Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- There in the middle court a shadowy elm
- Its ancient branches spreads, and in its leaves
- Deluding visions ever haunt and cling.
- Then come strange prodigies of bestial kind :
- Centaurs are stabled there, and double shapes
- Like Scylla, or the dragon Lerna bred,
- With hideous scream; Briareus clutching far
- His hundred hands, Chimaera girt with flame,
- A crowd of Gorgons, Harpies of foul wing,
- And giant Geryon's triple-monstered shade.
- Aeneas, shuddering with sudden fear,
- Drew sword and fronted them with naked steel;
- And, save his sage conductress bade him know
- These were but shapes and shadows sweeping by,
- His stroke had cloven in vain the vacant air.
- Hence the way leads to that Tartarean stream
- Of Acheron, whose torrent fierce and foul
- Disgorges in Cocytus all its sands.
- A ferryman of gruesome guise keeps ward
- Upon these waters,—Charon, foully garbed,
- With unkempt, thick gray beard upon his chin,
- And staring eyes of flame; a mantle coarse,
- All stained and knotted, from his shoulder falls,
- As with a pole he guides his craft, tends sail,
- And in the black boat ferries o'er his dead;—
- Old, but a god's old age looks fresh and strong.
- To those dim shores the multitude streams on—
- Husbands and wives, and pale, unbreathing forms
- Of high-souled heroes, boys and virgins fair,
- And strong youth at whose graves fond parents mourned.
- As numberless the throng as leaves that fall
- When autumn's early frost is on the grove;
- Or like vast flocks of birds by winter's chill
- Sent flying o'er wide seas to lands of flowers.
- All stood beseeching to begin their voyage
- Across that river, and reached out pale hands,
- In passionate yearning for its distant shore.
- But the grim boatman takes now these, now those,
- Or thrusts unpitying from the stream away.
- Aeneas, moved to wonder and deep awe,
- Beheld the tumult; “Virgin seer!” he cried, .
- “Why move the thronging ghosts toward yonder stream?
- What seek they there? Or what election holds
- That these unwilling linger, while their peers
- Sweep forward yonder o'er the leaden waves?”
- To him, in few, the aged Sibyl spoke :
- “Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,
- Yon are Cocytus and the Stygian stream,
- By whose dread power the gods themselves do fear
- To take an oath in vain. Here far and wide
- Thou seest the hapless throng that hath no grave.
- That boatman Charon bears across the deep
- Such as be sepulchred with holy care.
- But over that loud flood and dreadful shore
- No trav'ler may be borne, until in peace
- His gathered ashes rest. A hundred years
- Round this dark borderland some haunt and roam,
- Then win late passage o'er the longed-for wave.”
- Aeneas lingered for a little space,
- Revolving in his soul with pitying prayer
- Fate's partial way. But presently he sees
- Leucaspis and the Lycian navy's lord,
- Orontes; both of melancholy brow,
- Both hapless and unhonored after death,
- Whom, while from Troy they crossed the wind-swept seas,
- A whirling tempest wrecked with ship and crew.
- There, too, the helmsman Palinurus strayed :
- Who, as he whilom watched the Libyan stars,
- Had fallen, plunging from his lofty seat
- Into the billowy deep. Aeneas now
- Discerned his sad face through the blinding gloom,
- And hailed him thus : “0 Palinurus, tell
- What god was he who ravished thee away
- From me and mine, beneath the o'crwhelming wave?
- Speak on! for he who ne'er had spoke untrue,
- Apollo's self, did mock my listening mind,
- And chanted me a faithful oracle
- That thou shouldst ride the seas unharmed, and touch
- Ausonian shores. Is this the pledge divine?”
- Then he, “0 chieftain of Anchises' race,
- Apollo's tripod told thee not untrue.
- No god did thrust me down beneath the wave,
- For that strong rudder unto which I clung,
- My charge and duty, and my ship's sole guide,
- Wrenched from its place, dropped with me as I fell.
- Not for myself—by the rude seas I swear—
- Did I have terror, but lest thy good ship,
- Stripped of her gear, and her poor pilot lost,
- Should fail and founder in that rising flood.
- Three wintry nights across the boundless main
- The south wind buffeted and bore me on;
- At the fourth daybreak, lifted from the surge,
- I looked at last on Italy, and swam
- With weary stroke on stroke unto the land.
- Safe was I then. Alas! but as I climbed
- With garments wet and heavy, my clenched hand
- Grasping the steep rock, came a cruel horde
- Upon me with drawn blades, accounting me—
- So blind they were!—a wrecker's prize and spoil.
- Now are the waves my tomb; and wandering winds
- Toss me along the coast. 0, I implore,
- By heaven's sweet light, by yonder upper air,
- By thy lost father, by Iulus dear,
- Thy rising hope and joy, that from these woes,
- Unconquered chieftain, thou wilt set me free!
- Give me a grave where Velia's haven lies,
- For thou hast power! Or if some path there be,
- If thy celestial mother guide thee here
- (For not, I ween, without the grace of gods
- Wilt cross yon rivers vast, you Stygian pool)
- Reach me a hand! and bear with thee along!
- Until (least gift!) death bring me peace and calm.”
- Such words he spoke: the priestess thus replied:
- “Why, Palinurus, these unblest desires?
- Wouldst thou, unsepulchred, behold the wave
- Of Styx, stern river of th' Eumenides?
- Wouldst thou, unbidden, tread its fearful strand?
- Hope not by prayer to change the laws of Heaven!
- But heed my words, and in thy memory
- Cherish and keep, to cheer this evil time.
- Lo, far and wide, led on by signs from Heaven,
- Thy countrymen from many a templed town
- Shall consecrate thy dust, and build thy tomb,
- A tomb with annual feasts and votive flowers,
- To Palinurus a perpetual fame!”
- Thus was his anguish stayed, from his sad heart
- Grief ebbed awhile, and even to this day,
- Our land is glad such noble name to wear.
- The twain continue now their destined way
- Unto the river's edge. The Ferryman,
- Who watched them through still groves approach his shore,
- Hailed them, at distance, from the Stygian wave,
- And with reproachful summons thus began:
- “Whoe'er thou art that in this warrior guise
- Unto my river comest,—quickly tell
- Thine errand! Stay thee where thou standest now!
- This is ghosts' land, for sleep and slumbrous dark.
- That flesh and blood my Stygian ship should bear
- Were lawless wrong. Unwillingly I took
- Alcides, Theseus, and Pirithous,
- Though sons of gods, too mighty to be quelled.
- One bound in chains yon warder of Hell's door,
- And dragged him trembling from our monarch's throne:
- The others, impious, would steal away
- Out of her bride-bed Pluto's ravished Queen.”
- Briefly th' Amphrysian priestess made reply:
- “Not ours, such guile: Fear not! This warrior's arms
- Are innocent. Let Cerberus from his cave
- Bay ceaselessly, the bloodless shades to scare;
- Let Proserpine immaculately keep
- The house and honor of her kinsman King.
- Trojan Aeneas, famed for faithful prayer
- And victory in arms, descends to seek
- His father in this gloomy deep of death.
- If loyal goodness move not such as thee,
- This branch at least” (she drew it from her breast)
- “Thou knowest well.”
- Then cooled his wrathful heart;
- With silent lips he looked and wondering eyes
- Upon that fateful, venerable wand,
- Seen only once an age. Shoreward he turned,
- And pushed their way his boat of leaden hue.
- The rows of crouching ghosts along the thwarts
- He scattered, cleared a passage, and gave room
- To great Aeneas. The light shallop groaned
- Beneath his weight, and, straining at each seam,
- Took in the foul flood with unstinted flow.
- At last the hero and his priestess-guide
- Came safe across the river, and were moored
- 'mid sea-green sedges in the formless mire.
- Here Cerberus, with triple-throated roar,
- Made all the region ring, as there he lay
- At vast length in his cave. The Sibyl then,
- Seeing the serpents writhe around his neck,
- Threw down a loaf with honeyed herbs imbued
- And drowsy essences: he, ravenous,
- Gaped wide his three fierce mouths and snatched the bait,
- Crouched with his large backs loose upon the ground,
- And filled his cavern floor from end to end.
- Aeneas through hell's portal moved, while sleep
- Its warder buried; then he fled that shore
- Of Stygian stream, whence travellers ne'er return.
- Now hears he sobs, and piteous, lisping cries
- Of souls of babes upon the threshold plaining;
- Whom, ere they took their portion of sweet life,
- Dark Fate from nursing bosoms tore, and plunged
- In bitterness of death. Nor far from these,
- The throng of dead by unjust judgment slain.
- Not without judge or law these realms abide:
- Wise Minos there the urn of justice moves,
- And holds assembly of the silent shades,
- Hearing the stories of their lives and deeds.
- Close on this place those doleful ghosts abide,
- Who, not for crime, but loathing life and light
- With their own hands took death, and cast away
- The vital essence. Willingly, alas!
- They now would suffer need, or burdens bear,
- If only life were given! But Fate forbids.
- Around them winds the sad, unlovely wave
- Of Styx: nine times it coils and interflows.
- Not far from hence, on every side outspread,
- The Fields of Sorrow lie,—such name they bear;
- Here all whom ruthless love did waste away
- Wander in paths unseen, or in the gloom
- Of dark myrtle grove: not even in death
- Have they forgot their griefs of long ago.
- Here impious Phaedra and poor Procris bide;
- Lorn Eriphyle bares the vengeful wounds
- Her own son's dagger made; Evadne here,
- And foul are seen; hard by,
- Laodamia, nobly fond and fair;
- And Caeneus, not a boy, but maiden now,
- By Fate remoulded to her native seeming.
- Here Tyrian Dido, too, her wound unhealed,
- Roamed through a mighty wood. The Trojan's eyes
- Beheld her near him through the murky gloom,
- As when, in her young month and crescent pale,
- One sees th' o'er-clouded moon, or thinks he sees.
- Down dropped his tears, and thus he fondly spoke:
- “0 suffering Dido! Were those tidings true
- That thou didst fling thee on the fatal steel?
- Thy death, ah me! I dealt it. But I swear
- By stars above us, by the powers in Heaven,
- Or whatsoever oath ye dead believe,
- That not by choice I fled thy shores, 0 Queen!
- Divine decrees compelled me, even as now
- Among these ghosts I pass, and thread my way
- Along this gulf of night and loathsome land.
- How could I deem my cruel taking leave
- Would bring thee at the last to all this woe?
- 0, stay! Why shun me? Wherefore haste away?
- Our last farewell! Our doom! I speak it now!”
- Thus, though she glared with fierce, relentless gaze,
- Aaeneas, with fond words and tearful plea,
- Would soothe her angry soul. But on the ground
- She fixed averted eyes. For all he spoke
- Moved her no more than if her frowning brow
- Were changeless flint or carved in Parian stone.
- Then, after pause, away in wrath she fled,
- And refuge took within the cool, dark grove,
- Where her first spouse, Sichaeus, with her tears
- Mingled his own in mutual love and true.
- Aeneas, none the less, her guiltless woe
- With anguish knew, watched with dimmed eyes her way,
- And pitied from afar the fallen Queen.
- But now his destined way he must be gone;
- Now the last regions round the travellers lie,
- Where famous warriors in the darkness dwell:
- Here Tydeus comes in view, with far-renowned
- Parthenopaeus and Adrastus pale;
- Here mourned in upper air with many a moan,
- In battle fallen, the Dardanidae,
- Whose long defile Aeneas groans to see:
- Glaucus and Medon and Thersilochus,
- Antenor's children three, and Ceres' priest,
- That Polypoetes, and Idaeus still.
- Keeping the kingly chariot and spear.
- Around him left and right the crowding shades
- Not only once would see, but clutch and cling
- Obstructive, asking on what quest he goes.
- Soon as the princes of Argolic blood,
- With line on line of Agamemnon's men,
- Beheld the hero and his glittering arms
- Flash through the dark, they trembled with amaze,
- Or turned in flight, as if once more they fled
- To shelter of the ships; some raised aloft
- A feeble shout, or vainly opened wide
- Their gaping lips in mockery of sound.
- Here Priam's son, with body rent and torn,
- is seen,—his mangled face,
- His face and bloody hands, his wounded head
- Of ears and nostrils infamously shorn.
- Scarce could Aeneas know the shuddering shade
- That strove to hide its face and shameful scar;
- But, speaking first, he said, in their own tongue:
- “Deiphobus, strong warrior, nobly born
- Of Teucer's royal stem, what ruthless foe
- Could wish to wreak on thee this dire revenge?
- Who ventured, unopposed, so vast a wrong?
- The rumor reached me how, that deadly night,
- Wearied with slaying Greeks, thyself didst fall
- Prone on a mingled heap of friends and foes.
- Then my own hands did for thy honor build
- An empty tomb upon the Trojan shore,
- And thrice with echoing voice I called thy shade.
- Thy name and arms are there. But, 0 my friend,
- Thee could I nowhere find, but launched away,
- Nor o'er thy bones their native earth could fling.”
- To him the son of Priam thus replied:
- “Nay, friend, no hallowed rite was left undone,
- But every debt to death and pity due
- The shades of thy Deiphobus received.
- My fate it was, and Helen's murderous wrong,
- Wrought me this woe; of her these tokens tell.
- For how that last night in false hope we passed,
- Thou knowest,—ah, too well we both recall!
- When up the steep of Troy the fateful horse
- Came climbing, pregnant with fierce men-at-arms,
- 't was she, accurst, who led the Phrygian dames
- In choric dance and false bacchantic song,
- And, waving from the midst a lofty brand,
- Signalled the Greeks from Ilium's central tower
- In that same hour on my sad couch I lay,
- Exhausted by long care and sunk in sleep,
- That sweet, deep sleep, so close to tranquil death.
- But my illustrious bride from all the house
- Had stolen all arms; from 'neath my pillowed head
- She stealthily bore off my trusty sword;
- Then loud on Menelaus did she call,
- And with her own false hand unbarred the door;
- Such gift to her fond lord she fain would send
- To blot the memory of his ancient wrong!
- Why tell the tale, how on my couch they broke,
- While their accomplice, vile Aeolides,
- Counselled to many a crime. 0 heavenly Powers!
- Reward these Greeks their deeds of wickedness,
- If with clean lips upon your wrath I call!
- But, friend, what fortunes have thy life befallen?
- Tell point by point. Did waves of wandering seas
- Drive thee this way, or some divine command?
- What chastisement of fortune thrusts thee on
- Toward this forlorn abode of night and cloud?”
- While thus they talked, the crimsoned car of Morn
- Had wheeled beyond the midmost point of heaven,
- On her ethereal road. The princely pair
- Had wasted thus the whole brief gift of hours;
- But Sibyl spoke the warning: “Night speeds by,
- And we, Aeneas, lose it in lamenting.
- Here comes the place where cleaves our way in twain.
- Thy road, the right, toward Pluto's dwelling goes,
- And leads us to Elysium. But the left
- Speeds sinful souls to doom, and is their path
- To Tartarus th' accurst.”
- Cried out: “0 priestess, be not wroth with us!
- Back to the ranks with yonder ghosts I go.
- 0 glory of my race, pass on! Thy lot
- Be happier than mine!” He spoke, and fled.
- Aeneas straightway by the leftward cliff
- Beheld a spreading rampart, high begirt
- With triple wall, and circling round it ran
- A raging river of swift floods of flame,
- Infernal Phlegethon, which whirls along
- Loud-thundering rocks. A mighty gate is there
- Columned in adamant; no human power,
- Nor even the gods, against this gate prevail.
- Tall tower of steel it has; and seated there
- Tisiphone, in blood-flecked pall arrayed,
- Sleepless forever, guards the entering way.
- Hence groans are heard, fierce cracks of lash and scourge,
- Loud-clanking iron links and trailing chains.
- Aeneas motionless with horror stood
- o'erwhelmed at such uproar. “0 virgin, say
- What shapes of guilt are these? What penal woe
- Harries them thus? What wailing smites the air?”
- To whom the Sibyl, “Far-famed prince of Troy,
- The feet of innocence may never pass
- Into this house of sin. But Hecate,
- When o'er th' Avernian groves she gave me power,
- Taught me what penalties the gods decree,
- And showed me all. There Cretan Rhadamanth
- His kingdom keeps, and from unpitying throne
- Chastises and lays bare the secret sins
- Of mortals who, exulting in vain guile,
- Elude till death, their expiation due.
- There, armed forever with her vengeful scourge,
- Tisiphone, with menace and affront,
- The guilty swarm pursues; in her left hand
- She lifts her angered serpents, while she calls
- A troop of sister-furies fierce as she.
- Then, grating loud on hinge of sickening sound,
- Hell's portals open wide. 0, dost thou see
- What sentinel upon that threshold sits,
- What shapes of fear keep guard upon that gloom?
- Far, far within the dragon Hydra broods
- With half a hundred mouths, gaping and black;
- And Tartarus slopes downward to the dark
- Twice the whole space that in the realms of light
- Th' Olympian heaven above our earth aspires. —
- Here Earth's first offspring, the Titanic brood,
- Roll lightning-blasted in the gulf profound;
- The twin , colossal shades,
- Came on my view; their hands made stroke at Heaven
- And strove to thrust Jove from his seat on high.
- I saw Salmoneus his dread stripes endure,
- Who dared to counterfeit Olympian thunder
- And Jove's own fire. In chariot of four steeds,
- Brandishing torches, he triumphant rode
- Through throngs of Greeks, o'er Elis' sacred way,
- Demanding worship as a god. 0 fool!
- To mock the storm's inimitable flash—
- With crash of hoofs and roll of brazen wheel!
- But mightiest Jove from rampart of thick cloud
- Hurled his own shaft, no flickering, mortal flame,
- And in vast whirl of tempest laid him low.
- Next unto these, on Tityos I looked,
- Child of old Earth, whose womb all creatures bears:
- Stretched o'er nine roods he lies; a vulture huge
- Tears with hooked beak at his immortal side,
- Or deep in entrails ever rife with pain
- Gropes for a feast, making his haunt and home
- In the great Titan bosom; nor will give
- To ever new-born flesh surcease of woe.
- Why name Ixion and Pirithous,
- The Lapithae, above whose impious brows
- A crag of flint hangs quaking to its fall,
- As if just toppling down, while couches proud,
- Propped upon golden pillars, bid them feast
- In royal glory: but beside them lies
- The eldest of the Furies, whose dread hands
- Thrust from the feast away, and wave aloft
- A flashing firebrand, with shrieks of woe.
- Here in a prison-house awaiting doom
- Are men who hated, long as life endured,
- Their brothers, or maltreated their gray sires,
- Or tricked a humble friend; the men who grasped
- At hoarded riches, with their kith and kin
- Not sharing ever—an unnumbered throng;
- Here slain adulterers be; and men who dared
- To fight in unjust cause, and break all faith
- With their own lawful lords. Seek not to know
- What forms of woe they feel, what fateful shape
- Of retribution hath o'erwhelmed them there.
- Some roll huge boulders up; some hang on wheels,
- Lashed to the whirling spokes; in his sad seat
- Theseus is sitting, nevermore to rise;
- Unhappy Phlegyas uplifts his voice
- In warning through the darkness, calling loud,
- ‘0, ere too late, learn justice and fear God!’
- Yon traitor sold his country, and for gold
- Enchained her to a tyrant, trafficking
- In laws, for bribes enacted or made void;
- Another did incestuously take
- His daughter for a wife in lawless bonds.
- All ventured some unclean, prodigious crime;
- And what they dared, achieved. I could not tell,
- Not with a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,
- Or iron voice, their divers shapes of sin,
- Nor call by name the myriad pangs they bear.”
- So spake Apollo's aged prophetess.
- “Now up and on!” she cried. “Thy task fulfil!
- We must make speed. Behold yon arching doors
- Yon walls in furnace of the Cyclops forged!
- 'T is there we are commanded to lay down
- Th' appointed offering.” So, side by side,
- Swift through the intervening dark they strode,
- And, drawing near the portal-arch, made pause.
- Aeneas, taking station at the door,
- Pure, lustral waters o'er his body threw,
- And hung for garland there the Golden Bough.
- Now, every rite fulfilled, and tribute due
- Paid to the sovereign power of Proserpine,
- At last within a land delectable
- Their journey lay, through pleasurable bowers
- Of groves where all is joy,—a blest abode!
- An ampler sky its roseate light bestows
- On that bright land, which sees the cloudless beam
- Of suns and planets to our earth unknown.
- On smooth green lawns, contending limb with limb,
- Immortal athletes play, and wrestle long
- 'gainst mate or rival on the tawny sand;
- With sounding footsteps and ecstatic song,
- Some thread the dance divine: among them moves
- The bard of Thrace, in flowing vesture clad,
- Discoursing seven-noted melody,
- Who sweeps the numbered strings with changeful hand,
- Or smites with ivory point his golden lyre.
- Here Trojans be of eldest, noblest race,
- Great-hearted heroes, born in happier times,
- Ilus, Assaracus, and Dardanus,
- Illustrious builders of the Trojan town.
- Their arms and shadowy chariots he views,
- And lances fixed in earth, while through the fields
- Their steeds without a bridle graze at will.
- For if in life their darling passion ran
- To chariots, arms, or glossy-coated steeds,
- The self-same joy, though in their graves, they feel.
- Lo! on the left and right at feast reclined
- Are other blessed souls, whose chorus sings
- Victorious paeans on the fragrant air
- Of laurel groves; and hence to earth outpours
- Eridanus, through forests rolling free.
- Here dwell the brave who for their native land
- Fell wounded on the field; here holy priests
- Who kept them undefiled their mortal day;
- And poets, of whom the true-inspired song
- Deserved Apollo's name; and all who found
- New arts, to make man's life more blest or fair;
- Yea! here dwell all those dead whose deeds bequeath
- Deserved and grateful memory to their kind.
- And each bright brow a snow-white fillet wears.
- Unto this host the Sibyl turned, and hailed
- Musaeus, midmost of a numerous throng,
- Who towered o'er his peers a shoulder higher:
- “0 spirits blest! 0 venerable bard!
- Declare what dwelling or what region holds
- Anchises, for whose sake we twain essayed
- Yon passage over the wide streams of hell.”
- And briefly thus the hero made reply:
- “No fixed abode is ours. In shadowy groves
- We make our home, or meadows fresh and fair,
- With streams whose flowery banks our couches be.
- But you, if thitherward your wishes turn,
- Climb yonder hill, where I your path may show.”
- So saying, he strode forth and led them on,
- Till from that vantage they had prospect fair
- Of a wide, shining land; thence wending down,
- They left the height they trod;for far below
- Father Anchises in a pleasant vale
- Stood pondering, while his eyes and thought surveyed
- A host of prisoned spirits, who there abode
- Awaiting entrance to terrestrial air.
- And musing he reviewed the legions bright
- Of his own progeny and offspring proud—
- Their fates and fortunes, virtues and great deeds.
- Soon he discerned Aeneas drawing nigh
- o'er the green slope, and, lifting both his hands
- In eager welcome, spread them swiftly forth.
- Tears from his eyelids rained, and thus he spoke:
- “Art here at last? Hath thy well-proven love
- Of me thy sire achieved yon arduous way?
- Will Heaven, beloved son, once more allow
- That eye to eye we look? and shall I hear
- Thy kindred accent mingling with my own?
- I cherished long this hope. My prophet-soul
- Numbered the lapse of days, nor did my thought
- Deceive. 0, o'er what lands and seas wast driven
- To this embrace! What perils manifold
- Assailed thee, 0 my son, on every side!
- How long I trembled, lest that Libyan throne
- Should work thee woe!”
- Aeneas thus replied:
- “Thine image, sire, thy melancholy shade,
- Came oft upon my vision, and impelled
- My journey hitherward. Our fleet of ships
- Lies safe at anchor in the Tuscan seas.
- Come, clasp my hand! Come, father, I implore,
- And heart to heart this fond embrace receive!”
- So speaking, all his eyes suffused with tears;
- Thrice would his arms in vain that shape enfold.
- Thrice from the touch of hand the vision fled,
- Like wafted winds or likest hovering dreams.
- After these things Aeneas was aware
- Of solemn groves in one deep, distant vale,
- Where trees were whispering, and forever flowed
- The river Lethe, through its land of calm.
- Nations unnumbered roved and haunted there:
- As when, upon a windless summer morn,
- The bees afield among the rainbow flowers
- Alight and sip, or round the lilies pure
- Pour forth in busy swarm, while far diffused
- Their murmured songs from all the meadows rise.
- Aeneas in amaze the wonder views,
- And fearfully inquires of whence and why;
- What yonder rivers be; what people press,
- Line after line, on those dim shores along.
- Said Sire Anchises: “Yonder thronging souls
- To reincarnate shape predestined move.
- Here, at the river Lethe's wave, they quaff
- Care-quelling floods, and long oblivion.
- Of these I shall discourse, and to thy soul
- Make visible the number and array
- Of my posterity; so shall thy heart
- In Italy, thy new-found home, rejoice.”
- “0 father,” said Aeneas, “must I deem
- That from this region souls exalted rise
- To upper air, and shall once more return
- To cumbering flesh? 0, wherefore do they feel,
- Unhappy ones, such fatal lust to live?”
- “I speak, my son, nor make thee longer doubt,”
- Anchises said, and thus the truth set forth,
- In ordered words from point to point unfolding:
- “Know first that heaven and earth and ocean's plain,
- The moon's bright orb, and stars of Titan birth
- Are nourished by one Life; one primal Mind,
- Immingled with the vast and general frame,
- Fills every part and stirs the mighty whole.
- Thence man and beast, thence creatures of the air,
- And all the swarming monsters that be found
- Beneath the level of the marbled sea;
- A fiery virtue, a celestial power,
- Their native seeds retain; but bodies vile,
- With limbs of clay and members born to die,
- Encumber and o'ercloud; whence also spring
- Terrors and passions, suffering and joy;
- For from deep darkness and captivity
- All gaze but blindly on the radiant world.
- Nor when to life's last beam they bid farewell
- May sufferers cease from pain, nor quite be freed
- From all their fleshly plagues; but by fixed law,
- The strange, inveterate taint works deeply in.
- For this, the chastisement of evils past
- Is suffered here, and full requital paid.
- Some hang on high, outstretched to viewless winds;
- For some their sin's contagion must be purged
- In vast ablution of deep-rolling seas,
- Or burned away in fire. Each man receives
- His ghostly portion in the world of dark;
- But thence to realms Elysian we go free,
- Where for a few these seats of bliss abide,
- Till time's long lapse a perfect orb fulfils,
- And takes all taint away, restoring so
- The pure, ethereal soul's first virgin fire.
- At last, when the millennial aeon strikes,
- God calls them forth to yon Lethaean stream,
- In numerous host, that thence, oblivious all,
- They may behold once more the vaulted sky,
- And willingly to shapes of flesh return.”
- So spoke Anchises; then led forth his son,
- The Sibyl with him, to the assembled shades
- (A voiceful throng), and on a lofty mound
- His station took, whence plainly could be seen
- The long procession, and each face descried.
- “Hark now! for of the glories I will tell
- That wait our Dardan blood; of our sons' sons
- Begot upon the old Italian breed,
- Who shall be mighty spirits, and prolong
- Our names, their heritage. I will unfold
- The story, and reveal the destined years.
- Yon princeling, thou beholdest leaning there
- Upon a royal lance, shall next emerge
- Into the realms of day. He is the first
- Of half-Italian strain, the last-born heir
- To thine old age by fair Lavinia given,
- Called Silvius, a royal Alban name
- (Of sylvan birth and sylvan nurture he),
- A king himself and sire of kings to come,
- By whom our race in Alba Longa reign.
- Next Procas stands, our Trojan people's boast;
- Capys and Numitor, and, named like thee,
- Aeneas Sylvius, like thee renowned
- For faithful honor and for deeds of war,
- When he ascends at last his Alban throne.
- Behold what warrior youth they be! How strong
- Their goodly limbs! Above their shaded brows
- The civic oak they wear! For thee they build
- Nomentum, and the walls of Gabii,
- Fidena too, and on the mountains pile
- Collatia's citadels, Pometii,
- Bola and Cora, Castrum-Inui—
- Such be the names the nameless lands shall bear.
- See, in that line of sires the son of Mars,
- Great Romulus, of Ilian mother born,
- From far-descended line of Trojan kings!
- See from his helm the double crest uprear,
- While his celestial father in his mien
- Shows forth his birth divine! Of him, my son,
- Great Rome shall rise, and, favored of his star,
- Have power world-wide, and men of godlike mind.
- She clasps her seven hills in single wall,
- Proud mother of the brave! So Cybele,
- The Berecynthian goddess, castle-crowned,
- On through the Phrygian kingdoms speeds her car,
- Exulting in her hundred sons divine,
- All numbered with the gods, all throned on high.
- “Let now thy visionary glance look long
- On this thy race, these Romans that be thine.
- Here Caesar, of Iulus' glorious seed,
- Behold ascending to the world of light!
- Behold, at last, that man, for this is he,
- So oft unto thy listening ears foretold,
- Augustus Caesar, kindred unto Jove.
- He brings a golden age; he shall restore
- Old Saturn's sceptre to our Latin land,
- And o'er remotest Garamant and Ind
- His sway extend; the fair dominion
- outruns th' horizon planets, yea, beyond
- The sun's bright path, where Atlas' shoulder bears
- Yon dome of heaven set thick with burning stars.
- Against his coming the far Caspian shores
- Break forth in oracles; the Maeotian land
- Trembles, and all the seven-fold mouths of Nile.
- Not o'er domain so wide Alcides passed,
- Although the brazen-footed doe he slew
- And stilled the groves of Erymanth, and bade
- The beast of Lerna at his arrows quail.
- Nor half so far triumphant Baechus drove,
- With vine-entwisted reins, his frolic team
- Of tigers from the tall-topped Indian hill.
- “Still do we doubt if heroes' deeds can fill
- A realm so wide? Shall craven fear constrain
- Thee or thy people from Ausonia's shore?
- Look, who is he I may discern from far
- By olive-branch and holy emblems known?
- His flowing locks and hoary beard, behold!
- Fit for a Roman king! By hallowed laws
- He shall found Rome anew—from mean estate
- In lowly Cures led to mightier sway.
- But after him arises one whose reign
- Shall wake the land from slumber: Tullus then
- Shall stir slack chiefs to battle, rallying
- His hosts which had forgot what triumphs be.
- Him boastful Ancus follows hard upon,
- o'erflushed with his light people's windy praise.
- Wilt thou see Tarquins now? And haughty hand
- Of vengeful Brutus seize the signs of power?
- He first the consul's name shall take; he first
- Th' inexorable fasces sternly bear.
- When his own sons in rash rebellion join,
- The father and the judge shall sentence give
- In beauteous freedom's cause—unhappy he!
- Howe'er the age to come the story tell,
- 't will bless such love of honor and of Rome.
- See Decius, sire and son, the Drusi, see!
- Behold Torquatus with his axe! Look where
- Camillus brings the Gallic standards home!
- “But who are these in glorious armor clad
- And equal power? In this dark world of cloud
- Their souls in concord move;—but woe is me!
- What duel 'twixt them breaks, when by and by
- The light of life is theirs, and forth they call
- Their long-embattled lines to carnage dire!
- Allied by nuptial truce, the sire descends
- From Alpine rampart and that castled cliff,
- Monoecus by the sea; the son arrays
- His hostile legions in the lands of morn.
- Forbear, my children! School not your great souls
- In such vast wars, nor turn your giant strength
- Against the bowels of your native land!
- But be thou first, 0 first in mercy! thou
- Who art of birth Olympian! Fling away
- Thy glorious sword, mine offspring and mine heir!
- “Yonder is one whose chariot shall ascend
- The laurelled Capitolian steep; he rides
- In glory o'er Achaea's hosts laid low,
- And Corinth overthrown. There, too, is he
- Who shall uproot proud Argos and the towers
- Of Agamemnon; vanquishing the heir
- Even of Aeacus, the warrior seed
- Of Peleus' son; such vengeance shall be wrought
- For Troy's slain sires, and violated shrines!
- “Or who could fail great Cato's name to tell?
- Or, Cossus, thine? or in oblivion leave
- The sons of Gracchus? or the Scipios,
- Twin thunderbolts of war, and Libya's bane?
- Or, more than kingly in his mean abode,
- Fabricius? or Serranus at the plough?
- Ye Fabii, how far would ye prolong
- My weary praise? But see! 'T is Maximus,
- Who by wise waiting saves his native land.
- “Let others melt and mould the breathing bronze
- To forms more fair,—aye! out of marble bring
- Features that live; let them plead causes well;
- Or trace with pointed wand the cycled heaven,
- And hail the constellations as they rise;
- But thou, 0 Roman, learn with sovereign sway
- To rule the nations. Thy great art shall be
- To keep the world in lasting peace, to spare
- humbled foe, and crush to earth the proud.”
- So did Anchises speak, then, after pause,
- Thus to their wondering ears his word prolonged:
- “Behold Marcellus, bright with glorious spoil,
- In lifted triumph through his warriors move!
- The Roman power in tumultuous days
- He shall establish; he rides forth to quell
- Afric and rebel Gaul; and to the shrine
- Of Romulus the third-won trophy brings.”
- Then spoke Aeneas, for he now could see
- A beauteous youth in glittering dress of war,
- Though of sad forehead and down-dropping eyes:
- “Say, father, who attends the prince? a son?
- Or of his greatness some remoter heir?
- How his friends praise him, and how matchless he!
- But mournful night Tests darkly o'er his brow.”
- With brimming eyes Anchises answer gave:
- “Ask not, 0 son, what heavy weight of woe
- Thy race shall bear, when fate shall just reveal
- This vision to the world, then yield no more.
- 0 gods above, too glorious did ye deem
- The seed of Rome, had this one gift been sure?
- The lamentation of a multitude
- Arises from the field of Mars, and strikes
- The city's heart. 0 Father Tiber, see
- What pomp of sorrow near the new-made tomb
- Beside thy fleeting stream! What Ilian youth
- Shall e'er his Latin kindred so advance
- In hope of glory? When shall the proud land
- Of Romulus of such a nursling boast?
- Ah, woe' is me! 0 loyal heart and true!
- 0 brave, right arm invincible! What foe
- Had 'scaped his onset in the shock of arms,
- Whether on foot he strode, or if he spurred
- The hot flanks of his war-horse flecked with foam?
- 0 lost, lamented child! If thou evade
- Thy evil star, Marcellus thou shalt be.
- 0 bring me lilies! Bring with liberal hand!
- Sad purple blossoms let me throw—the shade
- Of my own kin to honor, heaping high
- My gifts upon his grave! So let me pay
- An unavailing vow!”
- Then, far and wide
- Through spacious fields of air, they wander free,
- Witnessing all; Anchises guides his son
- From point to point, and quickens in his mind
- Hunger for future fame. Of wars he tells
- Soon imminent; of fair Laurentum's tribes;
- Of King Latinus' town; and shows what way
- Each task and hardship to prevent, or bear.
- Now Sleep has portals twain, whereof the one
- Is horn, they say, and easy exit gives
- To visions true; the other, gleaming white
- With polished ivory, the.dead employ
- To people night with unsubstantial dreams.
- Here now Anchises bids his son farewell;
- And with Sibylla, his companion sage,
- Up through that ivory portal lets him rise.
- Back to his fleet and his dear comrades all
- Aeneas hastes.Then hold they their straight course
- Into Caieta's bay. An anchor holds
- Each lofty prow; the sterns stand firm on shore.