she went Among them, and anointed each of them With a new charm: and from their limbs fell off The bristles, which the deadly drug had made Grow on them, that the lady Circe gave them: And they were men once more, and younger than They were before and goodlier far and taller To see: and they all knew me, and each man Clung to my hands, and o’er them all there came Passionate sobbing, till the house around Resounded strangely. Even the goddess herself Was moved to pity, [...] Within her bouse meantime in kindly wise Had Circe bathed and rubbed with olive oil And clad my other men in woolly cloaks And tunics; and we found them all within Feasting in state. But when they saw and knew Each other face to face, they wept and wailed Till the house rang around: but near she came, That radiant goddess, and to me she said: “Set up no more this strong lament: I know Myself of all the pains ye have endured Upon the fishy deep, and all the wrongs That cruel men have done to you on land: But come, eat meat and drink ye wine, until Ye get again such spirit in your breasts As when at first ye left your native land, Rough Ithaca: but now are ye dried up, And listless, thinking always of the toil Of roving, and your heart is never merry, Because in truth ye have been sorely tried.” So said she, and our lordly souls assented. So there for one full year day after day Feasting on meat abundant and sweet wine We tarried. [...]"

"And Perseïs, the daughter of Ocean, bare to unwearying Helios Circe and Aeëtes the king."

"And Circe the daughter of Helius, Hyperion's son, loved steadfast Odysseus and bare Agrius and Latinus who was faultless and strong: also she brought forth Telegonus by the will of golden Aphrodite. And they ruled over the famous Tyrsenians, very far off in a recess of the holy islands."

"And deadly fear seized them as they heard the voice that told of the grievous wrath of Zeus. For it proclaimed that they should not escape the paths of an endless sea nor grievous tempests, unless Circe should purge away the guilt of the ruthless murder of Apsyrtus; ..."

"And quickly from there they passed through the sea, beholding the Tyrrhenian shores of Ausonia; and they came to the famous harbour of Aeaea, and from the ship they cast hawsers to the shore near at hand. And here they found Circe bathing her head in the salt sea-spray, for sorely had she been seared by visions of the night. With blood her chambers and all the walls of her palace seemed to be running, and flame was devouring all the magic herbs with which she used to bewitch strangers whoever came; and she herself with murderous blood quenched the glowing flame, drawing it up in her hands; and she ceased from deadly fear. Wherefore when morning came she rose, and with sea-spray was bathing her hair and her garments. And beasts, not resembling the beasts of the wild, nor yet like men in body, but with a medley of limbs, went in a throng, as sheep from the fold in multitudes follow the shepherd. Such creatures, compacted of various limbs, did earth herself produce from the primeval slime when she had not yet grown solid beneath a rainless sky nor yet had received a drop of moisture from the rays of the scorching sun; but time combined these forms and marshalled them in their ranks; in such wise these monsters shapeless of form followed her."

"And straightway Circe became aware of the doom of a suppliant and the guilt of murder. Wherefore in reverence for the ordinance of Zeus, the god of suppliants, who is a god of wrath yet mightily aids slayers of men, she began to offer the sacrifice with which ruthless suppliants are cleansed from guilt when they approach the altar. First, to atone for the murder still unexpiated, she held above their heads the young of a sow whose dugs yet swelled from the fruit of the womb, and, severing its neck, sprinkled their hands with the blood; and again she made propitiation with other drink offerings, calling on Zeus the Cleanser, the protector of murder-stained suppliants, And all the defilements in a mass her attendants bore forth from the palace—the Naiad nymphs who ministered all things to her. And within, Circe, standing by the hearth, kept burning atonement-cakes without wine, praying the while that she might stay from their wrath the terrible Furies, and that Zeus himself might be propitious and gentle to them both, whether with hands stained by the blood of a stranger or, as kinsfolk, by the blood of a kinsman, they should implore his grace."

"But Phrixus came to the Colchians, whose king was Aeetes, son of the Sun and of Perseis, and brother of Circe and Pasiphae, whom Minos married."

"When the Argonauts were already sailing past the Eridanus river, Zeus sent a furious storm upon them, and drove them out of their course, because he was angry at the murder of Apsyrtus. And as they were sailing past the Apsyrtides Islands, the ship spoke, saying that the wrath of Zeus would not cease unless they journeyed to Ausonia and were purified by Circe for the murder of Apsyrtus. So when they had sailed past the Ligurian and Celtic nations and had voyaged through the Sardinian Sea, they skirted Tyrrhenia and came to Aeaea, where they supplicated Circe and were purified."

"With one ship he put in to the Aeaean isle. It was inhabited by Circe, a daughter of the Sun and of Perse, and a sister of Aeetes; skilled in all enchantments was she. Having divided his comrades, Ulysses himself abode by the ship, in accordance with the lot, but Eurylochus with two and twenty comrades repaired to Circe. At her call they all entered except Eurylochus; and to each she gave a tankard she had filled with cheese and honey and barley meal and wine, and mixed with an enchantment. And when they had drunk, she touched them . with a wand and changed their shapes, and some she made wolves, and some swine, and some asses, and some lions. But Eurylochus saw these things and reported them to Ulysses. And Ulysses went to Circe with moly,! which he had received from Hermes, and throwing the moly among her enchantments, he drank and alone was not enchanted. Then drawing his sword, he would have killed her, but she appeased his wrath and restored his comrades. And when he had taken an oath of her that he should suffer no harm, Ulysses shared her bed, and a son, Telegonus, was born to him. Having tarried a year there, he sailed the ocean, and offered sacrifices to the souls, and by Circe’s advice consulted the soothsayer Tiresias, and beheld the souls both of heroes and of heroines. He also looked on his mother Anticlia and Elpenor, who had died of a fall in the house of Circe.And having come to Circe he was sent on his way by her, and put to sea, and sailed past the isle of the Sirens. [...] Sailing by them, Ulysses wished to hear their song, so by Circe’s advice he stopped the ears of his comrades with wax, and ordered that he should himself be bound to the mast."

"By the advice of Circe he shunned the passage by the Wandering Rocks, and in sailing past the cliff of Scylla he stood fully armed on the poop."

"When Telegonus learned from Circe that he was a son of Ulysses, he sailed in search of him. And having come to the island of Ithaca, he drove away some of the cattle, and when Ulysses defended them, Telegonus wounded him with the spear he had in his hands, which was barbed with the spine of a stingray, and Ulysses died of the wound. But when Telegonus recognized him, he bitterly lamented, and conveyed the corpse and Penelope to Circe, and there he married Penelope. And Circe sent them both away to the Islands of the Blest."

"That sting it was which his mother Circe, skilled in many drugs, gave of old to Telegonus for his long hilted spear, that he might array for his foes death from the sea. And he beached his ship on the island that pastured goats; and he knew not that he was harrying the flocks of his own father, and on his aged sire who came to the rescue, even on him whom he was seeking, he brought an evil fate. There the cunning Odysseus, who had passed through countless woes of the sea in his laborious adventures, the grievous Sting-ray slew with one blow."

"With charms did Circe turne and change Ulisses fellowes shapes"

"Next, skirting still the shore, they run Fair Circe's magic coast along, Where she, bright daughter of the sun, ⁠ Her forest fastness thrills with song, And for a nightly blaze consumes Rich cedar in her stately rooms, While, sounding shrill, the comb is sped From end to end adown the thread Thence hear they many a midnight roar: The lion strives to burst his cell: The raging bear, the foaming boar Alternate with the gaunt wolf's yell: Whom from the human form divine For malice' sake the ruthless queen Had changed by pharmacy malign To bristly hide and bestial mien."

"Here, shelter'd by a friendly tree, In Teian measures you shall sing Bright Circe and Penelope, Love-smitten both by one sharp sting."

"... There was at hand A little plash that bowwed like a bowe that standeth bent, Where Scylla woonted was to rest herself, and thither went From rage of sea and ayre, what tyme the sonne amid the skye Is hotest making shadowes short by mounting up on hye. This plash did Circe then infect ageinst that Scylla came, And with her poysons which had powre most monstrous shapes to frame Defyled it. Shee sprincled there the jewce of venymd weedes, And thryce nyne tymes with witching mouth shee softly mumbling, reedes A charme ryght darke of uncouth woordes. No sooner Scylla came Within this plash, and to the waast had waded in the same, But that shee sawe her hinderloynes with barking buggs atteint."

"He came to the island of Aenaria, to Circe, daughter of Sol, who, by giving a potion, used to change men into wild beasts. When he sent Eurylochus to her with twenty-two of his men, she changed them from human form; but Eurylochus in fear did not enter, but fled and reported to Ulysses. Ulysses himself alone went to her, but on the way Mercury gave him a charm, and showed him how to deceive Circe. After he came to Circe and took the cup from her, at Mercury's suggestion he put in the charm, and drew his sword, threatening to kill her unless she restored his comrades. Then Circe knew that this had not happened without the will of the gods, and so, promising that she would not do the like to him, she restored his comrades to their earlier forms. She herself lay with him, conceived, and bore two sons, Nausithous and Telegonus."

"There are some who say that not far from Gaeta, a city in Campania, this woman was powerful because of her force and eloquence and that she did not much care about keeping her chastity untarnished as long as she got what she desired. Thus with her wiles and elegant words she not only brought many of those who reached her shore to her pleasures but induced some to piracy."

"If we consider human behavior, we can well understand from this example that there are many Circes everywhere and many other men are changed into beasts by their lustfulness and their vices. And Ulysses, instructed by Mercury’s advice, obviously signifies the wise man who cannot be bound by the trickery of deceitful people and who by his example often loosens the bonds of those who are held."

"His bodie was as straight as Circes wand,"

"Ravish’d, she lifted her Circean head,"

"This the house of Circe, queen of charms,—"

"Till we resemble those strange-headed things, Herded away behind her island throne, Chimaeras, tiger-apes, and wolfish swine."

"Ah, kinder far than thy fell philtres, Circe, The ravening Cyclops and the Læstrigon!"

"As one that for a weary space has lain Lull’d by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, ..."

"Fourteen small broider’d berries on the hem Of Circe’s mantle, each of magic gold;"

"Or Circe’s cup, embossed with snakes that wound Through buds and myrtles, fold on scaly fold;"

"And now she knows, at agate portals bright, How Circe and her poisons have a home, Carved in one ruby that a Titan lost, Where icy philters brim with scarlet foam, ’Mid hiss of oils in burnished caldrons tost, While thickly from her prey his life-tide drips, In turbid dyes that tinge her torture-dome; As craftily she gleans her deadly dews, With gyving spells not Pluto’s queen can use, Or listens to her victim’s moan, and sips Her darkest wine, and smiles with wicked lips."

"Circe’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess."

"To the much-tossed Ulysses, never done With woman whether gowned as wife or whore, Penelope and Circe seemed as one: She like a whore made his lewd fancies run, And wifely she a hero to him bore."

"Something of glass about her, of dead water, Chills and holds us, Far more fatal than painted flesh or the lodestone of live hair This despair of crystal brilliance."

"Circe of the Sudanese dancing world. A glitter of tinsel, a jingle of myriad dangling coins, vivid touches of scarlet among embroidered vestments, shapely arms that curve and float in graceful butterfly gyrations a lithe mahogany form of exquisite contour, and a pair of large black animated eyes; this is the Nubian dancing-girl—a siren of the lands of the desert."

"Not Clytemnestra’s self in Beauties Bloom More charm’d, or better ply’d the various Loom:"

"“For we sat down in leaguer overseas Doing great feats of arms, while Aegisthus at ease Deep in horse-pasturing Argos won the soul Of Agamenmon's wife with flatteries.“And glorious Clytemnestra first for long Rejected utterly the deed of wrong: For her own mind was right; and by her side She had for guardian a man skilled in song,“Into whose keeping Atreus' son had lent His wife, when to the Trojan land he went, Charging him well to guard her: but when fate Ordained her fall and her entanglement,“He to an island not inhabited Bore off the minstrel, and there left him dead, A prey to birds, and to his house the Queen, Her will consenting to his will, he led."

"Man’s mind in a woman’s heart."

"There is the sea—shall any stanch it up?— Still breeding, for its worth of silver weight, Abundant stain, freshly renewable, For purpling robes withal: nay, Heaven be praised, The house, my lord, affords us plenty such; ’Tis not acquainted yet with penury. I had vowed the trampling of a thousand robes, Had the oracles enjoined it when I sought Means for recovery of a life so precious! Still from the living root the mantling green Against the Dog-star spreads a leafy screen,— So thou returning to thy hearth and home, Warmth as in winter cries Behold me come! Aye and when mellowing Zeus makes ripe and sweet Wine from the young grape’s bitter, cool in heat Reigns within walls where moves the man complete:— [As Agamemnon goes in. O Zeus completer, now complete my prayer, Completion of thy plans be now thy care!"

"All my politic speeches heretofore Shall nowise make me blush now to confess The truth and contrary:—how else indeed When studying hate’s act for a hated foe Supposed friend—how else pitch the toils of Doom To a height beyond o'erleaping? 'Twas not sudden; For me, ’twas but The test and trial of an ancient feud, Long thought on, and at last in time arrived:— I stand here now triumphant, where I struck! And so contrived it also—I'll avow it— As neither should he scape me nor resist: I wreathed around him, like a fishing-net, Swathing in a blind maze,—deadly Wealth of robe,— And struck two blows; and with a groan for each His limbs beneath him slacked; and as he lay, I gave him yet a third, for grace of prayer To God Safe-keeper—of the dead below. With that he lay still, panting his own life out: And as the gory jets he blasted forth, Rain of the sanguine drench bespattered me, Rejoicing, as in balm of heaven rejoices Cornland when the teeming ear gives birth!"

"Where e’re you walk, the Belides you meet; And Clytemnestra’s grow in ev’ry Street: But here’s the difference; Agamemnon’s Wife Was a gross Butcher, with a bloody Knife; But Murther, now, is to perfection grown, And subtle Poysons are employ’d alone: Unless some Antidote prevents their Arts, And lines with Balsom all the Noble parts: In such a case, reserv’d for such a need, Rather than fail, the Dagger does the Deed."

"Shall I release the Prize I gain’d by Right, In taken Towns, and many a bloody Fight, While thou detain’st Briseis in thy Bands, By priestly glossing on the God’s Commands? Resolve on this, (a short Alternative) Quit mine, or, in Exchange, another give; Else I, assure thy Soul, by Sov’reign Right Will seize thy Captive in thy own Despight."

"From thy own Tent, proud Man, in thy despight, This Hand shall ravish thy pretended Right. Briseis shall be mine, and thou shalt see, What odds of awful Pow’r I have on thee:"

"He said, and soon, obeying his Intent, Patroclus brought Briseis from her Tent; Then to th’ intrusted Messengers resign’d: She wept, and often cast her Eyes behind;"

"Briseis, fair as golden Venus, saw Patroclus lying, pierced with mortal wounds, Within the tent; and with a bitter cry, She flung her down upon the corpse, and tore Her breast, her delicate neck, and beauteous cheeks; And, weeping, thus the lovely woman wailed: “Patroclus, dearly loved of this sad heart! When last I left this tent, I left thee full Of healthy life; returning now, I find Only thy lifeless corpse, thou Prince of men! So sorrow still, on sorrow heaped, I bear. The husband of my youth, to whom my sire And honoured mother gave me, I beheld Slain with the sword before the city walls: Three brothers, whom with me one mother bore, My dearly loved ones, all were doomed to death: Nor wouldst thou, when Achilles swift of foot My husband slew, and royal Mynês’ town In ruin laid, allow my tears to flow; But thou wouldst make me (such was still thy speech) The wedded wife of Pêleus’ godlike son: Thou wouldst to Phthia bear me in thy ship, And there, thyself, amid the Myrmidons, Wouldst give my marriage feast; then, unconsoled, I weep thy death, my ever-gentle friend!” Weeping, she spoke; the women joined her wail: Patroclus’ death the pretext for their tears, But each in secret wept her private griefs."

"Captive Briseis in a foraign Tongue More by her blots, than words, sets forth her wrong And yet these blots, which by my tears are made, Above all words, or writing should perswade. Subjects (I know) must not their Lords accuse; Yet prayers and tears we lawfully may use."

"Then furl your Sails, once more your Anchors cast; Leave not your Country, nor your Honour blast. But go, or stay; with you I ought to move, Made yours by Right of War, and Right of Love."

"However much Briseis lay with her bottom turned towards him, the son of Aeacus found his beardless friend more congenial to his tastes."

"However much Briseis towards Achilles Turned her white buttocks, fairer than twin lilies, He found below the smooth Patroclus' waist Enjoyment more congenial to his taste."

"Clearly the rest I behold of the dark-ey’d sons of Achaia; Known to me well are the faces of all; their names I remember; Two, two only remain, whom I see not among the commanders, Castor fleet in the car—Polydeukes brave with the cestus— Own dear brethren of mine—one parent lov’d us as infants. Are they not here in the host, from the shores of lov’d Lacedæmon, Or, tho’ they came with the rest in ships that bound thro’ the waters, Dare they not enter the fight or stand in the council of Heroes All for fear of the shame and the taunts my crime has awaken’d? So said she;—they long since in Earth’s soft arms were reposing, There, in their own dear land, their Father-land, Lacedæmon."

"And, as in well-growne woods, on trees, cold spinie Grashoppers Sit chirping, and send voices out, that scarce can pierce our eares, For softnesse, and their weake faint sounds: So (talking on the towre) These Seniors of the people sate: who when they saw the powre Of beautie, in the Queene ascend; even those cold-spirited Peeres, Those wise, and almost witherd men, found this heate in their yeares; That they were forc’t (though whispering) to say; what man can blame The Greekes, and Troians to endure, for so admir’d a Dame, So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine Lookes like the Goddesses: and yet (though never so divine) Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prise, And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies, Labor, and ruine; let her go: the profit of our land Must passe the beautie. Thus, though these could beare so fit a hand On their affections; yet when all their gravest powers were usde; They could not chuse but welcome her; and rather they accusde The Gods, then beautie; for thus spake the most fam’d king of Troy; Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy Of thy first husbands sight; old friends, and Princes neare allyed: And name me some of these brave Greekes, so manly beautified. Come: do not thinke, I lay the warres, endur’d by us, on thee; The Gods have sent them, and the teares, in which they swumme to me."

"Like as the rising morning shows a grateful lightening, When sacred night is past and winter now lets loose the spring, So glittering Helen showed among the maids, lusty and tall, As is the furrow in a field that far outstretcheth all, Or in a garden is a Cypress tree, or in a trace A steed of Thessaly, so she to Sparta was a grace, No damsel with such works as she her baskets used to fill, Nor in diverse coloured web a woof of greater skill Doth cut from off the loom: nor hath such songs and lays Unto her dainty harp, in Dian’s and Minerva’s praise, As Helen hath, in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces be. O fair, O lovely maid, a matron now is made of thee; But we will every spring unto the leaves in meadows go To gather garlands sweet, and there not with a little woe, Will often think of thee, O Helen, as the suckling lambs Desire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams; We all betimes for thee a wreath of Melitoe will knit, And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it, And all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below, Out of a silver box the sweetest ointment will bestow, And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see And read, ‘Do humble reverence, for I am Helen’s tree.’"

"Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium— Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.— [Kisses her.] Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!— Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack’d; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear’d to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa’s azur’d arms; And none but thou shalt be my paramour!"

"Dust hath closde Helens eye."

"I should have rather guess’d that here Another brood of Helens were Begot by Jove upon the playnes Watchd by some Læda of the Swans."

"Who then can blame the amorous boy, Who, the fair Helen to enjoy, To quench his own, set fire on Troy?"

"Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades; Verse calls them forth; ’tis verse that gives Immortal youth to mortal maids."

"Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicèan barks of yore That gently, o’er a perfumed sea, The weary way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore.On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome.Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand, Ah! Psyche, from the regions which Are holy land!"

"' led the Way, To light him to his Prey, And, like another Hellen, fir’d another Troy."

"Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great, Had they but courage equal to desire? What could have made her peaceful with a mind That nobleness made simple as a fire, With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind That is not natural in an age like this, Being high and solitary and most stern? Why, what could she have done, being what she is? Was there another Troy for her to burn?"

"Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! Inhuman discord is thy dire delight, The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight;​"

"Not thus I burn’d for either Theban dame: (Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came:)"

"And so, all reverence and all joy to thee, Son of the sparkle-smiling Semele!"

"There laved the maid her limbs; her damsels too Plunged in the river: swift she skim’d the wave With oaring hand, and with experienced skill Rear’d high her head unwetted by the tide; Laid her bathed bosom level on the flood, And with alternate feet behind her threw The waters. Nor escaped she, while she swam, Jove’s all-discerning eye; but, suddenly Appearing from on high, he roll’d around His boundless orb of vision: opposite Stood Love; and on the father, gazing thus, Th’ incomprehensible archer drew in air His bow: the flower-wreathed weapon glanced a light As the stretch’d bow-string quiver’d: bent the bow, Th’ instinctive arrow shrill’d a Bacchic sound: Jove was the mark; and, mighty as he was, To that poor urchin Love bow’d down his neck. The arrow, gliding like a falling star, Flew, whispering nuptial sounds, and pierced the heart Of Jove, by subtle indirect approach, Grazing the bending thigh with wavering wound, Aslant; prognostic of the birth to come. Then Jove his mutable and rolling eye, Moist-swimming with necessity of love, Bent on the damsel: like a scourge he felt The cestus of her loveliness. He look’d On Semele, and panted in alarm, Lest he should recognize beside those banks Another fair Europa, and again His heart throb wild for a Phœnician maid. For Semele was moulded in the form Of elegance; the beauty of her race Shone in her forehead. Jupiter now changed His wily form; and, by the virgin smit, Soar’d like an eagle o’er Asopus’ flood; And bore the image of the eagle’s eye With vision keenly radiant; and he left The fields of ether and approach’d the banks, Measuring with fixed glance that naked shape Veil’d by her flowing tresses. Nor the wish Was his to gaze at distance, but to gaze O’er all the nigh-appearing nymph’s bare limbs Of glowing white; nor deem’d he that the scope So keen, so vast, of that orbicular eye, Roll’d in immensity, and with a glance Girding the world, sufficed to gaze on one Of unyoked nature, a mere mortal maid. The waters, dark from depth, transparent blush’d With crimsoning lustre of her rosy limbs; The river-mead became an amorous scene, Whose waters in voluptuous dalliance flash’d Graces like lightnings from their dimpling waves: The Naiad, wreathed with nodding sedges, look’d, And half-exclaiming held her tranced breath."

"Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear’d to hapless Semele;"

"With my frailty, don’t upbraid me, I am woman as you made me; Causeless doubting, or despairing, Rashly trusting, idly fearing: If obtaining, Still complaining; If consenting, Still repenting; Most complying, Then denying: And to be followed, only flying.With my frailty, don’t upbraid me: I am woman as you made me."

"Beneath the sable veil’s disguise, Had you not hid your killing eyes, It had been worse for me. My Nun had then appear’d like Jove, I had been light’ning-struck for love, And died like Semele."

"Ὅτε λάρνακι ἐν δαιδαλέᾳ, ..."

"For know, that vnderneath this radiant floure Was Danaes statue in a brazen tower,"

"Alass! alass! that loue should be a sinne! Euen now my blisse and sorrowe doeth beginne. Hould wyde thy lapp, my louelie Danae, And entretaine the golden shoure so free,That trikling falles into thy treasurie. As Aprill-drops not half so pleasant be, Nor Nilus overflowe to Ægipt plaines As this sweet-streames that all hir ioints imbaynes."

"Danae in a Brazen Tower, Where no love was, lov’d a Showr."

"Thou like a sea of milke shalt lye display’d, Whilst I the smooth, calme Ocean, invade With such a tempest, as when Jove of old Fell downe on Danae in a storme of gold:"

"Miss DANAE, when Fair and Young (As HORACE has divinely sung) Could not be kept from JOVE’s Embrace By Doors of Steel, and Walls of Brass. The Reason of the Thing is clear; (Would JOVE the naked Truth aver:) CUPID was with Him of the Party; And show’d himself sincere and hearty: For, give That Whipster but his Errand, He takes my Lord Chief Justice’ Warrant: Dauntless as Death away He walks; Breaks the Doors open; snaps the Locks; Searches the Parlour, Chamber, Study; Nor stops, ’till He has CULPRIT’s Body."

"Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,"

"I think I see you when you wake, And rub your eyes for me, and shake My gold, in rising, from your hair, A Danaë for a moment there."

"For it is related in our records how once upon a time your State stayed the course of a mighty host, which, starting from a distant point in the Atlantic ocean, was insolently advancing to attack the whole of Europe, and Asia to boot. For the ocean there was at that time navigable; for in front of the mouth which you Greeks call, as you say, 'the pillars of Heracles,' there lay an island which was larger than Libya and Asia together; and it was possible for the travelers of that time to cross from it to the other islands, and from the islands to the whole of the continent over against them which encompasses that veritable ocean. For all that we have here, lying within the mouth of which we speak, is evidently a haven having a narrow entrance; but that yonder is a real ocean, and the land surrounding it may most rightly be called, in the fullest and truest sense, a continent. Now in this island of Atlantis there existed a confederation of kings, of great and marvelous power, which held sway over all the island, and over many other islands also and parts of the continent."

"Mutines: When force fails To find man's weakness, trust a woman's fraud. This trap has caught the lion in the toils.Malcus: Ha! ha! The Lydian toils of Hercules Reserve for rougher labours scant to spare! Omphale's distaff left the hero lax."

"To bed my Love; Hymen will punish us For being slack performers of his rites."

"Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis?"

"Ther saugh I Attheon an hert y-maked, For vengeaunce that he saugh Diane al naked; I saugh how that his houndes have him caught, And freten him, for that they knewe him naught."

"[Odysseus was] tough, crafty, cheerful, of medium height, eloquent, and wise."

"[He was] shorter in truth by a head than Atreus’ son Agamemnon, / but broader, it would seem, in the chest and across the shoulders /... / Truly, to some deep-fleeced ram would I liken him / who makes his way through the great mass of the shining sheep-flocks."

"In parts of their careers, Arjuna and Odysseus show similarities so numerous and detailed that they must be cognate figures, sharing an origin in the proto-hero of an oral proto-narrative."