Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

So saying, he bade his followers renew
th' abandoned feast and wine; and placed each guest
on turf-built couch of green, most honoring
Aeneas by a throne of maple fair
decked with a lion's pelt and flowing mane.
Then high-born pages, with the altar's priest,
bring on the roasted beeves and load the board
with baskets of fine bread; and wine they bring —
of Ceres and of Bacchus gift and toil.
While good Aeneas and his Trojans share
the long whole ox and meats of sacrifice.

When hunger and its eager edge were gone,
Evander spoke: “This votive holiday,
yon tables spread and altar so divine,
are not some superstition dark and vain,
that knows not the old gods, O Trojan King!
But as men saved from danger and great fear
this thankful sacrifice we pay. Behold,
yon huge rock, beetling from the mountain wall,
hung from the cliff above. How lone and bare
the hollowed mountain looks! How crag on crag
tumbled and tossed in huge confusion lie!
A cavern once it was, which ran deep down
into the darkness. There th' half-human shape
of Cacus made its hideous den, concealed
from sunlight and the day. The ground was wet
at all times with fresh gore; the portal grim
was hung about with heads of slaughtered men,
bloody and pale—a fearsome sight to see.
Vulcan begat this monster, which spewed forth
dark-fuming flames from his infernal throat,
and vast his stature seemed. But time and tide
brought to our prayers the advent of a god
to help us at our need. For Hercules,
divine avenger, came from laying low
three-bodied Geryon, whose spoils he wore
exultant, and with hands victorious drove
the herd of monster bulls, which pastured free
along our river-valley. Cacus gazed
in a brute frenzy, and left not untried
aught of bold crime or stratagem, but stole
four fine bulls as they fed, and heifers four,
all matchless; but, lest hoof-tracks point his way,
he dragged them cave-wards by the tails, confusing
the natural trail, and hid the stolen herd
in his dark den; and not a mark or sign
could guide the herdsmen to that cavern-door.
But after, when Amphitryon's famous son,
preparing to depart, would from the meads
goad forth the full-fed herd, his lingering bulls
roared loud, and by their lamentable cry
filled grove and hills with clamor of farewell:
one heifer from the mountain-cave lowed back
in answer, so from her close-guarded stall
foiling the monster's will. Then hadst thou seen
the wrath of Hercules in frenzy blaze
from his exasperate heart. His arms he seized,
his club of knotted oak, and climbed full-speed
the wind-swept hill. Now first our people saw
Cacus in fear, with panic in his eyes.
Swift to the black cave like a gale he flew,
his feet by terror winged. Scarce had he passed
the cavern door, and broken the big chains,
and dropped the huge rock which was pendent there
by Vulcan's well-wrought steel; scarce blocked and barred
the guarded gate: when there Tirynthius stood,
with heart aflame, surveying each approach,
rolling this way and that his wrathful eyes,
gnashing his teeth. Three times his ire surveyed
the slope of Aventine; three times he stormed
the rock-built gate in vain; and thrice withdrew
to rest him in the vale. But high above
a pointed peak arose, sheer face of rock
on every side, which towered into view
from the long ridge above the vaulted cave,
fit haunt for birds of evil-boding wing.
This peak, which leftward toward the river leaned,
he smote upon its right—his utmost blow —
breaking its bases Ioose; then suddenly
thrust at it: as he thrust, the thunder-sound
filled all the arching sky, the river's banks
asunder leaped, and Tiber in alarm
reversed his flowing wave. So Cacus' lair
lay shelterless, and naked to the day
the gloomy caverns of his vast abode
stood open, deeply yawning, just as if
the riven earth should crack, and open wide
th' infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale,
which gods abhor; and to the realms on high
the measureless abyss should be laid bare,
and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun.
Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare,
caged in the rocks and howling horribly,
Alcides hurled his weapons, raining down
all sorts of deadly missiles—trunks of trees,
and monstrous boulders from the mountain torn.
But when the giant from his mortal strait
no refuge knew, he blew from his foul jaws
a storm of smoke—incredible to tell —
and with thick darkness blinding every eye,
concealed his cave, uprolling from below
one pitch-black night of mingled gloom and fire.
This would Alcides not endure, but leaped
headlong across the flames, where densest hung
the rolling smoke, and through the cavern surged
a drifting and impenetrable cloud.
With Cacus, who breathed unavailing flame,
he grappled in the dark, locked limb with limb,
and strangled him, till o'er the bloodless throat
the starting eyeballs stared.Then Hercules
burst wide the doorway of the sooty den,
and unto Heaven and all the people showed
the stolen cattle and the robber's crimes,
and dragged forth by the feet the shapeless corpse
of the foul monster slain. The people gazed
insatiate on the grewsome eyes, the breast
of bristling shag, the face both beast and man,
and that fire-blasted throat whence breathed no more
the extinguished flame. 'T is since that famous day
we celebrate this feast, and glad of heart
each generation keeps the holy time.
Potitius began the worship due,
and our Pinarian house is vowed to guard
the rites of Hercules. An altar fair
within this wood they raised; 't is called ‘the Great,’
and Ara Maxima its name shall be.
Come now, my warriors, and bind your brows
with garlands worthy of the gift of Heaven.
Lift high the cup in every thankful hand,
and praise our people's god with plenteous wine.”
He spoke; and of the poplar's changeful sheen,
sacred to Hercules, wove him a wreath
to shade his silvered brow. The sacred cup
he raised in his right hand, while all the rest
called on the gods and pure libation poured.

Soon from the travelling heavens the western star
glowed nearer, and Potitius led forth
the priest-procession, girt in ancient guise
with skins of beasts and carrying burning brands.
new feasts are spread, and altars heaped anew
with gifts and laden chargers. Then with song
the Salian choir surrounds the blazing shrine,
their foreheads wreathed with poplar. Here the youth,
the elders yonder, in proud anthem sing
the glory and the deeds of Hercules:
how first he strangled with strong infant hand
two serpents, Juno's plague; what cities proud,
Troy and Oechalia, his famous war
in pieces broke; what labors numberless
as King Eurystheus' bondman he endured,
by cruel Juno's will. “Thou, unsubdued,
didst strike the twy-formed, cloud-bred centaurs down,
Pholus and tall Hylaeus. Thou hast slain
the Cretan horror, and the lion huge
beneath the Nemean crag. At sight of thee
the Stygian region quailed, and Cerberus,
crouching o'er half-picked bones in gory cave.
Nothing could bid thee fear. Typhoeus towered
in his colossal Titan-panoply
o'er thee in vain; nor did thy cunning fail
when Lema's wonder-serpent round thee drew
its multudinous head. Hail, Jove's true son!
New glory to the gods above, come down,
and these thine altars and thy people bless!”
Such hymns they chanted, telling oft the tale
of Cacus' cave and blasting breath of fire:
while hills and sacred grove the note prolong.

Such worship o'er, all take the homeward way
back to the town. The hospitable King,
though bowed with weight of years, kept at his side
Aeneas and his son, and as they fared,
with various discourse beguiled the way.
Aeneas scanned with quick-admiring eyes
the region wide, and lingered with delight
now here, now there, inquiring eagerly
of each proud monument of heroes gone.
Then King Evander, he who builded first
On Palatine, spoke thus: “These groves erewhile
their native nymphs and fauns enjoyed, with men
from trees engendered and stout heart of oak.
Nor laws nor arts they knew; nor how to tame
burls to the yoke, nor fill great barns with store
and hoard the gathered grain; but rudely fared
on wild fruits and such food as hunters find.
Then Saturn from Olympian realms came down,
in flight from Jove's dread arms, his sceptre lost,
and he an exiled King. That savage race
he gathered from the mountain slopes; and gave
wise laws and statutes; so that latent land
was Latium, ‘hid land’, where he hid so long.
The golden centuries by legends told
were under that good King, whose equal sway
untroubled peace to all his peoples gave.
But after slow decline arrived an age
degenerate and of a darker hue,
prone to insensate war and greed of gain.
Then came Sicanian and Ausonian tribes,
and oft the land of Saturn lost its name.
New chieftains rose, and Thybris, giant King
and violent, from whom th' Italians named
the flooding Tiber, which was called no more
the Albula, its true and ancient style.
Myself, in exile from my fatherland
sailing uncharted seas, was guided here
by all-disposing Chance and iron laws
of Destiny. With prophecy severe
Carmentis, my nymph-mother, thrust me on,
warned by Apollo's word.” He scarce had said,
when near their path he showed an altar fair
and the Carmental gate, where Romans see
memorial of Carmentis, nymph divine,
the prophetess of fate, who first foretold
what honors on Aeneas' sons should fall
and lordly Pallanteum, where they dwell.
Next the vast grove was seen, where Romulus
ordained inviolable sanctuary;
then the Lupercal under its cold crag,
Wolf-hill, where old Arcadians revered
their wolf-god, the Lycaean Pan. Here too
the grove of Argiletum, sacred name,
where good Evander told the crime and death
of Argus, his false guest. From this they climbed
the steep Tarpeian hill, the Capitol,
all gold to-day, but then a tangled wild
of thorny woodland. Even then the place
woke in the rustics a religious awe,
and bade them fear and tremble at the view
of that dread rock and grove. “This leafy wood,
which crowns the hill-top, is the favored seat
of some great god,” said he, “but of his name
we know not surely. The Arcadians say
jove's dread right hand here visibly appears
to shake his aegis in the darkening storm,
the clouds compelling. Yonder rise in view
two strongholds with dismantled walls, which now
are but a memory of great heroes gone:
one father Janus built, and Saturn one;
their names, Saturnia and Janiculum.”
'Mid such good parley to the house they came
of King Evander, unadorned and plain,
whence herds of browsing cattle could be seen
ranging the Forum, and loud-bellowing
in proud Carinae. As they entered there,
“Behold,” said he, “the threshold that received
Alcides in his triumph! This abode
he made his own. Dare, O illustrious guest,
to scorn the pomp of power. Shape thy soul
to be a god's fit follower. Enter here,
and free from pride our frugal welcome share.”
So saying, 'neath his roof-tree scant and low
he led the great Aeneas, offering him
a couch of leaves with Libyan bear-skin spread.
Now night drew near, enfolding the wide world
in shadowy wings. But Venus, sore disturbed,
vexed not unwisely her maternal breast,
fearing Laurentum's menace and wild stir
of obstinate revolt, and made her plea
to Vulcan in their nuptial bower of gold,
outbreathing in the music of her words
celestial love: “When warring Argive kings
brought ruin on Troy's sacred citadel
and ramparts soon to sink in hostile flames,
I asked not thee to help that hopeless woe,
nor craved thy craft and power. For, dearest lord,
I would not tax in vain shine arduous toil,
though much to Priam's children I was bound,
and oft to see Aeneas burdened sore
I could but weep. But now by will of Jove
he has found foothold in Rutulian lands.
Therefore I come at last with lowly suit
before a godhead I adore, and pray
for gift of arms,—a mother for her son.
Thou wert not unrelenting to the tears
of Nereus' daughter or Tithonus' bride.
Behold what tribes conspire, what cities strong
behind barred gates now make the falchion keen
to ruin and blot out both me and mine!”
So spake the goddess, as her arms of snow
around her hesitating spouse she threw
in tender, close embrace. He suddenly
knew the familiar fire, and o'er his frame
its wonted ardor unresisted ran,
swift as the glittering shaft of thunder cleaves
the darkened air and on from cloud to cloud
the rift of lightning runs. She, joyful wife;
felt what her beauty and her guile could do;
as, thralled by love unquenchable, her spouse
thus answered fair: “Why wilt thou labor so
with far-fetched pleas? my goddess, hast thou lost
thy faith in me? Had such a prayer been shine,
I could have armed the Teucrians. Neither Jove
nor Destiny had grudged ten added years
of life to Troy and Priam. If to-day
thou hast a war in hand, and if thy heart
determine so, I willingly engage
to lend thee all my cunning; whatsoever
molten alloy or welded iron can,
whate'er my roaring forge and flames achieve,
I offer thee. No more in anxious prayer
distrust thy beauty's power.” So saying, he gave
embrace of mutual desire, and found
deep, peaceful sleep, on her fond heart reclined.

Night's course half run, soon as the first repose
had banished sleep,—what time some careful wife
whose distaff and Minerva's humble toil
must earn her bread, rekindling her warm hearth,
adds a night-burden to her laboring day,
and by the torch-light cheers her maidens on
to their long tasks; that so her husband's bed
she may in honor keep, and train to power
her dear men-children—at such prime of morn,
with not less eager mind the Lord of Fire
fled his soft couch and to his forges tried.
An island near Aeolian Lipara
not far from a Sicilian headland lies,
where smoking rocks precipitously tower
above a vast vault, which the Cyclops' skill
outhollowed large as Aetna's thunderous caves.
There ring the smitten anvils, and the roof
re-echoes, roaring loud. Chalybian ores
hiss in the gloom, and from the furnace mouths
puff the hot-panting fires. 'T is Vulcan's seat,
and all that island is Vulcania.
Thither descended now the god of fire
from height of heaven. At their task were found
the Cyclops in vast cavern forging steel,
naked Pyracmon and gigantic-limbed
Brontes and Steropes; beneath their blows
a lightning-shaft, half-shaped, half-burnished lay,
such as the Thunderer is wont to fling
in numbers from the sky, but formless still.
Three strands of whirling storm they wove with three
of bursting cloud, and three did interfuse
of ruddy-gleaming fires and winged winds;
then fearful lightnings on the skilful forge
they welded with loud horror, and with flames
that bear swift wrath from Jove. Elsewhere a crew
toiled at the chariot and winged wheel
wherewith the war-god wakens from repose
heroes and peopled cities. Others wrought
the awful Aegis, herald of dismay,
by angry Pallas worn; they burnished bright
the golden serpent-scales and wreathing snakes,
till from the corselet of the goddess glared
the Gorgon's severed head and rolling eyes.
“Cyclops of Aetna,” Vulcan cried, “have done!
Leave ev'ry task unfinished, and receive
my new command! Good armor must be forged
for warrior brave. For this I need to use
your utmost sinew and your swiftest hand,
with all your master skill. No lingering now!”
Swift the command, and swiftly they divide
to each his portion, and united urge
the common task. Forth fow the molten streams
of brass and gold, and, melted in fierce fiame,
the deeply-wounding steel like liquid flows.
A mighty shield took shape, its single orb
sufficient to withstand the gathered shock
of all the Latin arms; for seven times
they welded ring with ring. Some deftly ply
the windy bellows, which receive and give
the roaring blasts; some plunge in cooling pond
the hissing metal, while the smithy floor
groans with the anvil's weight, as side by side
they lift their giant arms in numbered blows
and roll with gripe of tongs the ponderous bars.

While thus the Lemnian god his labor sped
in far Aeolian isle, the cheerful morn
with voice of swallows round his lowly eaves
summoned Evander. From his couch arose
the royal sire, and o'er his aged frame
a tunic threw, tying beneath his feet
the Tuscan sandals: an Arcadian sword,
girt at his left, was over one shoulder slung,
his cloak of panther trailing from behind.
A pair of watch-dogs from the lofty door
ran close, their lord attending, as he sought
his guest Aeneas; for his princely soul
remembered faithfully his former word,
and promised gift. Aeneas with like mind
was stirring early. King Evander's son
Pallas was at his side; Achates too
accompanied his friend. All these conjoin
in hand-clasp and good-morrow, taking seats
in midcourt of the house, and give the hour
to converse unrestrained. First spoke the King:

“Great leader of the Teucrians, while thy life
in safety stands, I call not Trojan power
vanquished or fallen. But to help thy war
my small means match not thy redoubled name.
Yon Tuscan river is my bound. That way
Rutulia thrusts us hard and chafes our wall
with loud, besieging arms. But I propose
to league with thee a numerous array
of kings and mighty tribes, which fortune strange
now brings to thy defence. Thou comest here
because the Fates intend. Not far from ours
a city on an ancient rock is seen,
Agylla, which a warlike Lydian clan
built on the Tuscan hills. It prospered well
for many a year, then under the proud yoke
of King Mezentius it came and bore
his cruel sway. Why tell the loathsome deeds
and crimes unspeakable the despot wrought?
May Heaven requite them on his impious head
and on his children! For he used to chain
dead men to living, hand on hand was laid
and face on face,—torment incredible!
Till, locked in blood-stained, horrible embrace,
a lingering death they found. But at the last
his people rose in furious despair,
and while he blasphemously raged, assailed
his life and throne, cut down his guards
and fired his regal dwellings; he, the while,
escaped immediate death and fied away
to the Rutulian land, to find defence
in Turnus hospitality. To-day
Etruria, to righteous anger stirred,
demands with urgent arms her guilty King.
To their large host, Aeneas, I will give
an added strength, thyself. For yonder shores
re-echo with the tumult and the cry
of ships in close array; their eager lords
are clamoring for battle. But the song
of the gray omen-giver thus declares
their destiny: ‘O goodly princes born
of old Maeonian lineage! Ye that are
the bloom and glory of an ancient race,
whom just occasions now and noble rage
enflame against Mezentius your foe,
it is decreed that yonder nation proud
shall never submit to chiefs Italian-born.
Seek ye a king from far!’ So in the field
inert and fearful lies Etruria's force,
disarmed by oracles. Their Tarchon sent
envoys who bore a sceptre and a crown
even to me, and prayed I should assume
the sacred emblems of Etruria's king,
and lead their host to war. But unto me
cold, sluggish age, now barren and outworn,
denies new kingdoms, and my slow-paced powers
run to brave deeds no more. Nor could I urge
my son, who by his Sabine mother's line
is half Italian-born. Thyself art he,
whose birth illustrious and manly prime
fate favors and celestial powers approve.
Therefore go forth, O bravest chief and King
of Troy and Italy! To thee I give
the hope and consolation of our throne,
pallas, my son, and bid him find in thee
a master and example, while he learns
the soldier's arduous toil. With thy brave deeds
let him familiar grow, and reverence thee
with youthful love and honor. In his train
two hundred horsemen of Arcadia,
our choicest men-at-arms, shall ride; and he
in his own name an equal band shall bring
to follow only thee.” Such the discourse.
With meditative brows and downcast eyes
Aeneas and Achates, sad at heart,
mused on unnumbered perils yet to come.
But out of cloudless sky Cythera's Queen
gave sudden signal: from th' ethereal dome
a thunder-peal and flash of quivering fire
tumultuous broke, as if the world would fall,
and bellowing Tuscan trumpets shook the air.
All eyes look up. Again and yet again
crashed the terrible din, and where the sky
looked clearest hung a visionary cloud,
whence through the brightness blazed resounding arms.
All hearts stood still. But Troy's heroic son
knew that his mother in the skies redeemed
her pledge in sound of thunder: so he cried,
“Seek not, my friend, seek not thyself to read
the meaning of the omen. 'T is to me
Olympus calls. My goddess-mother gave
long since her promise of a heavenly sign
if war should burst; and that her power would bring
a panoply from Vulcan through the air,
to help us at our need. Alas, what deaths
over Laurentum's ill-starred host impend!
O Turnus, what a reckoning thou shalt pay
to me in arms! O Tiber, in thy wave
what helms and shields and mighty soldiers slain
shall in confusion roll! Yea, let them lead
their lines to battle, and our league abjure!”

He said: and from the lofty throne uprose.
Straightway he roused anew the slumbering fire
sacred to Hercules, and glad at heart
adored, as yesterday, the household gods
revered by good Evander, at whose side
the Trojan company made sacrifice
of chosen lambs, with fitting rites and true.
Then to his ships he tried him, and rejoined
his trusty followers, of whom he took
the best for valor known, to lend him aid
in deeds of war. Others he bade return
down stream in easy course, and tidings bear
to young Ascanius of the new event,
and of his father. Horses then were brought
for all the Teucrians to Etruria bound;
and for Aeneas one of rarest breed,
o'er whom a tawny robe descended low,
of lion-skin, with claws of gleaming gold.

Noised swiftly through the little town it flies
that to the precinct of the Tuscan King
armed horsemen speed. Pale mothers in great fear
unceasing pray; for panic closely runs
in danger's steps; the war-god drawing nigh
looms larger; and good sire Evander now
clings to the hand of his departing son
and, weeping without stay, makes sad farewell:
“O, that great Jove would give me once again
my vanished years! O, if such man I were,
as when beneath Praeneste's wall I slew
the front ranks of her sons, and burned for spoil
their gathered shields on my triumph day;
or when this right hand hurled king Erulus
to shades below, though—terrible to tell —
Feronia bore him with three lives, that thrice
he might arise from deadly strife o'erthrown,
and thrice be slain—yet all these lives took I,
and of his arms despoiled him o'er and o'er:
not now, sweet son (if such lost might were mine),
should I from thy beloved embrace be torn;
nor could Mezentius with insulting sword
do murder in my sight and make my land
depopulate and forlorn. O gods in Heaven,
and chiefly thou whom all the gods obey,
have pity, Jove, upon Arcadia's King,
and hear a father's prayer: if your intent
be for my Pallas a defence secure,
if it be writ that long as I shall live,
my eyes may see him, and my arms enfold,
I pray for life, and all its ills I bear.
But if some curse, too dark to tell, impend
from thee, O Fortune blind! I pray thee break
my thread of miserable life to-day;
to-day, while fear still doubts and hope still smiles
on the unknown to-morrow, as I hold
thee to my bosom, dearest child, who art
my last and only joy; to-day, before
th' intolerable tidings smite my ears.”
Such grief the royal father's heart outpoured
at this last parting; the strong arms of slaves
lifted him, fallen in swoon, and bore him home.

Now forth beneath the wide-swung city-gates
the mounted squadron poured; Aeneas rode,
companioned of Achates, in the van;
then other lords of Troy. There Pallas shone
conspicuous in the midmost line, with cloak
and blazoned arms, as when the Morning-star
(To Venus dearest of all orbs that burn),
out of his lucent bath in ocean wave
lifts to the skies his countenance divine,
and melts the shadows of the night away.
Upon the ramparts trembling matrons stand
and follow with dimmed eyes the dusty cloud
whence gleam the brazen arms. The warriors ride
straight on through brake and fell, the nearest way;
loud ring the war-cries, and in martial line
the pounding hoof-beats shake the crumbling ground.
By Caere's cold flood lies an ample grove
revered from age to age. The hollowing hills
enclasp it in wide circles of dark fir,
and the Pelasgians, so the legends tell,
primaeval settlers of the Latin plains,
called it the haunt of Silvan, kindly god
of flocks and fields, and honoring the grove
gave it a festal day. Hard by this spot
had Tarchon with the Tuscans fortified
his bivouac, and from the heights afar
his legions could be seen in wide array
outstretching through the plain. To meet them there
Aeneas and his veteran chivalry
made sure advance, and found repose at eve
for warrior travel-worn and fainting steed.

But now athwart the darkening air of heaven
came Venus gleaming bright, to bring her son
the gifts divine. In deep, sequestered vale
she found him by a cooling rill retired,
and hailed him thus: “Behold the promised gift,
by craft and power of my Olympian spouse
made perfect, that my son need never fear
Laurentum's haughty host, nor to provoke
fierce Turnus to the fray.” Cythera's Queen
so saying, embraced her son, and hung the arms,
all glittering, on an oak that stood thereby.
The hero, with exultant heart and proud,
gazing unwearied at his mother's gift,
surveys them close, and poises in his hands
the helmet's dreadful crest and glancing flame,
the sword death-dealing, and the corselet strong,
impenetrable brass, blood-red and large,
like some dark-lowering, purple cloud that gleams
beneath the smiting sun and flashes far
its answering ray; and burnished greaves were there,
fine gold and amber; then the spear and shield —
the shield—of which the blazonry divine
exceeds all power to tell. Thereon were seen
Italia's story and triumphant Rome,
wrought by the Lord of Fire, who was not blind
to lore inspired and prophesying song,
fore-reading things to come. He pictured there
Iulus' destined line of glorious sons
marshalled for many a war. In cavern green,
haunt of the war-god, lay the mother-wolf;
the twin boy-sucklings at her udders played,
nor feared such nurse; with long neck backward thrown
she fondled each, and shaped with busy tongue
their bodies fair. Near these were pictured well
the walls of Rome and ravished Sabine wives
in the thronged theatre violently seized,
when the great games were done; then, sudden war
of Romulus against the Cures grim
and hoary Tatius; next, the end of strife
between the rival kings, who stood in arms
before Jove's sacred altar, cup in hand,
and swore a compact o'er the slaughtered swine.
Hard by, behold, the whirling chariots tore
Mettus asunder (would thou hadst been true,
false Alban, to thy vow!); and Tullus trailed
the traitor's mangled corse along the hills,
the wild thorn dripping gore. Porsenna, next,
sent to revolted Rome his proud command
to take her Tarquin back, and with strong siege
assailed the city's wall; while unsubdued
Aeneas' sons took arms in freedom's name.
there too the semblance of the frustrate King,
a semblance of his wrath and menace vain,
when Cocles broke the bridge, and Cloelia burst
her captive bonds and swam the Tiber's wave.
Lo, on the steep Tarpeian citadel
stood Manlius at the sacred doors of Jove,
holding the capitol, whereon was seen
the fresh-thatched house of Romulus the King.
There, too, all silver, through arcade of gold
fluttered the goose, whose monitory call
revealed the foeman at the gate: outside
besieging Gauls the thorny pathway climbed,
ambushed in shadow and the friendly dark
of night without a star; their flowing hair
was golden, and their every vesture gold;
their cloaks were glittering plaid; each milk-white neck
bore circlet of bright gold; in each man's hand
two Alpine javelins gleamed, and for defence
long shields the wild northern warriors bore.
There, graven cunningly, the Salian choir
went leaping, and in Lupercalian feast
the naked striplings ran; while others, crowned
with peaked cap, bore shields that fell from heaven;
and, bearing into Rome their emblems old,
chaste priestesses on soft-strewn litters passed.
But far from these th' artificer divine
had wrought a Tartarus, the dreadful doors
of Pluto, and the chastisements of sin;
swung o'er a threatening precipice, was seen
thy trembling form, O Catiline, in fear
of fury-faces nigh: and distant far
th' assemblies of the righteous, in whose midst
was Cato, giving judgment and decree.

Encircled by these pictures ran the waves
of vast, unrestful seas in flowing gold,
where seemed along the azure crests to fly
the hoary foam, and in a silver ring
the tails of swift, emerging dolphins lashed
the waters bright, and clove the tumbling brine.
For the shield's central glory could be seen
great fleets of brazen galleys, and the fight
at Actium; where, ablaze with war's array,
Leucate's peak glowed o'er the golden tide.
Caesar Augustus led Italia's sons
to battle: at his side concordant moved
Senate and Roman People, with their gods
of hearth and home, and all Olympian Powers.
Uplifted on his ship he stands; his brows
beneath a double glory smile, and bright
over his forehead beams the Julian star.
in neighboring region great Agrippa leads,
by favor of fair winds and friendly Heaven,
his squadron forth: upon his brows he wears
the peerless emblem of his rostral crown.
Opposing, in barbaric splendor shine
the arms of Antony: in victor's garb
from nations in the land of morn he rides,
and from the Red Sea, bringing in his train
Egypt and Syria, utmost Bactria's horde,
and last—O shameless!—his Egyptian spouse.
All to the fight make haste; the slanted oars
and triple beaks of brass uptear the waves
to angry foam, as to the deep they speed
like hills on hill-tops hurled, or Cyclades
drifting and clashing in the sea: so vast
that shock of castled ships and mighty men!
Swift, arrowy steel and balls of blazing tow
rain o'er the waters, till the sea-god's world
flows red with slaughter. In the midst, the Queen,
sounding her native timbrel, wildly calls
her minions to the fight, nor yet can see
two fatal asps behind. Her monster-gods,
barking Anubis, and his mongrel crew,
on Neptune, Venus, and Minerva fling
their impious arms; the face of angry Mars,
carved out of iron, in the centre frowns,
grim Furies fill the air; Discordia strides
in rent robe, mad with joy; and at her side,
bellona waves her sanguinary scourge.
There Actian Apollo watched the war,
and o'er it stretched his bow; which when they knew,
Egyptian, Arab, and swart Indian slave,
and all the sons of Saba fled away
in terror of his arm. The vanquished Queen
made prayer to all the winds, and more and more
flung out the swelling sail: on wind-swept wave
she fled through dead and dying; her white brow
the Lord of Fire had cunningly portrayed
blanched with approaching doom. Beyond her lay
the large-limbed picture of the mournful Nile,
who from his bosom spread his garments wide,
and offered refuge in his sheltering streams
and broad, blue breast, to all her fallen power.
But Caesar in his triple triumph passed
the gates of Rome, and gave Italia's gods,
for grateful offering and immortal praise,
three hundred temples; all the city streets
with game and revel and applauding song
rang loud; in all the temples altars burned
and Roman matrons prayed; the slaughtered herds
strewed well the sacred ground. The hero, throned
at snow-white marble threshold of the fane
to radiant Phoebus, views the gift and spoil
the nations bring, and on the portals proud
hangs a perpetual garland: in long file
the vanquished peoples pass, of alien tongues,
of arms and vesture strange. Here Vulcan showed
ungirdled Afric chiefs and Nomads bold,
Gelonian bowmen, men of Caria,
and Leleges. Euphrates seemed to flow
with humbler wave; the world's remotest men,
Morini came, with double-horned Rhine,
and Dahae, little wont to bend the knee,
and swift Araxes, for a bridge too proud.

Such was the blazoned shield his mother gave
from Vulcan's forge; which with astonished eyes
Aeneas viewed, and scanned with joyful mind
such shadows of an unknown age to be;
then on his shoulder for a burden bore
the destined mighty deeds of all his sons.

While thus in distant region moves the war,
down to bold Turnus Saturn's daughter sends
celestial Iris. In a sacred vale,
the seat of worship at his grandsire's tomb,
Pilumnus, Faunus' son, the hero mused.
And thus the wonder-child of Thaumas called
with lips of rose: “O Turnus, what no god
dared give for reward of thy fondest vow,
has come unbidden on its destined day.
Behold, Aeneas, who has left behind
the city with his fleet and followers,
is gone to kingly Palatine, the home
of good Evander. Yea, his march invades
the far Etrurian towns, where now he arms
the Lydian rustics. Wilt thou longer muse?
Call for thy chariot and steeds! Away!
Take yonder tents by terror and surprise!”
She spoke; and heavenward on poising wings
soared, cleaving as she fled from cloud to cloud
a vast, resplendent bow. The warrior saw,
and, lifting both his hands, pursued with prayer
the fading glory: “Beauteous Iris, hail!
Proud ornament of heaven! who sent thee here
across yon cloud to earth, and unto me?
Whence may this sudden brightness fall? I see
the middle welkin lift, and many a star,
far-wandering in the sky. Such solemn sign
I shall obey, and thee, O god unknown!”
So saying, he turned him to a sacred stream,
took water from its brim, and offered Heaven
much prayer, with many an importuning vow.

Soon o'er the spreading fields in proud array
the gathered legions poured; no lack was there
of steeds all fire, and broidered pomp and gold.
Messapus led the van; in rearguard rode
the sons of Tyrrheus; kingly Turnus towered
from the mid-column eminent: the host
moved as great Ganges lifting silently
his seven peaceful streams, or when the flood
of fructifying Nile from many a field
back to his channel flows. A swift-blown cloud
of black, uprolling dust the Teucrians see
o'ershadowing the plain; Calcus calls
from lofty outpost: “O my countrymen,
I see a huge, black ball of rolling smoke.
Your swords and lances! Man the walls! To arms!
The foe is here! What ho!” With clamors loud
the Teucrians through the city-gates retire,
and muster on the walls. For, wise in war,
Aeneas, ere he went, had left command
they should not range in battle-line, nor dare,
whate'er might hap, to risk in open plain
the bold sortie, but keep them safe entrenched
in mounded walls. So now, though rage and shame
prick to a close fight, they defensive bar
each portal strong, and, patient of control,
from hollow towers expect th' encircling foe.

Turnus, at full speed, had outridden far
his laggard host, and, leading in his train
a score of chosen knights, dashed into view
hard by the walls. A barb of Thracian breed
dappled with white he rode; a crimson plume
flamed over his golden helmet. “Who,” he cries,
“Is foremost at the foe? Who follows me?
Behold!” And, with the word, he hurled in air
a javelin, provoking instant war:
and, towering from his horse, charged o'er the field.
With answering shout his men-at-arms pursue,
and war-cries terrible. They laugh to scorn
“the craven hearts of Troy, that cannot give
fair, equal vantage, matching man to man,
but cuddle into camp.” This way and that
Turnus careers, and stormily surveys
the frowning rampart, and where way is none
some entering breach would find: so prowls a wolf
nigh the full sheepfold, and through wind and rain
stands howling at the postern all night long;
beneath the ewes their bleating lambs lie safe;
but he, with undesisting fury, more
rages from far, made frantic for his prey
by hunger of long hours, his foaming jaws
athirst for blood: not less the envy burned
of the Rutulian, as he scanned in vain
the stronghold of his foe. Indignant scorn
thrilled all his iron frame. But how contrive
to storm the fortress or by force expel
the Trojans from the rampart, and disperse
along the plain? Straightway he spied the ships,
in hiding near the camp, defended well
by mounded river-bank and fleeting wave.
On these he fell; while his exultant crew
brought firebrands, and he with heart aflame
grasped with a vengeful hand the blazing pine.
To the wild work his followers sped; for who
could prove him craven under Turnus' eye?
The whole troop for the weapon of their rage
seized smoking coals, of many a hearth the spoil;
red glare of fuming torches burned abroad,
and Vulcan starward flung a sparkling cloud.

What god, O Muses, saved the Trojans then
from wrathful flame? Who shielded then the fleet,
I pray you tell, from bursting storm of fire?
From hoary eld the tale, but its renown
sings on forever. When Aeneas first
on Phrygian Ida hewed the sacred wood
for rib and spar, and soon would put to sea,
that mighty mother of the gods, they say,
the Berecynthian goddess, thus to Jove
addressed her plea: “Grant, O my son, a boon,
which thy dear mother asks, who aided thee
to quell Olympian war. A grove I have
of sacred pine, long-loved from year to year.
On lofty hill it grew, and thither came
my worshippers with gifts, in secret gloom
of pine-trees dark and shadowing maple-boughs.;
these on the Dardan warrior at his need
I, not unwilling, for his fleet bestowed.
But I have fears. O, Iet a parent's prayer
in this prevail, and bid my care begone!
Let not rude voyages nor the shock of storm
my ships subdue, but let their sacred birth
on my charmed hills their strength and safety be!”
Then spake her son, who guides the wheeling spheres:
“Wouldst thou, my mother, strive to oversway
the course of Fate? What means this prayer of thine?
Can it be granted ships of mortal mould
to wear immortal being? Wouldst thou see
Aeneas pass undoubting and secure
through doubtful strait and peril? On what god
was e'er such power bestowed? Yet will I grant
a different boon. Whatever ships shall find
a safe Ausonian haven, and convey
safe through the seas to yon Laurentian plain
the Dardan King, from such I will remove
their perishable shapes, and bid them be
sea-nymphs divine, like Nereus' daughters fair,
Doto and Galatea, whose white breasts
divide the foaming wave.” He said, and swore
by his Tartarean brother's mournful stream,
the pitch-black floods and dark engulfing shore
of Styx; then great Jove bowed his head, and all
Olympus quaked at his consenting brow.

Now was the promised day at hand (for Fate
had woven the web so far) when Turnus' rage
stirred the divine progenitress to save
her sacred ships from fire. Then sudden shone
a strange effulgence in the eastern air;
and in a storm-cloud wafted o'er the sky
were Corybantic choirs, whose dreadful song
smote both on Teucrian and Rutulian ear:
“O Teucrians, fear not for the sure defence
of all the ships, nor arm your mortal hands.
Yon impious Turnus shall burn up the seas
before my pine-trees blest. Arise! Be free,
ye goddesses of ocean, and obey
your mother's mighty word.” Then instant broke
the hawsers of the sterns; the beaked prows
went plunging like great dolphins from the shore
down to the deeps, and, wonderful to tell,
the forms of virgin goddesses uprose,
one for each ship, and seaward sped away.

The hearts of the Rutulian host stood still
in panic, and Messapus terrified
his trembling horses reined; the sacred stream
of Father Tiber, harshly murmuring,
held back his flood and checked his seaward way.
But Turnus' courage failed not; he alone
his followers roused, and with reproachful words
alone spoke forth: “These signs and prodigies
threaten the Trojan only. Jove himself
has stripped them of their wonted strength: no more
can they abide our deadly sword and fire.
The Trojan path to sea is shut. What hope
of flight is left them now? The half their cause
is fallen. The possession of this land
is ours already; thousands of sharp swords
Italia's nations bring. Small fear have I
of Phrygia's boasted omens. What to me
their oracles from heaven? The will of Fate
and Venus have achieved their uttermost
in casting on Ausonia's fruitful shore
yon sons of Troy. I too have destinies:
and mine, good match for theirs, with this true blade
will spill the blood of all the baneful brood,
in vengeance for my stolen wife. Such wrongs
move not on Atreus' sons alone, nor rouse
only Mycenae to a righteous war.
Say you, ‘Troy falls but once?’ One crime, say I,
should have contented them; and now their souls
should little less than loathe all womankind.
These are the sort of soldiers that be brave
behind entrenchment, where the moated walls
may stem the foe and make a little room
betwixt themselves and death. Did they not see
how Troy's vast bulwark built by Neptune's hand
crumbled in flame? Forward, my chosen brave!
Who follows me to cleave his deadly way
through yonder battlement, and leap like storm
upon its craven guard? I have no need
of arms from Vulcan's smithy; nor of ships
a thousand strong against our Teucrian foes,
though all Etruria's league enlarge their power.
Let them not fear dark nights, nor coward theft
of Pallas' shrine, nor murdered sentinels
on their acropolis. We shall not hide
in blinding belly of a horse. But I
in public eye and open day intend
to compass their weak wall with siege and fire.
I'll prove them we be no Pelasgic band,
no Danaan warriors, such as Hector's arm
ten years withstood. But look! this day hath spent
its better part. In what remains, rejoice
in noble deeds well done; let weary flesh
have rest and food. My warriors, husband well
your strength against to-morrow's hopeful war.”
Meanwhile to block their gates with wakeful guard
is made Messapus' work, and to gird round
their camp with watchfires. Then a chosen band,
twice seven Rutulian chieftains, man the walls
with soldiery; each leads a hundred men
crested with crimson, armed with glittering gold.
Some post to separate sentries, and prepare
alternate vigil; others, couched on grass,
laugh round the wine and lift the brazen bowls.
The camp-fires cheerly burn; the jovial guard
spend the long, sleepless night in sport and game.

The Trojans peering from the lofty walls
survey the foe, and arm for sure defence
of every point exposed. They prove the gates
with fearful care, bind bridge with tower, and bring
good store of javelins. Serestus bold
and Mnestheus to their labors promptly fly,
whom Sire Aeneas bade in time of stress
to have authority and free command
over his warriars. Along the walls
the legions, by the cast of lots, divide
the pain and peril, giving each his due
of alternating vigil and repose.