Examples of using "Remparts" in a sentence and their english translations:
"And falteringly the traitor plays his part. / 'Oft, wearied by the war, the Danaans planned / to leave – and oh! had they but left – the land.'"
"Then, too, the boy Ascanius, named of late / Iulus (Ilus was he in the day / when firm by royalty stood Ilium's state) / shall rule till thirty years complete the destined date. / He from Lavinium shall remove his seat, / and gird Long Alba for defence."
"The realm thou see'st is Punic; Tyrians are / the folk, the town Agenor's. Round them lie / the Libyan plains, a people rough in war."
"Firm are thy fates, sweet daughter; spare thy fears. / Thou yet shalt see Lavinium's walls arise, / and bear thy brave AEneas to the skies. / My purpose shifts not."
"Now learn, how best to compass my design. / To Tyrian Carthage hastes the princely boy, / prompt at the summons of his sire divine, / my prime solicitude, my chiefest joy, / fraught with brave store of gifts, saved from the flames of Troy."
Amazed, AEneas viewed / tall structures rise, where whilom huts were found, / the streets, the gates, the bustle and the sound.
- There was an ancient city; the Tyrian settlers held it: Carthage, standing afar opposite Italy and the mouths of the Tiber, rich in trade and very harsh in the study of war. Juno is said to have valued this one city more than all lands, even above Samos.
- There stood a city, fronting far away / the mouths of Tiber and Italia's shore, / a Tyrian settlement of olden day, / rich in all wealth, and trained to war's rough lore, / Carthage the name, by Juno loved before / all places, even Samos.
Soon as he saw the captured city fall, / the palace-gates burst open, and the foe / dealing wild riot in his inmost hall, / up sprang the old man and, at danger's call, / braced o'er his trembling shoulders in a breath / his rusty armour, took his belt withal, / and drew the useless falchion from its sheath, / and on their thronging spears rushed forth to meet his death.
"High in the citadel the monstrous frame / pours forth an armed deluge to the day, / and Sinon, puffed with triumph, spreads the flame. / Part throng the gates, part block each narrow way; / such hosts Mycenae sends, such thousands to the fray."
Such close had Priam's fortunes; so his days / were finished, such the bitter end he found, / now doomed by Fate with dying eyes to gaze / on Troy in flames and ruin all around, / and Pergamus laid level with the ground. / Lo, he to whom once Asia bowed the knee, / proud lord of many peoples, far-renowned, / now left to welter by the rolling sea, / a huge and headless trunk, a nameless corpse is he.
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?
Then with lowly downcast eye / she dropped her voice, and softly made reply. / "Ah! happy maid of Priam, doomed instead / at Troy upon a foeman's tomb to die! / Not drawn by lot for servitude, nor led / a captive thrall, like me, to grace a conqueror's bed."
Lo, there Tarentum's harbour and the town, / if fame be true, of Hercules, and here / Lacinium's queen and Caulon's towers are known, / and Scylaceum's rocks, with shattered ships bestrown.
Scarce now the summer had begun, when straight / my father, old Anchises, gave command / to spread our canvas and to trust to Fate. / Weeping, I leave my native port, the land, / the fields where once the Trojan towers did stand, / and, homeless, launch upon the boundless brine, / heart-broken outcast, with an exiled band, / comrades, and son, and household gods divine, / and the great Gods of Troy, the guardians of our line.
So when the bold and compact band I see, / "Brave hearts", I cry, "but brave, alas! in vain; / if firm your purpose holds to follow me / who dare the worst, our present plight is plain. / Troy's guardian gods have left her; altar, fane, / all is deserted, every temple bare. / The town ye aid is burning. Forward, then, / to die and mingle in the tumult's blare."
We furl the sails, and shoreward row amain. / Eastward the harbour arches, scarce descried. / Two jutting rocks, by billows lashed in vain, / stretch out their arms the narrow mouth to hide. / Far back the temple stands, and seems to shun the tide.