Book, Verse

 1    1, 436|  Her dress a maid, her air confess’d a queen.~
 2    2, 803|           Not her own star confess’d a light so clear:~
 3    3, 125|         Prostrate we fell; confess’d the present god,~
 4    4, 29 |                    And, to confess my frailty, to my shame,~
 5    4, 316|  are, their looks and garb confess,~
 6    5, 701|    bad omen, nor his fears confess’d.~
 7    6, 768|                    Loth to confess, unable to conceal),~
 8    8, 291|                            Confess’d the god’s approach. Trembling
 9    9, 572|             On me—the fact confess’d, the fault my own.~
10   10, 102|                            Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra,
11   10, 175| poles of heav’n, and earth confess’d the nod.~
12   10, 269|                 Whose helm confess’d the lineage of the man,~
13   12, 348| before the face of heav’n, confess~