Returning to the same word, the same phrase or the same construction, at the start of successive verses or sentences (anaphora) or throughout the text, to give rhythm, emphasis or insistence.
In the Aeneid
It is not the face of the Laconian Tyndarid that is hateful to you, nor is Paris to blame; it is the cruelty of the gods, of the gods, that brings down these riches and casts Troy from its height.
The goddess says “of the gods, of the gods” to hammer home the idea that the blame belongs neither to Helen nor to Paris. Repeating the same word gives the sentence the weight of a verdict and turns Aeneas's fury toward his immediate duty.
Book II: The Fall of Troy, Venus
But now the Apollo of Grynium and the oracles of Lycia have ordered me to take Italy, great Italy: there is my love, that is my homeland.
I founded a glorious city; I saw my walls; I avenged my husband and exacted the penalty from my brother, my enemy; happy, alas, too happy, if the Dardanian ships had never touched our shore!
Will it never again be said that there are walls of Troy? Shall I never again see the rivers of Hector, the Xanthus and the Simois? Come, burn with me the ill-fated ships. For in a dream it seemed to me that the image of the prophetess Cassandra gave me burning torches: here seek Troy, here is your home.
Book V: The Games, Iris, disguised as Beroe
Hail, land owed to me by the fates; and you, he said, faithful Penates of Troy, hail! Here is the home, this is the homeland.
Book VII: The Arrival in Latium, Aeneas
Me, me, here I am, I did it; turn your steel against me, Rutulians; the whole plot is mine; this one dared nothing, nor could he; I call this sky and the stars that know as my witnesses; he only loved his unhappy friend too much.
What will he give now, poor boy, in return for such praise, what will pious Aeneas give, worthy of such a noble spirit? Keep the arms you were so proud of; I return you to the shadows and the ashes of your fathers, if that matters to them. But you will have, unhappy one, this consolation in your sad death: you fall by the hand of the great Aeneas.
Overcome by the love I bear you, overcome by kinship and by the tears of my anxious wife, I broke every bond, took the daughter promised to my son-in-law away, and took up impious arms.
You, dressed in the spoils of my people, will escape me here? Pallas, Pallas sacrifices you with this blow and exacts the penalty of your criminal blood.
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