One more immortal name thy death bequeathed,Nurse of Aeneas, to Italian shores,Caieta; there thy honor hath a home;Thy bones a name: and on Hesperia's breastTheir proper glory.When Aeneas nowThe tribute of sepulchral vows had paidBeside the funeral mound, and o'er the seasStillness had fallen, he flung forth his sails,And leaving port pursued his destined way.Freshly the night-winds breathe; the cloudless moonOutpours upon his path unstinted beam,And with far-trembling glory smites the sea.Close to the lands of Circe soon they fare,Where the Sun's golden daughter in far grovesSounds forth her ceaseless song; her lofty hallIs fragrant every night with flaring brandsOf cedar, giving light the while she weavesWith shrill-voiced shuttle at her linens fine.From hence are heard the loud lament and wrathOf lions, rebels to their linked chainsAnd roaring all night long; great bristly boarsAnd herded bears, in pinfold closely kept,Rage horribly, and monster-wolves make moan;Whom the dread goddess with foul juices strongFrom forms of men drove forth, and bade to wearthe mouths and maws of beasts in Circe's thrall.But lest the sacred Trojans should enduresuch prodigy of doom, or anchor thereon that destroying shore, kind Neptune filledtheir sails with winds of power, and sped them onin safety past the perils of that sea. Now morning flushed the wave, and saffron-garbedAurora from her rose-red chariot beamedin highest heaven; the sea-winds ceased to stir;a sudden calm possessed the air, and tidesof marble smoothness met the laboring oar.Then, gazing from the deep, Aeneas sawa stretch of groves, whence Tiber's smiling stream,its tumbling current rich with yellow sands,burst seaward forth: around it and aboveshore-haunting birds of varied voice and plumeflattered the sky with song, and, circling faro'er river-bed and grove, took joyful wing.Thither to landward now his ships he steered,and sailed, high-hearted, up the shadowy stream. Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thronesand all their sequent story I unfold!How Latium's honor stood, when alien shipsbrought war to Italy, and from what causethe primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breatheupon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell,array of battle, and high-hearted kingsthrust forth to perish, when Etruria's hostand all Hesperia gathered to the fray.Events of grander march impel my song,and loftier task I try. Latinus, thenan aged king, held long-accepted swayo'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the sonof Faunus, so the legend tells, who wedthe nymph Marica of Laurentian stem.Picus was Faunus' father, whence the lineto Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire,from thee the stem began! But Fate had givento King Latinus' body no heirs male:for taken in the dawning of his dayhis only son had been; and now his homeand spacious palace one sole daughter kept,who was grown ripe to wed and of full ageto take a husband. Many suitors triedfrom all Ausonia and Latium's bounds;but comeliest in all their princely throngcame Turnus, of a line of mighty sires.Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearnedto call him soon her son. But omens direand menaces from Heaven withstood her will.A laurel-tree grew in the royal close,of sacred leaf and venerated age,which, when he builded there his wall and tower,Father Latinus found, and hallowed itto Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the nameLaurentian, which his realm and people bear.Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell,came hosts of bees, with audible acclaimvoyaging the stream of air, and seized a placeon the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm,with interlacement of close-clinging feet,swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,”the prophet cried, “a husband from afar!To the same region by the self-same pathbehold an arm'd host taking lordly swayupon our city's crown!” Soon after this,when, coming to the shrine with torches pure,Lavinia kindled at her father's sidethe sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burnalong her flowing hair—O sight of woe!Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew,lighting her queenly tresses and her crownof jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud,from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung.This omen dread and wonder terriblewas rumored far: for prophet-voices toldbright honors on the virgin's head to fallby Fate's decree, but on her people, war. The King, sore troubled by these portents, soughtoracular wisdom of his sacred sire,Faunus, the fate-revealer, where the grovesstretch under high Albunea, and her streamroars from its haunted well, exhaling throughvast, gloomful woods its pestilential air.Here all Oenotria's tribes ask oraclesin dark and doubtful days: here, when the priesthas brought his gifts, and in the night so still,couched on spread fleeces of the offered flock,awaiting slumber lies, then wondrouslya host of flitting shapes he sees, and hearsvoices that come and go: with gods he holdshigh converse, or in deep Avernian gloomparleys with Acheron. Thither drew nearFather Latinus, seeking truth divine.Obedient to the olden rite, he slewa hundred fleecy sheep, and pillowed layupon their outstretched skins. Straightway a voiceout of the lofty forest met his prayer.“Seek not in wedlock with a Latin lordto join thy daughter, O my son and seed!Beware this purposed marriage! There shall comesons from afar, whose blood shall bear our namestarward; the children of their mighty loins,as far as eve and morn enfold the seas,shall see a subject world beneath their feetsubmissive lie.” This admonition givenLatinus hid not. But on restless wingrumor had spread it, when the men of Troy
along the river-bank of mounded green their fleet made fast.Aeneas and his chiefs,with fair Iulus, under spreading boughsof one great tree made resting-place, and setthe banquet on. Thin loaves of altar-breadalong the sward to bear their meats were laid(such was the will of Jove), and wilding fruitsrose heaping high, with Ceres' gift below.Soon, all things else devoured, their hunger turnedto taste the scanty bread, which they attackedwith tooth and nail audacious, and consumedboth round and square of that predestined leaven.“Look, how we eat our tables even!” criedIulus, in a jest. Such was the wordwhich bade their burdens fall. From his boy's lipthe father caught this utterance of Fate,silent with wonder at the ways of Heaven;then swift he spoke: “Hail! O my destined shore,protecting deities of Ilium, hail!Here is our home, our country here! This dayI publish the mysterious prophecyby Sire Anchises given: ‘My son,’ said he,‘When hunger in strange lands shall bid devourthe tables of thy banquet gone, then hopefor home, though weary, and take thought to builda dwelling and a battlement.’ Behold!This was our fated hunger! This last proofwill end our evil days. Up, then! For nowby morning's joyful beam we will explorewhat men, what cities, in this region be,and, leaving ship, our several errands ply.Your gift to Jove outpour! Make thankful prayerunto Anchises' shade! To this our feastbring back the flowing wine!” Thereat he boundhis forehead with green garland, calling loudupon the Genius of that place, and Earth,eldest of names divine; the Nymphs he called,and river-gods unknown; his voice invokedthe night, the omen-stars through night that roll.Jove, Ida's child, and Phrygia's fertile Queen:he called his mother from Olympian skies,and sire from Erebus. Lo, o'er his headthree times unclouded Jove omnipotentin thunder spoke, and, with effulgent rayfrom his ethereal tract outreaching far,shook visibly the golden-gleaming air.Swift, through the concourse of the Trojans, spreadnews of the day at hand when they should buildtheir destined walls. So, with rejoicing heartat such vast omen, they set forth a feastwith zealous emulation, ranging wellthe wine-cups fair with many a garland crowned. Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawnlooked o'er the world, they took their separate ways,exploring shore and towns; here spread the poolsand fountain of Numicius; here they seethe river Tiber, where bold Latins dwell.Anchises' son chose out from his brave banda hundred envoys, bidding them departto the King's sacred city, each enwreathedwith Pallas' silver leaf; and gifts they bearto plead for peace and friendship at his throne.While on this errand their swift steps are sped,Aeneas, by a shallow moat and small,his future city shows, breaks ground, and girdswith mound and breastwork like a camp of warthe Trojans' first abode. Soon, making wayto where the Latin citadel uprose,the envoys scanned the battlements, and pausedbeneath its wall. Outside the city gatesfair youths and striplings in life's early bloomcourse with swift steeds, or steer through dusty cloudthe whirling chariot, or stretch stout bows,or hurl the seasoned javelin, or strivein boxing-bout and foot-race: one of thesemade haste on horseback to the aged King,with tidings of a stranger companyin foreign garb approaching. The good Kingbade call them to his house, and took his seatin mid-court on his high, ancestral throne. Large and majestical the castle rose:a hundred columns lifted it in airupon the city's crown—the royal keepof Picus of Laurentum; round it laydeep, gloomy woods by olden worship blest.Here kings took sceptre and the fasces proudwith omens fair; the selfsame sacred placewas senate-house and temple; here was founda hall for hallowed feasting, where a ramwas offered up, and at long banquet-boardsthe nation's fathers sat in due array.Here ranged ancestral statues roughly hewnof ancient cedar-wood: King Italus;Father Sabinus, planter of the vine,a curving sickle in his sculptured hand;gray-bearded Saturn; and the double browof Janus' head; and other sires and kingswere wardens of the door, with many a chiefwounded in battle for his native land.Trophies of arms in goodly order hungalong the columns: chariots of warfrom foeman taken, axes of round blade,plumed helmets, bolts and barriers of steelfrom city-gates, shields, spears, and beaks of bronzefrom captured galleys by the conqueror torn.Here, wielding his Quirinal augur-staff,girt in scant shift, and bearing on his leftthe sacred oval shield, appeared enthronedPicus, breaker of horses, whom his bride,enamoured Circe, smote with golden wand,and, raining o'er him potent poison-dew,changed to a bird of pied and dappled wings.
In such a temple of his gods did SireLatinus, on hereditary throne,welcome the Trojans to his halls, and thuswith brow serene gave greeting as they came:“O sons of Dardanus, think not unknownyour lineage and city! Rumored faryour venturous voyage has been. What seek ye here?What cause, what quest, has brought your barks and youo'er the blue waters to Ausonia's hills?What way uncharted, or wild stress of storm,or what that sailors suffer in mid-sea,unto this river bank and haven bore?Doubt not our welcome! We of Latin landare Saturn's sons, whose equitable minds,not chained by statute or compulsion, keepin freedom what the god's good custom gave.Now I bethink me our Ausonian seershave dark, dim lore that 't was this land gave birthto Dardanus, who after took his way through Phrygian Ida's towns and Samothrace. Once out of Tuscan Corythus he fared;but now in golden house among the starshe has a throne, and by his altars blestadds to the number of the gods we praise.” He spoke; Ilioneus this answer made:“O King, great heir of Faunus! No dark stormimpelled us o'er the flood thy realm to find.Nor star deceived, nor strange, bewildering shorethrew out of our true course; but we are comeby our free choice and with deliberate aimto this thy town, though exiled forth of realmsonce mightiest of all the sun-god seeswhen moving from his utmost eastern bound.From Jove our line began; the sons of Troy
boast Jove to be their sire, and our true Kingis of Olympian seed. To thine abodeTrojan Aeneas sent us. How there bursto'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae's kingsa tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom all Asia's world with Europe clashed in war,that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest islehas banished to the Ocean's rim, or hewhose dwelling is the ample zone that burnsbetwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms,far severed from the world. We are the menfrom war's destroying deluge safely borneover the waters wide. We only asksome low-roofed dwelling for our fathers' gods,some friendly shore, and, what to all is free,water and air. We bring no evil nameupon thy people; thy renown will bebut wider spread; nor of a deed so faircan grateful memory die. Ye ne'er will ruethat to Ausonia's breast ye gathered Troy.I swear thee by the favored destiniesof great Aeneas, by his strength of armin friendship or in war, that many a tribe(O, scorn us not, that, bearing olive green,with suppliant words we come), that many a thronehas sued us to be friends. But Fate's decreeto this thy realm did guide. Here Dardanuswas born; and with reiterate commandthis way Apollo pointed to the streamof Tiber and Numicius' haunted spring.Lo, these poor tributes from his greatness goneAeneas sends, these relics snatched awayfrom Ilium burning: with this golden bowlAnchises poured libation when he prayed;and these were Priam's splendor, when he gavelaws to his gathered states; this sceptre his,this diadem revered, and beauteous pall,handwork of Asia's queens.” So ceased to speakIlioneus. But King Latinus gazedunanswering on the ground, all motionlesssave for his musing eyes. The broidered pallof purple, and the sceptre Priam bore,moved little on his kingly heart, which nowpondered of giving to the bridal bedhis daughter dear. He argues in his mindthe oracle of Faunus:—might this bethat destined bridegroom from an alien land,to share his throne, to get a progenyof glorious valor, which by mighty deedsshould win the world for kingdom? So at lastwith joyful brow he spoke: “Now let the godsour purpose and their own fair promise bless!Thou hast, O Trojan, thy desire. Thy giftsI have not scorned; nor while Latinus reignsshall ye lack riches in my plenteous land,not less than Trojan store. But where is he,Aeneas' self? If he our royal loveso much desire, and have such urgent mindto be our guest and friend, let him draw near,nor turn him from well-wishing looks away!My offering and pledge of peace shall beto clasp your monarch's hand. Bear back, I pray,this answer to your King: my dwelling holdsa daughter, whom with husband of her bloodgreat signs in heaven and from my father's tombforbid to wed. A son from alien shoresthey prophesy for Latium's heir, whose seedshall lift our glory to the stars divine.I am persuaded this is none but he,that man of destiny; and if my heartbe no false prophet, I desire it so.”Thus having said, the sire took chosen steedsfrom his full herd, whereof, well-groomed and fair,three hundred stood within his ample pale.Of these to every Teucrian guest he gavea courser swift and strong, in purple cladand broidered housings gay; on every breasthung chains of gold; in golden robes arrayed,they champed the red gold curb their teeth between.For offering to Aeneas, he bade senda chariot, with chargers twain of seedethereal, their nostrils breathing fire:the famous kind which guileful Circe bred,cheating her sire, and mixed the sun-god's teamwith brood-mares earthly born. The sons of Troy,such gifts and greetings from Latinus bearing,rode back in pomp his words of peace to bring. But lo! from Argos on her voyage of airrides the dread spouse of Jove. She, sky-enthronedabove the far Sicilian promontory,pachynus, sees Dardania's rescued fleet,and all Aeneas' joy. The prospect showshouses a-building, lands of safe abode,and the abandoned ships. With bitter griefshe stands at gaze: then with storm-shaken brows,thus from her heart lets loose the wrathful word:“O hated race! O Phrygian destinies —to mine forevermore (unhappy me!)a scandal and offense! Did no one dieon Troy's embattled plain? Could captured slavesnot be enslaved again? Was Ilium's flameno warrior's funeral pyre? Did they walk safethrough serried swords and congregated fires?At last, methought, my godhead might repose,and my full-fed revenge in slumber lie.But nay! Though flung forth from their native land,I o'er the waves, with enmity unstayed,dared give them chase, and on that exiled fewhurled the whole sea. I smote the sons of Troy
with ocean's power and heaven's. But what availedSyrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis' waves?The Trojans are in Tiber; and abidewithin their prayed-for land delectable,safe from the seas and me! Mars once had powerthe monstrous Lapithae to slay; and Joveto Dian's honor and revenge gave o'erthe land of Calydon. What crime so foulwas wrought by Lapithae or Calydon?But I, Jove's wife and Queen, who in my woeshave ventured each bold stroke my power could find,and every shift essayed,—behold me nowoutdone by this Aeneas! If so weakmy own prerogative of godhead be,let me seek strength in war, come whence it will!If Heaven I may not move, on Hell I call.To bar him from his Latin throne exceedsmy fated power. So be it! Fate has givenLavinia for his bride. But long delaysI still can plot, and to the high eventdeferment and obstruction. I can smitethe subjects of both kings. Let sire and sonbuy with their people's blood this marriage-bond!Let Teucrian and Rutulian slaughter bethy virgin dower, and Bellona's blazelight thee the bridal bed! Not only teemedthe womb of Hecuba with burning brand,and brought forth nuptial fires; but Venus, too, such offspring bore, a second Paris, whoto their new Troy shall fatal wedlock bring.” So saying, with aspect terrible she spedearthward her way; and called from gloom of hellAlecto, woeful power, from cloudy throneamong the Furies, where her heart is fedwith horrid wars, wrath, vengeance, treason foul,and fatal feuds. Her father Pluto loathesthe creature he engendered, and with hateher hell-born sister-fiends the monster view.A host of shapes she wears, and many a frontof frowning black brows viper-garlanded.Juno to her this goading speech addressed:“O daughter of dark Night, arouse for methy wonted powers and our task begin!Lest now my glory fail, my royal namebe vanquished, while Aeneas and his crewcheat with a wedlock bond the Latin Kingand seize Italia's fields. Thou canst thrust ontwo Ioving brothers to draw sword and slay,and ruin homes with hatred, calling inthe scourge of Furies and avenging fires.A thousand names thou bearest, and thy waysof ruin multiply a thousand-fold.Arouse thy fertile breast! Go, rend in twainthis plighted peace! Breed calumnies and sowcauses of battle, till yon warrior hostscry out for swords and leap to gird them on.” Straightway Alecto, through whose body flowsthe Gorgon poison, took her viewless wayto Latium and the lofty walls and towersof the Laurentian King. Crouching she satein silence on the threshold of the bowerwhere Queen Amata in her fevered soulpondered, with all a woman's wrath and fear,upon the Trojans and the marriage-suitof Turnus. From her Stygian hair the fienda single serpent flung, which stole its wayto the Queen's very heart, that, frenzy-driven,she might on her whole house confusion pour.Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it woundunfelt, unseen, and in her wrathful mindinstilled its viper soul. Like golden chainaround her neck it twined, or stretched alongthe fillets on her brow, or with her hairenwrithing coiled; then on from limb to limbslipped tortuous. Yet though the venom strongthrilled with its first infection every vein,and touched her bones with fire, she knew it not,nor yielded all her soul, but made her pleain gentle accents such as mothers use;and many a tear she shed, about her child,her darling, destined for a Phrygian's bride:“O father! can we give Lavinia's handto Trojan fugitives? why wilt thou showno mercy on thy daughter, nor thyself;nor unto me, whom at the first fair windthat wretch will leave deserted, bearing farupon his pirate ship my stolen child?Was it not thus that Phrygian shepherd cameto Lacedaemon, ravishing awayHelen, the child of Leda, whom he boreto those false Trojan lands? Hast thou forgotthy plighted word? Where now thy boasted loveof kith and kin, and many a troth-plight givenunto our kinsman Turnus? If we needan alien son, and Father Faunus' wordsirrevocably o'er thy spirit brood,I tell thee every land not linked with oursunder one sceptre, but distinct and free,is alien; and 't is thus the gods intend.Indeed, if Turnus' ancient race be told,it sprang of Inachus, Acrisius,and out of mid-Mycenae.” But she seesher lord Latinus resolute, her wordsan effort vain; and through her body spreadsthe Fury's deeply venomed viper-sting.Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on,she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrungalong the public ways; as oft one seesbeneath the twisted whips a leaping topsped in long spirals through a palace-closeby lads at play: obedient to the thong,it weaves wide circles in the gaping viewof its small masters, who admiring seethe whirling boxwood made a living thingunder their lash. So fast and far she rovedfrom town to town among the clansmen wild.Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feelthe madness Bacchus loves; for she essaysa fiercer crime, by fiercer frenzy moved.Now in the leafy dark of mountain valesshe hides her daughter, ravished thus awayfrom Trojan bridegroom and the wedding-feast.“Hail, Bacchus! Thou alone,” she shrieked and raved,“art worthy such a maid. For thee she bearsthe thyrsus with soft ivy-clusters crowned,and trips ecstatic in thy beauteous choir.For thee alone my daughter shall unbindthe glory of her virgin hair.” Swift runsthe rumor of her deed; and, frenzy-driven,the wives of Latium to the forests fly,enkindled with one rage. They leave behindtheir desolated hearths, and let rude windso'er neck and tresses blow; their voices fillthe welkin with convulsive shriek and wail;and, with fresh fawn-skins on their bodies bound,they brandish vine-clad spears. The Queen herselflifts high a blazing pine tree, while she singsa wedding-song for Turnus and her child.With bloodshot glance and anger wild, she cries:“Ho! all ye Latin wives, if e'er ye knewkindness for poor Amata, if ye carefor a wronged mother's woes, O, follow me!Cast off the matron fillet from your brows,and revel to our mad, voluptuous song.”Thus, through the woodland haunt of creatures wild,Alecto urges on the raging Queenwith Bacchus' cruel goad. But when she deemedthe edge of wrath well whetted, and the houseof wise Latinus of all reason reft,then soared the black-winged goddess to the wallsof the bold Rutule, to the city built(So runs the tale) by beauteous Danaeand her Acrisian people, shipwrecked thereby south wind strong. Its name was Ardea
in language of our sires, and that proud nameof Ardea still it wears, though proud no more.Here Turnus in the gloom of midnight layhalf-sleeping in his regal hall. For himAlecto her grim fury-guise put by,and wore an old crone's face, her baleful browdelved deep with wrinkled age, her hoary hairin sacred fillet bound, and garlandedwith leaf of olive: Calybe she seemed,an aged servitress ot Juno's shrine,and in this seeming thus the prince addressed:—“O Turnus, wilt thou tamely see thy toillavished in vain? and thy true throne consignedto Trojan wanderers? The King repelsthy noble wooing and thy war-won dower.He summons him a son of alien stemto take his kingdom. Rouse thee now, and front,scorned and without reward, these perilous days.Tread down that Tuscan host! Protect the peaceof Latium from its foe! Such is the wordwhich, while in night and slumber thou wert laid,Saturnia's godhead, visibly revealed,bade me declare. Up, therefore, and arraythy warriors in arms! Swift sallying forthfrom thy strong city-gates, on to the frayexultant go! Assail the Phrygian chiefswho tent them by thy beauteous river's marge,and burn their painted galleys! 't is the willof gods above that speaks. Yea, even the KingLatinus, if he will not heed thy plea,or hear thy wooing, shall be taught too latewhat Turnus is in panoply of war.” In mocking answer to the prophetessthe warrior thus replied: “That stranger fleetin Tiber moored, not, as thy folly prates,of me unnoted lies. Vex me no morewith thy fantastic terror. Juno's poweris watchful of my cause. 'T is mere old age,gone to decay and dotage, fills thy breastwith vain foreboding, and, while kings contend,scares and deceives thy visionary eye.Guard thou in yonder temple's holy shadethe images divine! Of peace and warlet men and warriors the burden bear!” So kindled he Alecto's wrath to flame;and even as he spoke a shudder thrilledthe warrior's body, and his eyeballs stoodstonily staring at the hydra hairwhich hissed and writhed above the grisly headof the large-looming fiend. With eyes of firehorribly rolling, she repelled him far,while he but faltered speechless. She upraisedtwo coiling snakes out of her tresses, crackedthe lashes of her scourge, and wrathfully,with raving lips replied: “Look well on me,gone to decay and dotage of old age!And mocked with foolish fear while kings contend!Wilt hearken now! Behold me, hither flownfrom where my sister-furies dwell! My handsbring bloody death and war.” She spoke, and hurledher firebrand at the hero, thrusting deepbeneath his heart her darkly smouldering flame.Then horror broke his sleep, and fearful sweatdripped from his every limb. He shrieked aloudfor arms; and seized the ready arms that layaround his couch and hall. Then o'er his soulthe lust of battle and wild curse of warbroke forth in angry power, as when the flamesof faggots round the bubbling cauldron sing,and up the waters leap; the close-kept floodbrims over, streaming, foaming, breaking bound,and flings thick clouds in air. He, summoninghis chieftains, bade them on Latinus move,break peace, take arms, and, over Italy
their shields extending, to thrust forth her foe:himself for Teucrian with Latin joinedwas more than match. He called upon the godsin witness of his vows: while, nothing loth,Rutulia's warriors rushed into array;some by his youth and noble beauty moved,some by his kingly sires and fame in arms. While Turnus stirred Rutulia's valiant souls,Alecto on her Stygian pinions spedto where the Teucrians lay. She scanned the groundwith eager guile, where by the river's margefair-browed Iulus with his nets and snaresrode fiercely to the chase. Then o'er his houndsthat hell-born virgin breathed a sudden rage,and filled each cunning nostril with the scentof stags, till forth in wild pursuit they flew.Here all the woe began, and here awokein rustic souls the swift-enkindling war.For a fair stag, tall-antlered, stolen awayeven from its mother's milk, had long been keptby Tyrrhus and his sons—the shepherd heof all the royal flocks, and foresterof a wide region round. With fondest caretheir sister Silvia entwined its hornswith soft, fresh garlands, tamed it to run close,and combed the creature, or would bring to batheat a clear, crystal spring. It knew the handsof all its gentle masters, and would feedfrom their own dish; or wandering through the wood,come back unguided to their friendly door,though deep the evening shade. Iulus' dogsnow roused this wanderer in their ravening chase,as, drifted down-stream far from home it lay,on a green bank a-cooling. From bent bowAscanius, eager for a hunter's praise,let go his shaft; nor did Alecto failhis aim to guide: but, whistling through the air,the light-winged reed pierced deep in flank and side.Swift to its cover fled the wounded thing,and crept loud-moaning to its wonted stall,where, like a blood-stained suppliant, it seemedto fill that shepherd's house with plaintive prayer.Then Silvia the sister, smiting ofton breast and arm, made cry for help, and calledthe sturdy rustics forth in gathering throng.These now (for in the silent forest couchedthe cruel Fury) swift to battle flew.One brandished a charred stake, another swunga knotted cudgel, as rude anger shapesits weapon of whate'er the searching eyefirst haps to fall on. Tyrrhus roused his clans,just when by chance he split with blows of wedgean oak in four; and, panting giant breath,shouldered his woodman's axe. Alecto then,prompt to the stroke of mischief, soared aloftfrom where she spying sate, to the steep roofof a tall byre, and from its peak of strawblew a wild signal on a shepherd's horn,outflinging her infernal note so farthat all the forest shuddered, and the grovethrobbed to its deepest glen. Cold Trivia's lakefrom end to end gave ear, and every waveof the white stream of Nar, the lonely poolsof still Velinus heard: while at the soundpale mothers to their breasts their children drew.Swift to the signal of the dreadful horn, snatching their weapons rude, the freeborn swainsassembled for the fray; the Trojan bandspoured from their bivouac with instant aid for young Ascanius. In array of warboth stand confronting. Not mere rustic brawlwith charred oak-staff and cudgel is the fight,but with the two-edged steel; the naked swordswave like dark-bladed harvest-field, while farthe brazen arms flash in the smiting sun,and skyward fling their beam: so some wide sea,at first but whitened in the rising wind,swells its slow-rolling mass and ever higherits billows rears, until the utmost deeplifts in one surge to heaven. The first to fallwas Almo, eldest-born of Tyrrhus' sons,whom, striding in the van, a loud-winged shaftlaid low in death; deep in his throat it clung,and silenced with his blood the dying cryof his frail life. Around him fell the formsof many a brave and strong; among them diedgray-haired Galaesus pleading for a truce:righteous he was, and of Ausonian fieldsa prosperous master; five full flocks had heof bleating sheep, and from his pastures camefive herds of cattle home; his busy churlsturned with a hundred ploughs his fruitful glebe.
While o'er the battle-field thus doubtful swungthe scales of war, the Fury (to her tasknow equal proven) having dyed the daya deep-ensanguined hue, and opened fightwith death and slaughter, made no tarryingwithin Hesperia, but skyward soared,and, Ioud in triumph, insolently thusto Juno called: “See, at thy will, their strifefull-blown to war and woe! Could even thyselfcommand them now to truce and amity?But I, that with Ausonia's blood befoultheir Trojan hands, yet more can do, if thoushift not thy purpose. For with dire alarmsI will awake the bordering states to warenkindling in their souls the frenzied lustthe war-god breathes; till from th' horizon roundthe reinforcement pours—I scattering seedsof carnage through the land.” In answer spokejuno: “Enough of artifice and fear!Thy provocation works. Now have they joinedin close and deadly combat, and warm bloodthose sudden-leaping swords incarnadines,which chance put in their hands. Such nuptial joys,such feast of wedlock, let the famous sonof Venus with the King Latinus share!But yon Olympian Sire and King no morepermits thee freely in our skies to roam.Go, quit the field! Myself will take controlof hazards and of labors yet to be.”Thus Saturn's daughter spoke. Alecto then,unfolding far her hissing, viperous wings,turned toward her Stygian home, and took farewellof upper air. Deep in Italia liesa region mountain-girded, widely famed,and known in olden songs from land to land:the valley of Amsanctus; deep, dark shadesenclose it between forest-walls, wherebythrough thunderous stony channel serpentinesa roaring fall. Here in a monstrous caveare breathing-holes of hell, a vast abysswhere Acheron opes wide its noisome jaws:in this Alecto plunged, concealing soher execrable godhead, while the airof earth and heaven felt the curse removed. Forthwith the sovereign hands of Juno hasteto consummate the war. The shepherds bearback from the field of battle to the townthe bodies of the slain: young Almo's corseand gray Galaesus' bleeding head. They calljust gods in heaven to Iook upon their wrong,and bid Latinus see it. Turnus comes,and, while the angry mob surveys the slain,adds fury to the hour. “Shall the landhave Trojan lords? Shall Phrygian marriagesdebase our ancient, royal blood—and Ibe spurned upon the threshold?” Then drew nearthe men whose frenzied women-folk had heldbacchantic orgies in the pathless grove,awed by Amata's name: these, gathering,sued loud for war. Yea, all defied the signsand venerable omens; all withstooddivine decrees, and clamored for revenge,prompted by evil powers. They besiegedthe house of King Latinus, shouting-loudwith emulous rage. But like a sea-girt rockunmoved he stood; like sea-girt rock when surgeof waters o'er it sweeps, or howling wavessurround; it keeps a ponderous front of power,though foaming cliffs around it vainly roar;from its firm base the broken sea-weeds fall.But when authority no whit could changetheir counsels blind, and each event fulfilleddread Juno's will, then with complaining prayerthe aged sire cried loud upon his godsand on th' unheeding air: “Alas,” said he,“My doom is shipwreck, and the tempest bearsmy bark away! O wretches, your own bloodshall pay the forfeit for your impious crime.O Turnus! O abominable deed!Avenging woes pursue thee; to deaf godsthy late and unavailing prayer shall rise.Now was my time to rest. But as I comeclose to my journey's end, thou spoilest meof comfort in my death.” With this the Kingfled to his house and ceased his realm to guide.
A sacred custom the Hesperian landof Latium knew, by all the Alban hillshonored unbroken, which wide-ruling Rome
keeps to this day, when to new stroke she stirsthe might of Mars; if on the Danube's waveresolved to fling the mournful doom of war,or on the Caspian folk or Arabs wild;or chase the morning far as India's verge,ind from the Parthian despot wrest awayour banners Iost. Twin Gates of War there be,of fearful name, to Mars' fierce godhead vowed:a hundred brass bars shut them, and the strengthof uncorrupting steel; in sleepless watchJanus the threshold keeps. 'T is here, what timethe senate's voice is war, the consul gravein Gabine cincture and Quirinal shifthimself the griding hinges backward moves,and bids the Romans arm; obedient thenthe legionary host makes Ioud acclaim,and hoarse consent the brazen trumpets blow.Thus King Latinus on the sons of Troy
was urged to open war, and backward rollthose gates of sorrow: but the aged kingrecoiled, refused the loathsome task, and fledto solitary shades. Then from the skiesthe Queen of gods stooped down, and her sole handthe lingering portal moved; Saturnia
swung on their hinges the barred gates of war.ausonia from its old tranquillitybursts forth in flame. Foot-soldiers through the fieldrun to and fro; and mounted on tall steedsthe cavaliers in clouds of dust whirl by.All arm in haste. Some oil the glittering shieldor javelin bright, or on the whetstone weargood axes to an edge, while joyful bandsuplift the standards or the trumpets blow.Five mighty cities to their anvils bringnew-tempered arms: Atina—martial name —proud Tibur, Ardea, Crustumium,and river-walled Antemnae, crowned with towersstrong hollow helmets on their brows they drawand weave them willow-shields; or melt and mouldcorselets of brass or shining silver greaves;none now for pruning-hook or sacred ploughhave love or care: but old, ancestral swordsfor hardier tempering to the smith they bring.Now peals the clarion; through the legions passthe watchwords: the impatient yeoman takeshis helmet from the idle roof-tree hung;while to his chariot the master yokesthe mettled war-horse, dons a shining shieldand golden mail, and buckles his good sword. Virgins of Helicon, renew my song!Instruct me what proud kings to battle flownwith following legions throng the serried plain.Tell me what heroes and illustrious armsItalia's bosom in her dawning daybenignant bore: for your celestial minds,have memory of the past, but faint and lowsteals glory's whisper on a mortal ear. Foremost in fight, from shores Etrurian cameMezentius, scornful rebel against Heaven,his people all in arms; and at his sideLausus his heir (no fairer youth than he,save Turnus of Laurentum), Lausus, skilledo break proud horses and wild beasts to quell;who from Agylla's citadel in vainled forth his thousand warriors: worthy heto serve a nobler sire, and happier farhe had ne'er been born Mezentius' son.
Next after these, conspicuous o'er the plain,with palm-crowned chariot and victorious steeds,rode forth well-moulded Aventinus, sprungfrom shapely Hercules; upon the shieldhis blazon was a hundred snakes, and showedhis father's hydra-cincture serpentine;him deep in Aventine's most secret grovethe priestess Rhea bore—a mortal maidclasped in a god's embrace the wondrous daywhen, flushed with conquest of huge Geryon,the lord of Tiryns to Laurentum drove,and washed in Tiber's wave th' Iberian kine.His followers brandished pointed pikes and staves,or smooth Sabellian bodkin tipped with steel;but he, afoot, swung round him as he strodea monstrous lion-skin, its bristling maneand white teeth crowning his ferocious brow:for garbed as Hercules he sought his King.