Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Fronting the surf-beat shore, far out at sea
- rises a rock, which under swollen waves
- lies buffeted unseen, when wintry storms
- mantle the stars; but when the deep is calm,
- lifts silently above the sleeping wave
- its level field,—a place where haunt and play
- flocks of the sea-birds, Iovers of the sun.
- Here was the goal; and here Aeneas set
- a green-leaved flex-tree, to be a mark
- for every captain's eye, from whence to veer
- the courses of their ships in sweeping curves
- and speed them home. Now places in the line
- are given by lot. Upon the lofty sterns
- the captains ride, in beautiful array
- of Tyriao purple and far-flaming gold;
- the crews are poplar-crowned, the shoulders bare
- rubbed well with glittering oil; their straining arms
- make long reach to the oar, as on the thwarts
- they sit attentive, listening for the call
- of the loud trumpet; while with pride and fear
- their hot hearts throb, impassioned for renown.
- Soon pealed the signal clear; from all the line
- instant the galleys bounded, and the air
- rang to the rowers, shouting, while their arms
- pulled every inch and flung the waves in foam;
- deep cut the rival strokes; the surface fair
- yawned wide beneath their blades and cleaving keels.
- Not swifter scour the chariots o'er the plain,
- sped headlong from the line behind their teams
- of mated coursers, while each driver shakes
- loose, rippling reins above his plunging pairs,
- and o'er the lash leans far. With loud applause
- vociferous and many an urgent cheer
- the woodlands rang, and all the concave shores
- back from the mountains took the Trojan cry
- in answering song. Forth-flying from his peers,
- while all the crowd acclaims, sped Gyas' keel
- along the outmost wave. Cloanthus next
- pushed hard upon, with stronger stroke of oars
- but heavier ship. At equal pace behind
- the Pristis and the Centaur fiercely strive
- for the third place. Now Pristis seems to lead,
- now mightier Centaur past her flies, then both
- ride on together, prow with prow, and cleave
- long lines of foaming furrow with swift keels.
- Soon near the rock they drew, and either ship
- was making goal,—when Gyas, in the lead,
- and winner of the half-course, Ioudly hailed
- menoetes, the ship's pilot: “Why so far
- to starboard, we? Keep her head round this way!
- Hug shore! Let every oar-blade almost graze
- that reef to larboard! Let the others take
- the deep-sea course outside!” But while he spoke,
- Menoetes, dreading unknown rocks below,
- veered off to open sea. “Why steer so wide?
- Round to the rock, Menoetes!” Gyas roared, —
- again in vain, for looking back he saw
- cloanthus hard astern, and ever nearer,
- who, in a trice, betwixt the booming reef
- and Gyas' galley, lightly forward thrust
- the beak of Scylla to the inside course,
- and, quickly taking lead, flew past the goal
- to the smooth seas beyond. Then wrathful grief
- flamed in the warrior's heart, nor was his cheek
- unwet with tears; and, reckless utterly
- of his own honor and his comrades, lives,
- he hurled poor, slack Menoetes from the poop
- headlong upon the waters, while himself,
- pilot and master both, the helm assuming,
- urged on his crew, and landward took his way.
- But now, with heavy limbs that hardly won
- his rescue from the deep, engulfing wave,
- up the rude rock graybeard Menoetes climbed
- with garment dripping wet, and there dropped down
- upon the cliff's dry top. With laughter loud
- the Trojan crews had watched him plunging, swimming,
- and now to see his drink of bitter brine
- spewed on the ground, the sailors laughed again.
- But Mnestheus and Sergestus, coming last,
- have joyful hope enkindled in each heart
- to pass the laggard Gyas. In the lead
- Sergestus' ship shoots forth; and to the rock
- runs boldly nigh; but not his whole long keel
- may pass his rival; the projecting beak
- is followed fast by Pristis' emulous prow.
- Then, striding straight amidships through his crew,
- thus Mnestheus urged them on: “O Hector's friends!
- Whom in the dying hours of Troy I chose
- for followers! Now stand ye to your best!
- Put forth the thews of valor that ye showed
- in the Gaetulian Syrtes, or that sea
- Ionian, or where the waves race by
- the Malean promontory! Mnestheus now
- hopes not to be the first, nor do I strive
- for victory. O Father Neptune, give
- that garland where thou wilt! But O, the shame
- if we are last! Endure it not, my men!
- The infamy refuse!” So, bending low,
- they enter the home-stretch. Beneath their stroke
- the brass-decked galley throbs, and under her
- the sea-floor drops away. On, on they fly!
- Parched are the panting lips, and sweat in streams
- pours down their giant sides; but lucky chance
- brought the proud heroes what their honor craved.
- For while Sergestus furiously drove
- his ship's beak toward the rock, and kept inside
- the scanty passage, by his evil star
- he grounded on the jutting reef; the cliffs
- rang with the blow, and his entangled oars
- grated along the jagged granite, while
- the prow hung wrecked and helpless. With loud cry
- upsprang the sailors, while the ship stood still,
- and pushed off with long poles and pointed iron,
- or snatched the smashed oars from the whirling tide.
- Mnestheus exults; and, roused to keener strife
- by happy fortune, with a quicker stroke
- of each bright rank of oars, and with the breeze
- his prayer implored, skims o'er the obedient wave
- and sweeps the level main. Not otherwise
- a startled dove, emerging o'er the fields
- from secret cavern in the crannied hill
- where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie,
- soars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon
- through the still sky she takes her path of air
- on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped
- with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea,
- by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped
- Sergestus first; for he upon the reef
- fought with the breakers, desperately shouting
- for help, for help in vain, with broken oars
- contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran
- past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk,
- of pilot now bereft; at last remains
- Cloanthus his sole peer, whom he pursues
- with a supreme endeavor. From the shore
- burst echoing cheers that spur him to the chase,
- and wild applause makes all the welkin ring.
- The leaders now with eager souls would scorn
- to Iose their glory, and faint-hearted fail
- to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy
- honor with life itself; the followers too
- are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong
- because their strength is proven. Both ships now
- with indistinguishable prows had sped
- to share one prize,—but with uplifted hands
- spread o'er the sea, Cloanthus, suppliant,
- called on the gods to bless his votive prayer:
- “Ye gods who rule the waves, whose waters be
- my pathway now; for you on yonder strand
- a white bull at the altar shall be slain
- in grateful tribute for a granted vow;
- and o'er the salt waves I will scatter far
- the entrails, and outpour the flowing wine.”
- He spoke; and from the caverns under sea
- Phorcus and virgin Panopea heard,
- and all the sea-nymphs' choir; while with strong hand
- the kindly God of Havens rose and thrust
- the gliding ship along, that swifter flew
- than south wind, or an arrow from the string,
- and soon made land in haven safe and sure.