Christopher

“the old man threw his spear With feeble impact; blocked by the ringing bronze, It hung there harmless from the jutting boss. Then Pyrrhus answered: 'You'll report the news To Pelides, my father; don't forget My sad behavior, the degeneracy Of Neoptolemus. Now die.' With this, To the altar step itself he dragged him trembling, Slipping in the pooled blood of his son, And took him by the hair with his left hand. The sword flashed in his right; up to the hilt He thrust it in his body. That was the end Of Priam's age, the doom that took him off, With Troy in flames before his eyes, his towers Headlong fallen—he that in other days Had ruled in pride so many lands and peoples, The power of Asia. On the distant shore. The vast trunk headless lies without a name." 2.702”
― Virgil, The Aeneid

“The morning star Now rose on Ida's ridges, bringing day. Greeks had secured the city gates. No help Or hope of help existed. So I resigned myself, picked up my father, And turned my face toward the mountain range." 2.1041”
― Virgil, The Aeneid

“I am Aeneas, duty-bound, and known Above high air of heaven by my fame, Carrying with me in my ships our gods Of hearth and home, saved from the enemy. I look for Italy to be my fatherland, And my descent is from all-highest Jove. " Line 519”
― Virgil, The Aeneid

“Three times I tried to put my arms around her neck, Three times enfolded nothing, as the wraith Slipped through my fingers, bodiless as wind, Or like a flitting dream." 2.1026”
― Virgil, The Aeneid