GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0690.phi003.perseus-eng2:2.624-2.795 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0690.phi003.perseus-eng2:2.624-2.795
Then loomed o'er Troy the apparition vastof her dread foes divine; I seemed to seeall Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy,of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown.So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow(when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on strokeof two-edged axes, haste to cast her down)sways ominously her trembling, leafy top,and drops her smitten head; till by her woundsvanquished at last, she makes her dying groan,and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn.I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven,threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires,through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell.
Soon came I to my father's ancient seat,our home and heritage. But lo! my sire(whom first of all I sought, and first would bearto safe asylum in the distant hills)vowed he could never, after fallen Troy,live longer on, or bear an exile's woe.“O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betraysthe cruel taint of time, whose powers be stillunpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight.If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare,this dwelling had been safe. It is too muchthat I have watched one wreck, and for too Iongoutlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus!Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell.My own hand will procure it; or my foewill end me of mere pity, and for spoilwill strip me bare. It is an easy lossto have no grave. For many a year gone by,accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this worlda useless burden, since that fatal hourwhen Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King,his lightnings o'er me breathed and blasting fire.”
Such fixed resolve he uttered o'er and o'er,and would not yield, though with my tears did joinmy spouse Creusa, fair Ascanius,and our whole house, imploring the gray sirenot with himself to ruin all, nor addyet heavier burdens to our crushing doom.He still cried, “No!” and clung to where he satand to the same dread purpose. I once moreback to the fight would speed. For death aloneI made my wretched prayer. What space was leftfor wisdom now? What chance or hope was given?“Didst thou, dear father, dream that I could flysundered from thee? Did such an infamyfall from a father's lips? If Heaven's decreewill of this mighty nation not let livea single soul, if thine own purpose beto cast thyself and thy posterityinto thy country's grave, behold, the dooris open to thy death! Lo, Pyrrhus comesred-handed from King Priam! He has slaina son before a father's eyes, and spilta father's blood upon his own hearthstone.Was it for this, O heavenly mother mine,that thou hast brought me safe through sword and fire?that I might see these altars desecrateby their worst foes? that I might look uponmy sire, my wife, and sweet Ascaniusdead at my feet in one another's blood?To arms, my men, to arms! The hour of deathnow beckons to the vanquished. Let me gowhither the Greeks are gathered; let me standwhere oft revives the flagging stroke of war:Not all of us die unavenged this day!”
I clasped my sword-belt round me once again,fitted my left arm to my shield, and turnedto fly the house; but at the threshold clungCreusa to my knees, and lifted upIulus to his father's arms. “If thouwouldst rush on death,” she cried, “O, suffer usto share thy perils with thee to the end.But if this day's work bid thee trust a sword,defend thy hearthstone first. Who else shall guardthy babe Iulus, or thy reverend sire?Or me, thy wife that was—what help have I?”
So rang the roof-top with her piteous cries:but lo! a portent wonderful to seeon sudden rose; for while his parents' griefheld the boy close in arm and full in view,there seemed upon Iulus' head to glowa flickering peak of fire; the tongue of flameinnocuous o'er his clustering tresses played,and hovered round his brows. We, horror-struck,grasped at his burning hair, and sprinkled him,to quench that holy and auspicious fire.then sire Anchises with exultant eyeslooked heavenward, and lifted to the starshis voice and outstretched hands. “Almighty Jove,if aught of prayer may move thee, let thy gracenow visit us! O, hear this holy vow!And if for service at thine altars done,we aught can claim, O Father, lend us aid,and ratify the omen thou hast given!”
Scarce ceased his aged voice, when suddenly from leftward, with a deafening thunder-peal, cleaving the blackness of the vaulted sky,a meteor-star in trailing splendor ran, exceeding bright. We watched it glide sublimeo'er tower and town, until its radiant beam in forest-mantled Ida died away;but left a furrow on its track in air,a glittering, Iong line, while far and widethe sulphurous fume and exhalation flowed.My father strove not now; but lifted himin prayer to all the gods, in holy aweof that auspicious star, and thus exclaimed:“Tarry no moment more! Behold, I come!Whithersoe'er ye lead, my steps obey.Gods of my fathers, O, preserve our name!Preserve my son, and his! This auguryis yours; and Troy on your sole strength relies.I yield, dear son; I journey at thy side.”He spoke; and higher o'er the blazing wallsleaped the loud fire, while ever nearer drewthe rolling surges of tumultuous flame.“Haste, father, on these bending shoulders climb!This back is ready, and the burden light;one peril smites us both, whate'er befall;one rescue both shall find. Close at my sidelet young Iulus run, while, not too nigh,my wife Creusa heeds what way we go.Ye servants of our house, give ear, I pray,to my command. Outside the city's gateslies a low mound and long since ruined faneto Ceres vowed; a cypress, ancient shadeo'erhangs it, which our fathers' pious careprotected year by year; by various pathsbe that our meeting-place. But in thy handsbring, sire, our household gods, and sanctifies:for me to touch, who come this very hourfrom battle and the fresh blood of the slain,were but abomination, till what timein living waters I shall make me clean.”So saying, I bowed my neck and shoulders broad,o'erspread me with a lion's tawny skin,and lifted up my load. Close at my sidelittle Iulus twined his hand in mineand followed, with unequal step, his sire.My wife at distance came. We hastened on,creeping through shadows; I, who once had viewedundaunted every instrument of warand all the gathered Greeks in grim array,now shook at every gust, and heard all soundswith fevered trepidation, fearing bothfor him I bore and him who clasped my hand.Now near the gates I drew, and deemed our flightsafely at end, when suddenly I heardthe sounding tread of many warriorsthat seemed hard-by, while through the murky nightmy father peered, and shouted, “O my son,away, away! for surely all our foesare here upon us, and my eyes beholdthe glance of glittering shields and flash of arms.”O, then some evil-working, nameless godclouded my senses quite: for while I spedalong our pathless way, and left behindall paths and regions known—O wretched me!—Creusa on some dark disaster fell;she stopped, or wandered, or sank down undone,—I never knew what way,—and nevermoreI looked on her alive. Yet knew I notmy loss, nor backward turned a look or thought,till by that hallowed hill to Ceres vowedwe gathered all,— and she alone came not,while husband, friends, and son made search in vain.What god, what man, did not my grief accusein frenzied word? In all the ruined landwhat worse woe had I seen? Entrusting thenmy sire, my son, and all the Teucrian godsto the deep shadows of a slanting valewhere my allies kept guard, I tried me backto that doomed town, re-girt in glittering arms.Resolved was I all hazards to renew,all Troy to re-explore, and once againoffer my life to perils without end.
The walls and gloomy gates whence forth I cameI first revisit, and retrace my way,searching the night once more. On all sides roundhorror spread wide; the very silence breatheda terror on my soul. I hastened thenback to my fallen home, if haply thereher feet had strayed; but the invading Greekswere its possessors, though the hungry firewas blown along the roof-tree, and the flamesrolled raging upward on the fitful gale.To Priam's house I haste, and climb once morethe citadel; in Juno's temple there,the chosen guardians of her wasted halls,Phoenix and dread Ulysses watched the spoil.Here, snatched away from many a burning fane,Troy's treasures lay,—rich tables for the gods,thick bowls of messy gold, and vestures rare,confusedly heaped up, while round the pilefair youths and trembling virgins stood forlorn.Yet oft my voice rang dauntless through the gloom,from street to street I cried with anguish vain;and on Creusa piteously calling,woke the lamenting echoes o'er and o'er.While on this quest I roamed the city through,of reason reft there rose upon my sight—O shape of sorrow!— my Creusa's ghost,hers truly, though a loftier port it wore.I quailed, my hair rose, and I gasped for fear;but thus she spoke, and soothed my grief away:“Why to these frenzied sorrows bend thy soul,O husband ever dear! The will of Heavenhath brought all this to pass. Fate doth not sendCreusa the long journeys thou shalt take,or hath th' Olympian King so given decree.Long is thy banishment; thy ship must ploughthe vast, far-spreading sea. Then shalt thou comeunto Hesperia, whose fruitful plains are watered by the Tiber, Lydian stream, of smooth, benignant Bow. Thou shalt obtain fair fortunes, and a throne and royal bride.For thy beloved Creusa weep no more!No Myrmidon's proud palace waits me now;Dolopian shall not scorn, nor Argive damescommand a slave of Dardan's royal stemand wife to Venus' son. On these loved shoresthe Mother of the Gods compels my stay.Farewell! farewell! O, cherish evermorethy son and mine!” Her utterance scarce had ceased,when, as I strove through tears to make reply,she left me, and dissolved in empty air.Thrice would my frustrate arms her form enfold;thrice from the clasp of hand that vision fled,like wafted winds and like a fleeting dream.
The night had passed, and to my friends once moreI made my way, much wondering to finda mighty multitude assembled thereof friends new-come,—matrons and men-at-arms,and youth for exile bound,— a doleful throng.From far and near they drew, their hearts preparedand their possessions gathered, to sail forthto lands unknown, wherever o'er the waveI bade them follow. Now above the crestof loftiest Ida rose the morning-star, chief in the front of day. The Greeks held fastthe captive gates of Troy. No help or hopewas ours any more. Then, yielding all,and lifting once again my aged sire,for refuge to the distant hills I fled.