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The Aeneid
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The Aeneid
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  • Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain!
  • Or is the death of a despairing queen Not worth preventing, tho’ too well foreseen?
  • Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes: Despair of life the means of living shows.’
  • If yet he lives, and draws this vital air, Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair; Nor you, great queen, these offices repent, Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.
  • We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare Th’ unequal combat in the public square: Night was our friend; our leader was despair.
  • Ours take new courage from despair and night: Confus’d the fortune is, confus’d the fight.
  • Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress’d, Leap’d headlong from the heights; the flames consum’d the rest.
  • Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart; Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.
  • Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart; Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.
  • Stung with despite, and furious with despair, She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.
  • Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, Abandoning my now forgotten care, Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, My sire, my son, my country gods I left.
  • So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear; But, fir’d with rage, distracted with despair, Amid the barb’rous ravishers he flew: Our leader’s rash example we pursue.
  • These dear-bought pleasures had I never known, Had I continued free, and still my own; Avoiding love, I had not found despair, But shar’d with salvage beasts the common air.
  • Her sister hears; and, furious with despair, She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair, And, calling on Eliza’s name aloud, Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
  • All these within the dungeon’s depth remain, Despairing pardon, and expecting pain.
  • For since she died, not doom’d by Heav’n’s decree, Or her own crime, but human casualty, And rage of love, that plung’d her in despair, The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair, Which Proserpine and they can only know; Nor made her sacred to the shades below.
  • The graceless monster, caught in open day, Inclos’d, and in despair to fly away, Howls horrible from underneath, and fills His hollow palace with unmanly yells.
  • Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest, With downcast eyes, their silent grief express’d; Who, short of succors, and in deep despair, Shook at the dismal prospect of the war.
  • Cloy’d with possession, he forsook my bed, And Helen’s lovely daughter sought to wed; Then me to Trojan Helenus resign’d, And his two slaves in equal marriage join’d; Till young Orestes, pierc’d with deep despair, And longing to redeem the promis’d fair, Before Apollo’s altar slew the ravisher.
  • Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow’d, Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.
  • A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued; Despair and rage the languish’d fight renew’d.
  • Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair (Dire faces, and deform’d) surround the car; Friends of the god, and followers of the war.
  • But fate and envious fortune now prepare To plunge the Latins in the last despair.
  • Juturna took her time; and, while in vain He strove, assum’d Meticus’ form again, And, in that imitated shape, restor’d To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.
  • The Latian virgins, valiant with despair, Arm’d on the tow’rs, the common danger share: So much of zeal their country’s cause inspir’d; So much Camilla’s great example fir’d.
  • Pausing at ev’ry pace, in sorrow drown’d, Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground; Where grov’ling while he lies in deep despair, He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.
  • She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said, But in her azure mantle wrapp’d her head, Then plung’d into her stream, with deep despair, And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.
  • The warrior god the Latian troops inspir’d, New strung their sinews, and their courage fir’d, But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright: Then black despair precipitates their flight.
  • Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought, Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought Of inborn worth, his lab’ring soul oppress’d, Roll’d in his eyes, and rag’d within his breast.
  • Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown, And to her dames and to her daughter known, The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share: With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair.
  • Embolden’d by despair, he stood at bay; And— like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds Of eager huntsmen and invading houndsResolv’d on death, he dissipates his fears, And bounds aloft against the pointed spears: So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws His dying body on his thickest foes.
  • "Urg’d by despair, again I go to try The fate of arms, resolv’d in fight to die: ’What hope remains, but what my death must give?
  • "By destiny compell’d, and in despair, The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d, Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made For their return, and this the vow they paid.
  • Then, struck with deep despair, That cruel sight the lover could not bear; But from his covert rush’d in open view, And sent his voice before him as he flew: "Me! me!" he cried— "turn all your swords alone On me— the fact confess’d, the fault my own.
  • He, when he heard a fugitive could move The Tyrian princess, who disdain’d his love, His breast with fury burn’d, his eyes with fire, Mad with despair, impatient with desire; Then on the sacred altars pouring wine, He thus with pray’rs implor’d his sire divine: "Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race, Who feast on painted beds, with off’rings grace Thy temples, and adore thy pow’r divine With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine, Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain Thy…

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  • Don’t despair—help is on the way!
  • Don’t give in to despair.

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