„Son of my son," begun the king, "O Oscar, pride of youth! I saw the shining of thy sword, I gloried in my race. Pursue the fame of our fathers; be thou what they have been, when Trenmor lived, the first of men, and Trathal the father of heroes! They fought the battle in their youth. They are the song of bards. O Oscar! bend the strong in arm: but spare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people; but like the gale, that moves the grass, to those who ask thine aid. So Trenmor lived; such Trathal was; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured; the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.“

—  James Macpherson, The Poems of Ossian, Fingal, an ancient Epic Poem, Book III. Compare: Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos. ("Spare the conquered, battle down the proud.") Virgil, Aeneid (19 BC), Book VI, line 853 (tr. Robert Fitzgerald).
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James Macpherson
1736 - 1796
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„Ah, Dinamene,
Thou hast forsaken him
Whose love for thee has never ceased,
And no more will he behold thee on this earth!
How early didst thou deem life of little worth!
I found thee
— Alas, to lose thee all too soon!
How strong, how cruel the waves!
Thou canst not ever know
My longing and my grief!
Did cold death still thy voice
Or didst thou of thyself
Draw the sable veil before thy lovely face?
O sea, O sky, O fate obscure!
To live without thee, Dinamene, avails me not.“

—  Luís de Camões Portuguese poet 1524 - 1580
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste, <p>Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste Quem não deixara nunca de querer-te! Ah! Ninfa minha, já não posso ver-te, Tão asinha esta vida desprezaste!</p><p>Como já pera sempre te apartaste De quem tão longe estava de perder-te? Puderam estas ondas defender-te Que não visses quem tanto magoaste?</p><p>Nem falar-te somente a dura Morte Me deixou, que tão cedo o negro manto Em teus olhos deitado consentiste!</p><p>Oh mar! oh céu! oh minha escura sorte! Que pena sentirei que valha tanto, Que inda tenha por pouco viver triste?</p>

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„O wise among all Angels ordinate,
God foiled of glory, god betrayed by fate,
Satan, O pity my long wretchedness!
O Prince of Exile doomed to heinous wrong,
Who, vanquished, riseth ever stark and strong,
Satan, O pity my long wretchedness!
Thou knowest all, proud king of occult things,
Familiar healer of man's sufferings,
Satan, O pity my long wretchedness!
Thy love wakes thirst for Heaven in one and all:
Leper, pimp, outcast, fool and criminal,
Satan, O pity my long wretchedness!“

—  Charles Baudelaire French poet 1821 - 1867
Les fleurs du mal (Flowers of Evil) (1857), <p>Ô toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges, Dieu trahi par le sort et privé de louanges,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Ô Prince de l'exil, à qui l'on a fait tort Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines, Guérisseur familier des angoisses humaines,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui, même aux lépreux, aux parias maudits, Enseignes par l'amour le goût du Paradis,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! "Les Litanies de Satan" [Litanies of Satan] http://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Les_Litanies_de_Satan

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„So weak thou art, that fools thy power despise;
And yet so strong, thou triumph'st o'er the wise.“

—  Jonathan Swift Anglo-Irish satirist, essayist, and poet 1667 - 1745
To Love, found in Miss Vanhom­righ's desk after her death, in Swift's hand­writing

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„O mother! hear thy country's plea:
Nurture thy sons with spirits strong
Led by the torch of truth whose flame
Will banish ignorance and wrong.“

—  Ilia Chavchavadze Georgian poet and politician; a saint of Georgian Orthodox Church 1837 - 1907
Anthology of Georgian Poetry (1948), Lines to a Georgian Mother, p. 59

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