He saw the Trojan fleet dispers’d, distress’d, By stormy winds and wintry heav’n oppress’d.
Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress’d with woe, To Pallas’ fane in long procession go, In hopes to reconcile their heav’nly foe.
A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join T’ invade the town, oppress’d with sleep and wine.
Oppress’d with odds, we fall; Coroebus first, At Pallas’ altar, by Peneleus pierc’d.
Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress’d, Leap’d headlong from the heights; the flames consum’d the rest.
Thus while their straggling parties we defeat, Some to the shore and safer ships retreat; And some, oppress’d with more ignoble fear, Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.
In fear of this, the Father of the Gods Confin’d their fury to those dark abodes, And lock’d ’cause safe within, oppress’d with mountain loads; Impos’d a king, with arbitrary sway, To loose their fetters, or their force allay.
The cause the same which Ilium once oppress’d; A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.
Achates, the companion of his breast, Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress’d.
With watching overworn, with cares oppress’d, Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess’d.
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The Trojan chief Was laid on Tiber’s banks, oppress’d with grief, And found in silent slumber late relief.
Or desperate should he rush and lose his life, With odds oppress’d, in such unequal strife?
Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest, With arbitrary sway the land oppress’d: For Tiber’s flood was Albula before, Till, from the tyrant’s fate, his name it bore.
They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight.
Nor pow’rs above, nor destinies below Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go, With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.
The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, His faunchion drew, to closer fight address’d, And with new force his fainting foe oppress’d.
Not only words lie lab’ring in my breast, But thought itself is by thy praise oppress’d.
At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress’d, Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.
If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands, Th’ ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands, Yet let a race untam’d, and haughty foes, His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose: Oppress’d with numbers in th’ unequal field, His men discourag’d, and himself expell’d, Let him for succor sue from place to place, Torn from his subjects, and his son’s embrace.
Oppress’d with heavy sleep the former fell, But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all: Behind a spacious jar he slink’d for fear; The fatal iron found and reach’d him there; For, as he rose, it pierc’d his naked side, And, reeking, thence return’d in crimson dyed.
Orodes falls, equal fight oppress’d: Mezentius fix’d his foot upon his breast, And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries: "Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!"
This present Caedicus the rich bestow’d On Remulus, when friendship first they vow’d, And, absent, join’d in hospitable ties: He, dying, to his heir bequeath’d the prize; Till, by the conqu’ring Ardean troops oppress’d, He fell; and they the glorious gift possess’d.
His snowy neck reclines upon his breast, Like a fair flow’r by the keen share oppress’d; Like a white poppy sinking on the plain, Whose heavy head is overcharg’d with rain.
Fair majesty, the refuge and redress Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress, You, who your pious offices employ To save the relics of abandon’d Troy; Receive the shipwreck’d on your friendly shore, With hospitable rites relieve the poor; Associate in your town a wand’ring train, And strangers in your palace entertain: What thanks can wretched fugitives return, Who, scatter’d thro’ the world, in exile mourn?
Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, And wash’d his wounds by Tiber’s yellow flood: Oppress’d with anguish, panting, and o’erspent, His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.
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.
Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw, Whom without respite at one charge he slew: Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress’d, And sad Onythes, added to the rest, Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.
Down sinks the giant with a thund’ring sound: His pond’rous limbs oppress the trembling ground; Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound: Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides, And the shar’d visage hangs on equal sides.
The broad ax enters with a crashing sound, And cleaves the chin with one continued wound; Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress’d, And seal’d their heavy lids in endless rest.
Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin’d, And various cares revolving in his mind: Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast, And sorrow mix’d with shame, his soul oppress’d; And conscious worth lay lab’ring in his thought, And love by jealousy to madness wrought.
Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress’d (A dart were lost within that roomy breast), But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, Which roar’d like thunder as it whirl’d along: Not two bull hides th’ impetuous force withhold, Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.
BOOK XII When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field, Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d, Himself become the mark of public spite, His honor question’d for the promis’d fight; The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, The more his fury boil’d within his breast: He rous’d his vigor for the last debate, And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
So stoops the yellow eagle from on high, And bears a speckled serpent thro’ the sky, Fast’ning his crooked talons on the prey: The pris’ner hisses thro’ the liquid way; Resists the royal hawk; and, tho’ oppress’d, She fights in volumes, and erects her crest: Turn’d to her foe, she stiffens ev’ry scale, And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat’ning tail.
If by your rival’s hand th’ Italians fall, So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress, In honor equal, equal in success."
Now all things to their utmost issue tend, Push’d by the Fates to their appointed While leave was giv’n thee, and a lawful hour For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow’r, Toss’d on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress, And, driv’n ashore, with hostile arms oppress; Deform the royal house; and, from the side Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride: Now cease at my command."