Virgil or Vergil (Publius Virgilius Maro Vergil)

A monster frightful, formless, immense, with sight removed.
[Lat., Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.]

A monster frightful, formless, immense, with sight removed.
[Lat., Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.]

Never till then so many thunderbolts from cloudless skies. (Bolt
from the blue.)
[Lat., Non alias caelo ceciderunt read more

Never till then so many thunderbolts from cloudless skies. (Bolt
from the blue.)
[Lat., Non alias caelo ceciderunt plura sereno.]

Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;--the report
of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by read more

Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;--the report
of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by
its very activity and gains new strength by its movements; small
at first through fear, it soon raises itself aloft and sweeps
onward along the earth. Yet its head reaches the clouds. . . . A
huge and horrid monster covered with many feathers: and for
every plume a sharp eye, for every pinion a biting tongue.
Everywhere its voices sound, to everything its ears are open.
[Lat., Extemplo Libyae magnas it Fama per urbes:
Fama malum quo non velocius ullum;
Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo;
Parva metu primo; mox sese attollit in auras,
Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubilia condit.
. . . .
Monstrum, horrendum ingens; cui quot sunt corpore plumae
Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu,
Tot linquae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures.]

What region of the earth is not full of our calamities?
[Lat., Quae regio in terris nostri non plena read more

What region of the earth is not full of our calamities?
[Lat., Quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris.]

E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have read more

E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,
And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend,
Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,
The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne,
As light straw and rapid stubble fly
In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.