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faa21e0
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Back, ye unhallowed!
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John Conington |
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22ccf70
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An inferior artist's only chance of giving pleasure.
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John Conington |
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8cad04a
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There are few writers whose text is in so satisfactory a state as Virgil's.
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John Conington |
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96b3398
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Virgil imitated Homer, but imitated him as a rival, not as a disciple.
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John Conington |
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670eb78
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Death takes the mean man with the proud;The fatal urn has room for all.
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John Conington |
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df3b765
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No, trust the Muse: she opes the good man's grave,And lifts him to the gods.
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John Conington |
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a2c1da1
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So vast the labor to createThe fabric of the Roman state!
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John Conington |
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48375a1
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This suffering will yield us yetA pleasant tale to tell.
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John Conington |
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6ba607e
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Bear up, and live for happier days.
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John Conington |
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18fd81b
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'Is there, friend,' he cries, 'a spotThat knows not Troy's unhappy lot?'
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John Conington |
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7007f2d
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E'en here the tear of pity springs,And hearts are touched by human things.
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John Conington |
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93d0dbe
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If men and mortal arms ye slight,Know there are gods who watch o'er right.
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John Conington |
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1142d48
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Myself not ignorant of woe,Compassion I have learned to show.
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John Conington |
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dffd114
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Too cruel, lady, is the pain,You bid me thus revive again.
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John Conington |
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97c81ed
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Now dews precipitate the night,And setting stars to rest invite.
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John Conington |
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92513c7
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I quail,E'en now, at telling of the tale.
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John Conington |
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4883210
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Then come the clamour and the blare,And shouts and clarions rend the air.
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John Conington |
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cf2b3a3
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Fury and wrath within me rave,And tempt me to a warrior's grave.
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John Conington |
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3abc5ee
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'Tis come, our fated day of death.
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John Conington |
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df3c5e9
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We have been Trojans: Troy has been:She sat, but sits no more, a queen.
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John Conington |
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ada1c9e
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Dire agonies, wild terrors swarm,And Death glares grim in many a form.
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John Conington |
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3364e05
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I heard, fear-stricken and amazed, My speech tongue-tied, my hair upraised.
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John Conington |
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c33b9b9
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Fell lust of gold! abhorred, accurst!What will not men to slake such thirst?
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John Conington |
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dcb22f6
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Snatch him, ye Gods, from mortal eyes!
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John Conington |
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1f23d07
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Huge, awful, hideous, ghastly, blind.
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John Conington |
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2aee7d1
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Fear proves a base-born soul.
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John Conington |
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0598293
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She calls it marriage now; such nameShe chooses to conceal her shame.
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John Conington |
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9a06ded
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While memory lasts and pulses beat,The thought of Dido shall be sweet.
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John Conington |
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6602616
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Curst Love! what lengths of tyrant scorn Wreak'st not on those of woman born?
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John Conington |
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f9e8460
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A woman's will Is changeful and uncertain still.
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John Conington |
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0bf3f86
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My life is lived, and I have playedThe part that Fortune gave.
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John Conington |
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02bfc5a
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Hush your tongues from idle speech.
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John Conington |
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8c7116e
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They can because they think they can.
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John Conington |
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df4f994
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War, dreadful war, and Tiber floodI see incarnadined with blood.
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John Conington |
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d9a1099
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Now for a heart that scorns dismay:Now for a soul prepared.
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John Conington |
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2a49969
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No longer dream that human prayerThe will of Fate can overbear.
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John Conington |
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3162118
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A lethargy of sleep,Most like to death, so calm, so deep.
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John Conington |
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0775084
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This to a tyrant master soldHis native land for cursed gold.
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John Conington |
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be6505b
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Terror wings his flight.
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John Conington |
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108b644
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Ah! would but Jupiter restoreThe strength I had in days of yore!
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John Conington |
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64f32c4
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'Tis thus that men to heaven aspire:Go on and raise your glories higher.
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John Conington |
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d65fcf0
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Why reel I thus, confused and blind?What madness mars my sober mind?
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John Conington |
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9940d48
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Let Rome be glorious on the earth,The centre of Italian worth.
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John Conington |
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4fb11fb
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Virtue's a mere name,Or 'tis high venture that achieves high aim.
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John Conington |