Now Agamemnon's kinsman, cruel foeto the mere name of Troy, Halaesus, yokesthe horses of his car and summons fortha thousand savage clans at Turnus' call :rude men whose mattocks to the Massic hillsbring Bacchus' bounty, or by graybeard siressent from Auruncan upland and the meadof Sidicinum; out of Cales cameits simple folk; and dwellers by the streamof many-shoaled Volturnus, close-alliedwith bold Saticulan or Oscan swains.Their arms are tapered javelins, which they wearbound by a coiling thong; a shield concealsthe left side, and they fight with crooked swords. Nor shalt thou, Oebalus, depart unsung,whom minstrels say the nymph Sebethis boreto Telon, who in Capri was a kingwhen old and gray; but that disdaining sonquitted so small a seat, and conquering swayamong Sarrastian folk and those wide plainswatered by Sarnus' wave, became a kingover Celenna, Rufrae, Batulum,and where among her apple-orchards riseAbella's walls. All these, as Teutons use, hurl a light javelin; for helm they wearstripped cork-tree bark; the crescent of their shieldsis gleaming bronze, and gleaming bronze the sword. Next Ufens, mountain-bred, from Nersae cameto join the war; of goodly fame was hefor prosperous arms: his Aequian people showno gentle mien, but scour the woods for prey,or, ever-armed, across the stubborn glebecompel the plough; though their chief pride and joyare rapine, violence, and plundered store.
Next after these, his brows and helmet boundwith noble olive, from Marruvium camea priest, brave Umbro, ordered to the fieldby King Archippus: o'er the viper's brood,and venomed river-serpents he had powerto scatter slumber with wide-waving handsand wizard-songs. His potent arts could soothetheir coiling rage and heal the mortal sting:but 'gainst a Trojan sword no drug had he,nor could his drowsy spells his flesh repair,nor gathered simples from the Marsic hills.Thee soon in wailing woods Anguitia mourned,thee, Fucinus, the lake of crystal wave,thee, many a mountain-tarn! Next, Virbius in martial beauty rode,son of Hippolytus, whose mother, proudAricia, sent him in his flower of fameout of Egeria's hills and cloudy groveswhere lies Diana's gracious, gifted fane.For legend whispers that Hippolytus,by step-dame's plot undone, his life-blood gaveto sate his vengeful father, and was rentin sunder by wild horses; but the graveto air of heaven and prospect of the starsrestored him;—for Diana's love and carepoured out upon him Paeon's healing balm.But Jove, almighty Sire, brooked not to seea mortal out of death and dark reclimbto light of life, and with a thunderbolthurled to the Stygian river Phoebus' son,who dared such good elixir to compound.But pitying Trivia hid Hippolytusin her most secret cave, and gave in wardto the wise nymph Egeria in her grove;where he lived on inglorious and alone,ranging the woods of Italy, and borethe name of Virbius. 'T is for this causethe hallowed woods to Trivia's temple vowedforbid loud-footed horses, such as spilledstripling and chariot on the fatal shore,scared by the monsters peering from the sea.Yet did the son o'er that tumultuous plainhis battle-chariot guide and plunging team. Lo, Turnus strides conspicuous in the van,full armed, of mighty frame, his lordly headhigh o'er his peers emerging! His tall helmwith flowing triple crest for ensign bearsChimaera, whose terrific lips outpourvolcanic fires; where'er the menace movesof her infernal flames and wrathful frown,there wildest flows the purple flood of war.On his smooth shield deep graven in the goldis horned Io—wondrous the device!—a shaggy heifer-shape the maiden shows;Argus is watching her, while Inachuspours forth his river from the pictured urn.A storm of tramping troops, to Turnus sworn,throngs all the widespread plain with serried shields:warriors of Argos, and Auruncan bands,Sicani, Rutuli, Sacranian hosts,Labicum's painted shields; all who tillthy woodland vales, O Tiber! or the shoreNumicius hallows; all whose ploughs upturnRutulia's hills, or that Circaean rangewhere Jove of Anxur guards, and forests greenmake fair Feronia glad; where lie the fensof Satura, and Ufens' icy wavethrough lowland valleys seeks his seaward way. Last came Camilla, of the Volscians bred,leading her mail-clad, radiant chivalry;a warrior-virgin, of Minerva's craftof web and distaff, fit for woman's toil,no follower she; but bared her virgin breastto meet the brunt of battle, and her speedleft even the winds behind; for she would skiman untouched harvest ere the sickle fell,nor graze the quivering wheat-tops as she ran;or o'er the mid-sea billows' swollen surgeso swiftly race, she wet not in the waveher flying feet. For sight of her the youthfrom field and fortress sped, and matrons gravestood wondering as she passed, well-pleased to seeher royal scarf in many a purple foldfloat off her shining shoulder, her dark hairin golden clasp caught fast, and how she borefor arms a quiver of the Lycian mode,and shepherd's shaft of myrtle tipped with steel.
When Turnus from Laurentum's bastion proudpublished the war, and roused the dreadful noteof the harsh trumpet's song; when on swift steedsthe lash he laid and clashed his sounding arms;then woke each warrior soul; all Latium stirredwith tumult and alarm; and martial rageenkindled youth's hot blood. The chieftains proud,Messapus, Ufens, and that foe of Heaven,Mezentius, compel from far and widetheir loyal hosts, and strip the field and farmof husbandmen. To seek auxiliar armsthey send to glorious Diomed's domainthe herald Venulus, and bid him cry:“Troy is to Latium come; Aeneas' fleethas come to land. He brings his vanquished gods,and gives himself to be our destined King.Cities not few accept him, and his namethrough Latium waxes large. But what the foeby such attempt intends, what victoryis his presumptuous hope, if Fortune smile,Aetolia's lord will not less wisely fearthan royal Turnus or our Latin King.” Thus Latium's cause moved on. Meanwhile the heirof great Laomedon, who knew full wellthe whole wide land astir, was vexed and tossedin troubled seas of care. This way and thathis swift thoughts flew, and scanned with like dismayeach partial peril or the general storm.Thus the vexed waters at a fountain's brim,smitten by sunshine or the silver sphereof a reflected moon, send forth a beamof flickering light that leaps from wall to wall,or, skyward lifted in ethereal flight,glances along some rich-wrought, vaulted dome.Now night had fallen, and all weary things,all shapes of beast or bird, the wide world o'er,lay deep in slumber. So beneath the archof a cold sky Aeneas laid him downupon the river-bank, his heart sore triedby so much war and sorrow, and gave o'erhis body to its Iong-delayed repose.There, 'twixt the poplars by the gentle stream,the River-Father, genius of that place,old Tiberinus visibly uprose;a cloak of gray-green lawn he wore, his hairo'erhung with wreath of reeds. In soothing wordsthus, to console Aeneas' cares, he spoke: “Seed of the gods! who bringest to my shorethy Trojan city wrested from her foe,a stronghold everlasting, Latium's plainand fair Laurentum long have looked for thee.Here truly is thy home. Turn not away.Here the true guardians of thy hearth shall be.Fear not the gathering war. The wrath of Heavenhas stilled its swollen wave. A sign I tell:Lest thou shouldst deem this message of thy sleepa vain, deluding dream, thou soon shalt findin the oak-copses on my margent green,a huge sow, with her newly-littered broodof thirty young; along the ground she lies,snow-white, and round her udders her white young.There shall thy city stand, and there thy toilshall find untroubled rest. After the lapseof thrice ten rolling years, Ascaniusshall found a city there of noble name,White-City, Alba; 't is no dream I sing!But I instruct thee now by what wise wayth' impending wars may bring thee victory:receive the counsel, though the words be few:within this land are men of Arcady,of Pallas' line, who, following in the trainof King Evander and his men-at-arms,built them a city in the hills, and chose(honoring Pallas, their Pelasgian sire),the name of Pallanteum. They make warincessant with the Latins. Therefore call this people to thy side and bind them closein federated power. My channel fairand shaded shore shall guide thee where they dwell,and thy strong oarsmen on my waters borneshall mount my falling stream. Rise, goddess-born,and ere the starlight fade give honor dueto Juno, and with supplicating vowavert her wrath and frown. But unto memake offering in thy victorious hour,in time to come. I am the copious floodwhich thou beholdest chafing at yon shoresand parting fruitful fields: cerulean streamof Tiber, favored greatly of high Heaven.here shall arise my house magnificent,a city of all cities chief and crown.” So spake the river-god, and sank from viewdown to his deepest cave; then night and sleeptogether from Aeneas fled away.He rose, and to the orient beams of mornhis forehead gave; in both his hollowed palmshe held the sacred waters of the stream,and called aloud: “O ye Laurentian nymphs,whence flowing rills be born, and chiefly thou,O Father Tiber, worshipped stream divine,accept Aeneas, and from peril save!If in some hallowed lake or haunted springthy power, pitying my woes, abides,or wheresoe'er the blessed place be foundwhence first thy beauty flows, there evermoremy hands shall bring thee gift and sacrifice.O chief and sovereign of Hesperian streams,O river-god that hold'st the plenteous horn,protect us, and confirm thy words divine!”He spoke; then chose twin biremes from the fleet,gave them good gear and armed their loyal crews. But, lo! a sudden wonder met his eyes:white gleaming through the grove, with all her broodwhite like herself, on the green bank the Sowstretched prone. The good Aeneas slew her there,Great Juno, for a sacrifice to thee,himself the priest, and with the sucklings allbeside shine altar stood. So that whole nightthe god of Tiber calmed his swollen wave,ebbing or lingering in silent flow,till like some gentle lake or sleeping poolhis even waters lay, and strove no moreagainst the oarsmen's toil. Upon their waythey speed with joyful sound; the well-oiled woodslips through the watery floor; the wondering waves,and all the virgin forests wondering,behold the warriors in far-shining armstheir painted galleys up the current drive.O'er the long reaches of the winding floodtheir sturdy oars outweary the slow courseof night and day. Fair groves of changeful greenarch o'er their passage, and they seem to cleavegreen forests in the tranquil wave below.Now had the flaming sun attained his wayto the mid-sphere of heaven, when they discernedwalls and a citadel in distant view,with houses few and far between; 't was there,where sovran Rome to-day has rivalled Heaven,Evander's realm its slender strength displayed:swiftly they turned their prows and neared the town. It chanced th' Arcadian King had come that dayto honor Hercules, Amphitryon's son,and to the powers divine pay worship duein groves outside the wall. Beside him stoodPallas his son, his noblest men-at-arms,and frugal senators, who at the shrinesburnt incense, while warm blood of victims flowed.But when they saw the tall ships in the shadeof that dark forest plying noiseless oars,the sudden sight alarmed, and all the throngsprang to its feet and left the feast divine.But dauntless Pallas bade them give not o'erthe sacred festival, and spear in handflew forward to a bit of rising ground,and cried from far: “Hail, warriors! what causedrives you to lands unknown, and whither bound?Your kin, your country? Bring ye peace or war?”Father Aeneas then held forth a boughof peaceful olive from the lofty ship,thus answering : “Men Trojan-born are we,foes of the Latins, who have driven us forthwith insolent assault. We fain would seeEvander. Pray, deliver this, and saythat chosen princes of Dardaniasue for his help in arms.” So wonder fellon Pallas, awestruck at such mighty name.O, come, whoe'er thou art,” he said, “and speakin presence of my father. Enter here,guest of our hearth and altar.” He put forthhis right hand in true welcome, and they stoodwith lingering clasp; then hand in hand advancedup the steep woodland, leaving Tiber's wave. Aeneas to Evander speaking fair,these words essayed: “O best of Grecian-born!whom Fortune's power now bids me seek and sue,lifting this olive-branch with fillets bound,I have not feared thee, though I know thou arta Greek, and an Arcadian king, alliedto the two sons of Atreus. For behold,my conscious worth, great oracles from Heaven,the kinship of our sires, thy own renownspread through the world—all knit my cause with thine,all make me glad my fates have so decreed.The sire and builder of the Trojan townwas Dardanus; but he, Electra's child,came over sea to Teucria; the sireof fair Electra was great Atlas, hewhose shoulder carries the vast orb of heaven.But thy progenitor was Mercury,and him conceiving, Maia, that white maid,on hoar Cyllene's frosty summit bore.But Maia's sire, if aught of truth be told,was Atlas also, Atlas who sustainsthe weight of starry skies. Thus both our tribesare one divided stem. Secure in this,no envoys have I sent, nor tried thy mindwith artful first approaches, but myself,risking my person and my life, have comea suppliant here. For both on me and theethe house of Daunus hurls insulting war.If us they quell, they doubt not to obtainlordship of all Hesperia, and subduealike the northern and the southern sea.Accept good faith, and give! Behold, our heartsquail not in battle; souls of fire are we,and warriors proved in many an action brave.”
Aeneas ceased. The other long had scannedthe hero's face, his eyes, and wondering viewedhis form and mien divine; in answer nowhe briefly spoke: “With hospitable heart,O bravest warrior of all Trojan-born,I know and welcome thee. I well recallthy sire Anchises, how he looked and spake.For I remember Priam, when he cameto greet his sister, Queen Hesione,in Salamis, and thence pursued his wayto our cool uplands of Arcadia.The bloom of tender boyhood then was mine,and with a wide-eyed wonder I did viewthose Teucrian lords, Laomedon's great heir,and, towering highest in their goodly throng,Anchises, whom my warm young heart desiredto speak with and to clasp his hand in mine.So I approached, and joyful led him hometo Pheneus' olden wall. He gave me giftsthe day he bade adieu; a quiver rarefilled with good Lycian arrows, a rich cloakinwove with thread of gold, and bridle reinsall golden, now to youthful Pallas given.Therefore thy plea is granted, and my handhere clasps in loyal amity with thine.To-morrow at the sunrise thou shalt havemy tribute for the war, and go thy waymy glad ally. But now this festival,whose solemn rite 't were impious to delay,I pray thee celebrate, and bring with theewell-omened looks and words. Allies we are!Use this our sacred feast as if your own.” So saying, he bade his followers renewth' abandoned feast and wine; and placed each gueston turf-built couch of green, most honoringAeneas by a throne of maple fairdecked with a lion's pelt and flowing mane.Then high-born pages, with the altar's priest,bring on the roasted beeves and load the boardwith baskets of fine bread; and wine they bring —of Ceres and of Bacchus gift and toil.While good Aeneas and his Trojans sharethe long whole ox and meats of sacrifice.
When hunger and its eager edge were gone,Evander spoke: “This votive holiday,yon tables spread and altar so divine,are not some superstition dark and vain,that knows not the old gods, O Trojan King!But as men saved from danger and great fearthis thankful sacrifice we pay. Behold,yon huge rock, beetling from the mountain wall,hung from the cliff above. How lone and barethe hollowed mountain looks! How crag on cragtumbled and tossed in huge confusion lie!A cavern once it was, which ran deep downinto the darkness. There th' half-human shapeof Cacus made its hideous den, concealedfrom sunlight and the day. The ground was wetat all times with fresh gore; the portal grimwas hung about with heads of slaughtered men,bloody and pale—a fearsome sight to see.Vulcan begat this monster, which spewed forthdark-fuming flames from his infernal throat,and vast his stature seemed. But time and tidebrought to our prayers the advent of a godto help us at our need. For Hercules,divine avenger, came from laying lowthree-bodied Geryon, whose spoils he woreexultant, and with hands victorious drovethe herd of monster bulls, which pastured freealong our river-valley. Cacus gazedin a brute frenzy, and left not untriedaught of bold crime or stratagem, but stolefour fine bulls as they fed, and heifers four,all matchless; but, lest hoof-tracks point his way,he dragged them cave-wards by the tails, confusingthe natural trail, and hid the stolen herdin his dark den; and not a mark or signcould guide the herdsmen to that cavern-door.But after, when Amphitryon's famous son,preparing to depart, would from the meadsgoad forth the full-fed herd, his lingering bullsroared loud, and by their lamentable cryfilled grove and hills with clamor of farewell:one heifer from the mountain-cave lowed backin answer, so from her close-guarded stallfoiling the monster's will. Then hadst thou seenthe wrath of Hercules in frenzy blazefrom his exasperate heart. His arms he seized,his club of knotted oak, and climbed full-speedthe wind-swept hill. Now first our people sawCacus in fear, with panic in his eyes.Swift to the black cave like a gale he flew,his feet by terror winged. Scarce had he passedthe cavern door, and broken the big chains,and dropped the huge rock which was pendent thereby Vulcan's well-wrought steel; scarce blocked and barredthe guarded gate: when there Tirynthius stood,with heart aflame, surveying each approach,rolling this way and that his wrathful eyes,gnashing his teeth. Three times his ire surveyedthe slope of Aventine; three times he stormedthe rock-built gate in vain; and thrice withdrewto rest him in the vale. But high abovea pointed peak arose, sheer face of rockon every side, which towered into viewfrom the long ridge above the vaulted cave,fit haunt for birds of evil-boding wing.This peak, which leftward toward the river leaned,he smote upon its right—his utmost blow —breaking its bases Ioose; then suddenlythrust at it: as he thrust, the thunder-soundfilled all the arching sky, the river's banksasunder leaped, and Tiber in alarmreversed his flowing wave. So Cacus' lairlay shelterless, and naked to the daythe gloomy caverns of his vast abodestood open, deeply yawning, just as ifthe riven earth should crack, and open wideth' infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale,which gods abhor; and to the realms on highthe measureless abyss should be laid bare,and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun.Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare,caged in the rocks and howling horribly,Alcides hurled his weapons, raining downall sorts of deadly missiles—trunks of trees,and monstrous boulders from the mountain torn.But when the giant from his mortal straitno refuge knew, he blew from his foul jawsa storm of smoke—incredible to tell —and with thick darkness blinding every eye,concealed his cave, uprolling from belowone pitch-black night of mingled gloom and fire.This would Alcides not endure, but leapedheadlong across the flames, where densest hungthe rolling smoke, and through the cavern surgeda drifting and impenetrable cloud.With Cacus, who breathed unavailing flame,he grappled in the dark, locked limb with limb,and strangled him, till o'er the bloodless throatthe starting eyeballs stared.Then Herculesburst wide the doorway of the sooty den,and unto Heaven and all the people showedthe stolen cattle and the robber's crimes,and dragged forth by the feet the shapeless corpseof the foul monster slain. The people gazedinsatiate on the grewsome eyes, the breastof bristling shag, the face both beast and man,and that fire-blasted throat whence breathed no morethe extinguished flame. 'T is since that famous daywe celebrate this feast, and glad of hearteach generation keeps the holy time.Potitius began the worship due,and our Pinarian house is vowed to guardthe rites of Hercules. An altar fairwithin this wood they raised; 't is called ‘the Great,’and Ara Maxima its name shall be.Come now, my warriors, and bind your browswith garlands worthy of the gift of Heaven.Lift high the cup in every thankful hand,and praise our people's god with plenteous wine.”He spoke; and of the poplar's changeful sheen,sacred to Hercules, wove him a wreathto shade his silvered brow. The sacred cuphe raised in his right hand, while all the restcalled on the gods and pure libation poured. Soon from the travelling heavens the western starglowed nearer, and Potitius led forththe priest-procession, girt in ancient guisewith skins of beasts and carrying burning brands.new feasts are spread, and altars heaped anewwith gifts and laden chargers. Then with songthe Salian choir surrounds the blazing shrine,their foreheads wreathed with poplar. Here the youth,the elders yonder, in proud anthem singthe glory and the deeds of Hercules:how first he strangled with strong infant handtwo serpents, Juno's plague; what cities proud,Troy and Oechalia, his famous warin pieces broke; what labors numberlessas King Eurystheus' bondman he endured, by cruel Juno's will. “Thou, unsubdued,didst strike the twy-formed, cloud-bred centaurs down,Pholus and tall Hylaeus. Thou hast slainthe Cretan horror, and the lion hugebeneath the Nemean crag. At sight of theethe Stygian region quailed, and Cerberus,crouching o'er half-picked bones in gory cave.Nothing could bid thee fear. Typhoeus toweredin his colossal Titan-panoplyo'er thee in vain; nor did thy cunning failwhen Lema's wonder-serpent round thee drewits multudinous head. Hail, Jove's true son!New glory to the gods above, come down,and these thine altars and thy people bless!”Such hymns they chanted, telling oft the taleof Cacus' cave and blasting breath of fire:while hills and sacred grove the note prolong. Such worship o'er, all take the homeward wayback to the town. The hospitable King,though bowed with weight of years, kept at his sideAeneas and his son, and as they fared,with various discourse beguiled the way.Aeneas scanned with quick-admiring eyesthe region wide, and lingered with delightnow here, now there, inquiring eagerlyof each proud monument of heroes gone.Then King Evander, he who builded firstOn Palatine, spoke thus: “These groves erewhiletheir native nymphs and fauns enjoyed, with menfrom trees engendered and stout heart of oak.Nor laws nor arts they knew; nor how to tameburls to the yoke, nor fill great barns with storeand hoard the gathered grain; but rudely faredon wild fruits and such food as hunters find.Then Saturn from Olympian realms came down,in flight from Jove's dread arms, his sceptre lost,and he an exiled King. That savage racehe gathered from the mountain slopes; and gavewise laws and statutes; so that latent landwas Latium, ‘hid land’, where he hid so long.The golden centuries by legends toldwere under that good King, whose equal swayuntroubled peace to all his peoples gave.But after slow decline arrived an agedegenerate and of a darker hue,prone to insensate war and greed of gain.Then came Sicanian and Ausonian tribes,and oft the land of Saturn lost its name.New chieftains rose, and Thybris, giant Kingand violent, from whom th' Italians namedthe flooding Tiber, which was called no morethe Albula, its true and ancient style.Myself, in exile from my fatherlandsailing uncharted seas, was guided hereby all-disposing Chance and iron lawsof Destiny. With prophecy severeCarmentis, my nymph-mother, thrust me on,warned by Apollo's word.” He scarce had said,when near their path he showed an altar fairand the Carmental gate, where Romans seememorial of Carmentis, nymph divine,the prophetess of fate, who first foretoldwhat honors on Aeneas' sons should falland lordly Pallanteum, where they dwell.Next the vast grove was seen, where Romulusordained inviolable sanctuary;then the Lupercal under its cold crag,Wolf-hill, where old Arcadians reveredtheir wolf-god, the Lycaean Pan. Here toothe grove of Argiletum, sacred name,where good Evander told the crime and deathof Argus, his false guest. From this they climbedthe steep Tarpeian hill, the Capitol,all gold to-day, but then a tangled wildof thorny woodland. Even then the placewoke in the rustics a religious awe,and bade them fear and tremble at the viewof that dread rock and grove. “This leafy wood,which crowns the hill-top, is the favored seatof some great god,” said he, “but of his namewe know not surely. The Arcadians sayjove's dread right hand here visibly appearsto shake his aegis in the darkening storm,the clouds compelling. Yonder rise in viewtwo strongholds with dismantled walls, which noware but a memory of great heroes gone:one father Janus built, and Saturn one;their names, Saturnia and Janiculum.”'Mid such good parley to the house they cameof King Evander, unadorned and plain,whence herds of browsing cattle could be seenranging the Forum, and loud-bellowingin proud Carinae. As they entered there,“Behold,” said he, “the threshold that receivedAlcides in his triumph! This abodehe made his own. Dare, O illustrious guest,to scorn the pomp of power. Shape thy soulto be a god's fit follower. Enter here,and free from pride our frugal welcome share.”So saying, 'neath his roof-tree scant and lowhe led the great Aeneas, offering hima couch of leaves with Libyan bear-skin spread.Now night drew near, enfolding the wide worldin shadowy wings. But Venus, sore disturbed,vexed not unwisely her maternal breast,fearing Laurentum's menace and wild stirof obstinate revolt, and made her pleato Vulcan in their nuptial bower of gold,outbreathing in the music of her wordscelestial love: “When warring Argive kingsbrought ruin on Troy's sacred citadeland ramparts soon to sink in hostile flames,I asked not thee to help that hopeless woe,nor craved thy craft and power. For, dearest lord,I would not tax in vain shine arduous toil,though much to Priam's children I was bound,and oft to see Aeneas burdened soreI could but weep. But now by will of Jovehe has found foothold in Rutulian lands.Therefore I come at last with lowly suitbefore a godhead I adore, and prayfor gift of arms,—a mother for her son.Thou wert not unrelenting to the tearsof Nereus' daughter or Tithonus' bride.Behold what tribes conspire, what cities strongbehind barred gates now make the falchion keento ruin and blot out both me and mine!”So spake the goddess, as her arms of snowaround her hesitating spouse she threwin tender, close embrace. He suddenlyknew the familiar fire, and o'er his frameits wonted ardor unresisted ran,swift as the glittering shaft of thunder cleavesthe darkened air and on from cloud to cloudthe rift of lightning runs. She, joyful wife;felt what her beauty and her guile could do;as, thralled by love unquenchable, her spousethus answered fair: “Why wilt thou labor sowith far-fetched pleas? my goddess, hast thou lostthy faith in me? Had such a prayer been shine,I could have armed the Teucrians. Neither Jovenor Destiny had grudged ten added yearsof life to Troy and Priam. If to-daythou hast a war in hand, and if thy heartdetermine so, I willingly engageto lend thee all my cunning; whatsoevermolten alloy or welded iron can,whate'er my roaring forge and flames achieve,I offer thee. No more in anxious prayerdistrust thy beauty's power.” So saying, he gaveembrace of mutual desire, and founddeep, peaceful sleep, on her fond heart reclined. Night's course half run, soon as the first reposehad banished sleep,—what time some careful wifewhose distaff and Minerva's humble toilmust earn her bread, rekindling her warm hearth,adds a night-burden to her laboring day,and by the torch-light cheers her maidens onto their long tasks; that so her husband's bedshe may in honor keep, and train to powerher dear men-children—at such prime of morn,with not less eager mind the Lord of Firefled his soft couch and to his forges tried.An island near Aeolian Liparanot far from a Sicilian headland lies,where smoking rocks precipitously towerabove a vast vault, which the Cyclops' skillouthollowed large as Aetna's thunderous caves.There ring the smitten anvils, and the roofre-echoes, roaring loud. Chalybian oreshiss in the gloom, and from the furnace mouthspuff the hot-panting fires. 'T is Vulcan's seat,and all that island is Vulcania.Thither descended now the god of firefrom height of heaven. At their task were foundthe Cyclops in vast cavern forging steel,naked Pyracmon and gigantic-limbedBrontes and Steropes; beneath their blowsa lightning-shaft, half-shaped, half-burnished lay,such as the Thunderer is wont to flingin numbers from the sky, but formless still.Three strands of whirling storm they wove with threeof bursting cloud, and three did interfuseof ruddy-gleaming fires and winged winds;then fearful lightnings on the skilful forgethey welded with loud horror, and with flamesthat bear swift wrath from Jove. Elsewhere a crewtoiled at the chariot and winged wheelwherewith the war-god wakens from reposeheroes and peopled cities. Others wroughtthe awful Aegis, herald of dismay,by angry Pallas worn; they burnished brightthe golden serpent-scales and wreathing snakes,till from the corselet of the goddess glaredthe Gorgon's severed head and rolling eyes.“Cyclops of Aetna,” Vulcan cried, “have done!Leave ev'ry task unfinished, and receivemy new command! Good armor must be forgedfor warrior brave. For this I need to useyour utmost sinew and your swiftest hand,with all your master skill. No lingering now!”Swift the command, and swiftly they divideto each his portion, and united urge the common task. Forth fow the molten streamsof brass and gold, and, melted in fierce fiame,the deeply-wounding steel like liquid flows.A mighty shield took shape, its single orbsufficient to withstand the gathered shockof all the Latin arms; for seven timesthey welded ring with ring. Some deftly plythe windy bellows, which receive and givethe roaring blasts; some plunge in cooling pondthe hissing metal, while the smithy floorgroans with the anvil's weight, as side by sidethey lift their giant arms in numbered blowsand roll with gripe of tongs the ponderous bars.