Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Meanwhile Aeneas, now well launched away,
- steered forth with all the fleet to open sea,
- on his unswerving course, and ploughed the waves,
- sped by a driving gale; but when his eyes
- looked back on Carthage, they beheld the glare
- of hapless Dido's fire. Not yet was known
- what kindled the wild flames; but that the pang
- of outraged love is cruel, and what the heart
- of desperate woman dares, they knew too well,
- and sad foreboding shook each Trojan soul.
- Soon in mid-sea, beyond all chart of shore,
- when only seas and skies were round their way,
- full in the zenith loomed a purple cloud,
- storm-laden, dark as night, and every wave
- grew black and angry; from his Iofty seat
- the helmsman Palinurus cried, “Alas!
- What means this host of storms encircling heaven?
- What, Neptune, wilt thou now?” He, having said,
- bade reef and tighten, bend to stronger stroke,
- and slant sail to the wind; then spake again:
- “High-souled Aeneas, not if Jove the King
- gave happy omen, would I have good hope
- of making Italy through yonder sky.
- Athwart our course from clouded evening-star
- rebellious winds run shifting, and the air
- into a cloud-wrack rolls. Against such foes
- too weak our strife and strain! Since now the hand
- of Fortune triumphs, let us where she calls
- obedient go. For near us, I believe,
- lies Eryx' faithful and fraternal shore:
- here are Sicilian havens, if my mind
- of yon familiar stars have knowledge true.”
- then good Aeneas: “For a friendly wind
- long have I sued, and watched thee vainly strive.
- Shift sail! What happier land for me and mine,
- or for our storm-beat ships what safer shore,
- than where Dardanian Acestes reigns;
- the land whose faithful bosom cherishes
- Anchises' ashes?” Heedful of his word,
- they landward steer, while favoring zephyrs fill
- the spreading sail. On currents swift and strong
- the fleet is wafted, and with thankful soul
- they moor on Sicily's familiar strand.
- From a far hill-top having seen with joy
- the entering ships, and knowing them for friends,
- good King Acestes ran to bid them hail.
- Garbed in rough pelt of Libyan bear was he,
- and javelins he bore, in sylvan guise:
- for him the river-god Crimisus sired
- of Trojan wife. Remembering in his heart
- his ancient blood, he greeted with glad words
- the wanderers returned; bade welcome to
- his rude abundance, and with friendly gifts
- their weariness consoled. The morrow morn,
- soon as the new beams of a golden day
- had banished every star, Aeneas called
- a council of his followers on the shore,
- and from a fair green hillock gave this word:
- “Proud sons of Dardanus, whose lofty line
- none but the gods began! This day fulfils
- the annual cycle of revolving time,
- since the dear relics of my god-like sire
- to earth we gave, and with dark offerings due
- built altars sorrowful. If now I err not,
- this is my day—ye gods have willed it so! —
- for mourning and for praise. Should it befall
- me exiled in Gaetulia's wilderness,
- or sailing some Greek sea, or at the walls
- of dire Mycenae, still would I renew
- unfailing vows, and make solemnity
- with thankful rites, and worshipful array,
- at altars rich with gifts. But, lo, we come,
- beyond all hope, where lie the very bones
- of my great sire. Nor did it come to pass
- without divine intent and heavenly power,
- that on these hospitable shores we stand.
- Up, then! For we will make a festal day,
- imploring lucky winds! O, may his spirit
- grant me to build my city, where his shrines
- forever shall receive perpetual vows
- made in his name! This prince of Trojan line,
- Acestes, upon every ship bestows
- a pair of oxen. To our offerings call
- the powers that bless the altars and the fires
- of our ancestral hearth; and join with these
- the gods of good Acestes. Presently,
- when the ninth dawn shall bring its beam benign
- to mortal men, and show the radiant world,
- or all my Teucrian people I ordain
- a holiday of games; the flying ships
- shall first contend; then swiftest runners try
- a foot-race; after that the champions bold
- who step forth for a cast of javelins,
- or boast the soaring arrow; or fear not
- the boxing-bout, with gauntlet of thick thongs.
- This summons is for all; let all have hope
- to earn some noble palm! And from this hour
- speak but well-boding words, and bind your brows
- with garlands green.” So saying, he twined a wreath
- of his own mother's myrtle-tree, to shade
- his sacred brow; the hero Helymus,
- and King Acestes for his tresses gray,
- like coronals took on; Ascanius
- and all the warrior youth like emblems wore.
- Then in th' attendant throng conspicuous,
- with thousands at his side, the hero moved
- from place of council to his father's tomb.
- There on the ground he poured libation due,
- two beakers of good wine, of sweet milk two,
- two of the victim's blood—and scattered flowers
- of saddest purple stain, while thus he prayed:
- “Hail, hallowed sire! And hail, ye ashes dear
- of him I vainly saved! O soul and shade
- of my blest father! Heaven to us denied
- to find together that predestined land
- of Italy, or our Ausonian stream
- of Tiber—ah! but where?” He scarce had said,
- when from the central shrine a gliding snake,
- coiled seven-fold in seven spirals wide,
- twined round the tomb and trailed innocuous o'er
- the very altars; his smooth back was flecked
- with green and azure, and his changeful scales
- gleamed golden, as the cloud-born rainbow flings
- its thousand colors from th' opposing sun.
- Aeneas breathless watched the serpent wind
- among the bowls and cups of polished rim,
- tasting the sacred feast; where, having fed,
- back to the tomb all harmless it withdrew.
- Then with new zeal his sacrifice he brings
- in honor of his sire; for he must deem
- that serpent the kind genius of the place,
- or of his very father's present shade
- some creature ministrant. Two lambs he slew,
- the wonted way, two swine, and, sable-hued,
- the yoke of bulls; from shallow bowl he poured
- libation of the grape, and called aloud
- on great Anchises' spirit, and his shade,
- from Acheron set free. Then all the throng,
- each from his separate store, heap up the shrines
- with victims slain; some range in order fair
- the brazen cauldrons; or along the grass,
- scattered at ease, hold o'er the embers bright
- the spitted flesh and roast it in the flames.