Ave imperatrix. Ave Imperatrix. Oscar Wilde (1854 2022-12-25

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Ave Imperatrix is a Latin phrase meaning "Hail, Empress." The phrase has been used throughout history in various contexts, most commonly as a way to address or honor an empress or queen.

One of the most famous uses of the phrase "Ave Imperatrix" is in the poem "The Ballad of the White Horse," written by G.K. Chesterton in 1911. The poem tells the story of King Alfred the Great, who united the Anglo-Saxons and defeated the Vikings in the 9th century. In the poem, Alfred is referred to as "Ave Imperatrix," or "Hail, Empress," as a symbol of his strength and leadership.

Another notable use of "Ave Imperatrix" is in the song "Ave Imperatrix," which was written by English composer Charles Gounod in 1853. The song was composed in honor of Empress Eugénie, the wife of Napoleon III, and was performed at the coronation of the couple in Notre Dame Cathedral.

The phrase "Ave Imperatrix" has also been used in other contexts, such as in literature, art, and even in modern popular culture. For example, the phrase appears in the title of a book about the life of Empress Elisabeth of Austria, and it has also been used as a motto or motto-like phrase by various organizations and institutions.

Overall, the phrase "Ave Imperatrix" has a rich history and has been used to honor and celebrate empresses and queens throughout the ages. It serves as a reminder of the power and strength of women in positions of leadership and authority, and the significant role they have played in shaping the world we know today.

3. Ave Imperatrix. Wilde, Oscar. 1881. Poems

ave imperatrix

In vain the laughing girl will lean To greet her love with love-lit eyes: Down in some treacherous black ravine, Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies. The strong sea-lion of England's wars Hath left his sapphire cave of sea, To battle with the storm that mars The stars of England's chivalry. Where is our English chivalry? Apart from this, the Latin and Greek expressions have the same meaning. The brazen-throated clarion blows Across the Pathan's reedy fen, And the high steeps of Indian snows Shake to the tread of armèd men. Darkest Hour: The True Story of Lark Force at Rabaul. And many an Afghan chief, who lies Beneath his cool pomegranate-trees, Clutches his sword in fierce surmise When on the mountain-side he sees The fleet-foot Marri scout, who comes To tell how he hath heard afar The measured roll of English drums Beat at the gates of Kandahar. For not in quiet English fields Are these, our brothers, lain to rest, Where we might deck their broken shields 75 With all the flowers the dead love best.

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Ave Imperatrix!

ave imperatrix

And many a moon and sun will see The lingering wistful children wait To climb upon their father's knee; And in each house made desolate Pale women who have lost their lord Will kiss the relics of the slain-- Some tarnished epaulette--some sword-- Poor toys to soothe such anguished pain. The second oldest manuscript Gudianus 268 was unknown to Roth. O loved ones lying far away, What word of love can dead lips send! Morituri Te Salutant: Those Who Are About to Die, Greet You. Where are the brave, the strong, the fleet? La vie Quotidienne à Rome à l'Apogée de l'Empire. Where is our English chivalry? Ruin and wreck are at our side, Grim warders of the House of Pain.

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Ave Imperatrix

ave imperatrix

The reading 'Avēte vōs' is from the fifteenth century manuscripts and editions. For some are by the Delhi walls, And many in the Afghan land, And many where the Ganges falls Through seven mouths of shifting sand. For southern wind and east wind meet Where, girt and crowned by sword and fire, England with bare and bloody feet Climbs the steep road of wide empire. Treated as a commodity, they were not elite gladiators but captives and criminals doomed to die, who usually fought until all were killed. For southern wind and east wind meet Where, girt and crowned by sword and fire, England with bare and bloody feet Climbs the steep road of wide empire. The yellow leopards, strained and lean, The treacherous Russian knows so well, With gaping blackened jaws are seen Leap through the hail of screaming shell. O lonely Himalayan height, Grey pillar of the Indian sky, Where saw'st thou last in clanging flight Our winged dogs of Victory? For some are by the Delhi walls, And many in the Afghan land, And many where the Ganges falls Through seven mouths of shifting sand.

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Ave Imperatrix!

ave imperatrix

As far as we know, the only time this phrase was used was at an event staged by Claudius. . The yellow leopards, strained and lean, The treacherous Russian knows so well, With gaping blackened jaws are seen Leap through the hail of screaming shell. Give up your prey! The author died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 85 years or less. SET in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! It was more likely an isolated appeal by desperate captives and criminals condemned to die, and noted by Roman historians in part for the unusual mass reprieve granted by Claudius to the survivors. The World's Best Poetry.

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Ave Imperator, morituri te salutant

ave imperatrix

Wave and wild wind and foreign shore Possess the flower of English land— Lips that thy lips shall kiss no more, Hands that shall never clasp thy hand. What profit now that we have bound The whole round world with nets of gold, If hidden in our heart is found The care that groweth never old? O loved ones lying far away, What word of love can dead lips send! For some are by the Delhi walls, And many in the Afghan land, And many where the Ganges falls Through seven mouths of shifting sand. Soon after coming into power, Claudius instituted games to be held in honor of his father, Claudius celebrated the Public entertainments varied from combat between just two navalia proelia by the Romans was one of the latter, a large-scale and bloody spectacular combative event taking place on many ships and held in large lakes or flooded arenas. O silence of the sunless day! The only two ancient references, those in Suetonius and in Dio, refer not to gladiators but to naumachiarii, men condemned to die, and even these references are to one specific episode, the circumstances of which indicate that the supposed salute was not even a regular salute of the naumachiarii. Codex Memmianus, the oldest known extant version of Suetonius' work Aut nōn". Bliss Carman, et al.

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"Ave Imperatrix": Oscar Wilde and the Poetry of Englishness on JSTOR

ave imperatrix

Ruin and wreck are at our side, Grim warders of the House of Pain. My conclusion is, accordingly, that there is no evidence whatever for the much-quoted salute of the gladiators. The almond-groves of Samarcand, Bokhara, where red lilies blow, And Oxus, by whose yellow sand The grave white-turbaned merchants go: And on from thence to Ispahan, The gilded garden of the sun, Whence the long dusty caravan Brings cedar wood and vermilion; And that dread city of Cabool Set at the mountain's scarped feet, Whose marble tanks are ever full With water for the noonday heat: Where through the narrow straight Bazaar A little maid Circassian Is led, a present from the Czar Unto some old and bearded khan,-- Here have our wild war-eagles flown, And flapped wide wings in fiery fight; But the sad dove, that sits alone In England--she hath no delight. Wild grasses are their burial-sheet, And sobbing waves their threnody. What profit that our galleys ride, Pine-forest-like, on every main? What profit now that we have bound The whole round world with nets of gold, If hidden in our heart is found The care that groweth never old? For some are by the Delhi walls, And many in the Afghan land, And many where the Ganges falls Through seven mouths of shifting sand.

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Ave Imperatrix. Oscar Wilde (1854

ave imperatrix

The strong sea-lion of England's wars Hath left his sapphire cave of sea, To battle with the storm that mars The star of England's chivalry. Ave Imperatrix S ET in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! Morituri te salutant, by Avē Imperātor, moritūrī tē salūtant "Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die "Aut nōn" "or not". And some in Russian waters lie, And others in the seas which are The portals to the East, or by The wind-swept heights of Trafalgar. The earth, a brittle globe of glass, Lies in the hollow of thy hand, And through its heart of crystal pass, Like shadows through a twilight land, The spears of crimson-suited war, The long white-crested waves of fight, And all the deadly fires which are The torches of the lords of Night. Where is our English chivalry? The earth upsets: another terrestrial motion. Alan Baker broadly agrees, stating, "There is no evidence that this was common practice among gladiators.

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Ave Imperatrix: Oscar Wilde's poem on empire resonates today

ave imperatrix

At this performance a Sicilian and a Rhodian fleet engaged, each numbering twelve The same incident is described in the writings of Cassius Dio, a Roman Roman History he states: Claudius conceived the desire to exhibit a naval battle on a certain lake; so, after building a wooden wall around it and erecting stands, he assembled an enormous multitude. Give up your prey! What profit that our galleys ride, 105 Pine-forest like, on every main? What profit now that we have bound The whole round world with nets of gold, If hidden in our heart is found The care that groweth never old? But when the combatants cried out: "Hail, emperor, they who are about to die salute thee," he replied, "Or not," and after that all of them refused to fight, maintaining that they had been pardoned. And many a moon and sun will see The lingering wistful children wait To climb upon their father's knee; And in each house made desolate Pale women who have lost their lord Will kiss the relics of the slain-- Some tarnished epaulette--some sword-- Poor toys to soothe such anguished pain. O loved ones lying far away, What word of love can dead lips send! Where is our English chivalry? Give up your prey! West Virginia University Press focuses principally on humanities publishing in the areas of medieval and Old English studies; West Virginian and regional culture, history, economics, and wildlife; and general literary studies. Give up your prey! O silence of the sunless day! Where is our English chivalry? Such greeting as should come from those Whose fathers faced the Sepoy hordes, Or served you in the Russian snows, And, dying, left their sons their swords.

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Ave Imperatrix by Oscar Wilde

ave imperatrix

Wild grasses are their burial-sheet, And sobbing waves their threnody. Ruin and wreck are at our side, Grim warders of the House of pain. O loved ones lying far away, What word of love can dead lips send! Ave Imperatrix Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! Upon this he hesitated for some time about destroying them all with fire and sword, but at last leaping from his throne and running along the edge of the lake with his ridiculous tottering gait, he induced them to fight, partly by threats and partly by promises. Paul, Minnesota: Zenith Imprint. In vain the laughing girl will lean To greet her love with love-lit eyes: Down in some treacherous black ravine, Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies.

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Ave Imperatrix by Oscar Wilde

ave imperatrix

Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! Where are the brave, the strong, the fleet? For not in quiet English fields Are these, our brothers, lain to rest, Where we might deck their broken shields With all the flowers the dead love best. The game of death in ancient Rome: arena sport and political suicide. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the foreign works. O lonely Himalayan height, Grey pillar of the Indian sky, Where saw'st thou last in clanging fight Our wingèd dogs of Victory? And thou whose wounds are never healed, Whose weary race is never won, O Cromwell's England! And some in Russian waters lie, And others in the seas which are The portals to the East, or by The wind-swept heights of Trafalgar. Romæ antiquæ notitia: or, The antiquities of Rome. In vain the laughing girl will lean To greet her love with love-lit eyes: Down in some treacherous black ravine, Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies. Where are the brave, the strong, the fleet? Is this the end! What profit that our galleys ride, Pine-forest-like, on every main? Once more we greet you, though unseen Our greeting be, and coming slow.

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