Examples of using "Foge" in a sentence and their english translations:
Fire! Run!
The bat flees the light.
drops the remaining shells and jets away.
She always runs away from her responsabilities.
But meanwhile it flees: time flees irretrievably, while we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail.
What we seek we shall find; what we flee from flees from us.
When poverty knocks at your frontdoor, loves escapes through the backdoor.
"Haste, son, and fly; the fruitless toil give o'er. / I will not leave thee, but assist thy flight, / and set thee safely at thy father's door."
"Spare, O AEneas, spare a wretch, nor shame / thy guiltless hands, but let the dead repose. / From Troy, no alien to thy race, I came. / O, fly this greedy shore, these cruel foes! / Not from the tree – from Polydorus flows / this blood, for I am Polydorus. Here / an iron crop o'erwhelmed me, and uprose / bristling with pointed javelins."
And they brought him forth, and set him without the city: and there they spoke to him, saying: Save thy life: look not back, neither stay thou in all the country about: but save thy self in the mountain, lest thou be also consumed.
To such vain quest he cared not to reply, / but, heaving from his breast a deep-drawn sigh, / "Fly, Goddess-born! and get thee from the fire! / The foes", he said, "are on the ramparts. Fly! / All Troy is tumbling from her topmost spire. / No more can Priam's land, nor Priam's self require."
Now therefore, my son, hear my voice, arise and flee to Laban, my brother, to Haran: And thou shalt dwell with him a few days, till the wrath of thy brother be assuaged, and his indignation cease, and he forget the things thou hast done to him.
He stops, and from Achates hastes to seize / his chance-brought arms, the arrows and the bow, / the branching antlers smites, and lays the leader low. / Next fall the herd; and through the leafy glade / in mingled rout he drives the scattered train, / plying his shafts.
"And now already from the heaven's high steep / the dewy night wheels down, and sinking slow, / the stars are gently wooing us to sleep. / But, if thy longing be so great to know / the tale of Troy's last agony and woe, / the toils we suffered, though my heart doth ache, / and grief would fain the memory forego / of scenes so sad, yet, Lady, for thy sake / I will begin," and thus the sire of Troy outspake: