Related:

• When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn, With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Odyssey of Homer, Book iii, Line 516...
• The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xx, Line 278...
• No season now for calm familiar talk.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 169...
• Dispel this cloud, the light of Heaven restore; Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xvii, Line 730...
• Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book i, Line 1...
• With all its beauteous honours on its head.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book iv, Line 557...
• Ajax the great... Himself a host.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book iii, Line 293...
• And for our country 't is a bliss to die.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xv, Line 583...
• And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
  -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xiii, Line 106...