Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- One more immortal name thy death bequeathed,
- Nurse of Aeneas, to Italian shores,
- Caieta; there thy honor hath a home;
- Thy bones a name: and on Hesperia's breast
- Their proper glory.When Aeneas now
- The tribute of sepulchral vows had paid
- Beside the funeral mound, and o'er the seas
- Stillness had fallen, he flung forth his sails,
- And leaving port pursued his destined way.
- Freshly the night-winds breathe; the cloudless moon
- Outpours upon his path unstinted beam,
- And with far-trembling glory smites the sea.
- Close to the lands of Circe soon they fare,
- Where the Sun's golden daughter in far groves
- Sounds forth her ceaseless song; her lofty hall
- Is fragrant every night with flaring brands
- Of cedar, giving light the while she weaves
- With shrill-voiced shuttle at her linens fine.
- From hence are heard the loud lament and wrath
- Of lions, rebels to their linked chains
- And roaring all night long; great bristly boars
- And herded bears, in pinfold closely kept,
- Rage horribly, and monster-wolves make moan;
- Whom the dread goddess with foul juices strong
- From forms of men drove forth, and bade to wear
- the mouths and maws of beasts in Circe's thrall.
- But lest the sacred Trojans should endure
- such prodigy of doom, or anchor there
- on that destroying shore, kind Neptune filled
- their sails with winds of power, and sped them on
- in safety past the perils of that sea.
- Now morning flushed the wave, and saffron-garbed
- Aurora from her rose-red chariot beamed
- in highest heaven; the sea-winds ceased to stir;
- a sudden calm possessed the air, and tides
- of marble smoothness met the laboring oar.
- Then, gazing from the deep, Aeneas saw
- a stretch of groves, whence Tiber's smiling stream,
- its tumbling current rich with yellow sands,
- burst seaward forth: around it and above
- shore-haunting birds of varied voice and plume
- flattered the sky with song, and, circling far
- o'er river-bed and grove, took joyful wing.
- Thither to landward now his ships he steered,
- and sailed, high-hearted, up the shadowy stream.
- Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones
- and all their sequent story I unfold!
- How Latium's honor stood, when alien ships
- brought war to Italy, and from what cause
- the primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breathe
- upon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell,
- array of battle, and high-hearted kings
- thrust forth to perish, when Etruria's host
- and all Hesperia gathered to the fray.
- Events of grander march impel my song,
- and loftier task I try. Latinus, then
- an aged king, held long-accepted sway
- o'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the son
- of Faunus, so the legend tells, who wed
- the nymph Marica of Laurentian stem.
- Picus was Faunus' father, whence the line
- to Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire,
- from thee the stem began! But Fate had given
- to King Latinus' body no heirs male:
- for taken in the dawning of his day
- his only son had been; and now his home
- and spacious palace one sole daughter kept,
- who was grown ripe to wed and of full age
- to take a husband. Many suitors tried
- from all Ausonia and Latium's bounds;
- but comeliest in all their princely throng
- came Turnus, of a line of mighty sires.
- Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearned
- to call him soon her son. But omens dire
- and menaces from Heaven withstood her will.
- A laurel-tree grew in the royal close,
- of sacred leaf and venerated age,
- which, when he builded there his wall and tower,
- Father Latinus found, and hallowed it
- to Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the name
- Laurentian, which his realm and people bear.
- Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell,
- came hosts of bees, with audible acclaim
- voyaging the stream of air, and seized a place
- on the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm,
- with interlacement of close-clinging feet,
- swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,”
- the prophet cried, “a husband from afar!
- To the same region by the self-same path
- behold an arm'd host taking lordly sway
- upon our city's crown!” Soon after this,
- when, coming to the shrine with torches pure,
- Lavinia kindled at her father's side
- the sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burn
- along her flowing hair—O sight of woe!
- Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew,
- lighting her queenly tresses and her crown
- of jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud,
- from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung.
- This omen dread and wonder terrible
- was rumored far: for prophet-voices told
- bright honors on the virgin's head to fall
- by Fate's decree, but on her people, war.
- The King, sore troubled by these portents, sought
- oracular wisdom of his sacred sire,
- Faunus, the fate-revealer, where the groves
- stretch under high Albunea, and her stream
- roars from its haunted well, exhaling through
- vast, gloomful woods its pestilential air.
- Here all Oenotria's tribes ask oracles
- in dark and doubtful days: here, when the priest
- has brought his gifts, and in the night so still,
- couched on spread fleeces of the offered flock,
- awaiting slumber lies, then wondrously
- a host of flitting shapes he sees, and hears
- voices that come and go: with gods he holds
- high converse, or in deep Avernian gloom
- parleys with Acheron. Thither drew near
- Father Latinus, seeking truth divine.
- Obedient to the olden rite, he slew
- a hundred fleecy sheep, and pillowed lay
- upon their outstretched skins. Straightway a voice
- out of the lofty forest met his prayer.
- “Seek not in wedlock with a Latin lord
- to join thy daughter, O my son and seed!
- Beware this purposed marriage! There shall come
- sons from afar, whose blood shall bear our name
- starward; the children of their mighty loins,
- as far as eve and morn enfold the seas,
- shall see a subject world beneath their feet
- submissive lie.” This admonition given
- Latinus hid not. But on restless wing
- rumor had spread it, when the men of Troy
- along the river-bank of mounded green
- their fleet made fast.Aeneas and his chiefs,
- with fair Iulus, under spreading boughs
- of one great tree made resting-place, and set
- the banquet on. Thin loaves of altar-bread
- along the sward to bear their meats were laid
- (such was the will of Jove), and wilding fruits
- rose heaping high, with Ceres' gift below.
- Soon, all things else devoured, their hunger turned
- to taste the scanty bread, which they attacked
- with tooth and nail audacious, and consumed
- both round and square of that predestined leaven.
- “Look, how we eat our tables even!” cried
- Iulus, in a jest. Such was the word
- which bade their burdens fall. From his boy's lip
- the father caught this utterance of Fate,
- silent with wonder at the ways of Heaven;
- then swift he spoke: “Hail! O my destined shore,
- protecting deities of Ilium, hail!
- Here is our home, our country here! This day
- I publish the mysterious prophecy
- by Sire Anchises given: ‘My son,’ said he,
- ‘When hunger in strange lands shall bid devour
- the tables of thy banquet gone, then hope
- for home, though weary, and take thought to build
- a dwelling and a battlement.’ Behold!
- This was our fated hunger! This last proof
- will end our evil days. Up, then! For now
- by morning's joyful beam we will explore
- what men, what cities, in this region be,
- and, leaving ship, our several errands ply.
- Your gift to Jove outpour! Make thankful prayer
- unto Anchises' shade! To this our feast
- bring back the flowing wine!” Thereat he bound
- his forehead with green garland, calling loud
- upon the Genius of that place, and Earth,
- eldest of names divine; the Nymphs he called,
- and river-gods unknown; his voice invoked
- the night, the omen-stars through night that roll.
- Jove, Ida's child, and Phrygia's fertile Queen:
- he called his mother from Olympian skies,
- and sire from Erebus. Lo, o'er his head
- three times unclouded Jove omnipotent
- in thunder spoke, and, with effulgent ray
- from his ethereal tract outreaching far,
- shook visibly the golden-gleaming air.
- Swift, through the concourse of the Trojans, spread
- news of the day at hand when they should build
- their destined walls. So, with rejoicing heart
- at such vast omen, they set forth a feast
- with zealous emulation, ranging well
- the wine-cups fair with many a garland crowned.
- Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawn
- looked o'er the world, they took their separate ways,
- exploring shore and towns; here spread the pools
- and fountain of Numicius; here they see
- the river Tiber, where bold Latins dwell.
- Anchises' son chose out from his brave band
- a hundred envoys, bidding them depart
- to the King's sacred city, each enwreathed
- with Pallas' silver leaf; and gifts they bear
- to plead for peace and friendship at his throne.
- While on this errand their swift steps are sped,
- Aeneas, by a shallow moat and small,
- his future city shows, breaks ground, and girds
- with mound and breastwork like a camp of war
- the Trojans' first abode. Soon, making way
- to where the Latin citadel uprose,
- the envoys scanned the battlements, and paused
- beneath its wall. Outside the city gates
- fair youths and striplings in life's early bloom
- course with swift steeds, or steer through dusty cloud
- the whirling chariot, or stretch stout bows,
- or hurl the seasoned javelin, or strive
- in boxing-bout and foot-race: one of these
- made haste on horseback to the aged King,
- with tidings of a stranger company
- in foreign garb approaching. The good King
- bade call them to his house, and took his seat
- in mid-court on his high, ancestral throne.
- Large and majestical the castle rose:
- a hundred columns lifted it in air
- upon the city's crown—the royal keep
- of Picus of Laurentum; round it lay
- deep, gloomy woods by olden worship blest.
- Here kings took sceptre and the fasces proud
- with omens fair; the selfsame sacred place
- was senate-house and temple; here was found
- a hall for hallowed feasting, where a ram
- was offered up, and at long banquet-boards
- the nation's fathers sat in due array.
- Here ranged ancestral statues roughly hewn
- of ancient cedar-wood: King Italus;
- Father Sabinus, planter of the vine,
- a curving sickle in his sculptured hand;
- gray-bearded Saturn; and the double brow
- of Janus' head; and other sires and kings
- were wardens of the door, with many a chief
- wounded in battle for his native land.
- Trophies of arms in goodly order hung
- along the columns: chariots of war
- from foeman taken, axes of round blade,
- plumed helmets, bolts and barriers of steel
- from city-gates, shields, spears, and beaks of bronze
- from captured galleys by the conqueror torn.
- Here, wielding his Quirinal augur-staff,
- girt in scant shift, and bearing on his left
- the sacred oval shield, appeared enthroned
- Picus, breaker of horses, whom his bride,
- enamoured Circe, smote with golden wand,
- and, raining o'er him potent poison-dew,
- changed to a bird of pied and dappled wings.
- In such a temple of his gods did Sire
- Latinus, on hereditary throne,
- welcome the Trojans to his halls, and thus
- with brow serene gave greeting as they came:
- “O sons of Dardanus, think not unknown
- your lineage and city! Rumored far
- your venturous voyage has been. What seek ye here?
- What cause, what quest, has brought your barks and you
- o'er the blue waters to Ausonia's hills?
- What way uncharted, or wild stress of storm,
- or what that sailors suffer in mid-sea,
- unto this river bank and haven bore?
- Doubt not our welcome! We of Latin land
- are Saturn's sons, whose equitable minds,
- not chained by statute or compulsion, keep
- in freedom what the god's good custom gave.
- Now I bethink me our Ausonian seers
- have dark, dim lore that 't was this land gave birth
- to Dardanus, who after took his way
- through Phrygian Ida's towns and Samothrace.
- Once out of Tuscan Corythus he fared;
- but now in golden house among the stars
- he has a throne, and by his altars blest
- adds to the number of the gods we praise.”
- He spoke; Ilioneus this answer made:
- “O King, great heir of Faunus! No dark storm
- impelled us o'er the flood thy realm to find.
- Nor star deceived, nor strange, bewildering shore
- threw out of our true course; but we are come
- by our free choice and with deliberate aim
- to this thy town, though exiled forth of realms
- once mightiest of all the sun-god sees
- when moving from his utmost eastern bound.
- From Jove our line began; the sons of Troy
- boast Jove to be their sire, and our true King
- is of Olympian seed. To thine abode
- Trojan Aeneas sent us. How there burst
- o'er Ida's vales from dread Mycenae's kings
- a tempest vast, and by what stroke of doom
- all Asia's world with Europe clashed in war,
- that lone wight hears whom earth's remotest isle
- has banished to the Ocean's rim, or he
- whose dwelling is the ample zone that burns
- betwixt the changeful sun-god's milder realms,
- far severed from the world. We are the men
- from war's destroying deluge safely borne
- over the waters wide. We only ask
- some low-roofed dwelling for our fathers' gods,
- some friendly shore, and, what to all is free,
- water and air. We bring no evil name
- upon thy people; thy renown will be
- but wider spread; nor of a deed so fair
- can grateful memory die. Ye ne'er will rue
- that to Ausonia's breast ye gathered Troy.
- I swear thee by the favored destinies
- of great Aeneas, by his strength of arm
- in friendship or in war, that many a tribe
- (O, scorn us not, that, bearing olive green,
- with suppliant words we come), that many a throne
- has sued us to be friends. But Fate's decree
- to this thy realm did guide. Here Dardanus
- was born; and with reiterate command
- this way Apollo pointed to the stream
- of Tiber and Numicius' haunted spring.
- Lo, these poor tributes from his greatness gone
- Aeneas sends, these relics snatched away
- from Ilium burning: with this golden bowl
- Anchises poured libation when he prayed;
- and these were Priam's splendor, when he gave
- laws to his gathered states; this sceptre his,
- this diadem revered, and beauteous pall,
- handwork of Asia's queens.” So ceased to speak
- Ilioneus. But King Latinus gazed
- unanswering on the ground, all motionless
- save for his musing eyes. The broidered pall
- of purple, and the sceptre Priam bore,
- moved little on his kingly heart, which now
- pondered of giving to the bridal bed
- his daughter dear. He argues in his mind
- the oracle of Faunus:—might this be
- that destined bridegroom from an alien land,
- to share his throne, to get a progeny
- of glorious valor, which by mighty deeds
- should win the world for kingdom? So at last
- with joyful brow he spoke: “Now let the gods
- our purpose and their own fair promise bless!
- Thou hast, O Trojan, thy desire. Thy gifts
- I have not scorned; nor while Latinus reigns
- shall ye lack riches in my plenteous land,
- not less than Trojan store. But where is he,
- Aeneas' self? If he our royal love
- so much desire, and have such urgent mind
- to be our guest and friend, let him draw near,
- nor turn him from well-wishing looks away!
- My offering and pledge of peace shall be
- to clasp your monarch's hand. Bear back, I pray,
- this answer to your King: my dwelling holds
- a daughter, whom with husband of her blood
- great signs in heaven and from my father's tomb
- forbid to wed. A son from alien shores
- they prophesy for Latium's heir, whose seed
- shall lift our glory to the stars divine.
- I am persuaded this is none but he,
- that man of destiny; and if my heart
- be no false prophet, I desire it so.”
- Thus having said, the sire took chosen steeds
- from his full herd, whereof, well-groomed and fair,
- three hundred stood within his ample pale.
- Of these to every Teucrian guest he gave
- a courser swift and strong, in purple clad
- and broidered housings gay; on every breast
- hung chains of gold; in golden robes arrayed,
- they champed the red gold curb their teeth between.
- For offering to Aeneas, he bade send
- a chariot, with chargers twain of seed
- ethereal, their nostrils breathing fire:
- the famous kind which guileful Circe bred,
- cheating her sire, and mixed the sun-god's team
- with brood-mares earthly born. The sons of Troy,
- such gifts and greetings from Latinus bearing,
- rode back in pomp his words of peace to bring.
- But lo! from Argos on her voyage of air
- rides the dread spouse of Jove. She, sky-enthroned
- above the far Sicilian promontory,
- pachynus, sees Dardania's rescued fleet,
- and all Aeneas' joy. The prospect shows
- houses a-building, lands of safe abode,
- and the abandoned ships. With bitter grief
- she stands at gaze: then with storm-shaken brows,
- thus from her heart lets loose the wrathful word:
- “O hated race! O Phrygian destinies —
- to mine forevermore (unhappy me!)
- a scandal and offense! Did no one die
- on Troy's embattled plain? Could captured slaves
- not be enslaved again? Was Ilium's flame
- no warrior's funeral pyre? Did they walk safe
- through serried swords and congregated fires?
- At last, methought, my godhead might repose,
- and my full-fed revenge in slumber lie.
- But nay! Though flung forth from their native land,
- I o'er the waves, with enmity unstayed,
- dared give them chase, and on that exiled few
- hurled the whole sea. I smote the sons of Troy
- with ocean's power and heaven's. But what availed
- Syrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis' waves?
- The Trojans are in Tiber; and abide
- within their prayed-for land delectable,
- safe from the seas and me! Mars once had power
- the monstrous Lapithae to slay; and Jove
- to Dian's honor and revenge gave o'er
- the land of Calydon. What crime so foul
- was wrought by Lapithae or Calydon?
- But I, Jove's wife and Queen, who in my woes
- have ventured each bold stroke my power could find,
- and every shift essayed,—behold me now
- outdone by this Aeneas! If so weak
- my own prerogative of godhead be,
- let me seek strength in war, come whence it will!
- If Heaven I may not move, on Hell I call.
- To bar him from his Latin throne exceeds
- my fated power. So be it! Fate has given
- Lavinia for his bride. But long delays
- I still can plot, and to the high event
- deferment and obstruction. I can smite
- the subjects of both kings. Let sire and son
- buy with their people's blood this marriage-bond!
- Let Teucrian and Rutulian slaughter be
- thy virgin dower, and Bellona's blaze
- light thee the bridal bed! Not only teemed
- the womb of Hecuba with burning brand,
- and brought forth nuptial fires; but Venus, too,
- such offspring bore, a second Paris, who
- to their new Troy shall fatal wedlock bring.”
- So saying, with aspect terrible she sped
- earthward her way; and called from gloom of hell
- Alecto, woeful power, from cloudy throne
- among the Furies, where her heart is fed
- with horrid wars, wrath, vengeance, treason foul,
- and fatal feuds. Her father Pluto loathes
- the creature he engendered, and with hate
- her hell-born sister-fiends the monster view.
- A host of shapes she wears, and many a front
- of frowning black brows viper-garlanded.
- Juno to her this goading speech addressed:
- “O daughter of dark Night, arouse for me
- thy wonted powers and our task begin!
- Lest now my glory fail, my royal name
- be vanquished, while Aeneas and his crew
- cheat with a wedlock bond the Latin King
- and seize Italia's fields. Thou canst thrust on
- two Ioving brothers to draw sword and slay,
- and ruin homes with hatred, calling in
- the scourge of Furies and avenging fires.
- A thousand names thou bearest, and thy ways
- of ruin multiply a thousand-fold.
- Arouse thy fertile breast! Go, rend in twain
- this plighted peace! Breed calumnies and sow
- causes of battle, till yon warrior hosts
- cry out for swords and leap to gird them on.”
- Straightway Alecto, through whose body flows
- the Gorgon poison, took her viewless way
- to Latium and the lofty walls and towers
- of the Laurentian King. Crouching she sate
- in silence on the threshold of the bower
- where Queen Amata in her fevered soul
- pondered, with all a woman's wrath and fear,
- upon the Trojans and the marriage-suit
- of Turnus. From her Stygian hair the fiend
- a single serpent flung, which stole its way
- to the Queen's very heart, that, frenzy-driven,
- she might on her whole house confusion pour.
- Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it wound
- unfelt, unseen, and in her wrathful mind
- instilled its viper soul. Like golden chain
- around her neck it twined, or stretched along
- the fillets on her brow, or with her hair
- enwrithing coiled; then on from limb to limb
- slipped tortuous. Yet though the venom strong
- thrilled with its first infection every vein,
- and touched her bones with fire, she knew it not,
- nor yielded all her soul, but made her plea
- in gentle accents such as mothers use;
- and many a tear she shed, about her child,
- her darling, destined for a Phrygian's bride:
- “O father! can we give Lavinia's hand
- to Trojan fugitives? why wilt thou show
- no mercy on thy daughter, nor thyself;
- nor unto me, whom at the first fair wind
- that wretch will leave deserted, bearing far
- upon his pirate ship my stolen child?
- Was it not thus that Phrygian shepherd came
- to Lacedaemon, ravishing away
- Helen, the child of Leda, whom he bore
- to those false Trojan lands? Hast thou forgot
- thy plighted word? Where now thy boasted love
- of kith and kin, and many a troth-plight given
- unto our kinsman Turnus? If we need
- an alien son, and Father Faunus' words
- irrevocably o'er thy spirit brood,
- I tell thee every land not linked with ours
- under one sceptre, but distinct and free,
- is alien; and 't is thus the gods intend.
- Indeed, if Turnus' ancient race be told,
- it sprang of Inachus, Acrisius,
- and out of mid-Mycenae.” But she sees
- her lord Latinus resolute, her words
- an effort vain; and through her body spreads
- the Fury's deeply venomed viper-sting.
- Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on,
- she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrung
- along the public ways; as oft one sees
- beneath the twisted whips a leaping top
- sped in long spirals through a palace-close
- by lads at play: obedient to the thong,
- it weaves wide circles in the gaping view
- of its small masters, who admiring see
- the whirling boxwood made a living thing
- under their lash. So fast and far she roved
- from town to town among the clansmen wild.
- Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feel
- the madness Bacchus loves; for she essays
- a fiercer crime, by fiercer frenzy moved.
- Now in the leafy dark of mountain vales
- she hides her daughter, ravished thus away
- from Trojan bridegroom and the wedding-feast.
- “Hail, Bacchus! Thou alone,” she shrieked and raved,
- “art worthy such a maid. For thee she bears
- the thyrsus with soft ivy-clusters crowned,
- and trips ecstatic in thy beauteous choir.
- For thee alone my daughter shall unbind
- the glory of her virgin hair.” Swift runs
- the rumor of her deed; and, frenzy-driven,
- the wives of Latium to the forests fly,
- enkindled with one rage. They leave behind
- their desolated hearths, and let rude winds
- o'er neck and tresses blow; their voices fill
- the welkin with convulsive shriek and wail;
- and, with fresh fawn-skins on their bodies bound,
- they brandish vine-clad spears. The Queen herself
- lifts high a blazing pine tree, while she sings
- a wedding-song for Turnus and her child.
- With bloodshot glance and anger wild, she cries:
- “Ho! all ye Latin wives, if e'er ye knew
- kindness for poor Amata, if ye care
- for a wronged mother's woes, O, follow me!
- Cast off the matron fillet from your brows,
- and revel to our mad, voluptuous song.”
- Thus, through the woodland haunt of creatures wild,
- Alecto urges on the raging Queen
- with Bacchus' cruel goad. But when she deemed
- the edge of wrath well whetted, and the house
- of wise Latinus of all reason reft,
- then soared the black-winged goddess to the walls
- of the bold Rutule, to the city built
- (So runs the tale) by beauteous Danae
- and her Acrisian people, shipwrecked there
- by south wind strong. Its name was Ardea
- in language of our sires, and that proud name
- of Ardea still it wears, though proud no more.
- Here Turnus in the gloom of midnight lay
- half-sleeping in his regal hall. For him
- Alecto her grim fury-guise put by,
- and wore an old crone's face, her baleful brow
- delved deep with wrinkled age, her hoary hair
- in sacred fillet bound, and garlanded
- with leaf of olive: Calybe she seemed,
- an aged servitress ot Juno's shrine,
- and in this seeming thus the prince addressed:—
- “O Turnus, wilt thou tamely see thy toil
- lavished in vain? and thy true throne consigned
- to Trojan wanderers? The King repels
- thy noble wooing and thy war-won dower.
- He summons him a son of alien stem
- to take his kingdom. Rouse thee now, and front,
- scorned and without reward, these perilous days.
- Tread down that Tuscan host! Protect the peace
- of Latium from its foe! Such is the word
- which, while in night and slumber thou wert laid,
- Saturnia's godhead, visibly revealed,
- bade me declare. Up, therefore, and array
- thy warriors in arms! Swift sallying forth
- from thy strong city-gates, on to the fray
- exultant go! Assail the Phrygian chiefs
- who tent them by thy beauteous river's marge,
- and burn their painted galleys! 't is the will
- of gods above that speaks. Yea, even the King
- Latinus, if he will not heed thy plea,
- or hear thy wooing, shall be taught too late
- what Turnus is in panoply of war.”