Examples of using "D'ilion" in a sentence and their english translations:
"From ancient Troy – if thou the name dost know – / a chance-met storm hath driven us to and fro, / and tost us on the Libyan shores."
... beholds Troy's navy scattered far and nigh, / and by the waves and ruining heaven oppressed / the Trojan crews. Nor failed he to espy / his sister's wiles and hatred.
Armed, in the vacant courts, by Juno's fane, / Phoenix and curst Ulysses watched the prey.
Forth Cupid, at his mother's word, repairs, / and merrily, for brave Achates led, / the royal presents to the Tyrians bears.
"Then first Thymaetes cries aloud, to go / and through the gates the monstrous horse convey / and lodge it in the citadel. E'en so / his fraud or Troy's dark fates were working for our woe."
Thrice had Achilles round the Trojan wall / dragged Hector; there the slayer sells the slain.
- He also suffered many things in war, while he strove to found a city, and to bear his gods to Latium: from this place arose the Latin race, the Alban fathers, and the walls of exalted Rome.
- Yea, and more, / in war enduring, ere he built a home, / and his loved household-deities brought o'er / to Latium, whence the Latin people come, / whence rose the Alban sires, and walls of lofty Rome.
"Towns yet for us in Sicily remain, / and arms, and, sprung from Trojan sires of yore, / our kinsman there, Acestes, holds his reign."
So saying, the son of Maia down he sent, / to open Carthage and the Libyan state, / lest Dido, weetless of the Fates' intent, / should drive the Trojan wanderers from her gate.
"For me, had Heaven decreed a longer day, / Heaven too had spared these walls, nor left my home a prey."
"Now, now," he cries, "no tarrying; wheresoe'er / ye point the path, I follow and am there. / Gods of my fathers! O preserve to-day / my home, preserve my grandchild; for your care / is Troy, and yours this omen. I obey; / lead on, my son, I yield and follow on thy way."
King Anius here, enwreath'd with laurel spray, / the priest of Phoebus meets us on the way; / with joy at once he recognised again / his friend Anchises of an earlier day. / And joining hands in fellowship, each fain / to show a friendly heart the palace-halls we gain.
I see another but a tinier Troy, / a seeming Pergama recalls the great. / A dried-up Xanthus I salute with joy, / and clasp the portals of a Scaean gate.
"In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle / renowned and rich, while Priam held command, / now a mere bay and roadstead fraught with guile. / Thus far they sailed, and on the lonely strand / lay hid,"
First of the Greeks approaches, with a crowd, / Androgeus; friends he deems us unaware, / and thus, with friendly summons, cries aloud: / "Haste, comrades, forward; from the fleet ye fare / with lagging steps but now, while yonder glare / Troy's towers, and others sack and share the spoils?"
Sooth, then, shall she return / to Sparta and Mycenae, ay, and see / home, husband, sons and parents, safe and free, / with Ilian wives and Phrygians in her train, / a queen, in pride of triumph? Shall this be, / and Troy have blazed and Priam's self been slain, / and Trojan blood so oft have soaked the Dardan plain?
So to his shade, with funeral rites, we rear / a mound, and altars to the dead prepare, / wreathed with dark cypress. Round them, as of yore, / pace Troy's sad matrons, with their streaming hair. / Warm milk from bowls, and holy blood we pour, / and thrice with loud farewell the peaceful shade deplore.
"Tell me," she says, "thy wanderings; stranger, come, / thy friends' mishaps and Danaan wiles proclaim; / for seven long summers now have seen thee roam / o'er every land and sea, far from thy native home."
"O son of Tydeus, bravest of the race, / why could not I have perished, too, that day / beneath thine arm, and breathed this soul away / far on the plains of Troy, where Hector brave / lay, pierced by fierce AEacide, where lay / giant Sarpedon, and swift Simois' wave / rolls heroes, helms and shields, whelmed in one watery grave?"
Then to Anchises, as he bids us spread / the sails, with reverence speaks Apollo's seer, / "Far-famed Anchises, honoured with the bed / of haughty Venus, Heaven's peculiar care, / Twice saved from Troy! behold Ausonia there, / steer towards her coasts, yet skirt them; far away / that region lies, which Phoebus doth prepare. / Blest in thy son's devotion, take thy way. / Why should more words of mine the rising South delay?"