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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: The Aeneid + +Author: Virgil + +Release Date: March 10, 2008 [EBook #228] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + + + + + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="book01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +19 BC<BR> +</H3> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE AENEID<BR> +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +by Virgil<BR> +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#book01">BOOK I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#book02">BOOK II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#book03">BOOK III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"> +<A HREF="#book04">BOOK IV</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book05">BOOK V</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book06">BOOK VI</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book07">BOOK VII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book08">BOOK VIII</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book09">BOOK IX</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book10">BOOK X</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book11">BOOK XI</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book12">BOOK XII</A></TD> +</TR> +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK I<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,<BR> +And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,<BR> +Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.<BR> +Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,<BR> +And in the doubtful war, before he won<BR> +The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;<BR> +His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,<BR> +And settled sure succession in his line,<BR> +From whence the race of Alban fathers come,<BR> +And the long glories of majestic Rome.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;<BR> +What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;<BR> +For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began<BR> +To persecute so brave, so just a man;<BR> +Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares,<BR> +Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars!<BR> +Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show,<BR> +Or exercise their spite in human woe?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away,<BR> +An ancient town was seated on the sea;<BR> +A Tyrian colony; the people made<BR> +Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:<BR> +Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more<BR> +Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.<BR> +Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind,<BR> +The seat of awful empire she design'd.<BR> +Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,<BR> +(Long cited by the people of the sky,)<BR> +That times to come should see the Trojan race<BR> +Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface;<BR> +Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway<BR> +Should on the necks of all the nations lay.<BR> +She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate;<BR> +Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late<BR> +For conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state.<BR> +Besides, long causes working in her mind,<BR> +And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;<BR> +Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd<BR> +Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd;<BR> +The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,<BR> +Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.<BR> +Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd<BR> +To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.<BR> +For this, far distant from the Latian coast<BR> +She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;<BR> +And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train<BR> +Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main.<BR> +Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,<BR> +Such length of labor for so vast a frame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,<BR> +Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,<BR> +Ent'ring with cheerful shouts the wat'ry reign,<BR> +And plowing frothy furrows in the main;<BR> +When, lab'ring still with endless discontent,<BR> +The Queen of Heav'n did thus her fury vent:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then am I vanquish'd? must I yield?" said she,<BR> +"And must the Trojans reign in Italy?<BR> +So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force;<BR> +Nor can my pow'r divert their happy course.<BR> +Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,<BR> +The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?<BR> +She, for the fault of one offending foe,<BR> +The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw:<BR> +With whirlwinds from beneath she toss'd the ship,<BR> +And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep;<BR> +Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,<BR> +The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame,<BR> +She strongly seiz'd, and with a burning wound<BR> +Transfix'd, and naked, on a rock she bound.<BR> +But I, who walk in awful state above,<BR> +The majesty of heav'n, the sister wife of Jove,<BR> +For length of years my fruitless force employ<BR> +Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy!<BR> +What nations now to Juno's pow'r will pray,<BR> +Or off'rings on my slighted altars lay?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus rag'd the goddess; and, with fury fraught.<BR> +The restless regions of the storms she sought,<BR> +Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,<BR> +The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne,<BR> +With pow'r imperial curbs the struggling winds,<BR> +And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.<BR> +This way and that th' impatient captives tend,<BR> +And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.<BR> +High in his hall th' undaunted monarch stands,<BR> +And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands;<BR> +Which did he not, their unresisted sway<BR> +Would sweep the world before them in their way;<BR> +Earth, air, and seas thro' empty space would roll,<BR> +And heav'n would fly before the driving soul.<BR> +In fear of this, the Father of the Gods<BR> +Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes,<BR> +And lock'd 'em safe within, oppress'd with mountain loads;<BR> +Impos'd a king, with arbitrary sway,<BR> +To loose their fetters, or their force allay.<BR> +To whom the suppliant queen her pray'rs address'd,<BR> +And thus the tenor of her suit express'd:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav'n<BR> +The pow'r of tempests and of winds has giv'n;<BR> +Thy force alone their fury can restrain,<BR> +And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main-<BR> +A race of wand'ring slaves, abhorr'd by me,<BR> +With prosp'rous passage cut the Tuscan sea;<BR> +To fruitful Italy their course they steer,<BR> +And for their vanquish'd gods design new temples there.<BR> +Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies;<BR> +Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.<BR> +Twice sev'n, the charming daughters of the main,<BR> +Around my person wait, and bear my train:<BR> +Succeed my wish, and second my design;<BR> +The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,<BR> +And make thee father of a happy line."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To this the god: "'T is yours, O queen, to will<BR> +The work which duty binds me to fulfil.<BR> +These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,<BR> +Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:<BR> +Yours is my sov'reign's grace; and, as your guest,<BR> +I sit with gods at their celestial feast;<BR> +Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;<BR> +Dispose of empire, which I hold from you."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side<BR> +His quiv'ring spear, and all the god applied.<BR> +The raging winds rush thro' the hollow wound,<BR> +And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;<BR> +Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,<BR> +Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.<BR> +South, East, and West with mix'd confusion roar,<BR> +And roll the foaming billows to the shore.<BR> +The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries<BR> +Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;<BR> +And heav'n itself is ravish'd from their eyes.<BR> +Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;<BR> +Then flashing fires the transient light renew;<BR> +The face of things a frightful image bears,<BR> +And present death in various forms appears.<BR> +Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,<BR> +With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;<BR> +And, "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried,<BR> +"That under Ilian walls before their parents died!<BR> +Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!<BR> +Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,<BR> +And lie by noble Hector on the plain,<BR> +Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields<BR> +Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields<BR> +Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear<BR> +The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,<BR> +Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,<BR> +And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,<BR> +And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:<BR> +Nor can the shiv'ring oars sustain the blow;<BR> +The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;<BR> +While those astern, descending down the steep,<BR> +Thro' gaping waves behold the boiling deep.<BR> +Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,<BR> +And on the secret shelves with fury cast.<BR> +Those hidden rocks th' Ausonian sailors knew:<BR> +They call'd them Altars, when they rose in view,<BR> +And show'd their spacious backs above the flood.<BR> +Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,<BR> +Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand,<BR> +And in mid ocean left them moor'd aland.<BR> +Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew,<BR> +(A horrid sight!) ev'n in the hero's view,<BR> +From stem to stern by waves was overborne:<BR> +The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,<BR> +Was headlong hurl'd; thrice round the ship was toss'd,<BR> +Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost;<BR> +And here and there above the waves were seen<BR> +Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.<BR> +The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,<BR> +And suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea.<BR> +Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,<BR> +Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,<BR> +Endur'd not less; their ships, with gaping seams,<BR> +Admit the deluge of the briny streams.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound<BR> +Of raging billows breaking on the ground.<BR> +Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign,<BR> +He rear'd his awful head above the main,<BR> +Serene in majesty; then roll'd his eyes<BR> +Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.<BR> +He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd,<BR> +By stormy winds and wintry heav'n oppress'd.<BR> +Full well the god his sister's envy knew,<BR> +And what her aims and what her arts pursue.<BR> +He summon'd Eurus and the western blast,<BR> +And first an angry glance on both he cast;<BR> +Then thus rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from whence<BR> +This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?<BR> +Is it for you to ravage seas and land,<BR> +Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command?<BR> +To raise such mountains on the troubled main?<BR> +Whom I- but first 't is fit the billows to restrain;<BR> +And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.<BR> +Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear-<BR> +The realms of ocean and the fields of air<BR> +Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me<BR> +The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.<BR> +His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd:<BR> +There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,<BR> +With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,<BR> +And boast and bluster in his empty hall."<BR> +He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea,<BR> +Dispell'd the darkness, and restor'd the day.<BR> +Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train<BR> +Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,<BR> +Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:<BR> +The god himself with ready trident stands,<BR> +And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;<BR> +Then heaves them off the shoals. Where'er he guides<BR> +His finny coursers and in triumph rides,<BR> +The waves unruffle and the sea subsides.<BR> +As, when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd,<BR> +Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;<BR> +And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,<BR> +And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:<BR> +If then some grave and pious man appear,<BR> +They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear;<BR> +He soothes with sober words their angry mood,<BR> +And quenches their innate desire of blood:<BR> +So, when the Father of the Flood appears,<BR> +And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears,<BR> +Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,<BR> +High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins,<BR> +Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.<BR> +The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars<BR> +To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Within a long recess there lies a bay:<BR> +An island shades it from the rolling sea,<BR> +And forms a port secure for ships to ride;<BR> +Broke by the jutting land, on either side,<BR> +In double streams the briny waters glide.<BR> +Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene<BR> +Appears above, and groves for ever green:<BR> +A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats,<BR> +To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats.<BR> +Down thro' the crannies of the living walls<BR> +The crystal streams descend in murm'ring falls:<BR> +No haulsers need to bind the vessels here,<BR> +Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.<BR> +Sev'n ships within this happy harbor meet,<BR> +The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet.<BR> +The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,<BR> +Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish'd repose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +First, good Achates, with repeated strokes<BR> +Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes:<BR> +Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither'd leaves<BR> +The dying sparkles in their fall receives:<BR> +Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,<BR> +And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.<BR> +The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around<BR> +The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground:<BR> +Some dry their corn, infected with the brine,<BR> +Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.<BR> +Aeneas climbs the mountain's airy brow,<BR> +And takes a prospect of the seas below,<BR> +If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy,<BR> +Or see the streamers of Caicus fly.<BR> +No vessels were in view; but, on the plain,<BR> +Three beamy stags command a lordly train<BR> +Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng<BR> +Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.<BR> +He stood; and, while secure they fed below,<BR> +He took the quiver and the trusty bow<BR> +Achates us'd to bear: the leaders first<BR> +He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd;<BR> +Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain<BR> +Sev'n mighty bodies with their blood distain.<BR> +For the sev'n ships he made an equal share,<BR> +And to the port return'd, triumphant from the war.<BR> +The jars of gen'rous wine (Acestes' gift,<BR> +When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)<BR> +He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd,<BR> +In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd.<BR> +Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief<BR> +With cheerful words allay'd the common grief:<BR> +"Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose<BR> +To future good our past and present woes.<BR> +With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;<BR> +Th' inhuman Cyclops and his den defied.<BR> +What greater ills hereafter can you bear?<BR> +Resume your courage and dismiss your care,<BR> +An hour will come, with pleasure to relate<BR> +Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.<BR> +Thro' various hazards and events, we move<BR> +To Latium and the realms foredoom'd by Jove.<BR> +Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies)<BR> +Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,<BR> +Endure the hardships of your present state;<BR> +Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;<BR> +His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart.<BR> +The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,<BR> +The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.<BR> +Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;<BR> +The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil;<BR> +Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.<BR> +Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,<BR> +Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with<BR> +wine.<BR> +Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends<BR> +The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:<BR> +Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,<BR> +Whether to deem 'em dead, or in distress.<BR> +Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate<BR> +Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state<BR> +Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.<BR> +The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys<BR> +Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas,<BR> +At length on Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes-<BR> +Whom, pond'ring thus on human miseries,<BR> +When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,<BR> +Not free from tears, her heav'nly sire bespoke:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand<BR> +Disperses thunder on the seas and land,<BR> +Disposing all with absolute command;<BR> +How could my pious son thy pow'r incense?<BR> +Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offense?<BR> +Our hope of Italy not only lost,<BR> +On various seas by various tempests toss'd,<BR> +But shut from ev'ry shore, and barr'd from ev'ry coast.<BR> +You promis'd once, a progeny divine<BR> +Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,<BR> +In after times should hold the world in awe,<BR> +And to the land and ocean give the law.<BR> +How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care<BR> +When Troy was ruin'd in that cruel war?<BR> +Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now,<BR> +When Fortune still pursues her former blow,<BR> +What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?<BR> +What end of labors has your will decreed?<BR> +Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,<BR> +Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts,<BR> +Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves<BR> +And thro' nine channels disembogues his waves.<BR> +At length he founded Padua's happy seat,<BR> +And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;<BR> +There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their name,<BR> +And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame.<BR> +But we, descended from your sacred line,<BR> +Entitled to your heav'n and rites divine,<BR> +Are banish'd earth; and, for the wrath of one,<BR> +Remov'd from Latium and the promis'd throne.<BR> +Are these our scepters? these our due rewards?<BR> +And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To whom the Father of th' immortal race,<BR> +Smiling with that serene indulgent face,<BR> +With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,<BR> +First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire<BR> +The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire.<BR> +Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls;<BR> +And, ripe for heav'n, when fate Aeneas calls,<BR> +Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:<BR> +No councils have revers'd my firm decree.<BR> +And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,<BR> +Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of Fate:<BR> +Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far)<BR> +In Italy shall wage successful war,<BR> +Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,<BR> +And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build,<BR> +Till, after ev'ry foe subdued, the sun<BR> +Thrice thro' the signs his annual race shall run:<BR> +This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then,<BR> +Now call'd Iulus, shall begin his reign.<BR> +He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,<BR> +Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,<BR> +And, with hard labor, Alba Longa build.<BR> +The throne with his succession shall be fill'd<BR> +Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen<BR> +Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,<BR> +Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,<BR> +Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.<BR> +The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:<BR> +Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,<BR> +Of martial tow'rs the founder shall become,<BR> +The people Romans call, the city Rome.<BR> +To them no bounds of empire I assign,<BR> +Nor term of years to their immortal line.<BR> +Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,<BR> +Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils;<BR> +At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join,<BR> +To cherish and advance the Trojan line.<BR> +The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,<BR> +And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.<BR> +An age is ripening in revolving fate<BR> +When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,<BR> +And sweet revenge her conqu'ring sons shall call,<BR> +To crush the people that conspir'd her fall.<BR> +Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise,<BR> +Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies<BR> +Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils,<BR> +Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils,<BR> +Securely shall repay with rites divine;<BR> +And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.<BR> +Then dire debate and impious war shall cease,<BR> +And the stern age be soften'd into peace:<BR> +Then banish'd Faith shall once again return,<BR> +And Vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn;<BR> +And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain<BR> +The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.<BR> +Janus himself before his fane shall wait,<BR> +And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,<BR> +With bolts and iron bars: within remains<BR> +Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains;<BR> +High on a trophy rais'd, of useless arms,<BR> +He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and sent Cyllenius with command<BR> +To free the ports, and ope the Punic land<BR> +To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,<BR> +The queen might force them from her town and state.<BR> +Down from the steep of heav'n Cyllenius flies,<BR> +And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.<BR> +Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,<BR> +Performs his message, and displays his rod:<BR> +The surly murmurs of the people cease;<BR> +And, as the fates requir'd, they give the peace:<BR> +The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,<BR> +The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:<BR> +Care seiz'd his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.<BR> +But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day,<BR> +He rose, the coast and country to survey,<BR> +Anxious and eager to discover more.<BR> +It look'd a wild uncultivated shore;<BR> +But, whether humankind, or beasts alone<BR> +Possess'd the new-found region, was unknown.<BR> +Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:<BR> +Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides;<BR> +The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.<BR> +Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,<BR> +And true Achates on his steps attends.<BR> +Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,<BR> +Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:<BR> +A huntress in her habit and her mien;<BR> +Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen.<BR> +Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;<BR> +Loose was her hair, and wanton'd in the wind;<BR> +Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver hung behind.<BR> +She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood:<BR> +With such array Harpalyce bestrode<BR> +Her Thracian courser and outstripp'd the rapid flood.<BR> +"Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said,<BR> +"One of my sisters, like myself array'd,<BR> +Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest stray'd?<BR> +A painted quiver at her back she bore;<BR> +Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore;<BR> +And at full cry pursued the tusky boar."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:<BR> +"None of your sisters have we heard or seen,<BR> +O virgin! or what other name you bear<BR> +Above that style- O more than mortal fair!<BR> +Your voice and mien celestial birth betray!<BR> +If, as you seem, the sister of the day,<BR> +Or one at least of chaste Diana's train,<BR> +Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;<BR> +But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss'd,<BR> +What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?<BR> +Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,<BR> +And offer'd victims at your altars fall."<BR> +"I dare not," she replied, "assume the name<BR> +Of goddess, or celestial honors claim:<BR> +For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,<BR> +And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear.<BR> +Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are-<BR> +A people rude in peace, and rough in war.<BR> +The rising city, which from far you see,<BR> +Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.<BR> +Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,<BR> +Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate.<BR> +Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;<BR> +Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known<BR> +For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,<BR> +Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart<BR> +At once was wounded with an equal dart.<BR> +Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;<BR> +Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway'd:<BR> +One who condemn'd divine and human laws.<BR> +Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.<BR> +The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,<BR> +With steel invades his brother's life by stealth;<BR> +Before the sacred altar made him bleed,<BR> +And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed.<BR> +Some tale, some new pretense, he daily coin'd,<BR> +To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.<BR> +At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears<BR> +Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares,<BR> +And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.<BR> +The cruel altars and his fate he tells,<BR> +And the dire secret of his house reveals,<BR> +Then warns the widow, with her household gods,<BR> +To seek a refuge in remote abodes.<BR> +Last, to support her in so long a way,<BR> +He shows her where his hidden treasure lay.<BR> +Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright,<BR> +The queen provides companions of her flight:<BR> +They meet, and all combine to leave the state,<BR> +Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.<BR> +They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find;<BR> +Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind.<BR> +The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea<BR> +With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way.<BR> +I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n,<BR> +Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n;<BR> +At last they landed, where from far your eyes<BR> +May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;<BR> +There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd,<BR> +From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd.<BR> +But whence are you? what country claims your birth?<BR> +What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,<BR> +And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:<BR> +"Could you with patience hear, or I relate,<BR> +O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate!<BR> +Thro' such a train of woes if I should run,<BR> +The day would sooner than the tale be done!<BR> +From ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we came-<BR> +If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.<BR> +On various seas by various tempests toss'd,<BR> +At length we landed on your Libyan coast.<BR> +The good Aeneas am I call'd- a name,<BR> +While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame.<BR> +My household gods, companions of my woes,<BR> +With pious care I rescued from our foes.<BR> +To fruitful Italy my course was bent;<BR> +And from the King of Heav'n is my descent.<BR> +With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea;<BR> +Fate and my mother goddess led my way.<BR> +Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet,<BR> +From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet.<BR> +Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown,<BR> +Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown,<BR> +In Libyan desarts wander thus alone."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +His tender parent could no longer bear;<BR> +But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.<BR> +"Whoe'er you are- not unbelov'd by Heav'n,<BR> +Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n-<BR> +Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,<BR> +And to the queen expose your just request.<BR> +Now take this earnest of success, for more:<BR> +Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore;<BR> +The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free;<BR> +Or I renounce my skill in augury.<BR> +Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,<BR> +And stoop with closing pinions from above;<BR> +Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along,<BR> +And thro' the clouds pursued the scatt'ring throng:<BR> +Now, all united in a goodly team,<BR> +They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.<BR> +As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,<BR> +And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;<BR> +Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend,<BR> +Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.<BR> +No more advice is needful; but pursue<BR> +The path before you, and the town in view."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear<BR> +Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair,<BR> +Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground.<BR> +And widely spread ambrosial scents around:<BR> +In length of train descends her sweeping gown;<BR> +And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known.<BR> +The prince pursued the parting deity<BR> +With words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly?<BR> +Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son<BR> +In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun;<BR> +Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;<BR> +And still to speak in accents not your own."<BR> +Against the goddess these complaints he made,<BR> +But took the path, and her commands obey'd.<BR> +They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds<BR> +With mists their persons, and involves in clouds,<BR> +That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,<BR> +Or force to tell the causes of their way.<BR> +This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime<BR> +To visit Paphos and her native clime;<BR> +Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,<BR> +With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r:<BR> +A hundred altars in her temple smoke;<BR> +A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,<BR> +Now at a nearer distance view the town.<BR> +The prince with wonder sees the stately tow'rs,<BR> +Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs,<BR> +The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part,<BR> +The noise and busy concourse of the mart.<BR> +The toiling Tyrians on each other call<BR> +To ply their labor: some extend the wall;<BR> +Some build the citadel; the brawny throng<BR> +Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.<BR> +Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,<BR> +Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround.<BR> +Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice<BR> +Of holy senates, and elect by voice.<BR> +Here some design a mole, while others there<BR> +Lay deep foundations for a theater;<BR> +From marble quarries mighty columns hew,<BR> +For ornaments of scenes, and future view.<BR> +Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,<BR> +As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains,<BR> +When winter past, and summer scarce begun,<BR> +Invites them forth to labor in the sun;<BR> +Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense<BR> +Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense;<BR> +Some at the gate stand ready to receive<BR> +The golden burthen, and their friends relieve;<BR> +All with united force, combine to drive<BR> +The lazy drones from the laborious hive:<BR> +With envy stung, they view each other's deeds;<BR> +The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.<BR> +"Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!"<BR> +Aeneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes,<BR> +Their lofty tow'rs; then, entiring at the gate,<BR> +Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate)<BR> +He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng,<BR> +Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Full in the center of the town there stood,<BR> +Thick set with trees, a venerable wood.<BR> +The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,<BR> +And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found:<BR> +From under earth a courser's head they drew,<BR> +Their growth and future fortune to foreshew.<BR> +This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,<BR> +Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.<BR> +Sidonian Dido here with solemn state<BR> +Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate,<BR> +Enrich'd with gifts, and with a golden shrine;<BR> +But more the goddess made the place divine.<BR> +On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,<BR> +And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose:<BR> +The rafters are with brazen cov'rings crown'd;<BR> +The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.<BR> +What first Aeneas this place beheld,<BR> +Reviv'd his courage, and his fear expell'd.<BR> +For while, expecting there the queen, he rais'd<BR> +His wond'ring eyes, and round the temple gaz'd,<BR> +Admir'd the fortune of the rising town,<BR> +The striving artists, and their arts' renown;<BR> +He saw, in order painted on the wall,<BR> +Whatever did unhappy Troy befall:<BR> +The wars that fame around the world had blown,<BR> +All to the life, and ev'ry leader known.<BR> +There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,<BR> +And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.<BR> +He stopp'd, and weeping said: "O friend! ev'n here<BR> +The monuments of Trojan woes appear!<BR> +Our known disasters fill ev'n foreign lands:<BR> +See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!<BR> +Ev'n the mute walls relate the warrior's fame,<BR> +And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim."<BR> +He said (his tears a ready passage find),<BR> +Devouring what he saw so well design'd,<BR> +And with an empty picture fed his mind:<BR> +For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,<BR> +And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,<BR> +Pursued by fierce Achilles thro' the plain,<BR> +On his high chariot driving o'er the slain.<BR> +The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew,<BR> +By their white sails betray'd to nightly view;<BR> +And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword<BR> +The sentries slew, nor spar'd their slumb'ring lord,<BR> +Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food<BR> +Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.<BR> +Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied<BR> +Achilles, and unequal combat tried;<BR> +Then, where the boy disarm'd, with loosen'd reins,<BR> +Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains,<BR> +Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg'd around:<BR> +The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,<BR> +With tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground.<BR> +Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe,<BR> +To Pallas' fane in long procession go,<BR> +In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe.<BR> +They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,<BR> +And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear;<BR> +But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r.<BR> +Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew<BR> +The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.<BR> +Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,<BR> +The lifeless body of his son is sold.<BR> +So sad an object, and so well express'd,<BR> +Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast,<BR> +To see the figure of his lifeless friend,<BR> +And his old sire his helpless hand extend.<BR> +Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,<BR> +Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain;<BR> +And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,<BR> +His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.<BR> +Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,<BR> +Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:<BR> +In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;<BR> +The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.<BR> +Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,<BR> +Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,<BR> +And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,<BR> +Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise,<BR> +The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train<BR> +And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.<BR> +Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height,<BR> +Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,<BR> +When in the dance the graceful goddess leads<BR> +The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:<BR> +Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,<BR> +She walks majestic, and she looks their queen;<BR> +Latona sees her shine above the rest,<BR> +And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.<BR> +Such Dido was; with such becoming state,<BR> +Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.<BR> +Their labor to her future sway she speeds,<BR> +And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;<BR> +Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine:<BR> +In crowds around, the swarming people join.<BR> +She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,<BR> +Hears and determines ev'ry private cause;<BR> +Their tasks in equal portions she divides,<BR> +And, where unequal, there by lots decides.<BR> +Another way by chance Aeneas bends<BR> +His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,<BR> +Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,<BR> +And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,<BR> +Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd,<BR> +And widely scatter'd on another coast.<BR> +The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands,<BR> +And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;<BR> +But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays,<BR> +And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,<BR> +Impatient till they told their present state,<BR> +And where they left their ships, and what their fate,<BR> +And why they came, and what was their request;<BR> +For these were sent, commission'd by the rest,<BR> +To sue for leave to land their sickly men,<BR> +And gain admission to the gracious queen.<BR> +Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane;<BR> +Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods<BR> +To found an empire in these new abodes,<BR> +To build a town, with statutes to restrain<BR> +The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,<BR> +We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore,<BR> +From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.<BR> +Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!<BR> +Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace,<BR> +And spare the remnant of a pious race!<BR> +We come not with design of wasteful prey,<BR> +To drive the country, force the swains away:<BR> +Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;<BR> +The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire.<BR> +A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old;<BR> +The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold-<BR> +Th' Oenotrians held it once- by common fame<BR> +Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.<BR> +To that sweet region was our voyage bent,<BR> +When winds and ev'ry warring element<BR> +Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land,<BR> +Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:<BR> +The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,<BR> +Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore.<BR> +Those few you see escap'd the Storm, and fear,<BR> +Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.<BR> +What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,<BR> +What laws, what barb'rous customs of the place,<BR> +Shut up a desart shore to drowning men,<BR> +And drive us to the cruel seas again?<BR> +If our hard fortune no compassion draws,<BR> +Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,<BR> +The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.<BR> +Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,<BR> +Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;<BR> +Observant of the right, religious of his word.<BR> +If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,<BR> +Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;<BR> +Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,<BR> +Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.<BR> +We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,<BR> +Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.<BR> +Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,<BR> +Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,<BR> +That, if our prince be safe, we may renew<BR> +Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue.<BR> +But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain<BR> +That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main,<BR> +And if our young Iulus be no more,<BR> +Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,<BR> +That we to good Acestes may return,<BR> +And with our friends our common losses mourn."<BR> +Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew<BR> +With cries and clamors his request renew.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,<BR> +Ponder'd the speech; then briefly thus replies:<BR> +"Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,<BR> +And doubts attending an unsettled state,<BR> +Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.<BR> +Who has not heard the story of your woes,<BR> +The name and fortune of your native place,<BR> +The fame and valor of the Phrygian race?<BR> +We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,<BR> +Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence.<BR> +Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,<BR> +Or, driv'n by tempests from your first intent,<BR> +You seek the good Acestes' government,<BR> +Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd,<BR> +And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:<BR> +Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs<BR> +To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs,<BR> +My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.<BR> +And would to Heav'n, the Storm, you felt, would bring<BR> +On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king.<BR> +My people shall, by my command, explore<BR> +The ports and creeks of ev'ry winding shore,<BR> +And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest<BR> +Of so renown'd and so desir'd a guest."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Rais'd in his mind the Trojan hero stood,<BR> +And long'd to break from out his ambient cloud:<BR> +Achates found it, and thus urg'd his way:<BR> +"From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?<BR> +What more can you desire, your welcome sure,<BR> +Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?<BR> +One only wants; and him we saw in vain<BR> +Oppose the Storm, and swallow'd in the main.<BR> +Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;<BR> +The rest agrees with what your mother said."<BR> +Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,<BR> +The mists flew upward and dissolv'd in day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Trojan chief appear'd in open sight,<BR> +August in visage, and serenely bright.<BR> +His mother goddess, with her hands divine,<BR> +Had form'd his curling locks, and made his temples shine,<BR> +And giv'n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,<BR> +And breath'd a youthful vigor on his face;<BR> +Like polish'd ivory, beauteous to behold,<BR> +Or Parian marble, when enchas'd in gold:<BR> +Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,<BR> +And thus with manly modesty he spoke:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss'd,<BR> +And sav'd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;<BR> +Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,<BR> +A prince that owes his life to you alone.<BR> +Fair majesty, the refuge and redress<BR> +Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress,<BR> +You, who your pious offices employ<BR> +To save the relics of abandon'd Troy;<BR> +Receive the shipwreck'd on your friendly shore,<BR> +With hospitable rites relieve the poor;<BR> +Associate in your town a wand'ring train,<BR> +And strangers in your palace entertain:<BR> +What thanks can wretched fugitives return,<BR> +Who, scatter'd thro' the world, in exile mourn?<BR> +The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin'd;<BR> +If acts of mercy touch their heav'nly mind,<BR> +And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart.<BR> +Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!<BR> +In you this age is happy, and this earth,<BR> +And parents more than mortal gave you birth.<BR> +While rolling rivers into seas shall run,<BR> +And round the space of heav'n the radiant sun;<BR> +While trees the mountain tops with shades supply,<BR> +Your honor, name, and praise shall never die.<BR> +Whate'er abode my fortune has assign'd,<BR> +Your image shall be present in my mind."<BR> +Thus having said, he turn'd with pious haste,<BR> +And joyful his expecting friends embrac'd:<BR> +With his right hand Ilioneus was grac'd,<BR> +Serestus with his left; then to his breast<BR> +Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press'd;<BR> +And so by turns descended to the rest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Tyrian queen stood fix'd upon his face,<BR> +Pleas'd with his motions, ravish'd with his grace;<BR> +Admir'd his fortunes, more admir'd the man;<BR> +Then recollected stood, and thus began:<BR> +"What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow'rs<BR> +Have cast you shipwrack'd on our barren shores?<BR> +Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame,<BR> +Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore<BR> +To fam'd Anchises on th' Idaean shore?<BR> +It calls into my mind, tho' then a child,<BR> +When Teucer came, from Salamis exil'd,<BR> +And sought my father's aid, to be restor'd:<BR> +My father Belus then with fire and sword<BR> +Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,<BR> +And, conqu'ring, finish'd the successful war.<BR> +From him the Trojan siege I understood,<BR> +The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.<BR> +Your foe himself the Dardan valor prais'd,<BR> +And his own ancestry from Trojans rais'd.<BR> +Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,<BR> +If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:<BR> +For I myself, like you, have been distress'd,<BR> +Till Heav'n afforded me this place of rest;<BR> +Like you, an alien in a land unknown,<BR> +I learn to pity woes so like my own."<BR> +She said, and to the palace led her guest;<BR> +Then offer'd incense, and proclaim'd a feast.<BR> +Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,<BR> +Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends;<BR> +Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,<BR> +With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;<BR> +And jars of gen'rous wine and spacious bowls<BR> +She gives, to cheer the sailors' drooping souls.<BR> +Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,<BR> +And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls:<BR> +On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;<BR> +With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine,<BR> +And antique vases, all of gold emboss'd<BR> +(The gold itself inferior to the cost),<BR> +Of curious work, where on the sides were seen<BR> +The fights and figures of illustrious men,<BR> +From their first founder to the present queen.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The good Aeneas, paternal care<BR> +Iulus' absence could no longer bear,<BR> +Dispatch'd Achates to the ships in haste,<BR> +To give a glad relation of the past,<BR> +And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,<BR> +Snatch'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy:<BR> +A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;<BR> +An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire,<BR> +From Argos by the fam'd adultress brought,<BR> +With golden flow'rs and winding foliage wrought,<BR> +Her mother Leda's present, when she came<BR> +To ruin Troy and set the world on flame;<BR> +The scepter Priam's eldest daughter bore,<BR> +Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore<BR> +Of double texture, glorious to behold,<BR> +One order set with gems, and one with gold.<BR> +Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,<BR> +And in his diligence his duty shows.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs,<BR> +New counsels tries, and new designs prepares:<BR> +That Cupid should assume the shape and face<BR> +Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;<BR> +Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead,<BR> +And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed:<BR> +For much she fear'd the Tyrians, double-tongued,<BR> +And knew the town to Juno's care belong'd.<BR> +These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,<BR> +And thus alarm'd, to winged Love she spoke:<BR> +"My son, my strength, whose mighty pow'r alone<BR> +Controls the Thund'rer on his awful throne,<BR> +To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,<BR> +And on thy succor and thy faith relies.<BR> +Thou know'st, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife,<BR> +By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life;<BR> +And often hast thou mourn'd with me his pains.<BR> +Him Dido now with blandishment detains;<BR> +But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.<BR> +For this 't is needful to prevent her art,<BR> +And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart:<BR> +A love so violent, so strong, so sure,<BR> +As neither age can change, nor art can cure.<BR> +How this may be perform'd, now take my mind:<BR> +Ascanius by his father is design'd<BR> +To come, with presents laden, from the port,<BR> +To gratify the queen, and gain the court.<BR> +I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,<BR> +And, ravish'd, in Idalian bow'rs to keep,<BR> +Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit<BR> +May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.<BR> +Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace<BR> +But only for a night's revolving space:<BR> +Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face;<BR> +That when, amidst the fervor of the feast,<BR> +The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,<BR> +And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,<BR> +Thou may'st infuse thy venom in her veins."<BR> +The God of Love obeys, and sets aside<BR> +His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride;<BR> +He walks Iulus in his mother's sight,<BR> +And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,<BR> +And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes:<BR> +Lull'd in her lap, amidst a train of Loves,<BR> +She gently bears him to her blissful groves,<BR> +Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,<BR> +And softly lays him on a flow'ry bed.<BR> +Cupid meantime assum'd his form and face,<BR> +Foll'wing Achates with a shorter pace,<BR> +And brought the gifts. The queen already sate<BR> +Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,<BR> +High on a golden bed: her princely guest<BR> +Was next her side; in order sate the rest.<BR> +Then canisters with bread are heap'd on high;<BR> +Th' attendants water for their hands supply,<BR> +And, having wash'd, with silken towels dry.<BR> +Next fifty handmaids in long order bore<BR> +The censers, and with fumes the gods adore:<BR> +Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join<BR> +To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.<BR> +The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,<BR> +Approach, and on the painted couches rest.<BR> +All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,<BR> +But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,<BR> +His rosy-color'd cheeks, his radiant eyes,<BR> +His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's disguise;<BR> +Nor pass unprais'd the vest and veil divine,<BR> +Which wand'ring foliage and rich flow'rs entwine.<BR> +But, far above the rest, the royal dame,<BR> +(Already doom'd to love's disastrous flame,)<BR> +With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,<BR> +Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.<BR> +The guileful god about the hero long,<BR> +With children's play, and false embraces, hung;<BR> +Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms<BR> +With greedy pleasure, and devour'd his charms.<BR> +Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,<BR> +How dire a god, she drew so near her breast;<BR> +But he, not mindless of his mother's pray'r,<BR> +Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,<BR> +And molds her heart anew, and blots her former care.<BR> +The dead is to the living love resign'd;<BR> +And all Aeneas enters in her mind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas'd,<BR> +The meat remov'd, and ev'ry guest was pleas'd,<BR> +The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown'd,<BR> +And thro' the palace cheerful cries resound.<BR> +From gilded roofs depending lamps display<BR> +Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.<BR> +A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,<BR> +The queen commanded to be crown'd with wine:<BR> +The bowl that Belus us'd, and all the Tyrian line.<BR> +Then, silence thro' the hall proclaim'd, she spoke:<BR> +"O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke,<BR> +With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow'r;<BR> +Bless to both nations this auspicious hour!<BR> +So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line<BR> +In lasting concord from this day combine.<BR> +Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,<BR> +And gracious Juno, both be present here!<BR> +And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address<BR> +To Heav'n with mine, to ratify the peace."<BR> +The goblet then she took, with nectar crown'd<BR> +(Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,)<BR> +And rais'd it to her mouth with sober grace;<BR> +Then, sipping, offer'd to the next in place.<BR> +'T was Bitias whom she call'd, a thirsty soul;<BR> +He took challenge, and embrac'd the bowl,<BR> +With pleasure swill'd the gold, nor ceas'd to draw,<BR> +Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.<BR> +The goblet goes around: Iopas brought<BR> +His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught:<BR> +The various labors of the wand'ring moon,<BR> +And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun;<BR> +Th' original of men and beasts; and whence<BR> +The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense,<BR> +And fix'd and erring stars dispose their influence;<BR> +What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays<BR> +The summer nights and shortens winter days.<BR> +With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song:<BR> +Those peals are echo'd by the Trojan throng.<BR> +Th' unhappy queen with talk prolong'd the night,<BR> +And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;<BR> +Of Priam much enquir'd, of Hector more;<BR> +Then ask'd what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,<BR> +What troops he landed on the Trojan shore;<BR> +The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,<BR> +And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force;<BR> +At length, as fate and her ill stars requir'd,<BR> +To hear the series of the war desir'd.<BR> +"Relate at large, my godlike guest," she said,<BR> +"The Grecian stratagems, the town betray'd:<BR> +The fatal issue of so long a war,<BR> +Your flight, your wand'rings, and your woes, declare;<BR> +For, since on ev'ry sea, on ev'ry coast,<BR> +Your men have been distress'd, your navy toss'd,<BR> +Sev'n times the sun has either tropic view'd,<BR> +The winter banish'd, and the spring renew'd."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK II<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +All were attentive to the godlike man,<BR> +When from his lofty couch he thus began:<BR> +"Great queen, what you command me to relate<BR> +Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:<BR> +An empire from its old foundations rent,<BR> +And ev'ry woe the Trojans underwent;<BR> +A peopled city made a desart place;<BR> +All that I saw, and part of which I was:<BR> +Not ev'n the hardest of our foes could hear,<BR> +Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.<BR> +And now the latter watch of wasting night,<BR> +And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;<BR> +But, since you take such int'rest in our woe,<BR> +And Troy's disastrous end desire to know,<BR> +I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell<BR> +What in our last and fatal night befell.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"By destiny compell'd, and in despair,<BR> +The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,<BR> +And by Minerva's aid a fabric rear'd,<BR> +Which like a steed of monstrous height appear'd:<BR> +The sides were plank'd with pine; they feign'd it made<BR> +For their return, and this the vow they paid.<BR> +Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side<BR> +Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:<BR> +With inward arms the dire machine they load,<BR> +And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.<BR> +In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle<BR> +(While Fortune did on Priam's empire smile)<BR> +Renown'd for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,<BR> +Where ships expos'd to wind and weather lay.<BR> +There was their fleet conceal'd. We thought, for Greece<BR> +Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.<BR> +The Trojans, coop'd within their walls so long,<BR> +Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,<BR> +Like swarming bees, and with delight survey<BR> +The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:<BR> +The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they show'd;<BR> +Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;<BR> +Here join'd the battles; there the navy rode.<BR> +Part on the pile their wond'ring eyes employ:<BR> +The pile by Pallas rais'd to ruin Troy.<BR> +Thymoetes first ('t is doubtful whether hir'd,<BR> +Or so the Trojan destiny requir'd)<BR> +Mov'd that the ramparts might be broken down,<BR> +To lodge the monster fabric in the town.<BR> +But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,<BR> +The fatal present to the flames designed,<BR> +Or to the wat'ry deep; at least to bore<BR> +The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.<BR> +The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,<BR> +With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.<BR> +Laocoon, follow'd by a num'rous crowd,<BR> +Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:<BR> +'O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?<BR> +What more than madness has possess'd your brains?<BR> +Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?<BR> +And are Ulysses' arts no better known?<BR> +This hollow fabric either must inclose,<BR> +Within its blind recess, our secret foes;<BR> +Or 't is an engine rais'd above the town,<BR> +T' o'erlook the walls, and then to batter down.<BR> +Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force:<BR> +Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.'<BR> +Thus having said, against the steed he threw<BR> +His forceful spear, which, hissing as flew,<BR> +Pierc'd thro' the yielding planks of jointed wood,<BR> +And trembling in the hollow belly stood.<BR> +The sides, transpierc'd, return a rattling sound,<BR> +And groans of Greeks inclos'd come issuing thro' the wound<BR> +And, had not Heav'n the fall of Troy design'd,<BR> +Or had not men been fated to be blind,<BR> +Enough was said and done t'inspire a better mind.<BR> +Then had our lances pierc'd the treach'rous wood,<BR> +And Ilian tow'rs and Priam's empire stood.<BR> +Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring<BR> +A captive Greek, in bands, before the king;<BR> +Taken to take; who made himself their prey,<BR> +T' impose on their belief, and Troy betray;<BR> +Fix'd on his aim, and obstinately bent<BR> +To die undaunted, or to circumvent.<BR> +About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;<BR> +All press to see, and some insult the foe.<BR> +Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd;<BR> +Behold a nation in a man compris'd.<BR> +Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm'd and bound;<BR> +He star'd, and roll'd his haggard eyes around,<BR> +Then said: 'Alas! what earth remains, what sea<BR> +Is open to receive unhappy me?<BR> +What fate a wretched fugitive attends,<BR> +Scorn'd by my foes, abandon'd by my friends?'<BR> +He said, and sigh'd, and cast a rueful eye:<BR> +Our pity kindles, and our passions die.<BR> +We cheer youth to make his own defense,<BR> +And freely tell us what he was, and whence:<BR> +What news he could impart, we long to know,<BR> +And what to credit from a captive foe.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"His fear at length dismiss'd, he said: 'Whate'er<BR> +My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere:<BR> +I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim;<BR> +Greece is my country, Sinon is my name.<BR> +Tho' plung'd by Fortune's pow'r in misery,<BR> +'T is not in Fortune's pow'r to make me lie.<BR> +If any chance has hither brought the name<BR> +Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,<BR> +Who suffer'd from the malice of the times,<BR> +Accus'd and sentenc'd for pretended crimes,<BR> +Because these fatal wars he would prevent;<BR> +Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament-<BR> +Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare<BR> +Of other means, committed to his care,<BR> +His kinsman and companion in the war.<BR> +While Fortune favor'd, while his arms support<BR> +The cause, and rul'd the counsels, of the court,<BR> +I made some figure there; nor was my name<BR> +Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.<BR> +But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,<BR> +Had made impression in the people's hearts,<BR> +And forg'd a treason in my patron's name<BR> +(I speak of things too far divulg'd by fame),<BR> +My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,<BR> +In private mourn'd his loss, and left the court.<BR> +Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate<BR> +With silent grief, but loudly blam'd the state,<BR> +And curs'd the direful author of my woes.<BR> +'T was told again; and hence my ruin rose.<BR> +I threaten'd, if indulgent Heav'n once more<BR> +Would land me safely on my native shore,<BR> +His death with double vengeance to restore.<BR> +This mov'd the murderer's hate; and soon ensued<BR> +Th' effects of malice from a man so proud.<BR> +Ambiguous rumors thro' the camp he spread,<BR> +And sought, by treason, my devoted head;<BR> +New crimes invented; left unturn'd no stone,<BR> +To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;<BR> +Till Calchas was by force and threat'ning wrought-<BR> +But why- why dwell I on that anxious thought?<BR> +If on my nation just revenge you seek,<BR> +And 't is t' appear a foe, t' appear a Greek;<BR> +Already you my name and country know;<BR> +Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow:<BR> +My death will both the kingly brothers please,<BR> +And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.'<BR> +This fair unfinish'd tale, these broken starts,<BR> +Rais'd expectations in our longing hearts:<BR> +Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.<BR> +His former trembling once again renew'd,<BR> +With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Long had the Grecians (tir'd with fruitless care,<BR> +And wearied with an unsuccessful war)<BR> +Resolv'd to raise the siege, and leave the town;<BR> +And, had the gods permitted, they had gone;<BR> +But oft the wintry seas and southern winds<BR> +Withstood their passage home, and chang'd their minds.<BR> +Portents and prodigies their souls amaz'd;<BR> +But most, when this stupendous pile was rais'd:<BR> +Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,<BR> +And thunders rattled thro' a sky serene.<BR> +Dismay'd, and fearful of some dire event,<BR> +Eurypylus t' enquire their fate was sent.<BR> +He from the gods this dreadful answer brought:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought,<BR> +Your passage with a virgin's blood was bought:<BR> +So must your safe return be bought again,<BR> +And Grecian blood once more atone the main."<BR> +The spreading rumor round the people ran;<BR> +All fear'd, and each believ'd himself the man.<BR> +Ulysses took th' advantage of their fright;<BR> +Call'd Calchas, and produc'd in open sight:<BR> +Then bade him name the wretch, ordain'd by fate<BR> +The public victim, to redeem the state.<BR> +Already some presag'd the dire event,<BR> +And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.<BR> +For twice five days the good old seer withstood<BR> +Th' intended treason, and was dumb to blood,<BR> +Till, tir'd, with endless clamors and pursuit<BR> +Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute;<BR> +But, as it was agreed, pronounc'd that I<BR> +Was destin'd by the wrathful gods to die.<BR> +All prais'd the sentence, pleas'd the storm should fall<BR> +On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all.<BR> +The dismal day was come; the priests prepare<BR> +Their leaven'd cakes, and fillets for my hair.<BR> +I follow'd nature's laws, and must avow<BR> +I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow.<BR> +Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay,<BR> +Secure of safety when they sail'd away.<BR> +But now what further hopes for me remain,<BR> +To see my friends, or native soil, again;<BR> +My tender infants, or my careful sire,<BR> +Whom they returning will to death require;<BR> +Will perpetrate on them their first design,<BR> +And take the forfeit of their heads for mine?<BR> +Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move,<BR> +If there be faith below, or gods above,<BR> +If innocence and truth can claim desert,<BR> +Ye Trojans, from an injur'd wretch avert.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"False tears true pity move; the king commands<BR> +To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands:<BR> +Then adds these friendly words: 'Dismiss thy fears;<BR> +Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs.<BR> +But truly tell, was it for force or guile,<BR> +Or some religious end, you rais'd the pile?'<BR> +Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts,<BR> +This well-invented tale for truth imparts:<BR> +'Ye lamps of heav'n!' he said, and lifted high<BR> +His hands now free, 'thou venerable sky!<BR> +Inviolable pow'rs, ador'd with dread!<BR> +Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head!<BR> +Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled!<BR> +Be all of you adjur'd; and grant I may,<BR> +Without a crime, th' ungrateful Greeks betray,<BR> +Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,<BR> +And justly punish whom I justly hate!<BR> +But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,<BR> +If I, to save myself, your empire save.<BR> +The Grecian hopes, and all th' attempts they made,<BR> +Were only founded on Minerva's aid.<BR> +But from the time when impious Diomede,<BR> +And false Ulysses, that inventive head,<BR> +Her fatal image from the temple drew,<BR> +The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,<BR> +Her virgin statue with their bloody hands<BR> +Polluted, and profan'd her holy bands;<BR> +From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,<BR> +And ebb'd much faster than it flow'd before:<BR> +Their courage languish'd, as their hopes decay'd;<BR> +And Pallas, now averse, refus'd her aid.<BR> +Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare<BR> +Her alter'd mind and alienated care.<BR> +When first her fatal image touch'd the ground,<BR> +She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,<BR> +That sparkled as they roll'd, and seem'd to threat:<BR> +Her heav'nly limbs distill'd a briny sweat.<BR> +Thrice from the ground she leap'd, was seen to wield<BR> +Her brandish'd lance, and shake her horrid shield.<BR> +Then Calchas bade our host for flight<BR> +And hope no conquest from the tedious war,<BR> +Till first they sail'd for Greece; with pray'rs besought<BR> +Her injur'd pow'r, and better omens brought.<BR> +And now their navy plows the wat'ry main,<BR> +Yet soon expect it on your shores again,<BR> +With Pallas pleas'd; as Calchas did ordain.<BR> +But first, to reconcile the blue-ey'd maid<BR> +For her stol'n statue and her tow'r betray'd,<BR> +Warn'd by the seer, to her offended name<BR> +We rais'd and dedicate this wondrous frame,<BR> +So lofty, lest thro' your forbidden gates<BR> +It pass, and intercept our better fates:<BR> +For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;<BR> +And Troy may then a new Palladium boast;<BR> +For so religion and the gods ordain,<BR> +That, if you violate with hands profane<BR> +Minerva's gift, your town in flames shall burn,<BR> +(Which omen, O ye gods, on Graecia turn!)<BR> +But if it climb, with your assisting hands,<BR> +The Trojan walls, and in the city stands;<BR> +Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn,<BR> +And the reverse of fate on us return.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"With such deceits he gain'd their easy hearts,<BR> +Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.<BR> +What Diomede, nor Thetis' greater son,<BR> +A thousand ships, nor ten years' siege, had done-<BR> +False tears and fawning words the city won.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"A greater omen, and of worse portent,<BR> +Did our unwary minds with fear torment,<BR> +Concurring to produce the dire event.<BR> +Laocoon, Neptune's priest by lot that year,<BR> +With solemn pomp then sacrific'd a steer;<BR> +When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied<BR> +Two serpents, rank'd abreast, the seas divide,<BR> +And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.<BR> +Their flaming crests above the waves they show;<BR> +Their bellies seem to burn the seas below;<BR> +Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,<BR> +And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.<BR> +And now the strand, and now the plain they held;<BR> +Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill'd;<BR> +Their nimble tongues they brandish'd as they came,<BR> +And lick'd their hissing jaws, that sputter'd flame.<BR> +We fled amaz'd; their destin'd way they take,<BR> +And to Laocoon and his children make;<BR> +And first around the tender boys they wind,<BR> +Then with their sharpen'd fangs their limbs and bodies grind.<BR> +The wretched father, running to their aid<BR> +With pious haste, but vain, they next invade;<BR> +Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll'd;<BR> +And twice about his gasping throat they fold.<BR> +The priest thus doubly chok'd, their crests divide,<BR> +And tow'ring o'er his head in triumph ride.<BR> +With both his hands he labors at the knots;<BR> +His holy fillets the blue venom blots;<BR> +His roaring fills the flitting air around.<BR> +Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,<BR> +He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,<BR> +And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.<BR> +Their tasks perform'd, the serpents quit their prey,<BR> +And to the tow'r of Pallas make their way:<BR> +Couch'd at her feet, they lie protected there<BR> +By her large buckler and protended spear.<BR> +Amazement seizes all; the gen'ral cry<BR> +Proclaims Laocoon justly doom'd to die,<BR> +Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,<BR> +And dared to violate the sacred wood.<BR> +All vote t' admit the steed, that vows be paid<BR> +And incense offer'd to th' offended maid.<BR> +A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;<BR> +Some hoisting-levers, some the wheels prepare<BR> +And fasten to the horse's feet; the rest<BR> +With cables haul along th' unwieldly beast.<BR> +Each on his fellow for assistance calls;<BR> +At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,<BR> +Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown'd,<BR> +And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.<BR> +Thus rais'd aloft, and then descending down,<BR> +It enters o'er our heads, and threats the town.<BR> +O sacred city, built by hands divine!<BR> +O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!<BR> +Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound<BR> +Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.<BR> +Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,<BR> +We haul along the horse in solemn state;<BR> +Then place the dire portent within the tow'r.<BR> +Cassandra cried, and curs'd th' unhappy hour;<BR> +Foretold our fate; but, by the god's decree,<BR> +All heard, and none believ'd the prophecy.<BR> +With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,<BR> +In jollity, the day ordain'd to be the last.<BR> +Meantime the rapid heav'ns roll'd down the light,<BR> +And on the shaded ocean rush'd the night;<BR> +Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,<BR> +But easy sleep their weary limbs compell'd.<BR> +The Grecians had embark'd their naval pow'rs<BR> +From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,<BR> +Safe under covert of the silent night,<BR> +And guided by th' imperial galley's light;<BR> +When Sinon, favor'd by the partial gods,<BR> +Unlock'd the horse, and op'd his dark abodes;<BR> +Restor'd to vital air our hidden foes,<BR> +Who joyful from their long confinement rose.<BR> +Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,<BR> +And dire Ulysses down the cable slide:<BR> +Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;<BR> +Nor was the Podalirian hero last,<BR> +Nor injur'd Menelaus, nor the fam'd<BR> +Epeus, who the fatal engine fram'd.<BR> +A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join<BR> +T' invade the town, oppress'd with sleep and wine.<BR> +Those few they find awake first meet their fate;<BR> +Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'T was in the dead of night, when sleep repairs<BR> +Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,<BR> +When Hector's ghost before my sight appears:<BR> +A bloody shroud he seem'd, and bath'd in tears;<BR> +Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain,<BR> +Thessalian coursers dragg'd him o'er the plain.<BR> +Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust<BR> +Thro' the bor'd holes; his body black with dust;<BR> +Unlike that Hector who return'd from toils<BR> +Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils,<BR> +Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire,<BR> +And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire.<BR> +His hair and beard stood stiffen'd with his gore;<BR> +And all the wounds he for his country bore<BR> +Now stream'd afresh, and with new purple ran.<BR> +I wept to see the visionary man,<BR> +And, while my trance continued, thus began:<BR> +'O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,<BR> +Thy father's champion, and thy country's joy!<BR> +O, long expected by thy friends! from whence<BR> +Art thou so late return'd for our defense?<BR> +Do we behold thee, wearied as we are<BR> +With length of labors, and with toils of war?<BR> +After so many fun'rals of thy own<BR> +Art thou restor'd to thy declining town?<BR> +But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace<BR> +Deforms the manly features of thy face?'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"To this the specter no reply did frame,<BR> +But answer'd to the cause for which he came,<BR> +And, groaning from the bottom of his breast,<BR> +This warning in these mournful words express'd:<BR> +'O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight,<BR> +The flames and horrors of this fatal night.<BR> +The foes already have possess'd the wall;<BR> +Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.<BR> +Enough is paid to Priam's royal name,<BR> +More than enough to duty and to fame.<BR> +If by a mortal hand my father's throne<BR> +Could be defended, 't was by mine alone.<BR> +Now Troy to thee commends her future state,<BR> +And gives her gods companions of thy fate:<BR> +From their assistance walls expect,<BR> +Which, wand'ring long, at last thou shalt erect.'<BR> +He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes,<BR> +The venerable statues of the gods,<BR> +With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir,<BR> +The wreaths and relics of th' immortal fire.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now peals of shouts come thund'ring from afar,<BR> +Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war:<BR> +The noise approaches, tho' our palace stood<BR> +Aloof from streets, encompass'd with a wood.<BR> +Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th' alarms<BR> +Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms.<BR> +Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay,<BR> +But mount the terrace, thence the town survey,<BR> +And hearken what the frightful sounds convey.<BR> +Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne,<BR> +Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn;<BR> +Or deluges, descending on the plains,<BR> +Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains<BR> +Of lab'ring oxen and the peasant's gains;<BR> +Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away<BR> +Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish'd prey:<BR> +The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far<BR> +The wasteful ravage of the wat'ry war.<BR> +Then Hector's faith was manifestly clear'd,<BR> +And Grecian frauds in open light appear'd.<BR> +The palace of Deiphobus ascends<BR> +In smoky flames, and catches on his friends.<BR> +Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright<BR> +With splendor not their own, and shine with Trojan light.<BR> +New clamors and new clangors now arise,<BR> +The sound of trumpets mix'd with fighting cries.<BR> +With frenzy seiz'd, I run to meet th' alarms,<BR> +Resolv'd on death, resolv'd to die in arms,<BR> +But first to gather friends, with them t' oppose<BR> +(If fortune favor'd) and repel the foes;<BR> +Spurr'd by my courage, by my country fir'd,<BR> +With sense of honor and revenge inspir'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Pantheus, Apollo's priest, a sacred name,<BR> +Had scap'd the Grecian swords, and pass'd the flame:<BR> +With relics loaden. to my doors he fled,<BR> +And by the hand his tender grandson led.<BR> +'What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run?<BR> +Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?'<BR> +Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan:<BR> +'Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!<BR> +The fatal day, th' appointed hour, is come,<BR> +When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom<BR> +Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.<BR> +The fire consumes the town, the foe commands;<BR> +And armed hosts, an unexpected force,<BR> +Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.<BR> +Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about<BR> +The flames; and foes for entrance press without,<BR> +With thousand others, whom I fear to name,<BR> +More than from Argos or Mycenae came.<BR> +To sev'ral posts their parties they divide;<BR> +Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide:<BR> +The bold they kill, th' unwary they surprise;<BR> +Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.<BR> +The warders of the gate but scarce maintain<BR> +Th' unequal combat, and resist in vain.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I heard; and Heav'n, that well-born souls inspires,<BR> +Prompts me thro' lifted swords and rising fires<BR> +To run where clashing arms and clamor calls,<BR> +And rush undaunted to defend the walls.<BR> +Ripheus and Iph'itus by my side engage,<BR> +For valor one renown'd, and one for age.<BR> +Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew<BR> +My motions and my mien, and to my party drew;<BR> +With young Coroebus, who by love was led<BR> +To win renown and fair Cassandra's bed,<BR> +And lately brought his troops to Priam's aid,<BR> +Forewarn'd in vain by the prophetic maid.<BR> +Whom when I saw resolv'd in arms to fall,<BR> +And that one spirit animated all:<BR> +'Brave souls!' said I,- 'but brave, alas! in vain-<BR> +Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.<BR> +You see the desp'rate state of our affairs,<BR> +And heav'n's protecting pow'rs are deaf to pray'rs.<BR> +The passive gods behold the Greeks defile<BR> +Their temples, and abandon to the spoil<BR> +Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire<BR> +To save a sinking town, involv'd in fire.<BR> +Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:<BR> +Despair of life the means of living shows.'<BR> +So bold a speech incourag'd their desire<BR> +Of death, and added fuel to their fire.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"As hungry wolves, with raging appetite,<BR> +Scour thro' the fields, nor fear the stormy night-<BR> +Their whelps at home expect the promis'd food,<BR> +And long to temper their dry chaps in blood-<BR> +So rush'd we forth at once; resolv'd to die,<BR> +Resolv'd, in death, the last extremes to try.<BR> +We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare<BR> +Th' unequal combat in the public square:<BR> +Night was our friend; our leader was despair.<BR> +What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?<BR> +What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?<BR> +An ancient and imperial city falls:<BR> +The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals;<BR> +Houses and holy temples float in blood,<BR> +And hostile nations make a common flood.<BR> +Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn,<BR> +The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors mourn.<BR> +Ours take new courage from despair and night:<BR> +Confus'd the fortune is, confus'd the fight.<BR> +All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;<BR> +And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.<BR> +Androgeos fell among us, with his band,<BR> +Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.<BR> +'From whence,' said he, 'my friends, this long delay?<BR> +You loiter, while the spoils are borne away:<BR> +Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;<BR> +And you, like truants, come too late ashore.'<BR> +He said, but soon corrected his mistake,<BR> +Found, by the doubtful answers which we make:<BR> +Amaz'd, he would have shunn'd th' unequal fight;<BR> +But we, more num'rous, intercept his flight.<BR> +As when some peasant, in a bushy brake,<BR> +Has with unwary footing press'd a snake;<BR> +He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies<BR> +His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;<BR> +So from our arms surpris'd Androgeos flies.<BR> +In vain; for him and his we compass'd round,<BR> +Possess'd with fear, unknowing of the ground,<BR> +And of their lives an easy conquest found.<BR> +Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil'd.<BR> +Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil'd,<BR> +Swoln with success, and a daring mind,<BR> +This new invention fatally design'd.<BR> +'My friends,' said he, 'since Fortune shows the way,<BR> +'T is fit we should th' auspicious guide obey.<BR> +For what has she these Grecian arms bestow'd,<BR> +But their destruction, and the Trojans' good?<BR> +Then change we shields, and their devices bear:<BR> +Let fraud supply the want of force in war.<BR> +They find us arms.' This said, himself he dress'd<BR> +In dead Androgeos' spoils, his upper vest,<BR> +His painted buckler, and his plumy crest.<BR> +Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train,<BR> +Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain.<BR> +Mix'd with the Greeks, we go with ill presage,<BR> +Flatter'd with hopes to glut our greedy rage;<BR> +Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet,<BR> +And strew with Grecian carcasses the street.<BR> +Thus while their straggling parties we defeat,<BR> +Some to the shore and safer ships retreat;<BR> +And some, oppress'd with more ignoble fear,<BR> +Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"But, ah! what use of valor can be made,<BR> +When heav'n's propitious pow'rs refuse their aid!<BR> +Behold the royal prophetess, the fair<BR> +Cassandra, dragg'd by her dishevel'd hair,<BR> +Whom not Minerva's shrine, nor sacred bands,<BR> +In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands:<BR> +On heav'n she cast her eyes, she sigh'd, she cried-<BR> +'T was all she could- her tender arms were tied.<BR> +So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear;<BR> +But, fir'd with rage, distracted with despair,<BR> +Amid the barb'rous ravishers he flew:<BR> +Our leader's rash example we pursue.<BR> +But storms of stones, from the proud temple's height,<BR> +Pour down, and on our batter'd helms alight:<BR> +We from our friends receiv'd this fatal blow,<BR> +Who thought us Grecians, as we seem'd in show.<BR> +They aim at the mistaken crests, from high;<BR> +And ours beneath the pond'rous ruin lie.<BR> +Then, mov'd with anger and disdain, to see<BR> +Their troops dispers'd, the royal virgin free,<BR> +The Grecians rally, and their pow'rs unite,<BR> +With fury charge us, and renew the fight.<BR> +The brother kings with Ajax join their force,<BR> +And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try,<BR> +Contending for the kingdom of the sky,<BR> +South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne;<BR> +The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn:<BR> +Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise,<BR> +And, mix'd with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.<BR> +The troops we squander'd first again appear<BR> +From several quarters, and enclose the rear.<BR> +They first observe, and to the rest betray,<BR> +Our diff'rent speech; our borrow'd arms survey.<BR> +Oppress'd with odds, we fall; Coroebus first,<BR> +At Pallas' altar, by Peneleus pierc'd.<BR> +Then Ripheus follow'd, in th' unequal fight;<BR> +Just of his word, observant of the right:<BR> +Heav'n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends,<BR> +With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends.<BR> +Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy miter, nor the bands<BR> +Of awful Phoebus, sav'd from impious hands.<BR> +Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear,<BR> +What I perform'd, and what I suffer'd there;<BR> +No sword avoiding in the fatal strife,<BR> +Expos'd to death, and prodigal of life;<BR> +Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault:<BR> +I strove to have deserv'd the death I sought.<BR> +But, when I could not fight, and would have died,<BR> +Borne off to distance by the growing tide,<BR> +Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence,<BR> +With Pelias wounded, and without defense.<BR> +New clamors from th' invested palace ring:<BR> +We run to die, or disengage the king.<BR> +So hot th' assault, so high the tumult rose,<BR> +While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose<BR> +As all the Dardan and Argolic race<BR> +Had been contracted in that narrow space;<BR> +Or as all Ilium else were void of fear,<BR> +And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there.<BR> +Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes,<BR> +Secure advancing, to the turrets rose:<BR> +Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold,<BR> +Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold;<BR> +Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th' ascent,<BR> +While with their right they seize the battlement.<BR> +From their demolish'd tow'rs the Trojans throw<BR> +Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe;<BR> +And heavy beams and rafters from the sides<BR> +(Such arms their last necessity provides)<BR> +And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high,<BR> +The marks of state and ancient royalty.<BR> +The guards below, fix'd in the pass, attend<BR> +The charge undaunted, and the gate defend.<BR> +Renew'd in courage with recover'd breath,<BR> +A second time we ran to tempt our death,<BR> +To clear the palace from the foe, succeed<BR> +The weary living, and revenge the dead.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"A postern door, yet unobserv'd and free,<BR> +Join'd by the length of a blind gallery,<BR> +To the king's closet led: a way well known<BR> +To Hector's wife, while Priam held the throne,<BR> +Thro' which she brought Astyanax, unseen,<BR> +To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire's queen.<BR> +Thro' this we pass, and mount the tow'r, from whence<BR> +With unavailing arms the Trojans make defense.<BR> +From this the trembling king had oft descried<BR> +The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride.<BR> +Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew,<BR> +Then, wrenching with our hands, th' assault renew;<BR> +And, where the rafters on the columns meet,<BR> +We push them headlong with our arms and feet.<BR> +The lightning flies not swifter than the fall,<BR> +Nor thunder louder than the ruin'd wall:<BR> +Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath<BR> +Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death.<BR> +Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent;<BR> +We cease not from above, nor they below relent.<BR> +Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat'ning loud,<BR> +With glitt'ring arms conspicuous in the crowd.<BR> +So shines, renew'd in youth, the crested snake,<BR> +Who slept the winter in a thorny brake,<BR> +And, casting off his slough when spring returns,<BR> +Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns;<BR> +Restor'd with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides<BR> +Reflect the sun; and rais'd on spires he rides;<BR> +High o'er the grass, hissing he rolls along,<BR> +And brandishes by fits his forky tongue.<BR> +Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon,<BR> +His father's charioteer, together run<BR> +To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry<BR> +Rush on in crowds, and the barr'd passage free.<BR> +Ent'ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend;<BR> +And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend.<BR> +Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows,<BR> +And with his ax repeated strokes bestows<BR> +On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply,<BR> +Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly.<BR> +He hews apace; the double bars at length<BR> +Yield to his ax and unresisted strength.<BR> +A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal'd<BR> +Appear, and all the palace is reveal'd;<BR> +The halls of audience, and of public state,<BR> +And where the lonely queen in secret sate.<BR> +Arm'd soldiers now by trembling maids are seen,<BR> +With not a door, and scarce a space, between.<BR> +The house is fill'd with loud laments and cries,<BR> +And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies;<BR> +The fearful matrons run from place to place,<BR> +And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace.<BR> +The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies,<BR> +And all his father sparkles in his eyes;<BR> +Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain:<BR> +The bars are broken, and the guards are slain.<BR> +In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill;<BR> +Those few defendants whom they find, they kill.<BR> +Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood<BR> +Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood;<BR> +Bears down the dams with unresisted sway,<BR> +And sweeps the cattle and the cots away.<BR> +These eyes beheld him when he march'd between<BR> +The brother kings: I saw th' unhappy queen,<BR> +The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood,<BR> +To stain his hallow'd altar with his brood.<BR> +The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he,<BR> +So large a promise, of a progeny),<BR> +The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils,<BR> +Fell the reward of the proud victor's toils.<BR> +Where'er the raging fire had left a space,<BR> +The Grecians enter and possess the place.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Perhaps you may of Priam's fate enquire.<BR> +He, when he saw his regal town on fire,<BR> +His ruin'd palace, and his ent'ring foes,<BR> +On ev'ry side inevitable woes,<BR> +In arms, disus'd, invests his limbs, decay'd,<BR> +Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.<BR> +His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain;<BR> +Loaded, not arm'd, he creeps along with pain,<BR> +Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain!<BR> +Uncover'd but by heav'n, there stood in view<BR> +An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew,<BR> +Dodder'd with age, whose boughs encompass round<BR> +The household gods, and shade the holy ground.<BR> +Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train<BR> +Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain.<BR> +Driv'n like a flock of doves along the sky,<BR> +Their images they hug, and to their altars fly.<BR> +The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord,<BR> +And hanging by his side a heavy sword,<BR> +'What rage,' she cried, 'has seiz'd my husband's mind?<BR> +What arms are these, and to what use design'd?<BR> +These times want other aids! Were Hector here,<BR> +Ev'n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear.<BR> +With us, one common shelter thou shalt find,<BR> +Or in one common fate with us be join'd.'<BR> +She said, and with a last salute embrac'd<BR> +The poor old man, and by the laurel plac'd.<BR> +Behold! Polites, one of Priam's sons,<BR> +Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs.<BR> +Thro' swords and foes, amaz'd and hurt, he flies<BR> +Thro' empty courts and open galleries.<BR> +Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues,<BR> +And often reaches, and his thrusts renews.<BR> +The youth, transfix'd, with lamentable cries,<BR> +Expires before his wretched parent's eyes:<BR> +Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw,<BR> +The fear of death gave place to nature's law;<BR> +And, shaking more with anger than with age,<BR> +'The gods,' said he, 'requite thy brutal rage!<BR> +As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,<BR> +If there be gods in heav'n, and gods be just-<BR> +Who tak'st in wrongs an insolent delight;<BR> +With a son's death t' infect a father's sight.<BR> +Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire<BR> +To call thee his- not he, thy vaunted sire,<BR> +Thus us'd my wretched age: the gods he fear'd,<BR> +The laws of nature and of nations heard.<BR> +He cheer'd my sorrows, and, for sums of gold,<BR> +The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold;<BR> +Pitied the woes a parent underwent,<BR> +And sent me back in safety from his tent.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw,<BR> +Which, flutt'ring, seem'd to loiter as it flew:<BR> +Just, and but barely, to the mark it held,<BR> +And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then Pyrrhus thus: 'Go thou from me to fate,<BR> +And to my father my foul deeds relate.<BR> +Now die!' With that he dragg'd the trembling sire,<BR> +Slidd'ring thro' clotter'd blood and holy mire,<BR> +(The mingled paste his murder'd son had made,)<BR> +Haul'd from beneath the violated shade,<BR> +And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid.<BR> +His right hand held his bloody falchion bare,<BR> +His left he twisted in his hoary hair;<BR> +Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found:<BR> +The lukewarm blood came rushing thro' the wound,<BR> +And sanguine streams distain'd the sacred ground.<BR> +Thus Priam fell, and shar'd one common fate<BR> +With Troy in ashes, and his ruin'd state:<BR> +He, who the scepter of all Asia sway'd,<BR> +Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey'd.<BR> +On the bleak shore now lies th' abandon'd king,<BR> +A headless carcass, and a nameless thing.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then, not before, I felt my cruddled blood<BR> +Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood:<BR> +My father's image fill'd my pious mind,<BR> +Lest equal years might equal fortune find.<BR> +Again I thought on my forsaken wife,<BR> +And trembled for my son's abandon'd life.<BR> +I look'd about, but found myself alone,<BR> +Deserted at my need! My friends were gone.<BR> +Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress'd,<BR> +Leap'd headlong from the heights; the flames consum'd the rest.<BR> +Thus, wand'ring in my way, without a guide,<BR> +The graceless Helen in the porch I spied<BR> +Of Vesta's temple; there she lurk'd alone;<BR> +Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown:<BR> +But, by the flames that cast their blaze around,<BR> +That common bane of Greece and Troy I found.<BR> +For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword;<BR> +More dreads the vengeance of her injur'd lord;<BR> +Ev'n by those gods who refug'd her abhorr'd.<BR> +Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard,<BR> +Resolv'd to give her guilt the due reward:<BR> +'Shall she triumphant sail before the wind,<BR> +And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind?<BR> +Shall she her kingdom and her friends review,<BR> +In state attended with a captive crew,<BR> +While unreveng'd the good old Priam falls,<BR> +And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls?<BR> +For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood<BR> +Were swell'd with bodies, and were drunk with blood?<BR> +'T is true, a soldier can small honor gain,<BR> +And boast no conquest, from a woman slain:<BR> +Yet shall the fact not pass without applause,<BR> +Of vengeance taken in so just a cause;<BR> +The punish'd crime shall set my soul at ease,<BR> +And murm'ring manes of my friends appease.'<BR> +Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light<BR> +Spread o'er the place; and, shining heav'nly bright,<BR> +My mother stood reveal'd before my sight<BR> +Never so radiant did her eyes appear;<BR> +Not her own star confess'd a light so clear:<BR> +Great in her charms, as when on gods above<BR> +She looks, and breathes herself into their love.<BR> +She held my hand, the destin'd blow to break;<BR> +Then from her rosy lips began to speak:<BR> +'My son, from whence this madness, this neglect<BR> +Of my commands, and those whom I protect?<BR> +Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind<BR> +Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind.<BR> +Look if your helpless father yet survive,<BR> +Or if Ascanius or Creusa live.<BR> +Around your house the greedy Grecians err;<BR> +And these had perish'd in the nightly war,<BR> +But for my presence and protecting care.<BR> +Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault;<BR> +But by the gods was this destruction brought.<BR> +Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve<BR> +The mists and films that mortal eyes involve,<BR> +Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see<BR> +The shape of each avenging deity.<BR> +Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil,<BR> +Nor fear obedience to your mother's will.<BR> +Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies,<BR> +Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise-<BR> +Amid that smother Neptune holds his place,<BR> +Below the wall's foundation drives his mace,<BR> +And heaves the building from the solid base.<BR> +Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands<BR> +Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands,<BR> +Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands.<BR> +See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud,<BR> +Bestrides the tow'r, refulgent thro' the cloud:<BR> +See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies,<BR> +And arms against the town the partial deities.<BR> +Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labor end:<BR> +Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend:<BR> +Haste; and a mother's care your passage shall befriend.'<BR> +She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight,<BR> +Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night.<BR> +I look'd, I listen'd; dreadful sounds I hear;<BR> +And the dire forms of hostile gods appear.<BR> +Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent),<BR> +And Ilium from its old foundations rent;<BR> +Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds,<BR> +And stood the sturdy strokes of lab'ring hinds.<BR> +About the roots the cruel ax resounds;<BR> +The stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated wounds:<BR> +The war is felt on high; the nodding crown<BR> +Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honors down.<BR> +To their united force it yields, tho' late,<BR> +And mourns with mortal groans th' approaching fate:<BR> +The roots no more their upper load sustain;<BR> +But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro' the plain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Descending thence, I scape thro' foes and fire:<BR> +Before the goddess, foes and flames retire.<BR> +Arriv'd at home, he, for whose only sake,<BR> +Or most for his, such toils I undertake,<BR> +The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight,<BR> +I purpos'd to secure on Ida's height,<BR> +Refus'd the journey, resolute to die<BR> +And add his fun'rals to the fate of Troy,<BR> +Rather than exile and old age sustain.<BR> +'Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev'ry vein.<BR> +Had Heav'n decreed that I should life enjoy,<BR> +Heav'n had decreed to save unhappy Troy.<BR> +'T is, sure, enough, if not too much, for one,<BR> +Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.<BR> +Make haste to save the poor remaining crew,<BR> +And give this useless corpse a long adieu.<BR> +These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath;<BR> +At least the pitying foes will aid my death,<BR> +To take my spoils, and leave my body bare:<BR> +As for my sepulcher, let Heav'n take care.<BR> +'T is long since I, for my celestial wife<BR> +Loath'd by the gods, have dragg'd a ling'ring life;<BR> +Since ev'ry hour and moment I expire,<BR> +Blasted from heav'n by Jove's avenging fire.'<BR> +This oft repeated, he stood fix'd to die:<BR> +Myself, my wife, my son, my family,<BR> +Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry-<BR> +'What, will he still persist, on death resolve,<BR> +And in his ruin all his house involve!'<BR> +He still persists his reasons to maintain;<BR> +Our pray'rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Urg'd by despair, again I go to try<BR> +The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die:<BR> +'What hope remains, but what my death must give?<BR> +Can I, without so dear a father, live?<BR> +You term it prudence, what I baseness call:<BR> +Could such a word from such a parent fall?<BR> +If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,<BR> +That nothing should of ruin'd Troy remain,<BR> +And you conspire with Fortune to be slain,<BR> +The way to death is wide, th' approaches near:<BR> +For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,<BR> +Reeking with Priam's blood- the wretch who slew<BR> +The son (inhuman) in the father's view,<BR> +And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.<BR> +O goddess mother, give me back to Fate;<BR> +Your gift was undesir'd, and came too late!<BR> +Did you, for this, unhappy me convey<BR> +Thro' foes and fires, to see my house a prey?<BR> +Shall I my father, wife, and son behold,<BR> +Welt'ring in blood, each other's arms infold?<BR> +Haste! gird my sword, tho' spent and overcome:<BR> +'T is the last summons to receive our doom.<BR> +I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call!<BR> +Not unreveng'd the foe shall see my fall.<BR> +Restore me to the yet unfinish'd fight:<BR> +My death is wanting to conclude the night.'<BR> +Arm'd once again, my glitt'ring sword I wield,<BR> +While th' other hand sustains my weighty shield,<BR> +And forth I rush to seek th' abandon'd field.<BR> +I went; but sad Creusa stopp'd my way,<BR> +And cross the threshold in my passage lay,<BR> +Embrac'd my knees, and, when I would have gone,<BR> +Shew'd me my feeble sire and tender son:<BR> +'If death be your design, at least,' said she,<BR> +'Take us along to share your destiny.<BR> +If any farther hopes in arms remain,<BR> +This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.<BR> +To whom do you expose your father's life,<BR> +Your son's, and mine, your now forgotten wife!'<BR> +While thus she fills the house with clam'rous cries,<BR> +Our hearing is diverted by our eyes:<BR> +For, while I held my son, in the short space<BR> +Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace;<BR> +Strange to relate, from young Iulus' head<BR> +A lambent flame arose, which gently spread<BR> +Around his brows, and on his temples fed.<BR> +Amaz'd, with running water we prepare<BR> +To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair;<BR> +But old Anchises, vers'd in omens, rear'd<BR> +His hands to heav'n, and this request preferr'd:<BR> +'If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend<BR> +Thy will; if piety can pray'rs commend,<BR> +Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas'd to send.'<BR> +Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear<BR> +A peal of rattling thunder roll in air:<BR> +There shot a streaming lamp along the sky,<BR> +Which on the winged lightning seem'd to fly;<BR> +From o'er the roof the blaze began to move,<BR> +And, trailing, vanish'd in th' Idaean grove.<BR> +It swept a path in heav'n, and shone a guide,<BR> +Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The good old man with suppliant hands implor'd<BR> +The gods' protection, and their star ador'd.<BR> +'Now, now,' said he, 'my son, no more delay!<BR> +I yield, I follow where Heav'n shews the way.<BR> +Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place,<BR> +And guard this relic of the Trojan race,<BR> +This tender child! These omens are your own,<BR> +And you can yet restore the ruin'd town.<BR> +At least accomplish what your signs foreshow:<BR> +I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"He said. The crackling flames appear on high.<BR> +And driving sparkles dance along the sky.<BR> +With Vulcan's rage the rising winds conspire,<BR> +And near our palace roll the flood of fire.<BR> +'Haste, my dear father, ('t is no time to wait,)<BR> +And load my shoulders with a willing freight.<BR> +Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care;<BR> +One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share.<BR> +My hand shall lead our little son; and you,<BR> +My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.<BR> +Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands:<BR> +Without the walls a ruin'd temple stands,<BR> +To Ceres hallow'd once; a cypress nigh<BR> +Shoots up her venerable head on high,<BR> +By long religion kept; there bend your feet,<BR> +And in divided parties let us meet.<BR> +Our country gods, the relics, and the bands,<BR> +Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands:<BR> +In me 't is impious holy things to bear,<BR> +Red as I am with slaughter, new from war,<BR> +Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt<BR> +Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.'<BR> +Thus, ord'ring all that prudence could provide,<BR> +I clothe my shoulders with a lion's hide<BR> +And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back,<BR> +The welcome load of my dear father take;<BR> +While on my better hand Ascanius hung,<BR> +And with unequal paces tripp'd along.<BR> +Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray<BR> +Thro' ev'ry dark and ev'ry devious way.<BR> +I, who so bold and dauntless, just before,<BR> +The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore,<BR> +At ev'ry shadow now am seiz'd with fear,<BR> +Not for myself, but for the charge I bear;<BR> +Till, near the ruin'd gate arriv'd at last,<BR> +Secure, and deeming all the danger past,<BR> +A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.<BR> +My father, looking thro' the shades, with fear,<BR> +Cried out: 'Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh;<BR> +Their swords and shining armor I descry.'<BR> +Some hostile god, for some unknown offense,<BR> +Had sure bereft my mind of better sense;<BR> +For, while thro' winding ways I took my flight,<BR> +And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,<BR> +Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell<BR> +If by her fatal destiny she fell,<BR> +Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright;<BR> +But she was lost for ever to my sight.<BR> +I knew not, or reflected, till I meet<BR> +My friends, at Ceres' now deserted seat.<BR> +We met: not one was wanting; only she<BR> +Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"What mad expressions did my tongue refuse!<BR> +Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse!<BR> +This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more<BR> +Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before.<BR> +Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,<BR> +Abandoning my now forgotten care,<BR> +Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,<BR> +My sire, my son, my country gods I left.<BR> +In shining armor once again I sheathe<BR> +My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.<BR> +Then headlong to the burning walls I run,<BR> +And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun.<BR> +I tread my former tracks; thro' night explore<BR> +Each passage, ev'ry street I cross'd before.<BR> +All things were full of horror and affright,<BR> +And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night.<BR> +Then to my father's house I make repair,<BR> +With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.<BR> +Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met;<BR> +The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset.<BR> +Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,<BR> +Thro' air transported, to the roofs aspire.<BR> +From thence to Priam's palace I resort,<BR> +And search the citadel and desart court.<BR> +Then, unobserv'd, I pass by Juno's church:<BR> +A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch;<BR> +There Phoenix and Ulysses watch prey,<BR> +And thither all the wealth of Troy convey:<BR> +The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought,<BR> +And golden bowls from burning altars caught,<BR> +The tables of the gods, the purple vests,<BR> +The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests.<BR> +A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands,<BR> +And captive matrons, in long order stands.<BR> +Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim,<BR> +Thro' all the silent street, Creusa's name:<BR> +Creusa still I call; at length she hears,<BR> +And sudden thro' the shades of night appears-<BR> +Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife,<BR> +But a pale specter, larger than the life.<BR> +Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear,<BR> +I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair.<BR> +Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief<BR> +'Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief.<BR> +Desist, my much-lov'd lord,'t indulge your pain;<BR> +You bear no more than what the gods ordain.<BR> +My fates permit me not from hence to fly;<BR> +Nor he, the great controller of the sky.<BR> +Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree;<BR> +On land hard labors, and a length of sea.<BR> +Then, after many painful years are past,<BR> +On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast,<BR> +Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds<BR> +The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds.<BR> +There end your toils; and there your fates provide<BR> +A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride:<BR> +There fortune shall the Trojan line restore,<BR> +And you for lost Creusa weep no more.<BR> +Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame,<BR> +Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame;<BR> +Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace<BR> +My goddess mother, or my royal race.<BR> +And now, farewell! The parent of the gods<BR> +Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes:<BR> +I trust our common issue to your care.'<BR> +She said, and gliding pass'd unseen in air.<BR> +I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue;<BR> +And thrice about her neck my arms I flung,<BR> +And, thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung.<BR> +Light as an empty dream at break of day,<BR> +Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Thus having pass'd the night in fruitless pain,<BR> +I to my longing friends return again,<BR> +Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold,<BR> +Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old;<BR> +A wretched exil'd crew together brought,<BR> +With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,<BR> +Resolv'd, and willing, under my command,<BR> +To run all hazards both of sea and land.<BR> +The Morn began, from Ida, to display<BR> +Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day:<BR> +Before the gates the Grecians took their post,<BR> +And all pretense of late relief was lost.<BR> +I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,<BR> +And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK III<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"When Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state<BR> +And Priam's throne, by too severe a fate;<BR> +When ruin'd Troy became the Grecians' prey,<BR> +And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay;<BR> +Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat,<BR> +To seek in foreign lands a happier seat.<BR> +Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,<BR> +The timber of the sacred groves we cut,<BR> +And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find<BR> +What place the gods for our repose assign'd.<BR> +Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring<BR> +Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,<BR> +When old Anchises summon'd all to sea:<BR> +The crew my father and the Fates obey.<BR> +With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,<BR> +And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.<BR> +My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,<BR> +All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Against our coast appears a spacious land,<BR> +Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,<BR> +(Thracia the name- the people bold in war;<BR> +Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,)<BR> +A hospitable realm while Fate was kind,<BR> +With Troy in friendship and religion join'd.<BR> +I land; with luckless omens then adore<BR> +Their gods, and draw a line along the shore;<BR> +I lay the deep foundations of a wall,<BR> +And Aenos, nam'd from me, the city call.<BR> +To Dionaean Venus vows are paid,<BR> +And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid;<BR> +A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.<BR> +Not far, a rising hillock stood in view;<BR> +Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew.<BR> +There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,<BR> +And shade our altar with their leafy greens,<BR> +I pull'd a plant- with horror I relate<BR> +A prodigy so strange and full of fate.<BR> +The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound<BR> +Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground.<BR> +Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood;<BR> +Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal'd my blood.<BR> +Mann'd once again, another plant I try:<BR> +That other gush'd with the same sanguine dye.<BR> +Then, fearing guilt for some offense unknown,<BR> +With pray'rs and vows the Dryads I atone,<BR> +With all the sisters of the woods, and most<BR> +The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast,<BR> +That they, or he, these omens would avert,<BR> +Release our fears, and better signs impart.<BR> +Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length<BR> +To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength:<BR> +I bent my knees against the ground; once more<BR> +The violated myrtle ran with gore.<BR> +Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb<BR> +Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,<BR> +A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew'd<BR> +My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued:<BR> +'Why dost thou thus my buried body rend?<BR> +O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!<BR> +Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:<BR> +The tears distil not from the wounded wood;<BR> +But ev'ry drop this living tree contains<BR> +Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.<BR> +O fly from this unhospitable shore,<BR> +Warn'd by my fate; for I am Polydore!<BR> +Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,<BR> +Again shoot upward, by my blood renew'd.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My falt'ring tongue and shiv'ring limbs declare<BR> +My horror, and in bristles rose my hair.<BR> +When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,<BR> +Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,<BR> +This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:<BR> +Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far<BR> +From noise and tumults, and destructive war,<BR> +Committed to the faithless tyrant's care;<BR> +Who, when he saw the pow'r of Troy decline,<BR> +Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join;<BR> +Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth,<BR> +And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth.<BR> +O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!<BR> +What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?<BR> +Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,<BR> +I call my father and the Trojan peers;<BR> +Relate the prodigies of Heav'n, require<BR> +What he commands, and their advice desire.<BR> +All vote to leave that execrable shore,<BR> +Polluted with the blood of Polydore;<BR> +But, ere we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare,<BR> +Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.<BR> +In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,<BR> +With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd,<BR> +With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.<BR> +Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,<BR> +And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,<BR> +But southern gales invite us to the main,<BR> +We launch our vessels, with a prosp'rous wind,<BR> +And leave the cities and the shores behind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"An island in th' Aegaean main appears;<BR> +Neptune and wat'ry Doris claim it theirs.<BR> +It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the sides<BR> +To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.<BR> +Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,<BR> +With needful ease our weary limbs restore,<BR> +And the Sun's temple and his town adore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd,<BR> +His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,<BR> +Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,<BR> +Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;<BR> +Invites him to his palace; and, in sign<BR> +Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.<BR> +Then to the temple of the god I went,<BR> +And thus, before the shrine, my vows present:<BR> +'Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place<BR> +To the sad relics of the Trojan race;<BR> +A seat secure, a region of their own,<BR> +A lasting empire, and a happier town.<BR> +Where shall we fix? where shall our labors end?<BR> +Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?<BR> +Let not my pray'rs a doubtful answer find;<BR> +But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.'<BR> +Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,<BR> +The laurels, and the lofty hills around;<BR> +And from the tripos rush'd a bellowing sound.<BR> +Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god,<BR> +Who gave this answer from his dark abode:<BR> +'Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth<BR> +From which your ancestors derive their birth.<BR> +The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race<BR> +In her old bosom shall again embrace.<BR> +Thro' the wide world th' Aeneian house shall reign,<BR> +And children's children shall the crown sustain.'<BR> +Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose:<BR> +A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"All are concern'd to know what place the god<BR> +Assign'd, and where determin'd our abode.<BR> +My father, long revolving in his mind<BR> +The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,<BR> +Thus answer'd their demands: 'Ye princes, hear<BR> +Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear.<BR> +The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,<BR> +Sacred of old to Jove's imperial name,<BR> +In the mid ocean lies, with large command,<BR> +And on its plains a hundred cities stand.<BR> +Another Ida rises there, and we<BR> +From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.<BR> +From thence, as 't is divulg'd by certain fame,<BR> +To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came;<BR> +There fix'd, and there the seat of empire chose,<BR> +Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose.<BR> +In humble vales they built their soft abodes,<BR> +Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,<BR> +With tinkling cymbals charm'd th' Idaean woods,<BR> +She secret rites and ceremonies taught,<BR> +And to the yoke the savage lions brought.<BR> +Let us the land which Heav'n appoints, explore;<BR> +Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore.<BR> +If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,<BR> +The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.'<BR> +Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid<BR> +On smoking altars, to the gods he paid:<BR> +A bull, to Neptune an oblation due,<BR> +Another bull to bright Apollo slew;<BR> +A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please,<BR> +And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas.<BR> +Ere this, a flying rumor had been spread<BR> +That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,<BR> +Expell'd and exil'd; that the coast was free<BR> +From foreign or domestic enemy.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea;<BR> +By Naxos, fam'd for vintage, make our way;<BR> +Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight<BR> +Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white.<BR> +We pass the scatter'd isles of Cyclades,<BR> +That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the seas.<BR> +The shouts of sailors double near the shores;<BR> +They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.<BR> +'All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!' they cry,<BR> +And swiftly thro' the foamy billows fly.<BR> +Full on the promis'd land at length we bore,<BR> +With joy descending on the Cretan shore.<BR> +With eager haste a rising town I frame,<BR> +Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:<BR> +The name itself was grateful; I exhort<BR> +To found their houses, and erect a fort.<BR> +Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand;<BR> +The youth begin to till the labor'd land;<BR> +And I myself new marriages promote,<BR> +Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot;<BR> +When rising vapors choke the wholesome air,<BR> +And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year;<BR> +The trees devouring caterpillars burn;<BR> +Parch'd was the grass, and blighted was the corn:<BR> +Nor 'scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high,<BR> +With pestilential heat infects the sky:<BR> +My men- some fall, the rest in fevers fry.<BR> +Again my father bids me seek the shore<BR> +Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,<BR> +To learn what end of woes we might expect,<BR> +And to what clime our weary course direct.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'T was night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares,<BR> +The common gift of balmy slumber shares:<BR> +The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd),<BR> +Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd,<BR> +Before me stood, majestically bright,<BR> +Full in the beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light.<BR> +Then thus they spoke, and eas'd my troubled mind:<BR> +'What from the Delian god thou go'st to find,<BR> +He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.<BR> +Those pow'rs are we, companions of thy fate,<BR> +Who from the burning town by thee were brought,<BR> +Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought.<BR> +Thro' seas and lands as we thy steps attend,<BR> +So shall our care thy glorious race befriend.<BR> +An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,<BR> +A town that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign.<BR> +Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;<BR> +Nor let thy weary mind to labors yield:<BR> +But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,<BR> +Nor we, have giv'n thee Crete for our abode.<BR> +A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old,<BR> +(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold-<BR> +Th' Oenotrians held it once,) by later fame<BR> +Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.<BR> +lasius there and Dardanus were born;<BR> +From thence we came, and thither must return.<BR> +Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.<BR> +Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Astonish'd at their voices and their sight,<BR> +(Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night;<BR> +I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,<BR> +In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;)<BR> +I started from my couch; a clammy sweat<BR> +On all my limbs and shiv'ring body sate.<BR> +To heav'n I lift my hands with pious haste,<BR> +And sacred incense in the flames I cast.<BR> +Thus to the gods their perfect honors done,<BR> +More cheerful, to my good old sire I run,<BR> +And tell the pleasing news. In little space<BR> +He found his error of the double race;<BR> +Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from Crete;<BR> +No more deluded by the doubtful seat:<BR> +Then said: 'O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate!<BR> +Such things as these Cassandra did relate.<BR> +This day revives within my mind what she<BR> +Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy,<BR> +And Latian lands; but who could then have thought<BR> +That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,<BR> +Or who believ'd what mad Cassandra taught?<BR> +Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"He said; and we with glad consent obey,<BR> +Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind,<BR> +We spread our sails before the willing wind.<BR> +Now from the sight of land our galleys move,<BR> +With only seas around and skies above;<BR> +When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain,<BR> +And night with sable clouds involves the main;<BR> +The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;<BR> +The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways;<BR> +The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes,<BR> +And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.<BR> +Cast from our course, we wander in the dark.<BR> +No stars to guide, no point of land to mark.<BR> +Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found<BR> +Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around.<BR> +Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,<BR> +Without distinction, and three sunless days;<BR> +The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds,<BR> +We view a rising land, like distant clouds;<BR> +The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,<BR> +And curling smoke ascending from their height.<BR> +The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;<BR> +From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.<BR> +At length I land upon the Strophades,<BR> +Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.<BR> +Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main,<BR> +The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,<BR> +Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair<BR> +To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.<BR> +Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent<BR> +From hell's abyss, for human punishment:<BR> +With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,<BR> +Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;<BR> +With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"We landed at the port, and soon beheld<BR> +Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field,<BR> +And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd.<BR> +With weapons we the welcome prey invade,<BR> +Then call the gods for partners of our feast,<BR> +And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.<BR> +We spread the tables on the greensward ground;<BR> +We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;<BR> +When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,<BR> +And clatt'ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;<BR> +They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,<BR> +And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.<BR> +Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,<BR> +New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,<BR> +Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,<BR> +Where tufted trees a native arbor made.<BR> +Again the holy fires on altars burn;<BR> +And once again the rav'nous birds return,<BR> +Or from the dark recesses where they lie,<BR> +Or from another quarter of the sky;<BR> +With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,<BR> +And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.<BR> +I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,<BR> +And with the hellish nation wage the war.<BR> +They, as commanded, for the fight provide,<BR> +And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide;<BR> +Then, when along the crooked shore we hear<BR> +Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear,<BR> +Misenus sounds a charge: we take th' alarm,<BR> +And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm.<BR> +In this new kind of combat all employ<BR> +Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy.<BR> +In vain- the fated skin is proof to wounds;<BR> +And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.<BR> +At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey,<BR> +And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display.<BR> +Yet one remain'd- the messenger of Fate:<BR> +High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,<BR> +And thus her dismal errand did relate:<BR> +'What! not contented with our oxen slain,<BR> +Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain,<BR> +And drive the Harpies from their native reign?<BR> +Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind<BR> +What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd,<BR> +And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate-<BR> +You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate:<BR> +Th' Italian shores are granted you to find,<BR> +And a safe passage to the port assign'd.<BR> +But know, that ere your promis'd walls you build,<BR> +My curses shall severely be fulfill'd.<BR> +Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed,<BR> +Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.'<BR> +She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew.<BR> +Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.<BR> +Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall,<BR> +And on th' offended Harpies humbly call,<BR> +And whether gods or birds obscene they were,<BR> +Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.<BR> +But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice,<BR> +And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes,<BR> +Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said he,<BR> +'These omens; render vain this prophecy,<BR> +And from th' impending curse a pious people free!'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;<BR> +We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey,<BR> +And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat'ry way.<BR> +Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear;<BR> +And next by rocky Neritos we steer:<BR> +We fly from Ithaca's detested shore,<BR> +And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.<BR> +At length Leucate's cloudy top appears,<BR> +And the Sun's temple, which the sailor fears.<BR> +Resolv'd to breathe a while from labor past,<BR> +Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast,<BR> +And joyful to the little city haste.<BR> +Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay<BR> +To Jove, the guide and patron of our way.<BR> +The customs of our country we pursue,<BR> +And Trojan games on Actian shores renew.<BR> +Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil,<BR> +And exercise the wrastlers' noble toil;<BR> +Pleas'd to have sail'd so long before the wind,<BR> +And left so many Grecian towns behind.<BR> +The sun had now fulfill'd his annual course,<BR> +And Boreas on the seas display'd his force:<BR> +I fix'd upon the temple's lofty door<BR> +The brazen shield which vanquish'd Abas bore;<BR> +The verse beneath my name and action speaks:<BR> +'These arms Aeneas took from conqu'ring Greeks.'<BR> +Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply<BR> +Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly.<BR> +The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost,<BR> +And skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend,<BR> +And, landed, to Buthrotus' heights ascend.<BR> +Here wondrous things were loudly blaz'd fame:<BR> +How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name,<BR> +And reign'd in Greece; that Priam's captive son<BR> +Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;<BR> +And fair Andromache, restor'd by fate,<BR> +Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.<BR> +I leave my galleys riding in the port,<BR> +And long to see the new Dardanian court.<BR> +By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,<BR> +Then solemniz'd her former husband's fate.<BR> +Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she crown'd,<BR> +And sacred priests in order stand around,<BR> +And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.<BR> +The grove itself resembles Ida's wood;<BR> +And Simois seem'd the well-dissembled flood.<BR> +But when at nearer distance she beheld<BR> +My shining armor and my Trojan shield,<BR> +Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat<BR> +Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat:<BR> +She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring strength,<BR> +Thus, with a falt'ring tongue, she speaks at length:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Are you alive, O goddess-born?' she said,<BR> +'Or if a ghost, then where is Hector's shade?'<BR> +At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry.<BR> +With broken words I made this brief reply:<BR> +'All of me that remains appears in sight;<BR> +I live, if living be to loathe the light.<BR> +No phantom; but I drag a wretched life,<BR> +My fate resembling that of Hector's wife.<BR> +What have you suffer'd since you lost your lord?<BR> +By what strange blessing are you now restor'd?<BR> +Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled,<BR> +And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?'<BR> +With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,<BR> +After a modest pause she thus begun:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'O only happy maid of Priam's race,<BR> +Whom death deliver'd from the foes' embrace!<BR> +Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die,<BR> +Not forc'd, like us, to hard captivity,<BR> +Or in a haughty master's arms to lie.<BR> +In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,<BR> +Endur'd the victor's lust, sustain'd the scorn:<BR> +Thus I submitted to the lawless pride<BR> +Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.<BR> +Cloy'd with possession, he forsook my bed,<BR> +And Helen's lovely daughter sought to wed;<BR> +Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd,<BR> +And his two slaves in equal marriage join'd;<BR> +Till young Orestes, pierc'd with deep despair,<BR> +And longing to redeem the promis'd fair,<BR> +Before Apollo's altar slew the ravisher.<BR> +By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we regain'd:<BR> +At least one half with Helenus remain'd.<BR> +Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,<BR> +And names from Pergamus his rising walls.<BR> +But you, what fates have landed on our coast?<BR> +What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss'd?<BR> +Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,<BR> +Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy?<BR> +O tell me how his mother's loss he bears,<BR> +What hopes are promis'd from his blooming years,<BR> +How much of Hector in his face appears?'<BR> +She spoke; and mix'd her speech with mournful cries,<BR> +And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"At length her lord descends upon the plain,<BR> +In pomp, attended with a num'rous train;<BR> +Receives his friends, and to the city leads,<BR> +And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.<BR> +Proceeding on, another Troy I see,<BR> +Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome.<BR> +A riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran,<BR> +And I embrace the Scaean gate again.<BR> +My friends in porticoes were entertain'd,<BR> +And feasts and pleasures thro' the city reign'd.<BR> +The tables fill'd the spacious hall around,<BR> +And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown'd.<BR> +Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales,<BR> +Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails.<BR> +Then to the royal seer I thus began:<BR> +'O thou, who know'st, beyond the reach of man,<BR> +The laws of heav'n, and what the stars decree;<BR> +Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,<BR> +From his own tripod, and his holy tree;<BR> +Skill'd in the wing'd inhabitants of air,<BR> +What auspices their notes and flights declare:<BR> +O say- for all religious rites portend<BR> +A happy voyage, and a prosp'rous end;<BR> +And ev'ry power and omen of the sky<BR> +Direct my course for destin'd Italy;<BR> +But only dire Celaeno, from the gods,<BR> +A dismal famine fatally forebodes-<BR> +O say what dangers I am first to shun,<BR> +What toils vanquish, and what course to run.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The prophet first with sacrifice adores<BR> +The greater gods; their pardon then implores;<BR> +Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;<BR> +To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,<BR> +Full of religious doubts and awful dread.<BR> +Then, with his god possess'd, before the shrine,<BR> +These words proceeded from his mouth divine:<BR> +'O goddess-born, (for Heav'n's appointed will,<BR> +With greater auspices of good than ill,<BR> +Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs;<BR> +Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)<BR> +Of many things some few I shall explain,<BR> +Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,<BR> +And how at length the promis'd shore to gain.<BR> +The rest the fates from Helenus conceal,<BR> +And Juno's angry pow'r forbids to tell.<BR> +First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh,<BR> +Will far from your deluded wishes fly;<BR> +Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:<BR> +For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,<BR> +And stem the currents with your struggling oars;<BR> +Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer;<BR> +And, after this, to Circe's island veer;<BR> +And, last, before your new foundations rise,<BR> +Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies.<BR> +Now mark the signs of future ease and rest,<BR> +And bear them safely treasur'd in thy breast.<BR> +When, in the shady shelter of a wood,<BR> +And near the margin of a gentle flood,<BR> +Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,<BR> +With thirty sucking young encompass'd round;<BR> +The dam and offspring white as falling snow-<BR> +These on thy city shall their name bestow,<BR> +And there shall end thy labors and thy woe.<BR> +Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind,<BR> +For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find.<BR> +Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,<BR> +Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent:<BR> +Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd;<BR> +The salvage Locrians here the shores infest;<BR> +There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,<BR> +And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;<BR> +And on the mountain's brow Petilia stands,<BR> +Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.<BR> +Ev'n when thy fleet is landed on the shore,<BR> +And priests with holy vows the gods adore,<BR> +Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,<BR> +Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.<BR> +These rites and customs to the rest commend,<BR> +That to your pious race they may descend.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">"'When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits</SPAN><BR> +For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits<BR> +Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,<BR> +Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:<BR> +Veer starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore<BR> +And fair Sicilia's coast were one, before<BR> +An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring tides<BR> +The passage broke that land from land divides;<BR> +And where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides.<BR> +Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand,<BR> +Now rising cities in long order stand,<BR> +And fruitful fields: so much can time invade<BR> +The mold'ring work that beauteous Nature made.<BR> +Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides:<BR> +Charybdis roaring on the left presides,<BR> +And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides;<BR> +Then spouts them from below: with fury driv'n,<BR> +The waves mount up and wash the face of heav'n.<BR> +But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,<BR> +The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,<BR> +Then dashes on the rocks. A human face,<BR> +And virgin bosom, hides her tail's disgrace:<BR> +Her parts obscene below the waves descend,<BR> +With dogs inclos'd, and in a dolphin end.<BR> +'T is safer, then, to bear aloof to sea,<BR> +And coast Pachynus, tho' with more delay,<BR> +Than once to view misshapen Scylla near,<BR> +And the loud yell of wat'ry wolves to hear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,<BR> +And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,<BR> +Do not this precept of your friend forget,<BR> +Which therefore more than once I must repeat:<BR> +Above the rest, great Juno's name adore;<BR> +Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore.<BR> +Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd,<BR> +And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind.<BR> +Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,<BR> +And you shall safe descend on Italy.<BR> +Arriv'd at Cumae, when you view the flood<BR> +Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,<BR> +The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,<BR> +Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin'd.<BR> +She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits,<BR> +The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leafs commits.<BR> +What she commits to leafs, in order laid,<BR> +Before the cavern's entrance are display'd:<BR> +Unmov'd they lie; but, if a blast of wind<BR> +Without, or vapors issue from behind,<BR> +The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air,<BR> +And she resumes no more her museful care,<BR> +Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse,<BR> +Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.<BR> +Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid<BR> +The madness of the visionary maid,<BR> +And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Think it not loss of time a while to stay,<BR> +Tho' thy companions chide thy long delay;<BR> +Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho' pleasing gales<BR> +Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails:<BR> +But beg the sacred priestess to relate<BR> +With willing words, and not to write thy fate.<BR> +The fierce Italian people she will show,<BR> +And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,<BR> +And what thou may'st avoid, and what must undergo.<BR> +She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,<BR> +And teach thee how the happy shores to find.<BR> +This is what Heav'n allows me to relate:<BR> +Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,<BR> +And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"This when the priest with friendly voice declar'd,<BR> +He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd:<BR> +Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want<BR> +With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant;<BR> +Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board,<BR> +And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor'd.<BR> +A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,<BR> +Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament;<BR> +The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,<BR> +That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest.<BR> +Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends;<BR> +And large recruits he to my navy sends:<BR> +Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores;<BR> +Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.<BR> +Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails,<BR> +Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last,<BR> +With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd:<BR> +'Old happy man, the care of gods above,<BR> +Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love,<BR> +And twice preserv'd thy life, when Troy was lost,<BR> +Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast:<BR> +There land; but take a larger compass round,<BR> +For that before is all forbidden ground.<BR> +The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you,<BR> +At farther distance lies, conceal'd from view.<BR> +Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,<BR> +Blest in a son, and favor'd by the gods:<BR> +For I with useless words prolong your stay,<BR> +When southern gales have summon'd you away.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd,<BR> +Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.<BR> +A noble present to my son she brought,<BR> +A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought,<BR> +A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside<BR> +Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.<BR> +'Accept,' she said, 'these monuments of love,<BR> +Which in my youth with happier hands I wove:<BR> +Regard these trifles for the giver's sake;<BR> +'T is the last present Hector's wife can make.<BR> +Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind;<BR> +In thee his features and his form I find:<BR> +His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;<BR> +Such were his motions; such was all his frame;<BR> +And ah! had Heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the same.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"With tears I took my last adieu, and said:<BR> +'Your fortune, happy pair, already made,<BR> +Leaves you no farther wish. My diff'rent state,<BR> +Avoiding one, incurs another fate.<BR> +To you a quiet seat the gods allow:<BR> +You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,<BR> +Nor fields of flying Italy to chase:<BR> +(Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!)<BR> +You see another Simois, and enjoy<BR> +The labor of your hands, another Troy,<BR> +With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs,<BR> +And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs.<BR> +If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore,<BR> +Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy shore;<BR> +If ever I ascend the Latian throne,<BR> +And build a city I may call my own;<BR> +As both of us our birth from Troy derive,<BR> +So let our kindred lines in concord live,<BR> +And both in acts of equal friendship strive.<BR> +Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:<BR> +The double Troy shall differ but in name;<BR> +That what we now begin may never end,<BR> +But long to late posterity descend.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore;<BR> +The shortest passage to th' Italian shore.<BR> +Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light,<BR> +And hills were hid in dusky shades of night:<BR> +We land, and, on the bosom Of the ground,<BR> +A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.<BR> +Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep<BR> +Their watches, and the rest securely sleep.<BR> +The night, proceeding on with silent pace,<BR> +Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face<BR> +Her steepy rise and her declining race.<BR> +Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy<BR> +The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky;<BR> +And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try;<BR> +Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course,<BR> +The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat'ry force;<BR> +And both the Bears is careful to behold,<BR> +And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold.<BR> +Then, when he saw no threat'ning tempest nigh,<BR> +But a sure promise of a settled sky,<BR> +He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep,<BR> +Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And now the rising morn with rosy light<BR> +Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight;<BR> +When we from far, like bluish mists, descry<BR> +The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.<BR> +Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound;<BR> +Then, 'Italy!' the cheerful crew rebound.<BR> +My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine,<BR> +And, off'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine:<BR> +'Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,<BR> +And you who raging winds and waves appease,<BR> +Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind,<BR> +And smooth our passage to the port assign'd!'<BR> +The gentle gales their flagging force renew,<BR> +And now the happy harbor is in view.<BR> +Minerva's temple then salutes our sight,<BR> +Plac'd, as a landmark, on the mountain's height.<BR> +We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore;<BR> +The curling waters round the galleys roar.<BR> +The land lies open to the raging east,<BR> +Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress'd,<BR> +Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,<BR> +And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.<BR> +The port lies hid within; on either side<BR> +Two tow'ring rocks the narrow mouth divide.<BR> +The temple, which aloft we view'd before,<BR> +To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.<BR> +Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld<BR> +Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry field.<BR> +'War, war is threaten'd from this foreign ground,'<BR> +My father cried, 'where warlike steeds are found.<BR> +Yet, since reclaim'd to chariots they submit,<BR> +And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,<BR> +Peace may succeed to war.' Our way we bend<BR> +To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;<BR> +There prostrate to the fierce virago pray,<BR> +Whose temple was the landmark of our way.<BR> +Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head,<BR> +And all commands of Helenus obey'd,<BR> +And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.<BR> +These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails, and stand<BR> +To sea, forsaking that suspected land.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view,<BR> +For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true.<BR> +Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands;<BR> +Caulonian tow'rs, and Scylacaean strands,<BR> +For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Aetna thence we spy,<BR> +Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.<BR> +Far off we hear the waves with surly sound<BR> +Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.<BR> +The billows break upon the sounding strand,<BR> +And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.<BR> +Then thus Anchises, in experience old:<BR> +''T is that Charybdis which the seer foretold,<BR> +And those the promis'd rocks! Bear off to sea!'<BR> +With haste the frighted mariners obey.<BR> +First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd;<BR> +Then all the fleet by his example steer'd.<BR> +To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,<BR> +Then down to hell descend, when they divide;<BR> +And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground,<BR> +And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound,<BR> +And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around.<BR> +The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun;<BR> +And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.<BR> +The port capacious, and secure from wind,<BR> +Is to the foot of thund'ring Aetna join'd.<BR> +By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;<BR> +By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,<BR> +And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky.<BR> +Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,<BR> +And, shiver'd by the force, come piecemeal down.<BR> +Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,<BR> +Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.<BR> +Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove,<BR> +With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;<BR> +And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew<BR> +This flaming hill, and on his body threw.<BR> +As often as he turns his weary sides,<BR> +He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.<BR> +In shady woods we pass the tedious night,<BR> +Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,<BR> +Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight;<BR> +For not one star was kindled in the sky,<BR> +Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply;<BR> +For misty clouds involv'd the firmament,<BR> +The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd,<BR> +Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell'd,<BR> +When from the woods there bolts, before our sight,<BR> +Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,<BR> +So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,<BR> +So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.<BR> +This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' implore<BR> +Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.<BR> +We look behind, then view his shaggy beard;<BR> +His clothes were tagg'd with thorns, and filth his limbs<BR> +besmear'd;<BR> +The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,<BR> +Appear'd a Greek, and such indeed he was.<BR> +He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,<BR> +Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew;<BR> +Stood still, and paus'd; then all at once began<BR> +To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.<BR> +Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls,<BR> +And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls:<BR> +'Now, by the pow'rs above, and what we share<BR> +From Nature's common gift, this vital air,<BR> +O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more;<BR> +But bear me far from this unhappy shore.<BR> +'T is true, I am a Greek, and farther own,<BR> +Among your foes besieg'd th' imperial town.<BR> +For such demerits if my death be due,<BR> +No more for this abandon'd life I sue;<BR> +This only favor let my tears obtain,<BR> +To throw me headlong in the rapid main:<BR> +Since nothing more than death my crime demands,<BR> +I die content, to die by human hands.'<BR> +He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd:<BR> +I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,<BR> +His present state, his lineage, and his name,<BR> +Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he came.<BR> +The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand;<BR> +Who, thus encourag'd, answer'd our demand:<BR> +'From Ithaca, my native soil, I came<BR> +To Troy; and Achaemenides my name.<BR> +Me my poor father with Ulysses sent;<BR> +(O had I stay'd, with poverty content!)<BR> +But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen<BR> +Left me forsaken in the Cyclops' den.<BR> +The cave, tho' large, was dark; the dismal floor<BR> +Was pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore.<BR> +Our monstrous host, of more than human size,<BR> +Erects his head, and stares within the skies;<BR> +Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.<BR> +Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!<BR> +The joints of slaughter'd wretches are his food;<BR> +And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.<BR> +These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand<BR> +He seiz'd two captives of our Grecian band;<BR> +Stretch'd on his back, he dash'd against the stones<BR> +Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:<BR> +With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,<BR> +While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate,<BR> +Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state;<BR> +For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human wine<BR> +While fast asleep the giant lay supine,<BR> +Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw<BR> +His indigested foam, and morsels raw;<BR> +We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround<BR> +The monstrous body, stretch'd along the ground:<BR> +Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand<BR> +To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.<BR> +Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;<BR> +For only one did the vast frame supply-<BR> +But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd,<BR> +Like the sun's disk or like a Grecian shield.<BR> +The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:<BR> +This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd friends.<BR> +But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!<BR> +Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!<BR> +Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears,<BR> +A hundred more this hated island bears:<BR> +Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep;<BR> +Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;<BR> +Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep<BR> +And now three moons their sharpen'd horns renew,<BR> +Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,<BR> +I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,<BR> +And in deserted caverns lodge by night;<BR> +Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see<BR> +Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:<BR> +From far I hear his thund'ring voice resound,<BR> +And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.<BR> +Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,<BR> +And roots and herbs, have been my meager food.<BR> +While all around my longing eyes I cast,<BR> +I saw your happy ships appear at last.<BR> +On those I fix'd my hopes, to these I run;<BR> +'T is all I ask, this cruel race to shun;<BR> +What other death you please, yourselves bestow.'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's brow<BR> +We saw the giant shepherd stalk before<BR> +His following flock, and leading to the shore:<BR> +A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight;<BR> +His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.<BR> +His pond'rous whistle from his neck descends;<BR> +His woolly care their pensive lord attends:<BR> +This only solace his hard fortune sends.<BR> +Soon as he reach'd the shore and touch'd the waves,<BR> +From his bor'd eye the gutt'ring blood he laves:<BR> +He gnash'd his teeth, and groan'd; thro' seas he strides,<BR> +And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his sides.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea,<BR> +The cables cut, and silent haste away;<BR> +The well-deserving stranger entertain;<BR> +Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.<BR> +The giant harken'd to the dashing sound:<BR> +But, when our vessels out of reach he found,<BR> +He strided onward, and in vain essay'd<BR> +Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.<BR> +With that he roar'd aloud: the dreadful cry<BR> +Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly<BR> +Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.<BR> +The neigh'ring Aetna trembling all around,<BR> +The winding caverns echo to the sound.<BR> +His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,<BR> +And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.<BR> +We saw their stern distorted looks, from far,<BR> +And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten'd war:<BR> +A dreadful council, with their heads on high;<BR> +(The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)<BR> +Not yielding to the tow'ring tree of Jove,<BR> +Or tallest cypress of Diana's grove.<BR> +New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;<BR> +We tug at ev'ry oar, and hoist up ev'ry sail,<BR> +And take th' advantage of the friendly gale.<BR> +Forewarn'd by Helenus, we strive to shun<BR> +Charybdis' gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.<BR> +An equal fate on either side appears:<BR> +We, tacking to the left, are free from fears;<BR> +For, from Pelorus' point, the North arose,<BR> +And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.<BR> +His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way<BR> +By Thapsus and Megara's winding bay.<BR> +This passage Achaemenides had shown,<BR> +Tracing the course which he before had run.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Right o'er against Plemmyrium's wat'ry strand,<BR> +There lies an isle once call'd th' Ortygian land.<BR> +Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found<BR> +From Greece a secret passage under ground,<BR> +By love to beauteous Arethusa led;<BR> +And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.<BR> +As Helenus enjoin'd, we next adore<BR> +Diana's name, protectress of the shore.<BR> +With prosp'rous gales we pass the quiet sounds<BR> +Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.<BR> +Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey<BR> +The rocky shore extended to the sea.<BR> +The town of Camarine from far we see,<BR> +And fenny lake, undrain'd by fate's decree.<BR> +In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,<BR> +And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;<BR> +Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown'd,<BR> +Long for the race of warlike steeds renown'd.<BR> +We pass'd Selinus, and the palmy land,<BR> +And widely shun the Lilybaean strand,<BR> +Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand.<BR> +At length on shore the weary fleet arriv'd,<BR> +Which Drepanum's unhappy port receiv'd.<BR> +Here, after endless labors, often toss'd<BR> +By raging storms, and driv'n on ev'ry coast,<BR> +My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:<BR> +Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,<BR> +Sav'd thro' a thousand toils, but sav'd in vain<BR> +The prophet, who my future woes reveal'd,<BR> +Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal'd;<BR> +And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill<BR> +Denounc'd all else, was silent of the ill.<BR> +This my last labor was. Some friendly god<BR> +From thence convey'd us to your blest abode."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, to the list'ning queen, the royal guest<BR> +His wand'ring course and all his toils express'd;<BR> +And here concluding, he retir'd to rest.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK IV<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But anxious cares already seiz'd the queen:<BR> +She fed within her veins a flame unseen;<BR> +The hero's valor, acts, and birth inspire<BR> +Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.<BR> +His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,<BR> +Improve the passion, and increase the smart.<BR> +Now, when the purple morn had chas'd away<BR> +The dewy shadows, and restor'd the day,<BR> +Her sister first with early care she sought,<BR> +And thus in mournful accents eas'd her thought:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My dearest Anna, what new dreams affright<BR> +My lab'ring soul! what visions of the night<BR> +Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast<BR> +With strange ideas of our Trojan guest!<BR> +His worth, his actions, and majestic air,<BR> +A man descended from the gods declare.<BR> +Fear ever argues a degenerate kind;<BR> +His birth is well asserted by his mind.<BR> +Then, what he suffer'd, when by Fate betray'd!<BR> +What brave attempts for falling Troy he made!<BR> +Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke,<BR> +That, were I not resolv'd against the yoke<BR> +Of hapless marriage, never to be curst<BR> +With second love, so fatal was my first,<BR> +To this one error I might yield again;<BR> +For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain,<BR> +This only man is able to subvert<BR> +The fix'd foundations of my stubborn heart.<BR> +And, to confess my frailty, to my shame,<BR> +Somewhat I find within, if not the same,<BR> +Too like the sparkles of my former flame.<BR> +But first let yawning earth a passage rend,<BR> +And let me thro' the dark abyss descend;<BR> +First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,<BR> +Drive down this body to the nether sky,<BR> +Condemn'd with ghosts in endless night to lie,<BR> +Before I break the plighted faith I gave!<BR> +No! he who had my vows shall ever have;<BR> +For, whom I lov'd on earth, I worship in the grave."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes,<BR> +And stopp'd her speech. Her sister thus replies:<BR> +"O dearer than the vital air I breathe,<BR> +Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath,<BR> +Condemn'd to waste in woes your lonely life,<BR> +Without the joys of mother or of wife?<BR> +Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,<BR> +Are known or valued by the ghosts below?<BR> +I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green,<BR> +It well became a woman, and a queen,<BR> +The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect,<BR> +To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject,<BR> +With all the Libyan lords of mighty name;<BR> +But will you fight against a pleasing flame!<BR> +This little spot of land, which Heav'n bestows,<BR> +On ev'ry side is hemm'd with warlike foes;<BR> +Gaetulian cities here are spread around,<BR> +And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound;<BR> +Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,<BR> +And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand;<BR> +Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore,<BR> +And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.<BR> +Propitious Heav'n, and gracious Juno, lead<BR> +This wand'ring navy to your needful aid:<BR> +How will your empire spread, your city rise,<BR> +From such a union, and with such allies?<BR> +Implore the favor of the pow'rs above,<BR> +And leave the conduct of the rest to love.<BR> +Continue still your hospitable way,<BR> +And still invent occasions of their stay,<BR> +Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat,<BR> +And planks and oars repair their shatter'd fleet."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These words, which from a friend and sister came,<BR> +With ease resolv'd the scruples of her fame,<BR> +And added fury to the kindled flame.<BR> +Inspir'd with hope, the project they pursue;<BR> +On ev'ry altar sacrifice renew:<BR> +A chosen ewe of two years old they pay<BR> +To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day;<BR> +Preferring Juno's pow'r, for Juno ties<BR> +The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys.<BR> +The beauteous queen before her altar stands,<BR> +And holds the golden goblet in her hands.<BR> +A milk-white heifer she with flow'rs adorns,<BR> +And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns;<BR> +And, while the priests with pray'r the gods invoke,<BR> +She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke,<BR> +With hourly care the sacrifice renews,<BR> +And anxiously the panting entrails views.<BR> +What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,<BR> +What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart!<BR> +A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,<BR> +Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,<BR> +From street to street the raving Dido roves.<BR> +So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,<BR> +Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,<BR> +Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,<BR> +Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods,<BR> +With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart<BR> +Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart.<BR> +And now she leads the Trojan chief along<BR> +The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;<BR> +Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town,<BR> +Which love, without his labor, makes his own.<BR> +This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand'ring guest;<BR> +Her falt'ring tongue forbids to speak the rest.<BR> +When day declines, and feasts renew the night,<BR> +Still on his face she feeds her famish'd sight;<BR> +She longs again to hear the prince relate<BR> +His own adventures and the Trojan fate.<BR> +He tells it o'er and o'er; but still in vain,<BR> +For still she begs to hear it once again.<BR> +The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends,<BR> +And thus the tragic story never ends.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light<BR> +Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,<BR> +She last remains, when ev'ry guest is gone,<BR> +Sits on the bed he press'd, and sighs alone;<BR> +Absent, her absent hero sees and hears;<BR> +Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,<BR> +And seeks the father's image in the child,<BR> +If love by likeness might be so beguil'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the rising tow'rs are at a stand;<BR> +No labors exercise the youthful band,<BR> +Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know;<BR> +The mole is left unfinish'd to the foe;<BR> +The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie,<BR> +Short of their promis'd heighth, that seem'd to threat the sky,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But when imperial Juno, from above,<BR> +Saw Dido fetter'd in the chains of love,<BR> +Hot with the venom which her veins inflam'd,<BR> +And by no sense of shame to be reclaim'd,<BR> +With soothing words to Venus she begun:<BR> +"High praises, endless honors, you have won,<BR> +And mighty trophies, with your worthy son!<BR> +Two gods a silly woman have undone!<BR> +Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect<BR> +This rising city, which my hands erect:<BR> +But shall celestial discord never cease?<BR> +'T is better ended in a lasting peace.<BR> +You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd:<BR> +Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd.<BR> +Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join;<BR> +So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine:<BR> +One common kingdom, one united line.<BR> +Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,<BR> +And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey."<BR> +Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried,<BR> +Which would the scepter of the world misguide<BR> +To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied:<BR> +"Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,<BR> +And such alliance and such gifts refuse,<BR> +If Fortune with our joint desires comply?<BR> +The doubt is all from Jove and destiny;<BR> +Lest he forbid, with absolute command,<BR> +To mix the people in one common land-<BR> +Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line<BR> +In lasting leagues and sure succession join?<BR> +But you, the partner of his bed and throne,<BR> +May move his mind; my wishes are your own."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care;<BR> +Time urges, now, to perfect this affair:<BR> +Attend my counsel, and the secret share.<BR> +When next the Sun his rising light displays,<BR> +And gilds the world below with purple rays,<BR> +The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court<BR> +Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort.<BR> +There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,<BR> +And cheerful horns from side to side resound,<BR> +A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain<BR> +With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain;<BR> +The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,<BR> +Dispers'd, and all involv'd in gloomy night;<BR> +One cave a grateful shelter shall afford<BR> +To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.<BR> +I will myself the bridal bed prepare,<BR> +If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:<BR> +So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights,<BR> +And Hymen shall be present at the rites."<BR> +The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles<BR> +At her vain project, and discover'd wiles.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The rosy morn was risen from the main,<BR> +And horns and hounds awake the princely train:<BR> +They issue early thro' the city gate,<BR> +Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,<BR> +With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force<BR> +Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.<BR> +The Tyrian peers and officers of state<BR> +For the slow queen in antechambers wait;<BR> +Her lofty courser, in the court below,<BR> +Who his majestic rider seems to know,<BR> +Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,<BR> +And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.<BR> +The queen at length appears; on either hand<BR> +The brawny guards in martial order stand.<BR> +A flow'r'd simar with golden fringe she wore,<BR> +And at her back a golden quiver bore;<BR> +Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,<BR> +A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.<BR> +Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,<BR> +Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.<BR> +But far above the rest in beauty shines<BR> +The great Aeneas, the troop he joins;<BR> +Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost<BR> +Of wint'ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,<BR> +When to his native Delos he resorts,<BR> +Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;<BR> +Where painted Scythians, mix'd with Cretan bands,<BR> +Before the joyful altars join their hands:<BR> +Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below<BR> +The merry madness of the sacred show.<BR> +Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose;<BR> +A golden fillet binds his awful brows;<BR> +His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen<BR> +In manly presence, or in lofty mien.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat<BR> +Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat.<BR> +The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound<BR> +From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground;<BR> +Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,<BR> +In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,<BR> +And a long chase in open view maintain.<BR> +The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,<BR> +Spurs thro' the vale, and these and those outrides.<BR> +His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel<BR> +The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.<BR> +Impatiently he views the feeble prey,<BR> +Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way,<BR> +And rather would the tusky boar attend,<BR> +Or see the tawny lion downward bend.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the skies:<BR> +From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;<BR> +The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours<BR> +A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs.<BR> +The company, dispers'd, to converts ride,<BR> +And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side.<BR> +The rapid rains, descending from the hills,<BR> +To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.<BR> +The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides,<BR> +One common cavern in her bosom hides.<BR> +Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,<BR> +And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;<BR> +Hell from below, and Juno from above,<BR> +And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love.<BR> +From this ill-omen'd hour in time arose<BR> +Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The queen, whom sense of honor could not move,<BR> +No longer made a secret of her love,<BR> +But call'd it marriage, by that specious name<BR> +To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The loud report thro' Libyan cities goes.<BR> +Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows:<BR> +Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings<BR> +New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings.<BR> +Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;<BR> +Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.<BR> +Inrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth<BR> +Produc'd her last of the Titanian birth.<BR> +Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste:<BR> +A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.<BR> +As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,<BR> +So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight;<BR> +Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,<BR> +And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue,<BR> +And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is hung.<BR> +She fills the peaceful universe with cries;<BR> +No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;<BR> +By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shews,<BR> +And spreads thro' trembling crowds disastrous news;<BR> +With court informers haunts, and royal spies;<BR> +Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Talk is her business, and her chief delight<BR> +To tell of prodigies and cause affright.<BR> +She fills the people's ears with Dido's name,<BR> +Who, lost to honor and the sense of shame,<BR> +Admits into her throne and nuptial bed<BR> +A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled:<BR> +Whole days with him she passes in delights,<BR> +And wastes in luxury long winter nights,<BR> +Forgetful of her fame and royal trust,<BR> +Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The goddess widely spreads the loud report,<BR> +And flies at length to King Hyarba's court.<BR> +When first possess'd with this unwelcome news<BR> +Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?<BR> +This prince, from ravish'd Garamantis born,<BR> +A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,<BR> +In Ammon's honor, his celestial sire;<BR> +A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;<BR> +And, thro' his vast dominions, priests ordain'd,<BR> +Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain'd.<BR> +The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd,<BR> +And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He, when he heard a fugitive could move<BR> +The Tyrian princess, who disdain'd his love,<BR> +His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire,<BR> +Mad with despair, impatient with desire;<BR> +Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,<BR> +He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine:<BR> +"Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race,<BR> +Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace<BR> +Thy temples, and adore thy pow'r divine<BR> +With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine,<BR> +Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain<BR> +Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?<BR> +Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?<BR> +Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?<BR> +A wand'ring woman builds, within our state,<BR> +A little town, bought at an easy rate;<BR> +She pays me homage, and my grants allow<BR> +A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow;<BR> +Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,<BR> +Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed!<BR> +And now this other Paris, with his train<BR> +Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign!<BR> +(Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess,<BR> +Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian dress.)<BR> +He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;<BR> +And I, rejected I, adore an empty name."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd,<BR> +And held his altar's horns. The mighty Thund'rer heard;<BR> +Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found<BR> +The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd,<BR> +Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,<BR> +And both forgetful of their better fame.<BR> +He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends,<BR> +By whom his menacing command he sends:<BR> +"Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;<BR> +Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly:<BR> +There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days<BR> +In slothful riot and inglorious ease,<BR> +Nor minds the future city, giv'n by fate.<BR> +To him this message from my mouth relate:<BR> +'Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won<BR> +Thy life with pray'rs, nor promis'd such a son.<BR> +Hers was a hero, destin'd to command<BR> +A martial race, and rule the Latian land,<BR> +Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw,<BR> +And on the conquer'd world impose the law.'<BR> +If glory cannot move a mind so mean,<BR> +Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,<BR> +Yet why should he defraud his son of fame,<BR> +And grudge the Romans their immortal name!<BR> +What are his vain designs! what hopes he more<BR> +From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore,<BR> +Regardless to redeem his honor lost,<BR> +And for his race to gain th' Ausonian coast!<BR> +Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake;<BR> +With this command the slumb'ring warrior wake."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds<BR> +His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:<BR> +And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies,<BR> +With rapid force they bear him down the skies.<BR> +But first he grasps within his awful hand<BR> +The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand;<BR> +With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;<BR> +With this he drives them down the Stygian waves;<BR> +With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight,<BR> +And eyes, tho' clos'd in death, restores to light.<BR> +Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race,<BR> +And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space;<BR> +Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies,<BR> +Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;<BR> +Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd,<BR> +Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound.<BR> +Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin<BR> +The founts of rolling streams their race begin;<BR> +A beard of ice on his large breast depends.<BR> +Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends:<BR> +Then, rested thus, he from the tow'ring height<BR> +Plung'd downward, with precipitated flight,<BR> +Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood.<BR> +As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food,<BR> +Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;<BR> +By turns they dance aloft, and dive below:<BR> +Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,<BR> +And near the surface of the water flies,<BR> +Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands,<BR> +He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands:<BR> +Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds,<BR> +Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads.<BR> +Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince<BR> +New ramparts raising for the town's defense.<BR> +A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er,<BR> +(Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore;<BR> +A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified,<BR> +For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus, with winged words, the god began,<BR> +Resuming his own shape: "Degenerate man,<BR> +Thou woman's property, what mak'st thou here,<BR> +These foreign walls and Tyrian tow'rs to rear,<BR> +Forgetful of thy own? All-pow'rful Jove,<BR> +Who sways the world below and heav'n above,<BR> +Has sent me down with this severe command:<BR> +What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land?<BR> +If glory cannot move a mind so mean,<BR> +Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,<BR> +Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:<BR> +The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear,<BR> +To whom th' Ausonian scepter, and the state<BR> +Of Rome's imperial name is ow'd by fate."<BR> +So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,<BR> +Involv'd in clouds, and vanish'd out of sight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden fear;<BR> +Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.<BR> +Revolving in his mind the stern command,<BR> +He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.<BR> +What should he say? or how should he begin?<BR> +What course, alas! remains to steer between<BR> +Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen?<BR> +This way and that he turns his anxious mind,<BR> +And all expedients tries, and none can find.<BR> +Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means,<BR> +After long thought, to this advice he leans:<BR> +Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair<BR> +The fleet, and ship their men with silent care;<BR> +Some plausible pretense he bids them find,<BR> +To color what in secret he design'd.<BR> +Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose,<BR> +Before the love-sick lady heard the news;<BR> +And move her tender mind, by slow degrees,<BR> +To suffer what the sov'reign pow'r decrees:<BR> +Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.<BR> +They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise:<BR> +(What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes!)<BR> +She was the first to find the secret fraud,<BR> +Before the fatal news was blaz'd abroad.<BR> +Love the first motions of the lover hears,<BR> +Quick to presage, and ev'n in safety fears.<BR> +Nor impious Fame was wanting to report<BR> +The ships repair'd, the Trojans' thick resort,<BR> +And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.<BR> +Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,<BR> +And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.<BR> +Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,<BR> +When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,<BR> +And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear.<BR> +At length she finds the dear perfidious man;<BR> +Prevents his form'd excuse, and thus began:<BR> +"Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,<BR> +And undiscover'd scape a lover's eye?<BR> +Nor could my kindness your compassion move.<BR> +Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?<BR> +Or is the death of a despairing queen<BR> +Not worth preventing, tho' too well foreseen?<BR> +Ev'n when the wintry winds command your stay,<BR> +You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.<BR> +False as you are, suppose you were not bound<BR> +To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;<BR> +Were Troy restor'd, and Priam's happy reign,<BR> +Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main?<BR> +See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?<BR> +Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,<BR> +By this right hand, (since I have nothing more<BR> +To challenge, but the faith you gave before;)<BR> +I beg you by these tears too truly shed,<BR> +By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;<BR> +If ever Dido, when you most were kind,<BR> +Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your mind;<BR> +By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have place,<BR> +Pity the fortunes of a falling race.<BR> +For you I have provok'd a tyrant's hate,<BR> +Incens'd the Libyan and the Tyrian state;<BR> +For you alone I suffer in my fame,<BR> +Bereft of honor, and expos'd to shame.<BR> +Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?<BR> +(That only name remains of all the rest!)<BR> +What have I left? or whither can I fly?<BR> +Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty,<BR> +Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead<BR> +A queen that proudly scorn'd his proffer'd bed?<BR> +Had you deferr'd, at least, your hasty flight,<BR> +And left behind some pledge of our delight,<BR> +Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight,<BR> +Some young Aeneas, to supply your place,<BR> +Whose features might express his father's face;<BR> +I should not then complain to live bereft<BR> +Of all my husband, or be wholly left."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Here paus'd the queen. Unmov'd he holds his eyes,<BR> +By Jove's command; nor suffer'd love to rise,<BR> +Tho' heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies:<BR> +"Fair queen, you never can enough repeat<BR> +Your boundless favors, or I own my debt;<BR> +Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name,<BR> +While vital breath inspires this mortal frame.<BR> +This only let me speak in my defense:<BR> +I never hop'd a secret flight from hence,<BR> +Much less pretended to the lawful claim<BR> +Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name.<BR> +For, if indulgent Heav'n would leave me free,<BR> +And not submit my life to fate's decree,<BR> +My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,<BR> +Those relics to review, their dust adore,<BR> +And Priam's ruin'd palace to restore.<BR> +But now the Delphian oracle commands,<BR> +And fate invites me to the Latian lands.<BR> +That is the promis'd place to which I steer,<BR> +And all my vows are terminated there.<BR> +If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born,<BR> +With walls and tow'rs a Libyan town adorn,<BR> +Why may not we- like you, a foreign race-<BR> +Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?<BR> +As often as the night obscures the skies<BR> +With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,<BR> +Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears,<BR> +Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears;<BR> +And young Ascanius justly may complain<BR> +Of his defrauded and destin'd reign.<BR> +Ev'n now the herald of the gods appear'd:<BR> +Waking I saw him, and his message heard.<BR> +From Jove he came commission'd, heav'nly bright<BR> +With radiant beams, and manifest to sight<BR> +(The sender and the sent I both attest)<BR> +These walls he enter'd, and those words express'd.<BR> +Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command;<BR> +Forc'd by my fate, I leave your happy land."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while he spoke, already she began,<BR> +With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man;<BR> +From head to foot survey'd his person o'er,<BR> +Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore:<BR> +"False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn!<BR> +Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,<BR> +But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock!<BR> +And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck!<BR> +Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?<BR> +Did he once look, or lent a list'ning ear,<BR> +Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?-<BR> +All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind,<BR> +So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find.<BR> +Of man's injustice why should I complain?<BR> +The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain<BR> +Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies,<BR> +Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes;<BR> +Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!<BR> +Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more!<BR> +I sav'd the shipwrack'd exile on my shore;<BR> +With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;<BR> +I took the traitor to my throne and bed:<BR> +Fool that I was- 't is little to repeat<BR> +The rest- I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet.<BR> +I rave, I rave! A god's command he pleads,<BR> +And makes Heav'n accessary to his deeds.<BR> +Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,<BR> +Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode,<BR> +To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state<BR> +Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human fate!<BR> +But go! thy flight no longer I detain-<BR> +Go seek thy promis'd kingdom thro' the main!<BR> +Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow,<BR> +The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,<BR> +Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford<BR> +To thy proud vessels, and their perjur'd lord.<BR> +Then shalt thou call on injur'd Dido's name:<BR> +Dido shall come in a black sulph'ry flame,<BR> +When death has once dissolv'd her mortal frame;<BR> +Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep:<BR> +Her angry ghost, arising from the deep,<BR> +Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep.<BR> +At least my shade thy punishment shall know,<BR> +And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Abruptly here she stops; then turns away<BR> +Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day.<BR> +Amaz'd he stood, revolving in his mind<BR> +What speech to frame, and what excuse to find.<BR> +Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led,<BR> +And softly laid her on her ivory bed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But good Aeneas, tho' he much desir'd<BR> +To give that pity which her grief requir'd;<BR> +Tho' much he mourn'd, and labor'd with his love,<BR> +Resolv'd at length, obeys the will of Jove;<BR> +Reviews his forces: they with early care<BR> +Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.<BR> +The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride,<BR> +And well-calk'd galleys in the harbor ride.<BR> +Then oaks for oars they fell'd; or, as they stood,<BR> +Of its green arms despoil'd the growing wood,<BR> +Studious of flight. The beach is cover'd o'er<BR> +With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore:<BR> +On ev'ry side are seen, descending down,<BR> +Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.<BR> +Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants,<BR> +Fearful of winter, and of future wants,<BR> +T' invade the corn, and to their cells convey<BR> +The plunder'd forage of their yellow prey.<BR> +The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,<BR> +Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs:<BR> +Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain;<BR> +Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train;<BR> +All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,<BR> +When, from the tow'r, she saw the cover'd shore,<BR> +And heard the shouts of sailors from afar,<BR> +Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war!<BR> +All-pow'rful Love! what changes canst thou cause<BR> +In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!<BR> +Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:<BR> +To pray'rs and mean submissions she descends.<BR> +No female arts or aids she left untried,<BR> +Nor counsels unexplor'd, before she died.<BR> +"Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;<BR> +They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh.<BR> +The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,<BR> +Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind.<BR> +Could I have thought this threat'ning blow so near,<BR> +My tender soul had been forewarn'd to bear.<BR> +But do not you my last request deny;<BR> +With yon perfidious man your int'rest try,<BR> +And bring me news, if I must live or die.<BR> +You are his fav'rite; you alone can find<BR> +The dark recesses of his inmost mind:<BR> +In all his trusted secrets you have part,<BR> +And know the soft approaches to his heart.<BR> +Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;<BR> +Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,<BR> +Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,<BR> +Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,<BR> +Nor mov'd with hands profane his father's dust:<BR> +Why should he then reject a suit so just!<BR> +Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly!<BR> +Can he this last, this only pray'r deny!<BR> +Let him at least his dang'rous flight delay,<BR> +Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.<BR> +The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more:<BR> +Let him pursue the promis'd Latian shore.<BR> +A short delay is all I ask him now;<BR> +A pause of grief, an interval from woe,<BR> +Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain<BR> +Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain.<BR> +If you in pity grant this one request,<BR> +My death shall glut the hatred of his breast."<BR> +This mournful message pious Anna bears,<BR> +And seconds with her own her sister's tears:<BR> +But all her arts are still employ'd in vain;<BR> +Again she comes, and is refus'd again.<BR> +His harden'd heart nor pray'rs nor threat'nings move;<BR> +Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As, when the winds their airy quarrel try,<BR> +Justling from ev'ry quarter of the sky,<BR> +This way and that the mountain oak they bend,<BR> +His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;<BR> +With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground;<BR> +The hollow valleys echo to the sound:<BR> +Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks,<BR> +Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks;<BR> +Far as he shoots his tow'ring head on high,<BR> +So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie.<BR> +No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;<BR> +Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,<BR> +And bandied words, still beating on his ears.<BR> +Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains;<BR> +But the firm purpose of his heart remains.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate,<BR> +Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate,<BR> +And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees,<BR> +To hasten on the death her soul decrees:<BR> +Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine,<BR> +She pours in sacrifice the purple wine,<BR> +The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood,<BR> +And the white offer'd milk converts to mud.<BR> +This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd,<BR> +From all, and ev'n her sister, she conceal'd.<BR> +A marble temple stood within the grove,<BR> +Sacred to death, and to her murther'd love;<BR> +That honor'd chapel she had hung around<BR> +With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd:<BR> +Oft, when she visited this lonely dome,<BR> +Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb;<BR> +She thought she heard him summon her away,<BR> +Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay.<BR> +Hourly 't is heard, when with a boding note<BR> +The solitary screech owl strains her throat,<BR> +And, on a chimney's top, or turret's height,<BR> +With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night.<BR> +Besides, old prophecies augment her fears;<BR> +And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears,<BR> +Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone,<BR> +To wander in her sleep, thro' ways unknown,<BR> +Guideless and dark; or, in a desart plain,<BR> +To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain:<BR> +Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear,<BR> +He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;<BR> +Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost<BR> +Full in his face infernal torches toss'd,<BR> +And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,<BR> +Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright;<BR> +The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,<BR> +From death alone she seeks her last relief;<BR> +The time and means resolv'd within her breast,<BR> +She to her mournful sister thus address'd<BR> +(Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,<BR> +And a false vigor in her eyes appears):<BR> +"Rejoice!" she said. "Instructed from above,<BR> +My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.<BR> +Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun,<BR> +Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:<BR> +There a Massylian priestess I have found,<BR> +Honor'd for age, for magic arts renown'd:<BR> +Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care;<BR> +'T was she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare.<BR> +She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep,<BR> +Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep.<BR> +She watch'd the golden fruit; her charms unbind<BR> +The chains of love, or fix them on the mind:<BR> +She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry,<BR> +Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.<BR> +The yawning earth rebellows to her call,<BR> +Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.<BR> +Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,<BR> +How loth I am to try this impious art!<BR> +Within the secret court, with silent care,<BR> +Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air:<BR> +Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest,<BR> +Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.<BR> +Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd,<BR> +Where I my ruin in his arms embrac'd:<BR> +All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire;<BR> +For so the priestess and her charms require."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears;<BR> +A mortal paleness in her face appears:<BR> +Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find<BR> +The secret fun'ral in these rites design'd;<BR> +Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind.<BR> +Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well,<BR> +She fear'd no worse than when Sichaeus fell;<BR> +Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear,<BR> +Within the secret court, expos'd in air.<BR> +The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high,<BR> +And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.<BR> +Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath,<BR> +And ev'ry baleful green denoting death.<BR> +The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed,<BR> +The spoils and sword he left, in order spread,<BR> +And the man's image on the nuptial bed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now (the sacred altars plac'd around)<BR> +The priestess enters, with her hair unbound,<BR> +And thrice invokes the pow'rs below the ground.<BR> +Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims,<BR> +And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names,<BR> +And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round<BR> +With feign'd Avernian drops the hallow'd ground;<BR> +Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light,<BR> +With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night;<BR> +Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl,<BR> +And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal,<BR> +Robbing the mother's love. The destin'd queen<BR> +Observes, assisting at the rites obscene;<BR> +A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands<BR> +She holds, and next the highest altar stands:<BR> +One tender foot was shod, her other bare;<BR> +Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair.<BR> +Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying breath,<BR> +The heav'ns and planets conscious of her death,<BR> +And ev'ry pow'r, if any rules above,<BR> +Who minds, or who revenges, injur'd love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'T was dead of night, when weary bodies close<BR> +Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose:<BR> +The winds no longer whisper thro' the woods,<BR> +Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods.<BR> +The stars in silent order mov'd around;<BR> +And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground<BR> +The flocks and herds, and party-color'd fowl,<BR> +Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool,<BR> +Stretch'd on the quiet earth, securely lay,<BR> +Forgetting the past labors of the day.<BR> +All else of nature's common gift partake:<BR> +Unhappy Dido was alone awake.<BR> +Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;<BR> +Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.<BR> +Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart;<BR> +Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus she said within her secret mind:<BR> +"What shall I do? what succor can I find?<BR> +Become a suppliant to Hyarba's pride,<BR> +And take my turn, to court and be denied?<BR> +Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,<BR> +Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?<BR> +Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd-<BR> +'T is true- but am I sure to be receiv'd?<BR> +Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place!<BR> +Laomedon still lives in all his race!<BR> +Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,<BR> +Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?<BR> +What force have I but those whom scarce before<BR> +I drew reluctant from their native shore?<BR> +Will they again embark at my desire,<BR> +Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?<BR> +Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,<BR> +And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.<BR> +Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind,<BR> +Or seconded too well what I design'd.<BR> +These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,<BR> +Had I continued free, and still my own;<BR> +Avoiding love, I had not found despair,<BR> +But shar'd with salvage beasts the common air.<BR> +Like them, a lonely life I might have led,<BR> +Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead."<BR> +These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.<BR> +On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.<BR> +Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night;<BR> +And order'd all things for his early flight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To whom once more the winged god appears;<BR> +His former youthful mien and shape he wears,<BR> +And with this new alarm invades his ears:<BR> +"Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown<BR> +Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,<BR> +Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales<BR> +Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?<BR> +She harbors in her heart a furious hate,<BR> +And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;<BR> +Fix'd on revenge, and obstinate to die.<BR> +Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow'r to fly.<BR> +The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er,<BR> +And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.<BR> +Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies,<BR> +And sail before the purple morn arise.<BR> +Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?<BR> +Woman's a various and a changeful thing."<BR> +Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight<BR> +Aloft in air unseen, and mix'd with night.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Twice warn'd by the celestial messenger,<BR> +The pious prince arose with hasty fear;<BR> +Then rous'd his drowsy train without delay:<BR> +"Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh,<BR> +And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea.<BR> +A god commands: he stood before my sight,<BR> +And urg'd us once again to speedy flight.<BR> +O sacred pow'r, what pow'r soe'er thou art,<BR> +To thy blest orders I resign my heart.<BR> +Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands,<BR> +And prosper the design thy will commands."<BR> +He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword,<BR> +His thund'ring arm divides the many-twisted cord.<BR> +An emulating zeal inspires his train:<BR> +They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.<BR> +With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,<BR> +And brush the liquid seas with lab'ring oars.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Aurora now had left her saffron bed,<BR> +And beams of early light the heav'ns o'erspread,<BR> +When, from a tow'r, the queen, with wakeful eyes,<BR> +Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.<BR> +She look'd to seaward; but the sea was void,<BR> +And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.<BR> +Stung with despite, and furious with despair,<BR> +She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.<BR> +"And shall th' ungrateful traitor go," she said,<BR> +"My land forsaken, and my love betray'd?<BR> +Shall we not arm? not rush from ev'ry street,<BR> +To follow, sink, and burn his perjur'd fleet?<BR> +Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!<BR> +Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!<BR> +What have I said? where am I? Fury turns<BR> +My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns.<BR> +Then, when I gave my person and my throne,<BR> +This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.<BR> +See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name,<BR> +The pious man, who, rushing thro' the flame,<BR> +Preserv'd his gods, and to the Phrygian shore<BR> +The burthen of his feeble father bore!<BR> +I should have torn him piecemeal; strow'd in floods<BR> +His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods;<BR> +Destroy'd his friends and son; and, from the fire,<BR> +Have set the reeking boy before the sire.<BR> +Events are doubtful, which on battles wait:<BR> +Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate?<BR> +My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command,<BR> +Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band;<BR> +At once extinguish'd all the faithless name;<BR> +And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,<BR> +Had fall'n upon the pile, to mend the fun'ral flame.<BR> +Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below;<BR> +Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow;<BR> +Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes!<BR> +Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods,<BR> +All pow'rs invok'd with Dido's dying breath,<BR> +Attend her curses and avenge her death!<BR> +If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands,<BR> +Th' ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands,<BR> +Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes,<BR> +His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:<BR> +Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field,<BR> +His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd,<BR> +Let him for succor sue from place to place,<BR> +Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace.<BR> +First, let him see his friends in battle slain,<BR> +And their untimely fate lament in vain;<BR> +And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease,<BR> +On hard conditions may he buy his peace:<BR> +Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;<BR> +But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,<BR> +And lie unburied on the barren sand!<BR> +These are my pray'rs, and this my dying will;<BR> +And you, my Tyrians, ev'ry curse fulfil.<BR> +Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim,<BR> +Against the prince, the people, and the name.<BR> +These grateful off'rings on my grave bestow;<BR> +Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!<BR> +Now, and from hence, in ev'ry future age,<BR> +When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage<BR> +Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,<BR> +With fire and sword pursue the perjur'd brood;<BR> +Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos'd to theirs;<BR> +And the same hate descend on all our heirs!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This said, within her anxious mind she weighs<BR> +The means of cutting short her odious days.<BR> +Then to Sichaeus' nurse she briefly said<BR> +(For, when she left her country, hers was dead):<BR> +"Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care<BR> +The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare;<BR> +The sheep, and all th' atoning off'rings bring,<BR> +Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring<BR> +With living drops; then let her come, and thou<BR> +With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow.<BR> +Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove,<BR> +And end the cares of my disastrous love;<BR> +Then cast the Trojan image on the fire,<BR> +And, as that burns, my passions shall expire."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The nurse moves onward, with officious care,<BR> +And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.<BR> +But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd,<BR> +Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd.<BR> +With livid spots distinguish'd was her face;<BR> +Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace;<BR> +Ghastly she gaz'd, with pain she drew her breath,<BR> +And nature shiver'd at approaching death.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd,<BR> +And mounts the fun'ral pile with furious haste;<BR> +Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind<BR> +(Not for so dire an enterprise design'd).<BR> +But when she view'd the garments loosely spread,<BR> +Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,<BR> +She paus'd, and with a sigh the robes embrac'd;<BR> +Then on the couch her trembling body cast,<BR> +Repress'd the ready tears, and spoke her last:<BR> +"Dear pledges of my love, while Heav'n so pleas'd,<BR> +Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas'd:<BR> +My fatal course is finish'd; and I go,<BR> +A glorious name, among the ghosts below.<BR> +A lofty city by my hands is rais'd,<BR> +Pygmalion punish'd, and my lord appeas'd.<BR> +What could my fortune have afforded more,<BR> +Had the false Trojan never touch'd my shore!"<BR> +Then kiss'd the couch; and, "Must I die," she said,<BR> +"And unreveng'd? 'T is doubly to be dead!<BR> +Yet ev'n this death with pleasure I receive:<BR> +On any terms, 't is better than to live.<BR> +These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;<BR> +These boding omens his base flight pursue!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said, and struck; deep enter'd in her side<BR> +The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:<BR> +Clogg'd in the wound the cruel weapon stands;<BR> +The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.<BR> +Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,<BR> +And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.<BR> +Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled,<BR> +And thro' the town the dismal rumor spread.<BR> +First from the frighted court the yell began;<BR> +Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran:<BR> +The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries<BR> +Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.<BR> +Not less the clamor, than if- ancient Tyre,<BR> +Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire-<BR> +The rolling ruin, with their lov'd abodes,<BR> +Involv'd the blazing temples of their gods.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Her sister hears; and, furious with despair,<BR> +She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,<BR> +And, calling on Eliza's name aloud,<BR> +Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.<BR> +"Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar'd;<BR> +These fires, this fun'ral pile, these altars rear'd?<BR> +Was all this train of plots contriv'd," said she,<BR> +"All only to deceive unhappy me?<BR> +Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend<BR> +To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?<BR> +Thy summon'd sister, and thy friend, had come;<BR> +One sword had serv'd us both, one common tomb:<BR> +Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke,<BR> +Not to be present at the fatal stroke?<BR> +At once thou hast destroy'd thyself and me,<BR> +Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony!<BR> +Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death<BR> +Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath."<BR> +This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,<BR> +And in her arms the gasping queen embrac'd;<BR> +Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore,<BR> +To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.<BR> +Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,<BR> +And, fainting thrice, fell grov'ling on the bed;<BR> +Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and sought the light,<BR> +But, having found it, sicken'd at the sight,<BR> +And clos'd her lids at last in endless night.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain<BR> +A death so ling'ring, and so full of pain,<BR> +Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife<BR> +Of lab'ring nature, and dissolve her life.<BR> +For since she died, not doom'd by Heav'n's decree,<BR> +Or her own crime, but human casualty,<BR> +And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair,<BR> +The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair,<BR> +Which Proserpine and they can only know;<BR> +Nor made her sacred to the shades below.<BR> +Downward the various goddess took her flight,<BR> +And drew a thousand colors from the light;<BR> +Then stood above the dying lover's head,<BR> +And said: "I thus devote thee to the dead.<BR> +This off'ring to th' infernal gods I bear."<BR> +Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:<BR> +The struggling soul was loos'd, and life dissolv'd in air.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK V<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the Trojan cuts his wat'ry way,<BR> +Fix'd on his voyage, thro' the curling sea;<BR> +Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,<BR> +Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.<BR> +The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind<BR> +The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd;<BR> +He knew the stormy souls of womankind,<BR> +What secret springs their eager passions move,<BR> +How capable of death for injur'd love.<BR> +Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw;<BR> +Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.<BR> +Now seas and skies their prospect only bound;<BR> +An empty space above, a floating field around.<BR> +But soon the heav'ns with shadows were o'erspread;<BR> +A swelling cloud hung hov'ring o'er their head:<BR> +Livid it look'd, the threat'ning of a storm:<BR> +Then night and horror ocean's face deform.<BR> +The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud:<BR> +"What gusts of weather from that gath'ring cloud<BR> +My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars,<BR> +Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;<BR> +Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind."<BR> +The frighted crew perform the task assign'd.<BR> +Then, to his fearless chief: "Not Heav'n," said he,<BR> +"Tho' Jove himself should promise Italy,<BR> +Can stem the torrent of this raging sea.<BR> +Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,<BR> +And what collected night involves the skies!<BR> +Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,<BR> +Much less against the tempest force their way.<BR> +'T is fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.<BR> +Not far from hence, if I observ'd aright<BR> +The southing of the stars, and polar light,<BR> +Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores<BR> +In safety we may reach with struggling oars."<BR> +Aeneas then replied: "Too sure I find<BR> +We strive in vain against the seas and wind:<BR> +Now shift your sails; what place can please me more<BR> +Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,<BR> +Whose hallow'd earth Anchises' bones contains,<BR> +And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?"<BR> +The course resolv'd, before the western wind<BR> +They scud amain, and make the port assign'd.<BR> +Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand,<BR> +Beheld the fleet descending on the land;<BR> +And, not unmindful of his ancient race,<BR> +Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace,<BR> +And held the hero in a strict embrace.<BR> +Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore,<BR> +And either hand a pointed jav'lin bore.<BR> +His mother was a dame of Dardan blood;<BR> +His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood.<BR> +He welcomes his returning friends ashore<BR> +With plenteous country cates and homely store.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, when the following morn had chas'd away<BR> +The flying stars, and light restor'd the day,<BR> +Aeneas call'd the Trojan troops around,<BR> +And thus bespoke them from a rising ground:<BR> +"Offspring of heav'n, divine Dardanian race!<BR> +The sun, revolving thro' th' ethereal space,<BR> +The shining circle of the year has fill'd,<BR> +Since first this isle my father's ashes held:<BR> +And now the rising day renews the year;<BR> +A day for ever sad, for ever dear.<BR> +This would I celebrate with annual games,<BR> +With gifts on altars pil'd, and holy flames,<BR> +Tho' banish'd to Gaetulia's barren sands,<BR> +Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands:<BR> +But since this happy storm our fleet has driv'n<BR> +(Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav'n)<BR> +Upon these friendly shores and flow'ry plains,<BR> +Which hide Anchises and his blest remains,<BR> +Let us with joy perform his honors due,<BR> +And pray for prosp'rous winds, our voyage to renew;<BR> +Pray, that in towns and temples of our own,<BR> +The name of great Anchises may be known,<BR> +And yearly games may spread the gods' renown.<BR> +Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race,<BR> +With royal gifts ordain'd, is pleas'd to grace:<BR> +Two steers on ev'ry ship the king bestows;<BR> +His gods and ours shall share your equal vows.<BR> +Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn<BR> +Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn,<BR> +That day with solemn sports I mean to grace:<BR> +Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat'ry race;<BR> +Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend,<BR> +And others try the twanging bow to bend;<BR> +The strong, with iron gauntlets arm'd, shall stand<BR> +Oppos'd in combat on the yellow sand.<BR> +Let all be present at the games prepar'd,<BR> +And joyful victors wait the just reward.<BR> +But now assist the rites, with garlands crown'd."<BR> +He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound.<BR> +Then Helymus, by his example led,<BR> +And old Acestes, each adorn'd his head;<BR> +Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,<BR> +His temples tied, and all the Trojan race.<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">Aeneas then advanc'd amidst the train,</SPAN><BR> +By thousands follow'd thro' the flow'ry plain,<BR> +To great Anchises' tomb; which when he found,<BR> +He pour'd to Bacchus, on the hallow'd ground,<BR> +Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more,<BR> +And two (from offer'd bulls) of purple gore,<BR> +With roses then the sepulcher he strow'd<BR> +And thus his father's ghost bespoke aloud:<BR> +"Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again,<BR> +Paternal ashes, now review'd in vain!<BR> +The gods permitted not, that you, with me,<BR> +Should reach the promis'd shores of Italy,<BR> +Or Tiber's flood, what flood soe'er it be."<BR> +Scarce had he finish'd, when, with speckled pride,<BR> +A serpent from the tomb began to glide;<BR> +His hugy bulk on sev'n high volumes roll'd;<BR> +Blue was his breadth of back, but streak'd with scaly gold:<BR> +Thus riding on his curls, he seem'd to pass<BR> +A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.<BR> +More various colors thro' his body run,<BR> +Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun.<BR> +Betwixt the rising altars, and around,<BR> +The sacred monster shot along the ground;<BR> +With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass'd,<BR> +And with his lolling tongue assay'd the taste:<BR> +Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest<BR> +Within the hollow tomb retir'd to rest.<BR> +The pious prince, surpris'd at what he view'd,<BR> +The fun'ral honors with more zeal renew'd,<BR> +Doubtful if this place's genius were,<BR> +Or guardian of his father's sepulcher.<BR> +Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew;<BR> +As many swine, and steers of sable hue;<BR> +New gen'rous wine he from the goblets pour'd.<BR> +And call'd his father's ghost, from hell restor'd.<BR> +The glad attendants in long order come,<BR> +Off'ring their gifts at great Anchises' tomb:<BR> +Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil;<BR> +Some place the chargers on the grassy soil;<BR> +Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now came the day desir'd. The skies were bright<BR> +With rosy luster of the rising light:<BR> +The bord'ring people, rous'd by sounding fame<BR> +Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes' name,<BR> +The crowded shore with acclamations fill,<BR> +Part to behold, and part to prove their skill.<BR> +And first the gifts in public view they place,<BR> +Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors' grace:<BR> +Within the circle, arms and tripods lie,<BR> +Ingots of gold and silver, heap'd on high,<BR> +And vests embroider'd, of the Tyrian dye.<BR> +The trumpet's clangor then the feast proclaims,<BR> +And all prepare for their appointed games.<BR> +Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear,<BR> +Advancing, in the wat'ry lists appear.<BR> +The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind,<BR> +Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind:<BR> +Gyas the vast Chimaera's bulk commands,<BR> +Which rising, like a tow'ring city stands;<BR> +Three Trojans tug at ev'ry lab'ring oar;<BR> +Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore;<BR> +Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar.<BR> +Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race,<BR> +In the great Centaur took the leading place;<BR> +Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood,<BR> +From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Far in the sea, against the foaming shore,<BR> +There stands a rock: the raging billows roar<BR> +Above his head in storms; but, when 't is clear,<BR> +Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear.<BR> +In peace below the gentle waters run;<BR> +The cormorants above lie basking in the sun.<BR> +On this the hero fix'd an oak in sight,<BR> +The mark to guide the mariners aright.<BR> +To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars;<BR> +Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores.<BR> +The lots decide their place. Above the rest,<BR> +Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest;<BR> +The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs<BR> +Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows:<BR> +Besmear'd with oil, their naked shoulders shine.<BR> +All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign:<BR> +They gripe their oars; and ev'ry panting breast<BR> +Is rais'd by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress'd.<BR> +The clangor of the trumpet gives the sign;<BR> +At once they start, advancing in a line:<BR> +With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies;<BR> +Lash'd with their oars, the smoky billows rise;<BR> +Sparkles the briny main, and the vex'd ocean fries.<BR> +Exact in time, with equal strokes they row:<BR> +At once the brushing oars and brazen prow<BR> +Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below.<BR> +Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race,<BR> +Invade the field with half so swift a pace;<BR> +Not the fierce driver with more fury lends<BR> +The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends,<BR> +Low to the wheels his pliant body bends.<BR> +The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide,<BR> +And aid with eager shouts the favor'd side.<BR> +Cries, murmurs, clamors, with a mixing sound,<BR> +From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,<BR> +Gyas outstripp'd the rest, and sprung before:<BR> +Cloanthus, better mann'd, pursued him fast,<BR> +But his o'er-masted galley check'd his haste.<BR> +The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine<BR> +With equal oars, advancing in a line;<BR> +And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,<BR> +And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead;<BR> +Now board to board the rival vessels row,<BR> +The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.<BR> +They reach'd the mark. Proud Gyas and his train<BR> +In triumph rode, the victors of the main;<BR> +But, steering round, he charg'd his pilot stand<BR> +More close to shore, and skim along the sand-<BR> +"Let others bear to sea!" Menoetes heard;<BR> +But secret shelves too cautiously he fear'd,<BR> +And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer'd.<BR> +With louder cries the captain call'd again:<BR> +"Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main."<BR> +He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw<BR> +The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw.<BR> +Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,<BR> +And in a closer compass plow'd the flood.<BR> +He pass'd the mark; and, wheeling, got before:<BR> +Gyas blasphem'd the gods, devoutly swore,<BR> +Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore.<BR> +Mindless of others' lives (so high was grown<BR> +His rising rage) and careless of his own,<BR> +The trembling dotard to the deck he drew;<BR> +Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw:<BR> +This done, he seiz'd the helm; his fellows cheer'd,<BR> +Turn'd short upon the shelfs, and madly steer'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,<BR> +Clogg'd with his clothes, and cumber'd with his years:<BR> +Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain.<BR> +The crowd, that saw him fall and float again,<BR> +Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh'd,<BR> +To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught.<BR> +The following Centaur, and the Dolphin's crew,<BR> +Their vanish'd hopes of victory renew;<BR> +While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race,<BR> +To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place;<BR> +Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind,<BR> +Comes up, not half his galley's length behind;<BR> +Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear'd,<BR> +And thus their drooping courage he cheer'd:<BR> +"My friends, and Hector's followers heretofore,<BR> +Exert your vigor; tug the lab'ring oar;<BR> +Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer'd crew,<BR> +Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew.<BR> +In this, our common int'rest, let me find<BR> +That strength of hand, that courage of the mind,<BR> +As when you stemm'd the strong Malean flood,<BR> +And o'er the Syrtes' broken billows row'd.<BR> +I seek not now the foremost palm to gain;<BR> +Tho' yet- but, ah! that haughty wish is vain!<BR> +Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain.<BR> +But to be last, the lags of all the race!-<BR> +Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace."<BR> +Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row<BR> +At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow.<BR> +The sea beneath 'em sinks; their lab'ring sides<BR> +Are swell'd, and sweat runs gutt'ring down in tides.<BR> +Chance aids their daring with unhop'd success;<BR> +Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press<BR> +Betwixt the rival galley and the rock,<BR> +Shuts up th' unwieldly Centaur in the lock.<BR> +The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock,<BR> +Her oars she shiver'd, and her head she broke.<BR> +The trembling rowers from their banks arise,<BR> +And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize.<BR> +With iron poles they heave her off the shores,<BR> +And gather from the sea their floating oars.<BR> +The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds,<BR> +Urge their success, and call the willing winds;<BR> +Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way<BR> +In larger compass on the roomy sea.<BR> +As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes,<BR> +Rous'd in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes;<BR> +The cavern rings with clatt'ring; out she flies,<BR> +And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:<BR> +At first she flutters; but at length she springs<BR> +To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings:<BR> +So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea;<BR> +And, flying with a force, that force assists his way.<BR> +Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass'd,<BR> +Wedg'd in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast.<BR> +In vain the victor he with cries implores,<BR> +And practices to row with shatter'd oars.<BR> +Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies:<BR> +The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize.<BR> +Unvanquish'd Scylla now alone remains;<BR> +Her he pursues, and all his vigor strains.<BR> +Shouts from the fav'ring multitude arise;<BR> +Applauding Echo to the shouts replies;<BR> +Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro' the skies.<BR> +These clamors with disdain the Scylla heard,<BR> +Much grudg'd the praise, but more the robb'd reward:<BR> +Resolv'd to hold their own, they mend their pace,<BR> +All obstinate to die, or gain the race.<BR> +Rais'd with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran;<BR> +For they can conquer, who believe they can.<BR> +Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies,<BR> +And both perhaps had shar'd an equal prize;<BR> +When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands,<BR> +And succor from the wat'ry pow'rs demands:<BR> +"Gods of the liquid realms, on which I row!<BR> +If, giv'n by you, the laurel bind my brow,<BR> +Assist to make me guilty of my vow!<BR> +A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain;<BR> +His offer'd entrails cast into the main,<BR> +And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown,<BR> +Your grateful gift and my return shall own."<BR> +The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below,<BR> +With virgin Panopea, heard his vow;<BR> +And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand,<BR> +Push'd on, and sped the galley to the land.<BR> +Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies,<BR> +And, darting to the port, obtains the prize.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The herald summons all, and then proclaims<BR> +Cloanthus conqu'ror of the naval games.<BR> +The prince with laurel crowns the victor's head,<BR> +And three fat steers are to his vessel led,<BR> +The ship's reward; with gen'rous wine beside,<BR> +And sums of silver, which the crew divide.<BR> +The leaders are distinguish'd from the rest;<BR> +The victor honor'd with a nobler vest,<BR> +Where gold and purple strive in equal rows,<BR> +And needlework its happy cost bestows.<BR> +There Ganymede is wrought with living art,<BR> +Chasing thro' Ida's groves the trembling hart:<BR> +Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue;<BR> +When from aloft descends, in open view,<BR> +The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey,<BR> +With crooked talons bears the boy away.<BR> +In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes,<BR> +His guards behold him soaring thro' the skies,<BR> +And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Mnestheus the second victor was declar'd;<BR> +And, summon'd there, the second prize he shard.<BR> +A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore,<BR> +More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore,<BR> +In single combat on the Trojan shore:<BR> +This was ordain'd for Mnestheus to possess;<BR> +In war for his defense, for ornament in peace.<BR> +Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold,<BR> +But yet so pond'rous with its plates of gold,<BR> +That scarce two servants could the weight sustain;<BR> +Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o'er the plain<BR> +Pursued and lightly seiz'd the Trojan train.<BR> +The third, succeeding to the last reward,<BR> +Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar'd,<BR> +With figures prominent, and richly wrought,<BR> +And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus all, rewarded by the hero's hands,<BR> +Their conqu'ring temples bound with purple bands;<BR> +And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock,<BR> +Brought back his galley shatter'd with the shock.<BR> +Forlorn she look'd, without an aiding oar,<BR> +And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore.<BR> +As when a snake, surpris'd upon the road,<BR> +Is crush'd athwart her body by the load<BR> +Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound<BR> +Her belly bruis'd, and trodden to the ground:<BR> +In vain, with loosen'd curls, she crawls along;<BR> +Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue;<BR> +Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales;<BR> +But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails:<BR> +So slowly to the port the Centaur tends,<BR> +But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends.<BR> +Yet, for his galley sav'd, the grateful prince<BR> +Is pleas'd th' unhappy chief to recompense.<BR> +Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care,<BR> +Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +From thence his way the Trojan hero bent<BR> +Into the neighb'ring plain, with mountains pent,<BR> +Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood.<BR> +Full in the midst of this fair valley stood<BR> +A native theater, which, rising slow<BR> +By just degrees, o'erlook'd the ground below.<BR> +High on a sylvan throne the leader sate;<BR> +A num'rous train attend in solemn state.<BR> +Here those that in the rapid course delight,<BR> +Desire of honor and the prize invite.<BR> +The rival runners without order stand;<BR> +The Trojans mix'd with the Sicilian band.<BR> +First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears;<BR> +Euryalus a boy of blooming years,<BR> +With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown'd;<BR> +Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown'd.<BR> +Diores next, of Priam's royal race,<BR> +Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place;<BR> +(But Patron in Arcadia had his birth,<BR> +And Salius his from Arcananian earth;)<BR> +Then two Sicilian youths- the names of these,<BR> +Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes:<BR> +Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred,<BR> +And owning old Acestes for their head;<BR> +With sev'ral others of ignobler name,<BR> +Whom time has not deliver'd o'er to fame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To these the hero thus his thoughts explain'd,<BR> +In words which gen'ral approbation gain'd:<BR> +"One common largess is for all design'd,<BR> +(The vanquish'd and the victor shall be join'd,)<BR> +Two darts of polish'd steel and Gnosian wood,<BR> +A silver-studded ax, alike bestow'd.<BR> +The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed:<BR> +The first of these obtains a stately steed,<BR> +Adorn'd with trappings; and the next in fame,<BR> +The quiver of an Amazonian dame,<BR> +With feather'd Thracian arrows well supplied:<BR> +A golden belt shall gird his manly side,<BR> +Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied.<BR> +The third this Grecian helmet shall content."<BR> +He said. To their appointed base they went;<BR> +With beating hearts th' expected sign receive,<BR> +And, starting all at once, the barrier leave.<BR> +Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew,<BR> +And seiz'd the distant goal with greedy view.<BR> +Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o'erpass'd;<BR> +Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste.<BR> +The next, but tho' the next, yet far disjoin'd,<BR> +Came Salius, and Euryalus behind;<BR> +Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied,<BR> +Step after step, and almost side by side,<BR> +His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space,<BR> +Had won, or left at least a dubious race.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last,<BR> +When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste,<BR> +Slipp'd first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain,<BR> +Soak'd with the blood of oxen newly slain.<BR> +The careless victor had not mark'd his way;<BR> +But, treading where the treach'rous puddle lay,<BR> +His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor<BR> +He fell, besmear'd with filth and holy gore.<BR> +Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee,<BR> +Nor of the sacred bonds of amity,<BR> +He strove th' immediate rival's hope to cross,<BR> +And caught the foot of Salius as he rose.<BR> +So Salius lay extended on the plain;<BR> +Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain,<BR> +And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend<BR> +The victor to the goal, who vanquish'd by his friend.<BR> +Next Helymus; and then Diores came,<BR> +By two misfortunes made the third in fame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud<BR> +For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd;<BR> +Urges his cause may in the court be heard;<BR> +And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr'd.<BR> +But favor for Euryalus appears;<BR> +His blooming beauty, with his tender tears,<BR> +Had brib'd the judges for the promis'd prize.<BR> +Besides, Diores fills the court with cries,<BR> +Who vainly reaches at the last reward,<BR> +If the first palm on Salius be conferr'd.<BR> +Then thus the prince: "Let no disputes arise:<BR> +Where fortune plac'd it, I award the prize.<BR> +But fortune's errors give me leave to mend,<BR> +At least to pity my deserving friend."<BR> +He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws<BR> +(Pond'rous with shaggy mane and golden paws)<BR> +A lion's hide: to Salius this he gives.<BR> +Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves.<BR> +"If such rewards to vanquish'd men are due."<BR> +He said, "and falling is to rise by you,<BR> +What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim,<BR> +Who merited the first rewards and fame?<BR> +In falling, both an equal fortune tried;<BR> +Would fortune for my fall so well provide!"<BR> +With this he pointed to his face, and show'd<BR> +His hand and all his habit smear'd with blood.<BR> +Th' indulgent father of the people smil'd,<BR> +And caus'd to be produc'd an ample shield,<BR> +Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought,<BR> +Long since from Neptune's bars in triumph brought.<BR> +This giv'n to Nisus, he divides the rest,<BR> +And equal justice in his gifts express'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The race thus ended, and rewards bestow'd,<BR> +Once more the prince bespeaks th' attentive crowd:<BR> +"If there he here whose dauntless courage dare<BR> +In gauntlet-fight, with limbs and body bare,<BR> +His opposite sustain in open view,<BR> +Stand forth the champion, and the games renew.<BR> +Two prizes I propose, and thus divide:<BR> +A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied,<BR> +Shall be the portion of the conqu'ring chief;<BR> +A sword and helm shall cheer the loser's grief."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then haughty Dares in the lists appears;<BR> +Stalking he strides, his head erected bears:<BR> +His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield,<BR> +And loud applauses echo thro' the field.<BR> +Dares alone in combat us'd to stand<BR> +The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand;<BR> +The same, at Hector's fun'rals, undertook<BR> +Gigantic Butes, of th' Amycian stock,<BR> +And, by the stroke of his resistless hand,<BR> +Stretch'd the vast bulk upon the yellow sand.<BR> +Such Dares was; and such he strode along,<BR> +And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.<BR> +His brawny back and ample breast he shows,<BR> +His lifted arms around his head he throws,<BR> +And deals in whistling air his empty blows.<BR> +His match is sought; but, thro' the trembling band,<BR> +Not one dares answer to the proud demand.<BR> +Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes<BR> +Already he devours the promis'd prize.<BR> +He claims the bull with awless insolence,<BR> +And having seiz'd his horns, accosts the prince:<BR> +"If none my matchless valor dares oppose,<BR> +How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?<BR> +Permit me, chief, permit without delay,<BR> +To lead this uncontended gift away."<BR> +The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries<BR> +For the proud challenger demands the prize.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Acestes, fir'd with just disdain, to see<BR> +The palm usurp'd without a victory,<BR> +Reproach'd Entellus thus, who sate beside,<BR> +And heard and saw, unmov'd, the Trojan's pride:<BR> +"Once, but in vain, a champion of renown,<BR> +So tamely can you bear the ravish'd crown,<BR> +A prize in triumph borne before your sight,<BR> +And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight?<BR> +Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name,<BR> +The god who taught your thund'ring arm the game?<BR> +Where now your baffled honor? Where the spoil<BR> +That fill'd your house, and fame that fill'd our isle?"<BR> +Entellus, thus: "My soul is still the same,<BR> +Unmov'd with fear, and mov'd with martial fame;<BR> +But my chill blood is curdled in my veins,<BR> +And scarce the shadow of a man remains.<BR> +O could I turn to that fair prime again,<BR> +That prime of which this boaster is so vain,<BR> +The brave, who this decrepid age defies,<BR> +Should feel my force, without the promis'd prize."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said; and, rising at the word, he threw<BR> +Two pond'rous gauntlets down in open view;<BR> +Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield,<BR> +And sheathe his hands with in the listed field.<BR> +With fear and wonder seiz'd, the crowd beholds<BR> +The gloves of death, with sev'n distinguish'd folds<BR> +Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread<BR> +With iron, or with loads of heavy lead:<BR> +Dares himself was daunted at the sight,<BR> +Renounc'd his challenge, and refus'd to fight.<BR> +Astonish'd at their weight, the hero stands,<BR> +And pois'd the pond'rous engines in his hands.<BR> +"What had your wonder," said Entellus, "been,<BR> +Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen,<BR> +Or view'd the stern debate on this unhappy green!<BR> +These which I bear your brother Eryx bore,<BR> +Still mark'd with batter'd brains and mingled gore.<BR> +With these he long sustain'd th' Herculean arm;<BR> +And these I wielded while my blood was warm,<BR> +This languish'd frame while better spirits fed,<BR> +Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o'ersnow'd my head.<BR> +But if the challenger these arms refuse,<BR> +And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use;<BR> +If great Aeneas and Acestes join<BR> +In his request, these gauntlets I resign;<BR> +Let us with equal arms perform the fight,<BR> +And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This said, Entellus for the strife prepares;<BR> +Stripp'd of his quilted coat, his body bares;<BR> +Compos'd of mighty bones and brawn he stands,<BR> +A goodly tow'ring object on the sands.<BR> +Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied,<BR> +Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.<BR> +Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent,<BR> +Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent;<BR> +Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar;<BR> +With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.<BR> +One on his youth and pliant limbs relies;<BR> +One on his sinews and his giant size.<BR> +The last is stiff with age, his motion slow;<BR> +He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro,<BR> +And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow.<BR> +Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike;<BR> +Their ways are diff'rent, but their art alike.<BR> +Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around<BR> +Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound.<BR> +A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies,<BR> +And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes.<BR> +Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws<BR> +A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws.<BR> +Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground,<BR> +But with his warping body wards the wound.<BR> +His hand and watchful eye keep even pace;<BR> +While Dares traverses and shifts his place,<BR> +And, like a captain who beleaguers round<BR> +Some strong-built castle on a rising ground,<BR> +Views all th' approaches with observing eyes:<BR> +This and that other part in vain he tries,<BR> +And more on industry than force relies.<BR> +With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe;<BR> +But Dares watch'd the motion from below,<BR> +And slipp'd aside, and shunn'd the long descending blow.<BR> +Entellus wastes his forces on the wind,<BR> +And, thus deluded of the stroke design'd,<BR> +Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast<BR> +And weighty limbs his ancient mother press'd.<BR> +So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood<BR> +On Ida's height, or Erymanthus' wood,<BR> +Torn from the roots. The diff'ring nations rise,<BR> +And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies,<BR> +Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise<BR> +The fall'n companion of his youthful days.<BR> +Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return'd;<BR> +With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn'd.<BR> +Disdain and conscious virtue fir'd his breast,<BR> +And with redoubled force his foe he press'd.<BR> +He lays on load with either hand, amain,<BR> +And headlong drives the Trojan o'er the plain;<BR> +Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows;<BR> +But storms of strokes descend about his brows,<BR> +A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows.<BR> +But now the prince, who saw the wild increase<BR> +Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease,<BR> +And bounds Entellus' wrath, and bids the peace.<BR> +First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came,<BR> +And sooth'd his sorrow for the suffer'd shame.<BR> +"What fury seiz'd my friend? The gods," said he,<BR> +"To him propitious, and averse to thee,<BR> +Have giv'n his arm superior force to thine.<BR> +'T is madness to contend with strength divine."<BR> +The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore<BR> +His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore:<BR> +His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood,<BR> +And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.<BR> +Faintly he stagger'd thro' the hissing throng,<BR> +And hung his head, and trail'd his legs along.<BR> +The sword and casque are carried by his train;<BR> +But with his foe the palm and ox remain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The champion, then, before Aeneas came,<BR> +Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame:<BR> +"O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host,<BR> +Mark with attention, and forgive my boast;<BR> +Learn what I was, by what remains; and know<BR> +From what impending fate you sav'd my foe."<BR> +Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull;<BR> +And, on his ample forehead aiming full,<BR> +The deadly stroke, descending, pierc'd the skull.<BR> +Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound,<BR> +But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground.<BR> +Then, thus: "In Dares' stead I offer this.<BR> +Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice;<BR> +Take the last gift my wither'd arms can yield:<BR> +Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This done, Aeneas orders, for the close,<BR> +The strife of archers with contending bows.<BR> +The mast Sergesthus' shatter'd galley bore<BR> +With his own hands he raises on the shore.<BR> +A flutt'ring dove upon the top they tie,<BR> +The living mark at which their arrows fly.<BR> +The rival archers in a line advance,<BR> +Their turn of shooting to receive from chance.<BR> +A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn:<BR> +On the first scroll was read Hippocoon.<BR> +The people shout. Upon the next was found<BR> +Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd.<BR> +The third contain'd Eurytion's noble name,<BR> +Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame,<BR> +Whom Pallas urg'd the treaty to confound,<BR> +And send among the Greeks a feather'd wound.<BR> +Acestes in the bottom last remain'd,<BR> +Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain'd.<BR> +Soon all with vigor bend their trusty bows,<BR> +And from the quiver each his arrow chose.<BR> +Hippocoon's was the first: with forceful sway<BR> +It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way.<BR> +Fix'd in the mast the feather'd weapon stands:<BR> +The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands,<BR> +And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries<BR> +Of the pleas'd people rend the vaulted skies.<BR> +Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove,<BR> +With lifted eyes, and took his aim above,<BR> +But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove;<BR> +Yet miss'd so narrow, that he cut the cord<BR> +Which fasten'd by the foot the flitting bird.<BR> +The captive thus releas'd, away she flies,<BR> +And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies.<BR> +His bow already bent, Eurytion stood;<BR> +And, having first invok'd his brother god,<BR> +His winged shaft with eager haste he sped.<BR> +The fatal message reach'd her as she fled:<BR> +She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground,<BR> +And renders back the weapon in the wound.<BR> +Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains,<BR> +Without a prize to gratify his pains.<BR> +Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show<BR> +An archer's art, and boast his twanging bow.<BR> +The feather'd arrow gave a dire portent,<BR> +And latter augurs judge from this event.<BR> +Chaf'd by the speed, it fir'd; and, as it flew,<BR> +A trail of following flames ascending drew:<BR> +Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way;<BR> +Across the skies as falling meteors play,<BR> +And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay.<BR> +The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare,<BR> +And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray'r.<BR> +The Dardan prince put on a smiling face,<BR> +And strain'd Acestes with a close embrace;<BR> +Then, hon'ring him with gifts above the rest,<BR> +Turn'd the bad omen, nor his fears confess'd.<BR> +"The gods," said he, "this miracle have wrought,<BR> +And order'd you the prize without the lot.<BR> +Accept this goblet, rough with figur'd gold,<BR> +Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old:<BR> +This pledge of ancient amity receive,<BR> +Which to my second sire I justly give."<BR> +He said, and, with the trumpets' cheerful sound,<BR> +Proclaim'd him victor, and with laurel-crown'd.<BR> +Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize,<BR> +Tho' he transfix'd the pigeon in the skies.<BR> +Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac'd;<BR> +The third was his whose arrow pierc'd the mast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The chief, before the games were wholly done,<BR> +Call'd Periphantes, tutor to his son,<BR> +And whisper'd thus: "With speed Ascanius find;<BR> +And, if his childish troop be ready join'd,<BR> +On horseback let him grace his grandsire's day,<BR> +And lead his equals arm'd in just array."<BR> +He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears.<BR> +The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears.<BR> +And now the noble youths, of form divine,<BR> +Advance before their fathers, in a line;<BR> +The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus marching on in military pride,<BR> +Shouts of applause resound from side to side.<BR> +Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear,<BR> +Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear.<BR> +Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore;<BR> +Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before.<BR> +Three graceful troops they form'd upon the green;<BR> +Three graceful leaders at their head were seen;<BR> +Twelve follow'd ev'ry chief, and left a space between.<BR> +The first young Priam led; a lovely boy,<BR> +Whose grandsire was th' unhappy king of Troy;<BR> +His race in after times was known to fame,<BR> +New honors adding to the Latian name;<BR> +And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became.<BR> +White were the fetlocks of his feet before,<BR> +And on his front a snowy star he bore.<BR> +Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred,<BR> +Of equal age, the second squadron led.<BR> +The last in order, but the first in place,<BR> +First in the lovely features of his face,<BR> +Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed,<BR> +Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed.<BR> +Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains,<BR> +With golden bits adorn'd, and purple reins.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The pleas'd spectators peals of shouts renew,<BR> +And all the parents in the children view;<BR> +Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace,<BR> +And hopes and fears alternate in their face.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Th' unfledg'd commanders and their martial train<BR> +First make the circuit of the sandy plain<BR> +Around their sires, and, at th' appointed sign,<BR> +Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line.<BR> +The second signal sounds, the troop divides<BR> +In three distinguish'd parts, with three distinguish'd guides<BR> +Again they close, and once again disjoin;<BR> +In troop to troop oppos'd, and line to line.<BR> +They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar<BR> +With harmless rage and well-dissembled war.<BR> +Then in a round the mingled bodies run:<BR> +Flying they follow, and pursuing shun;<BR> +Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew<BR> +In other forms the military shew.<BR> +At last, in order, undiscern'd they join,<BR> +And march together in a friendly line.<BR> +And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old,<BR> +With wand'ring ways and many a winding fold,<BR> +Involv'd the weary feet, without redress,<BR> +In a round error, which denied recess;<BR> +So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play,<BR> +Turn'd and return'd, and still a diff'rent way.<BR> +Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase<BR> +In circles, when they swim around the wat'ry race.<BR> +This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught;<BR> +And, building Alba, to the Latins brought;<BR> +Shew'd what he learn'd: the Latin sires impart<BR> +To their succeeding sons the graceful art;<BR> +From these imperial Rome receiv'd the game,<BR> +Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate:<BR> +But Fortune soon resum'd her ancient hate;<BR> +For, while they pay the dead his annual dues,<BR> +Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views;<BR> +And sends the goddess of the various bow,<BR> +To try new methods of revenge below;<BR> +Supplies the winds to wing her airy way,<BR> +Where in the port secure the navy lay.<BR> +Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends,<BR> +And, undiscern'd, her fatal voyage ends.<BR> +She saw the gath'ring crowd; and, gliding thence,<BR> +The desart shore, and fleet without defense.<BR> +The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone,<BR> +With sighs and tears Anchises' death bemoan;<BR> +Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes,<BR> +Their pity to themselves renews their cries.<BR> +"Alas!" said one, "what oceans yet remain<BR> +For us to sail! what labors to sustain!"<BR> +All take the word, and, with a gen'ral groan,<BR> +Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains,<BR> +And in a woman's form her heav'nly limbs restrains.<BR> +In face and shape old Beroe she became,<BR> +Doryclus' wife, a venerable dame,<BR> +Once blest with riches, and a mother's name.<BR> +Thus chang'd, amidst the crying crowd she ran,<BR> +Mix'd with the matrons, and these words began:<BR> +"O wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow'r,<BR> +Nor flames, destroy'd, in Troy's unhappy hour!<BR> +O wretched we, reserv'd by cruel fate,<BR> +Beyond the ruins of the sinking state!<BR> +Now sev'n revolving years are wholly run,<BR> +Since this improsp'rous voyage we begun;<BR> +Since, toss'd from shores to shores, from lands to lands,<BR> +Inhospitable rocks and barren sands,<BR> +Wand'ring in exile thro' the stormy sea,<BR> +We search in vain for flying Italy.<BR> +Now cast by fortune on this kindred land,<BR> +What should our rest and rising walls withstand,<BR> +Or hinder here to fix our banish'd band?<BR> +O country lost, and gods redeem'd in vain,<BR> +If still in endless exile we remain!<BR> +Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew,<BR> +Or streams of some dissembled Simois view!<BR> +Haste, join with me, th' unhappy fleet consume!<BR> +Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom.<BR> +In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands<BR> +(For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands:<BR> +'With these,' said she, 'these wand'ring ships destroy:<BR> +These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.'<BR> +Time calls you now; the precious hour employ:<BR> +Slack not the good presage, while Heav'n inspires<BR> +Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires.<BR> +See! Neptune's altars minister their brands:<BR> +The god is pleas'd; the god supplies our hands."<BR> +Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew,<BR> +And, toss'd in air, amidst the galleys threw.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Wrapp'd in amaze, the matrons wildly stare:<BR> +Then Pyrgo, reverenc'd for her hoary hair,<BR> +Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam's num'rous race:<BR> +"No Beroe this, tho' she belies her face!<BR> +What terrors from her frowning front arise!<BR> +Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes!<BR> +What rays around her heav'nly face are seen!<BR> +Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien!<BR> +Beroe but now I left, whom, pin'd with pain,<BR> +Her age and anguish from these rites detain,"<BR> +She said. The matrons, seiz'd with new amaze,<BR> +Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze.<BR> +They fear, and hope, and neither part obey:<BR> +They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way.<BR> +The goddess, having done her task below,<BR> +Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow.<BR> +Struck with the sight, and seiz'd with rage divine,<BR> +The matrons prosecute their mad design:<BR> +They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands,<BR> +The food of altars; fires and flaming brands.<BR> +Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste,<BR> +And smoking torches, on the ships they cast.<BR> +The flame, unstopp'd at first, more fury gains,<BR> +And Vulcan rides at large with loosen'd reins:<BR> +Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars,<BR> +And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars.<BR> +Eumelus was the first the news to bear,<BR> +While yet they crowd the rural theater.<BR> +Then, what they hear, is witness'd by their eyes:<BR> +A storm of sparkles and of flames arise.<BR> +Ascanius took th' alarm, while yet he led<BR> +His early warriors on his prancing steed,<BR> +And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpass'd;<BR> +Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste.<BR> +Soon as the royal youth appear'd in view,<BR> +He sent his voice before him as he flew:<BR> +"What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy<BR> +The last remainders of unhappy Troy!<BR> +Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn,<BR> +And on your friends your fatal fury turn.<BR> +Behold your own Ascanius!" While he said,<BR> +He drew his glitt'ring helmet from his head,<BR> +In which the youths to sportful arms he led.<BR> +By this, Aeneas and his train appear;<BR> +And now the women, seiz'd with shame and fear,<BR> +Dispers'd, to woods and caverns take their flight,<BR> +Abhor their actions, and avoid the light;<BR> +Their friends acknowledge, and their error find,<BR> +And shake the goddess from their alter'd mind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Not so the raging fires their fury cease,<BR> +But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace,<BR> +Work on their way amid the smold'ring tow,<BR> +Sure in destruction, but in motion slow.<BR> +The silent plague thro' the green timber eats,<BR> +And vomits out a tardy flame by fits.<BR> +Down to the keels, and upward to the sails,<BR> +The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;<BR> +Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand,<BR> +Can the victorious element withstand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The pious hero rends his robe, and throws<BR> +To heav'n his hands, and with his hands his vows.<BR> +"O Jove," he cried, "if pray'rs can yet have place;<BR> +If thou abhorr'st not all the Dardan race;<BR> +If any spark of pity still remain;<BR> +If gods are gods, and not invok'd in vain;<BR> +Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train!<BR> +Yet from the flames our burning vessels free,<BR> +Or let thy fury fall alone on me!<BR> +At this devoted head thy thunder throw,<BR> +And send the willing sacrifice below!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise:<BR> +From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;<BR> +Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain;<BR> +Heav'n bellies downward, and descends in rain.<BR> +Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent,<BR> +Which, hissing thro' the planks, the flames prevent,<BR> +And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone<BR> +Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide;<BR> +If he should still in Sicily reside,<BR> +Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main,<BR> +In hope the promis'd Italy to gain.<BR> +Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone<BR> +The will of Heav'n by Pallas was foreshown;<BR> +Vers'd in portents, experienc'd, and inspir'd<BR> +To tell events, and what the fates requir'd;<BR> +Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin'd,<BR> +With cheerful words reliev'd his lab'ring mind:<BR> +"O goddess-born, resign'd in ev'ry state,<BR> +With patience bear, with prudence push your fate.<BR> +By suff'ring well, our Fortune we subdue;<BR> +Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue.<BR> +Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;<BR> +To him disclose the secrets of your mind:<BR> +Trust in his hands your old and useless train;<BR> +Too num'rous for the ships which yet remain:<BR> +The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,<BR> +The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,<BR> +With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand<BR> +The shock of battle with your foes by land.<BR> +Here you may build a common town for all,<BR> +And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call."<BR> +The reasons, with his friend's experience join'd,<BR> +Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd his mind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'T was dead of night; when to his slumb'ring eyes<BR> +His father's shade descended from the skies,<BR> +And thus he spoke: "O more than vital breath,<BR> +Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death;<BR> +O son, in various toils and troubles toss'd,<BR> +The King of Heav'n employs my careful ghost<BR> +On his commands: the god, who sav'd from fire<BR> +Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire.<BR> +The wholesome counsel of your friend receive,<BR> +And here the coward train and woman leave:<BR> +The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare,<BR> +Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.<BR> +The stern Italians will their courage try;<BR> +Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.<BR> +But first to Pluto's palace you shall go,<BR> +And seek my shade among the blest below:<BR> +For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,<BR> +Nor suffers with the damn'd perpetual pains,<BR> +But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.<BR> +The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey,<BR> +And blood of offer'd victims free the way.<BR> +There shall you know what realms the gods assign,<BR> +And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.<BR> +But now, farewell! I vanish with the night,<BR> +And feel the blast of heav'n's approaching light."<BR> +He said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy flight.<BR> +"Whither so fast?" the filial duty cried;<BR> +"And why, ah why, the wish'd embrace denied?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires,<BR> +He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires;<BR> +His country gods and Vesta then adores<BR> +With cakes and incense, and their aid implores.<BR> +Next, for his friends and royal host he sent,<BR> +Reveal'd his vision, and the gods' intent,<BR> +With his own purpose. All, without delay,<BR> +The will of Jove, and his desires obey.<BR> +They list with women each degenerate name,<BR> +Who dares not hazard life for future fame.<BR> +These they cashier: the brave remaining few,<BR> +Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew.<BR> +The prince designs a city with the plow;<BR> +The lots their sev'ral tenements allow.<BR> +This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy,<BR> +And the new king ascends the throne with joy;<BR> +A chosen senate from the people draws;<BR> +Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.<BR> +Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin<BR> +A rising temple to the Paphian queen.<BR> +Anchises, last, is honor'd as a god;<BR> +A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd,<BR> +And groves are planted round his blest abode.<BR> +Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd;<BR> +And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.<BR> +Then from the south arose a gentle breeze<BR> +That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas;<BR> +The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,<BR> +And call the merry mariners aboard.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now loud laments along the shores resound,<BR> +Of parting friends in close embraces bound.<BR> +The trembling women, the degenerate train,<BR> +Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main,<BR> +Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share<BR> +Of the rough passage and the promis'd war:<BR> +Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends<BR> +To their new master's care his fearful friends.<BR> +On Eryx's altars three fat calves he lays;<BR> +A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas;<BR> +Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs.<BR> +High on the deck the godlike hero stands,<BR> +With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands;<BR> +Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,<BR> +And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine.<BR> +Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie,<BR> +And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears,<BR> +To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears:<BR> +"The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage,<BR> +The malice which no suff'rings can assuage,<BR> +Compel me to these pray'rs; since neither fate,<BR> +Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate:<BR> +Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife;<BR> +Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife.<BR> +As if 't were little to consume the town<BR> +Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown,<BR> +She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains,<BR> +And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains.<BR> +Let her the causes of her hatred tell;<BR> +But you can witness its effects too well.<BR> +You saw the storm she rais'd on Libyan floods,<BR> +That mix'd the mounting billows with the clouds;<BR> +When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main,<BR> +And mov'd rebellion in your wat'ry reign.<BR> +With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames,<BR> +To burn their fleet with execrable flames,<BR> +And forc'd Aeneas, when his ships were lost,<BR> +To leave his foll'wers on a foreign coast.<BR> +For what remains, your godhead I implore,<BR> +And trust my son to your protecting pow'r.<BR> +If neither Jove's nor Fate's decree withstand,<BR> +Secure his passage to the Latian land."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main:<BR> +"What may not Venus hope from Neptune's reign?<BR> +My kingdom claims your birth; my late defense<BR> +Of your indanger'd fleet may claim your confidence.<BR> +Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare<BR> +How much your lov'd Aeneas is my care.<BR> +Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest.<BR> +Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd,<BR> +And drove before him headlong on the plain,<BR> +And dash'd against the walls the trembling train;<BR> +When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain;<BR> +When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way,<BR> +Stood up on ridges to behold the sea;<BR> +(New heaps came tumbling in, and chok'd his way;)<BR> +When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds<BR> +Of force unequal, and unequal gods;<BR> +I spread a cloud before the victor's sight,<BR> +Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight;<BR> +Ev'n then secur'd him, when I sought with joy<BR> +The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy.<BR> +My will's the same: fair goddess, fear no more,<BR> +Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore;<BR> +Their lives are giv'n; one destin'd head alone<BR> +Shall perish, and for multitudes atone."<BR> +Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind,<BR> +His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd,<BR> +Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws,<BR> +And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws.<BR> +High on the waves his azure car he guides;<BR> +Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides,<BR> +And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.<BR> +The tempests fly before their father's face,<BR> +Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace,<BR> +And monster whales before their master play,<BR> +And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat'ry way.<BR> +The marshal'd pow'rs in equal troops divide<BR> +To right and left; the gods his better side<BR> +Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude,<BR> +Within the hero's mind his joys renew'd.<BR> +He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display;<BR> +The cheerful crew with diligence obey;<BR> +They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.<BR> +Ahead of all the master pilot steers;<BR> +And, as he leads, the following navy veers.<BR> +The steeds of Night had travel'd half the sky,<BR> +The drowsy rowers on their benches lie,<BR> +When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight,<BR> +Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.<BR> +Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey;<BR> +To thee alone he takes his fatal way.<BR> +Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;<BR> +And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears.<BR> +Then thus the traitor god began his tale:<BR> +"The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;<BR> +The ships, without thy care, securely sail.<BR> +Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I<BR> +Will take the rudder and thy room supply."<BR> +To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep:<BR> +"Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep,<BR> +The harlot smiles of her dissembling face,<BR> +And to her faith commit the Trojan race?<BR> +Shall I believe the Siren South again,<BR> +And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main?"<BR> +He said: his fasten'd hands the rudder keep,<BR> +And, fix'd on heav'n, his eyes repel invading sleep.<BR> +The god was wroth, and at his temples threw<BR> +A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian dew:<BR> +The pilot, vanquish'd by the pow'r divine,<BR> +Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine.<BR> +Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,<BR> +The god, insulting with superior strength,<BR> +Fell heavy on him, plung'd him in the sea,<BR> +And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.<BR> +Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main,<BR> +Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.<BR> +The victor daemon mounts obscure in air,<BR> +While the ship sails without the pilot's care.<BR> +On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies;<BR> +But what the man forsook, the god supplies,<BR> +And o'er the dang'rous deep secure the navy flies;<BR> +Glides by the Sirens' cliffs, a shelfy coast,<BR> +Long infamous for ships and sailors lost,<BR> +And white with bones. Th' impetuous ocean roars,<BR> +And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores.<BR> +The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found<BR> +The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground.<BR> +Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself<BR> +The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.<BR> +Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast,<BR> +Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd:<BR> +"For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flatt'ring sky,<BR> +Thy naked corpse is doom'd on shores unknown to lie."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK VI<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and wept; then spread his sails before<BR> +The winds, and reach'd at length the Cumaean shore:<BR> +Their anchors dropp'd, his crew the vessels moor.<BR> +They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land,<BR> +And greet with greedy joy th' Italian strand.<BR> +Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed;<BR> +Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed,<BR> +Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods,<BR> +Or trace thro' valleys the discover'd floods.<BR> +Thus, while their sev'ral charges they fulfil,<BR> +The pious prince ascends the sacred hill<BR> +Where Phoebus is ador'd; and seeks the shade<BR> +Which hides from sight his venerable maid.<BR> +Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode;<BR> +Thence full of fate returns, and of the god.<BR> +Thro' Trivia's grove they walk; and now behold,<BR> +And enter now, the temple roof'd with gold.<BR> +When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore,<BR> +His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore,<BR> +(The first who sail'd in air,) 't is sung by Fame,<BR> +To the Cumaean coast at length he came,<BR> +And here alighting, built this costly frame.<BR> +Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high<BR> +The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky:<BR> +Then o'er the lofty gate his art emboss'd<BR> +Androgeos' death, and off'rings to his ghost;<BR> +Sev'n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet<BR> +The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.<BR> +And next to those the dreadful urn was plac'd,<BR> +In which the destin'd names by lots were cast:<BR> +The mournful parents stand around in tears,<BR> +And rising Crete against their shore appears.<BR> +There too, in living sculpture, might be seen<BR> +The mad affection of the Cretan queen;<BR> +Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye;<BR> +The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny,<BR> +The lower part a beast, a man above,<BR> +The monument of their polluted love.<BR> +Not far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze,<BR> +A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways:<BR> +Here dwells the monster, hid from human view,<BR> +Not to be found, but by the faithful clew;<BR> +Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief,<BR> +Lent to the loving maid this last relief,<BR> +And all those erring paths describ'd so well<BR> +That Theseus conquer'd and the monster fell.<BR> +Here hapless Icarus had found his part,<BR> +Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art.<BR> +He twice assay'd to cast his son in gold;<BR> +Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming mold.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +All this with wond'ring eyes Aeneas view'd;<BR> +Each varying object his delight renew'd:<BR> +Eager to read the rest- Achates came,<BR> +And by his side the mad divining dame,<BR> +The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name.<BR> +"Time suffers not," she said, "to feed your eyes<BR> +With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice.<BR> +Sev'n bullocks, yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose,<BR> +And for Diana sev'n unspotted ewes."<BR> +This said, the servants urge the sacred rites,<BR> +While to the temple she the prince invites.<BR> +A spacious cave, within its farmost part,<BR> +Was hew'd and fashion'd by laborious art<BR> +Thro' the hill's hollow sides: before the place,<BR> +A hundred doors a hundred entries grace;<BR> +As many voices issue, and the sound<BR> +Of Sybil's words as many times rebound.<BR> +Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries:<BR> +"This is the time; enquire your destinies.<BR> +He comes; behold the god!" Thus while she said,<BR> +(And shiv'ring at the sacred entry stay'd,)<BR> +Her color chang'd; her face was not the same,<BR> +And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.<BR> +Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd<BR> +Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast.<BR> +Greater than humankind she seem'd to look,<BR> +And with an accent more than mortal spoke.<BR> +Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll;<BR> +When all the god came rushing on her soul.<BR> +Swiftly she turn'd, and, foaming as she spoke:<BR> +"Why this delay?" she cried- "the pow'rs invoke!<BR> +Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode;<BR> +Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear,<BR> +O'erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear.<BR> +The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd,<BR> +His vows to great Apollo thus address'd:<BR> +"Indulgent god, propitious pow'r to Troy,<BR> +Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy,<BR> +Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart<BR> +Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part:<BR> +Thus far, by fate's decrees and thy commands,<BR> +Thro' ambient seas and thro' devouring sands,<BR> +Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground;<BR> +And now, at length, the flying coast is found.<BR> +Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place,<BR> +With fury has pursued her wand'ring race.<BR> +Here cease, ye pow'rs, and let your vengeance end:<BR> +Troy is no more, and can no more offend.<BR> +And thou, O sacred maid, inspir'd to see<BR> +Th' event of things in dark futurity;<BR> +Give me what Heav'n has promis'd to my fate,<BR> +To conquer and command the Latian state;<BR> +To fix my wand'ring gods, and find a place<BR> +For the long exiles of the Trojan race.<BR> +Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear<BR> +To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray'r;<BR> +And annual rites, and festivals, and games,<BR> +Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names.<BR> +Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land;<BR> +For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,<BR> +Preserv'd in shrines; and ev'ry sacred lay,<BR> +Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey:<BR> +All shall be treasur'd by a chosen train<BR> +Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.<BR> +But O! commit not thy prophetic mind<BR> +To flitting leaves, the sport of ev'ry wind,<BR> +Lest they disperse in air our empty fate;<BR> +Write not, but, what the pow'rs ordain, relate."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Struggling in vain, impatient of her load,<BR> +And lab'ring underneath the pond'rous god,<BR> +The more she strove to shake him from her breast,<BR> +With more and far superior force he press'd;<BR> +Commands his entrance, and, without control,<BR> +Usurps her organs and inspires her soul.<BR> +Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors<BR> +Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars<BR> +Within the cave, and Sibyl's voice restores:<BR> +"Escap'd the dangers of the wat'ry reign,<BR> +Yet more and greater ills by land remain.<BR> +The coast, so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event),<BR> +Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach'd, repent.<BR> +Wars, horrid wars, I view- a field of blood,<BR> +And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.<BR> +Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there:<BR> +A new Achilles shall in arms appear,<BR> +And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno's hate,<BR> +Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.<BR> +To what strange nations shalt not thou resort,<BR> +Driv'n to solicit aid at ev'ry court!<BR> +The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd;<BR> +A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.<BR> +But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,<BR> +The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.<BR> +The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown<BR> +From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke,<BR> +And the resisting air the thunder broke;<BR> +The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.<BR> +Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast,<BR> +In these mysterious words his mind express'd;<BR> +Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest.<BR> +At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd,<BR> +And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd.<BR> +Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view,<BR> +No frightful face of danger can be new.<BR> +Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare,<BR> +The Fates, without my pow'r, shall be without my care.<BR> +This let me crave, since near your grove the road<BR> +To hell lies open, and the dark abode<BR> +Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood;<BR> +Conduct me thro' the regions void of light,<BR> +And lead me longing to my father's sight.<BR> +For him, a thousand dangers I have sought,<BR> +And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,<BR> +Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought.<BR> +He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried,<BR> +And wrath of Heav'n, my still auspicious guide,<BR> +And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied.<BR> +Oft, since he breath'd his last, in dead of night<BR> +His reverend image stood before my sight;<BR> +Enjoin'd to seek, below, his holy shade;<BR> +Conducted there by your unerring aid.<BR> +But you, if pious minds by pray'rs are won,<BR> +Oblige the father, and protect the son.<BR> +Yours is the pow'r; nor Proserpine in vain<BR> +Has made you priestess of her nightly reign.<BR> +If Orpheus, arm'd with his enchanting lyre,<BR> +The ruthless king with pity could inspire,<BR> +And from the shades below redeem his wife;<BR> +If Pollux, off'ring his alternate life,<BR> +Could free his brother, and can daily go<BR> +By turns aloft, by turns descend below-<BR> +Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend,<BR> +Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend?<BR> +Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came;<BR> +My mother greater, my descent the same."<BR> +So pray'd the Trojan prince, and, while he pray'd,<BR> +His hand upon the holy altar laid.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus replied the prophetess divine:<BR> +"O goddess-born of great Anchises' line,<BR> +The gates of hell are open night and day;<BR> +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:<BR> +But to return, and view the cheerful skies,<BR> +In this the task and mighty labor lies.<BR> +To few great Jupiter imparts this grace,<BR> +And those of shining worth and heav'nly race.<BR> +Betwixt those regions and our upper light,<BR> +Deep forests and impenetrable night<BR> +Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds<BR> +Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds.<BR> +But if so dire a love your soul invades,<BR> +As twice below to view the trembling shades;<BR> +If you so hard a toil will undertake,<BR> +As twice to pass th' innavigable lake;<BR> +Receive my counsel. In the neighb'ring grove<BR> +There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove<BR> +Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night<BR> +Conceal the happy plant from human sight.<BR> +One bough it bears; but (wondrous to behold!)<BR> +The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold:<BR> +This from the vulgar branches must be torn,<BR> +And to fair Proserpine the present borne,<BR> +Ere leave be giv'n to tempt the nether skies.<BR> +The first thus rent a second will arise,<BR> +And the same metal the same room supplies.<BR> +Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see<BR> +The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:<BR> +Then rend it off, as holy rites command;<BR> +The willing metal will obey thy hand,<BR> +Following with ease, if favor'd by thy fate,<BR> +Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state:<BR> +If not, no labor can the tree constrain;<BR> +And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain.<BR> +Besides, you know not, while you here attend,<BR> +Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:<BR> +Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost,<BR> +Depriv'd of fun'ral rites, pollutes your host.<BR> +Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead,<BR> +Two sable sheep around his hearse be led;<BR> +Then, living turfs upon his body lay:<BR> +This done, securely take the destin'd way,<BR> +To find the regions destitute of day."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went<BR> +Sad from the cave, and full of discontent,<BR> +Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant.<BR> +Achates, the companion of his breast,<BR> +Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress'd.<BR> +Walking, they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd<BR> +What friend the priestess by those words design'd.<BR> +But soon they found an object to deplore:<BR> +Misenus lay extended on the shore;<BR> +Son of the God of Winds: none so renown'd<BR> +The warrior trumpet in the field to sound;<BR> +With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms,<BR> +And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms.<BR> +He serv'd great Hector, and was ever near,<BR> +Not with his trumpet only, but his spear.<BR> +But by Pelides' arms when Hector fell,<BR> +He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well.<BR> +Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more,<BR> +He now provokes the sea gods from the shore;<BR> +With envy Triton heard the martial sound,<BR> +And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd;<BR> +Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand:<BR> +The gazing crowd around the body stand.<BR> +All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate,<BR> +And hastens to perform the funeral state.<BR> +In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear;<BR> +The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air.<BR> +An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd,<BR> +(The shady covert of the salvage kind,)<BR> +The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied;<BR> +Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow'ring pride<BR> +Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke,<BR> +And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.<BR> +Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown<BR> +Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.<BR> +Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears,<BR> +And by his pious labor urges theirs.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind<BR> +The ways to compass what his wish design'd,<BR> +He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove,<BR> +And then with vows implor'd the Queen of Love:<BR> +"O may thy pow'r, propitious still to me,<BR> +Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree,<BR> +In this deep forest; since the Sibyl's breath<BR> +Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death."<BR> +Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight,<BR> +Two doves, descending from their airy flight,<BR> +Secure upon the grassy plain alight.<BR> +He knew his mother's birds; and thus he pray'd:<BR> +"Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid,<BR> +And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found,<BR> +Whose glitt'ring shadow gilds the sacred ground.<BR> +And thou, great parent, with celestial care,<BR> +In this distress be present to my pray'r!"<BR> +Thus having said, he stopp'd with watchful sight,<BR> +Observing still the motions of their flight,<BR> +What course they took, what happy signs they shew.<BR> +They fed, and, flutt'ring, by degrees withdrew<BR> +Still farther from the place, but still in view:<BR> +Hopping and flying, thus they led him on<BR> +To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun<BR> +They wing'd their flight aloft; then, stooping low,<BR> +Perch'd on the double tree that bears the golden bough.<BR> +Thro' the green leafs the glitt'ring shadows glow;<BR> +As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe,<BR> +Where the proud mother views her precious brood,<BR> +And happier branches, which she never sow'd.<BR> +Such was the glitt'ring; such the ruddy rind,<BR> +And dancing leaves, that wanton'd in the wind.<BR> +He seiz'd the shining bough with griping hold,<BR> +And rent away, with ease, the ling'ring gold;<BR> +Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize.<BR> +Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes,<BR> +To dead Misenus pay his obsequies.<BR> +First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear,<BR> +Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir:<BR> +The fabric's front with cypress twigs they strew,<BR> +And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew.<BR> +The topmost part his glitt'ring arms adorn;<BR> +Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne,<BR> +Are pour'd to wash his body, joint by joint,<BR> +And fragrant oils the stiffen'd limbs anoint.<BR> +With groans and cries Misenus they deplore:<BR> +Then on a bier, with purple cover'd o'er,<BR> +The breathless body, thus bewail'd, they lay,<BR> +And fire the pile, their faces turn'd away-<BR> +Such reverend rites their fathers us'd to pay.<BR> +Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw,<BR> +And fat of victims, which his friends bestow.<BR> +These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour;<BR> +Then on the living coals red wine they pour;<BR> +And, last, the relics by themselves dispose,<BR> +Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose.<BR> +Old Corynaeus compass'd thrice the crew,<BR> +And dipp'd an olive branch in holy dew;<BR> +Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud<BR> +Invok'd the dead, and then dismissed the crowd.<BR> +But good Aeneas order'd on the shore<BR> +A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore,<BR> +A soldier's fauchion, and a seaman's oar.<BR> +Thus was his friend interr'd; and deathless fame<BR> +Still to the lofty cape consigns his name.<BR> +These rites perform'd, the prince, without delay,<BR> +Hastes to the nether world his destin'd way.<BR> +Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went<BR> +From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent;<BR> +And here th' access a gloomy grove defends,<BR> +And there th' unnavigable lake extends,<BR> +O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light,<BR> +No bird presumes to steer his airy flight;<BR> +Such deadly stenches from the depths arise,<BR> +And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.<BR> +From hence the Grecian bards their legends make,<BR> +And give the name Avernus to the lake.<BR> +Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught,<BR> +For sacrifice the pious hero brought.<BR> +The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns;<BR> +Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns,<BR> +Invoking Hecate hither to repair:<BR> +A pow'rful name in hell and upper air.<BR> +The sacred priests with ready knives bereave<BR> +The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive<BR> +The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night<BR> +(The sable wool without a streak of white)<BR> +Aeneas offers; and, by fate's decree,<BR> +A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee,<BR> +With holocausts he Pluto's altar fills;<BR> +Sev'n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills;<BR> +Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours;<BR> +Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours.<BR> +Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun,<BR> +Nor ended till the next returning sun.<BR> +Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance,<BR> +And howling dogs in glimm'ring light advance,<BR> +Ere Hecate came. "Far hence be souls profane!"<BR> +The Sibyl cried, "and from the grove abstain!<BR> +Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford;<BR> +Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword."<BR> +She said, and pass'd along the gloomy space;<BR> +The prince pursued her steps with equal pace.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,<BR> +Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,<BR> +Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate<BR> +The mystic wonders of your silent state!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Obscure they went thro' dreary shades, that led<BR> +Along the waste dominions of the dead.<BR> +Thus wander travelers in woods by night,<BR> +By the moon's doubtful and malignant light,<BR> +When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies,<BR> +And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell,<BR> +Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,<BR> +And pale Diseases, and repining Age,<BR> +Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage;<BR> +Here Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep,<BR> +Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep;<BR> +With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,<BR> +Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind;<BR> +The Furies' iron beds; and Strife, that shakes<BR> +Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes.<BR> +Full in the midst of this infernal road,<BR> +An elm displays her dusky arms abroad:<BR> +The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head,<BR> +And empty dreams on ev'ry leaf are spread.<BR> +Of various forms unnumber'd specters more,<BR> +Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door.<BR> +Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands,<BR> +And Briareus with all his hundred hands;<BR> +Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame;<BR> +And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame.<BR> +The chief unsheath'd his shining steel, prepar'd,<BR> +Tho' seiz'd with sudden fear, to force the guard,<BR> +Off'ring his brandish'd weapon at their face;<BR> +Had not the Sibyl stopp'd his eager pace,<BR> +And told him what those empty phantoms were:<BR> +Forms without bodies, and impassive air.<BR> +Hence to deep Acheron they take their way,<BR> +Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay,<BR> +Are whirl'd aloft, and in Cocytus lost.<BR> +There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast-<BR> +A sordid god: down from his hoary chin<BR> +A length of beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean;<BR> +His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;<BR> +A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.<BR> +He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers;<BR> +The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears.<BR> +He look'd in years; yet in his years were seen<BR> +A youthful vigor and autumnal green.<BR> +An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,<BR> +Which fill'd the margin of the fatal flood:<BR> +Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids,<BR> +And mighty heroes' more majestic shades,<BR> +And youths, intomb'd before their fathers' eyes,<BR> +With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries.<BR> +Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods,<BR> +Or fowls, by winter forc'd, forsake the floods,<BR> +And wing their hasty flight to happier lands;<BR> +Such, and so thick, the shiv'ring army stands,<BR> +And press for passage with extended hands.<BR> +Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore:<BR> +The rest he drove to distance from the shore.<BR> +The hero, who beheld with wond'ring eyes<BR> +The tumult mix'd with shrieks, laments, and cries,<BR> +Ask'd of his guide, what the rude concourse meant;<BR> +Why to the shore the thronging people bent;<BR> +What forms of law among the ghosts were us'd;<BR> +Why some were ferried o'er, and some refus'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,"<BR> +The Sibyl said, "you see the Stygian floods,<BR> +The sacred stream which heav'n's imperial state<BR> +Attests in oaths, and fears to violate.<BR> +The ghosts rejected are th' unhappy crew<BR> +Depriv'd of sepulchers and fun'ral due:<BR> +The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host,<BR> +He ferries over to the farther coast;<BR> +Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves<BR> +With such whose bones are not compos'd in graves.<BR> +A hundred years they wander on the shore;<BR> +At length, their penance done, are wafted o'er."<BR> +The Trojan chief his forward pace repress'd,<BR> +Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast,<BR> +He saw his friends, who, whelm'd beneath the waves,<BR> +Their fun'ral honors claim'd, and ask'd their quiet graves.<BR> +The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew,<BR> +And the brave leader of the Lycian crew,<BR> +Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met;<BR> +The sailors master'd, and the ship o'erset.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press'd,<BR> +Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest,<BR> +Who, while he steering view'd the stars, and bore<BR> +His course from Afric to the Latian shore,<BR> +Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix'd his view,<BR> +And scarcely thro' the gloom the sullen shadow knew.<BR> +Then thus the prince: "What envious pow'r, O friend,<BR> +Brought your lov'd life to this disastrous end?<BR> +For Phoebus, ever true in all he said,<BR> +Has in your fate alone my faith betray'd.<BR> +The god foretold you should not die, before<BR> +You reach'd, secure from seas, th' Italian shore.<BR> +Is this th' unerring pow'r?" The ghost replied;<BR> +"Nor Phoebus flatter'd, nor his answers lied;<BR> +Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep:<BR> +But, while the stars and course of heav'n I keep,<BR> +My wearied eyes were seiz'd with fatal sleep.<BR> +I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain'd<BR> +Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain'd.<BR> +Now by the winds and raging waves I swear,<BR> +Your safety, more than mine, was then my care;<BR> +Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost,<BR> +Your ship should run against the rocky coast.<BR> +Three blust'ring nights, borne by the southern blast,<BR> +I floated, and discover'd land at last:<BR> +High on a mounting wave my head I bore,<BR> +Forcing my strength, and gath'ring to the shore.<BR> +Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz'd<BR> +The craggy cliffs, and my tir'd members eas'd.<BR> +While, cumber'd with my dropping clothes, I lay,<BR> +The cruel nation, covetous of prey,<BR> +Stain'd with my blood th' unhospitable coast;<BR> +And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss'd:<BR> +Which O avert, by yon ethereal light,<BR> +Which I have lost for this eternal night!<BR> +Or, if by dearer ties you may be won,<BR> +By your dead sire, and by your living son,<BR> +Redeem from this reproach my wand'ring ghost;<BR> +Or with your navy seek the Velin coast,<BR> +And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose;<BR> +Or, if a nearer way your mother shows,<BR> +Without whose aid you durst not undertake<BR> +This frightful passage o'er the Stygian lake,<BR> +Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o'er<BR> +To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore."<BR> +Scarce had he said, the prophetess began:<BR> +"What hopes delude thee, miserable man?<BR> +Think'st thou, thus unintomb'd, to cross the floods,<BR> +To view the Furies and infernal gods,<BR> +And visit, without leave, the dark abodes?<BR> +Attend the term of long revolving years;<BR> +Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.<BR> +This comfort of thy dire misfortune take:<BR> +The wrath of Heav'n, inflicted for thy sake,<BR> +With vengeance shall pursue th' inhuman coast,<BR> +Till they propitiate thy offended ghost,<BR> +And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray'r;<BR> +And Palinurus' name the place shall bear."<BR> +This calm'd his cares; sooth'd with his future fame,<BR> +And pleas'd to hear his propagated name.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw:<BR> +Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw;<BR> +Observ'd their passage thro' the shady wood,<BR> +And mark'd their near approaches to the flood.<BR> +Then thus he call'd aloud, inflam'd with wrath:<BR> +"Mortal, whate'er, who this forbidden path<BR> +In arms presum'st to tread, I charge thee, stand,<BR> +And tell thy name, and bus'ness in the land.<BR> +Know this, the realm of night- the Stygian shore:<BR> +My boat conveys no living bodies o'er;<BR> +Nor was I pleas'd great Theseus once to bear,<BR> +Who forc'd a passage with his pointed spear,<BR> +Nor strong Alcides- men of mighty fame,<BR> +And from th' immortal gods their lineage came.<BR> +In fetters one the barking porter tied,<BR> +And took him trembling from his sov'reign's side:<BR> +Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride."<BR> +To whom the Sibyl thus: "Compose thy mind;<BR> +Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd.<BR> +Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain<BR> +Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train,<BR> +And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.<BR> +The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove,<BR> +Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love,<BR> +Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.<BR> +If neither piety, nor Heav'n's command,<BR> +Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand,<BR> +This fatal present shall prevail at least."<BR> +Then shew'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest.<BR> +No more was needful: for the gloomy god<BR> +Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod;<BR> +Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen-<BR> +A venerable gift, so rarely seen.<BR> +His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land;<BR> +The ghosts forsake their seats at his command:<BR> +He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight;<BR> +The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.<BR> +Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides;<BR> +The pressing water pours within her sides.<BR> +His passengers at length are wafted o'er,<BR> +Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +No sooner landed, in his den they found<BR> +The triple porter of the Stygian sound,<BR> +Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear<BR> +His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair.<BR> +The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd<BR> +A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard;<BR> +Which, mix'd with pow'rful drugs, she cast before<BR> +His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar.<BR> +With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight,<BR> +With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait.<BR> +Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave;<BR> +He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave.<BR> +The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay<BR> +Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way.<BR> +Before the gates, the cries of babes new born,<BR> +Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn,<BR> +Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws<BR> +Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause.<BR> +Nor want they lots, nor judges to review<BR> +The wrongful sentence, and award a new.<BR> +Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears;<BR> +And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears.<BR> +Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls,<BR> +Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.<BR> +The next, in place and punishment, are they<BR> +Who prodigally throw their souls away;<BR> +Fools, who, repining at their wretched state,<BR> +And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate.<BR> +With late repentance now they would retrieve<BR> +The bodies they forsook, and wish to live;<BR> +Their pains and poverty desire to bear,<BR> +To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air:<BR> +But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose,<BR> +And with circling streams the captive souls inclose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear<BR> +So call'd from lovers that inhabit there.<BR> +The souls whom that unhappy flame invades,<BR> +In secret solitude and myrtle shades<BR> +Make endless moans, and, pining with desire,<BR> +Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire.<BR> +Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found,<BR> +Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound<BR> +Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there,<BR> +With Phaedra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair.<BR> +There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves,<BR> +Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves:<BR> +Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man,<BR> +But ending in the sex she first began.<BR> +Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood,<BR> +Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood;<BR> +Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew,<BR> +Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view,<BR> +(Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night,<BR> +Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,)<BR> +With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade;<BR> +And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said:<BR> +"Unhappy queen! then is the common breath<BR> +Of rumor true, in your reported death,<BR> +And I, alas! the cause? By Heav'n, I vow,<BR> +And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below,<BR> +Unwilling I forsook your friendly state,<BR> +Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by fate-<BR> +Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might<BR> +Have sent me to these regions void of light,<BR> +Thro' the vast empire of eternal night.<BR> +Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief,<BR> +My flight should urge you to this dire relief.<BR> +Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows:<BR> +'T is the last interview that fate allows!"<BR> +In vain he thus attempts her mind to move<BR> +With tears, and pray'rs, and late-repenting love.<BR> +Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round,<BR> +But fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground,<BR> +And what he says and swears, regards no more<BR> +Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar;<BR> +But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight,<BR> +Hid in the forest and the shades of night;<BR> +Then sought Sichaeus thro' the shady grove,<BR> +Who answer'd all her cares, and equal'd all her love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Some pious tears the pitying hero paid,<BR> +And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade,<BR> +Then took the forward way, by fate ordain'd,<BR> +And, with his guide, the farther fields attain'd,<BR> +Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd.<BR> +Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race,<BR> +The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace;<BR> +And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face.<BR> +Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a num'rous train,<BR> +All much lamented, all in battle slain;<BR> +Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest,<BR> +Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest.<BR> +And proud Idaeus, Priam's charioteer,<BR> +Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.<BR> +The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend<BR> +And with unwearied eyes behold their friend;<BR> +Delight to hover near, and long to know<BR> +What bus'ness brought him to the realms below.<BR> +But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train,<BR> +When his refulgent arms flash'd thro' the shady plain,<BR> +Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear,<BR> +As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear<BR> +Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear.<BR> +They rais'd a feeble cry, with trembling notes;<BR> +But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Here Priam's son, Deiphobus, he found,<BR> +Whose face and limbs were one continued wound:<BR> +Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears,<BR> +Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears.<BR> +He scarcely knew him, striving to disown<BR> +His blotted form, and blushing to be known;<BR> +And therefore first began: "O Teucer's race,<BR> +Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?<BR> +What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace?<BR> +'Twas fam'd, that in our last and fatal night<BR> +Your single prowess long sustain'd the fight,<BR> +Till tir'd, not forc'd, a glorious fate you chose,<BR> +And fell upon a heap of slaughter'd foes.<BR> +But, in remembrance of so brave a deed,<BR> +A tomb and fun'ral honors I decreed;<BR> +Thrice call'd your manes on the Trojan plains:<BR> +The place your armor and your name retains.<BR> +Your body too I sought, and, had I found,<BR> +Design'd for burial in your native ground."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The ghost replied: "Your piety has paid<BR> +All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade;<BR> +But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife,<BR> +To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life.<BR> +These are the monuments of Helen's love:<BR> +The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above.<BR> +You know in what deluding joys we pass'd<BR> +The night that was by Heav'n decreed our last:<BR> +For, when the fatal horse, descending down,<BR> +Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th' unhappy town<BR> +She feign'd nocturnal orgies; left my bed,<BR> +And, mix'd with Trojan dames, the dances led<BR> +Then, waving high her torch, the signal made,<BR> +Which rous'd the Grecians from their ambuscade.<BR> +With watching overworn, with cares oppress'd,<BR> +Unhappy I had laid me down to rest,<BR> +And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess'd.<BR> +Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid,<BR> +And from beneath my head my sword convey'd;<BR> +The door unlatch'd, and, with repeated calls,<BR> +Invites her former lord within my walls.<BR> +Thus in her crime her confidence she plac'd,<BR> +And with new treasons would redeem the past.<BR> +What need I more? Into the room they ran,<BR> +And meanly murther'd a defenseless man.<BR> +Ulysses, basely born, first led the way.<BR> +Avenging pow'rs! with justice if I pray,<BR> +That fortune be their own another day!<BR> +But answer you; and in your turn relate,<BR> +What brought you, living, to the Stygian state:<BR> +Driv'n by the winds and errors of the sea,<BR> +Or did you Heav'n's superior doom obey?<BR> +Or tell what other chance conducts your way,<BR> +To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats,<BR> +Tumults and torments of th' infernal seats."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While thus in talk the flying hours they pass,<BR> +The sun had finish'd more than half his race:<BR> +And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent<BR> +The little time of stay which Heav'n had lent;<BR> +But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay:<BR> +"Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day:<BR> +'T is here, in different paths, the way divides;<BR> +The right to Pluto's golden palace guides;<BR> +The left to that unhappy region tends,<BR> +Which to the depth of Tartarus descends;<BR> +The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends."<BR> +Then thus Deiphobus: "O sacred maid,<BR> +Forbear to chide, and be your will obey'd!<BR> +Lo! to the secret shadows I retire,<BR> +To pay my penance till my years expire.<BR> +Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown'd,<BR> +And born to better fates than I have found."<BR> +He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn'd<BR> +To secret shadows, and in silence mourn'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The hero, looking on the left, espied<BR> +A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side<BR> +With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds,<BR> +Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds;<BR> +And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds<BR> +Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais'd on high<BR> +With adamantine columns, threats the sky.<BR> +Vain is the force of man, and Heav'n's as vain,<BR> +To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.<BR> +Sublime on these a tow'r of steel is rear'd;<BR> +And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward,<BR> +Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day,<BR> +Observant of the souls that pass the downward way.<BR> +From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains<BR> +Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.<BR> +The Trojan stood astonish'd at their cries,<BR> +And ask'd his guide from whence those yells arise;<BR> +And what the crimes, and what the tortures were,<BR> +And loud laments that rent the liquid air.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She thus replied: "The chaste and holy race<BR> +Are all forbidden this polluted place.<BR> +But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods,<BR> +Then led me trembling thro' these dire abodes,<BR> +And taught the tortures of th' avenging gods.<BR> +These are the realms of unrelenting fate;<BR> +And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state.<BR> +He hears and judges each committed crime;<BR> +Enquires into the manner, place, and time.<BR> +The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal,<BR> +(Loth to confess, unable to conceal),<BR> +From the first moment of his vital breath,<BR> +To his last hour of unrepenting death.<BR> +Straight, o'er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes<BR> +The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes,<BR> +And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes.<BR> +Then, of itself, unfolds th' eternal door;<BR> +With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar.<BR> +You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost<BR> +Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post.<BR> +More formidable Hydra stands within,<BR> +Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin.<BR> +The gaping gulf low to the center lies,<BR> +And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies.<BR> +The rivals of the gods, the Titan race,<BR> +Here, sing'd with lightning, roll within th' unfathom'd space.<BR> +Here lie th' Alaean twins, (I saw them both,)<BR> +Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth,<BR> +Who dar'd in fight the Thund'rer to defy,<BR> +Affect his heav'n, and force him from the sky.<BR> +Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel pains, I found,<BR> +For emulating Jove; the rattling sound<BR> +Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze<BR> +Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays.<BR> +Thro' Elis and the Grecian towns he flew;<BR> +Th' audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:<BR> +He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain,<BR> +Sought godlike worship from a servile train.<BR> +Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass<BR> +O'er hollow arches of resounding brass,<BR> +To rival thunder in its rapid course,<BR> +And imitate inimitable force!<BR> +But he, the King of Heav'n, obscure on high,<BR> +Bar'd his red arm, and, launching from the sky<BR> +His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke,<BR> +Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook.<BR> +There Tityus was to see, who took his birth<BR> +From heav'n, his nursing from the foodful earth.<BR> +Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,<BR> +Infold nine acres of infernal space.<BR> +A rav'nous vulture, in his open'd side,<BR> +Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried;<BR> +Still for the growing liver digg'd his breast;<BR> +The growing liver still supplied the feast;<BR> +Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains:<BR> +Th' immortal hunger lasts, th' immortal food remains.<BR> +Ixion and Perithous I could name,<BR> +And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame.<BR> +High o'er their heads a mold'ring rock is plac'd,<BR> +That promises a fall, and shakes at ev'ry blast.<BR> +They lie below, on golden beds display'd;<BR> +And genial feasts with regal pomp are made.<BR> +The Queen of Furies by their sides is set,<BR> +And snatches from their mouths th' untasted meat,<BR> +Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears,<BR> +Tossing her torch, and thund'ring in their ears.<BR> +Then they, who brothers' better claim disown,<BR> +Expel their parents, and usurp the throne;<BR> +Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold,<BR> +Sit brooding on unprofitable gold;<BR> +Who dare not give, and ev'n refuse to lend<BR> +To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend.<BR> +Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train<BR> +Of lustful youths, for foul adult'ry slain:<BR> +Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold,<BR> +And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold.<BR> +All these within the dungeon's depth remain,<BR> +Despairing pardon, and expecting pain.<BR> +Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know<BR> +Their process, or the forms of law below.<BR> +Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along,<BR> +And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung<BR> +Unhappy Theseus, doom'd for ever there,<BR> +Is fix'd by fate on his eternal chair;<BR> +And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries<BR> +(Could warning make the world more just or wise):<BR> +'Learn righteousness, and dread th' avenging deities.'<BR> +To tyrants others have their country sold,<BR> +Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold;<BR> +Some have old laws repeal'd, new statutes made,<BR> +Not as the people pleas'd, but as they paid;<BR> +With incest some their daughters' bed profan'd:<BR> +All dar'd the worst of ills, and, what they dar'd, attain'd.<BR> +Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,<BR> +And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs,<BR> +I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,<BR> +Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.<BR> +But let us haste our voyage to pursue:<BR> +The walls of Pluto's palace are in view;<BR> +The gate, and iron arch above it, stands<BR> +On anvils labor'd by the Cyclops' hands.<BR> +Before our farther way the Fates allow,<BR> +Here must we fix on high the golden bough."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said: and thro' the gloomy shades they pass'd,<BR> +And chose the middle path. Arriv'd at last,<BR> +The prince with living water sprinkled o'er<BR> +His limbs and body; then approach'd the door,<BR> +Possess'd the porch, and on the front above<BR> +He fix'd the fatal bough requir'd by Pluto's love.<BR> +These holy rites perform'd, they took their way<BR> +Where long extended plains of pleasure lay:<BR> +The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie,<BR> +With ether vested, and a purple sky;<BR> +The blissful seats of happy souls below.<BR> +Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know;<BR> +Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,<BR> +And on the green contend the wrestler's prize.<BR> +Some in heroic verse divinely sing;<BR> +Others in artful measures led the ring.<BR> +The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,<BR> +There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest;<BR> +His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,<BR> +Strikes sev'n distinguish'd notes, and sev'n at once they fill.<BR> +Here found they Teucer's old heroic race,<BR> +Born better times and happier years to grace.<BR> +Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy<BR> +Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.<BR> +The chief beheld their chariots from afar,<BR> +Their shining arms, and coursers train'd to war:<BR> +Their lances fix'd in earth, their steeds around,<BR> +Free from their harness, graze the flow'ry ground.<BR> +The love of horses which they had, alive,<BR> +And care of chariots, after death survive.<BR> +Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;<BR> +Some did the song, and some the choir maintain,<BR> +Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po<BR> +Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.<BR> +Here patriots live, who, for their country's good,<BR> +In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood:<BR> +Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode,<BR> +And poets worthy their inspiring god;<BR> +And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,<BR> +Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts:<BR> +Those who to worth their bounty did extend,<BR> +And those who knew that bounty to commend.<BR> +The heads of these with holy fillets bound,<BR> +And all their temples were with garlands crown'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To these the Sibyl thus her speech address'd,<BR> +And first to him surrounded by the rest<BR> +(Tow'ring his height, and ample was his breast):<BR> +"Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say,<BR> +Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way<BR> +To find the hero, for whose only sake<BR> +We sought the dark abodes, and cross'd the bitter lake?"<BR> +To this the sacred poet thus replied:<BR> +"In no fix'd place the happy souls reside.<BR> +In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,<BR> +By crystal streams, that murmur thro' the meads:<BR> +But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;<BR> +The path conducts you to your journey's end."<BR> +This said, he led them up the mountain's brow,<BR> +And shews them all the shining fields below.<BR> +They wind the hill, and thro' the blissful meadows go.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But old Anchises, in a flow'ry vale,<BR> +Review'd his muster'd race, and took the tale:<BR> +Those happy spirits, which, ordain'd by fate,<BR> +For future beings and new bodies wait-<BR> +With studious thought observ'd th' illustrious throng,<BR> +In nature's order as they pass'd along:<BR> +Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,<BR> +In peaceful senates and successful war.<BR> +He, when Aeneas on the plain appears,<BR> +Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.<BR> +"Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race!<BR> +O long expected to my dear embrace!<BR> +Once more 't is giv'n me to behold your face!<BR> +The love and pious duty which you pay<BR> +Have pass'd the perils of so hard a way.<BR> +'T is true, computing times, I now believ'd<BR> +The happy day approach'd; nor are my hopes deceiv'd.<BR> +What length of lands, what oceans have you pass'd;<BR> +What storms sustain'd, and on what shores been cast?<BR> +How have I fear'd your fate! but fear'd it most,<BR> +When love assail'd you, on the Libyan coast."<BR> +To this, the filial duty thus replies:<BR> +"Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes<BR> +Appear'd, and often urg'd this painful enterprise.<BR> +After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,<BR> +My navy rides at anchor in the bay.<BR> +But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun<BR> +The dear embraces of your longing son!"<BR> +He said; and falling tears his face bedew:<BR> +Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;<BR> +And thrice the flitting shadow slipp'd away,<BR> +Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees<BR> +A sep'rate grove, thro' which a gentle breeze<BR> +Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro' the trees;<BR> +And, just before the confines of the wood,<BR> +The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.<BR> +About the boughs an airy nation flew,<BR> +Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew;<BR> +In summer's heat on tops of lilies feed,<BR> +And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:<BR> +The winged army roams the fields around;<BR> +The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.<BR> +Aeneas wond'ring stood, then ask'd the cause<BR> +Which to the stream the crowding people draws.<BR> +Then thus the sire: "The souls that throng the flood<BR> +Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow'd:<BR> +In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste,<BR> +Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.<BR> +Long has my soul desir'd this time and place,<BR> +To set before your sight your glorious race,<BR> +That this presaging joy may fire your mind<BR> +To seek the shores by destiny design'd."-<BR> +"O father, can it be, that souls sublime<BR> +Return to visit our terrestrial clime,<BR> +And that the gen'rous mind, releas'd by death,<BR> +Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Anchises then, in order, thus begun<BR> +To clear those wonders to his godlike son:<BR> +"Know, first, that heav'n, and earth's compacted frame,<BR> +And flowing waters, and the starry flame,<BR> +And both the radiant lights, one common soul<BR> +Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole.<BR> +This active mind, infus'd thro' all the space,<BR> +Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.<BR> +Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,<BR> +And birds of air, and monsters of the main.<BR> +Th' ethereal vigor is in all the same,<BR> +And every soul is fill'd with equal flame;<BR> +As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay<BR> +Of mortal members, subject to decay,<BR> +Blunt not the beams of heav'n and edge of day.<BR> +From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,<BR> +Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,<BR> +And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind,<BR> +In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin'd,<BR> +Assert the native skies, or own its heav'nly kind:<BR> +Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;<BR> +But long-contracted filth ev'n in the soul remains.<BR> +The relics of inveterate vice they wear,<BR> +And spots of sin obscene in ev'ry face appear.<BR> +For this are various penances enjoin'd;<BR> +And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,<BR> +Some plung'd in waters, others purg'd in fires,<BR> +Till all the dregs are drain'd, and all the rust expires.<BR> +All have their manes, and those manes bear:<BR> +The few, so cleans'd, to these abodes repair,<BR> +And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.<BR> +Then are they happy, when by length of time<BR> +The scurf is worn away of each committed crime;<BR> +No speck is left of their habitual stains,<BR> +But the pure ether of the soul remains.<BR> +But, when a thousand rolling years are past,<BR> +(So long their punishments and penance last,)<BR> +Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,<BR> +Compell'd to drink the deep Lethaean flood,<BR> +In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares<BR> +Of their past labors, and their irksome years,<BR> +That, unrememb'ring of its former pain,<BR> +The soul may suffer mortal flesh again."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, the father spirit leads<BR> +The priestess and his son thro' swarms of shades,<BR> +And takes a rising ground, from thence to see<BR> +The long procession of his progeny.<BR> +"Survey," pursued the sire, "this airy throng,<BR> +As, offer'd to thy view, they pass along.<BR> +These are th' Italian names, which fate will join<BR> +With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.<BR> +Observe the youth who first appears in sight,<BR> +And holds the nearest station to the light,<BR> +Already seems to snuff the vital air,<BR> +And leans just forward, on a shining spear:<BR> +Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,<BR> +But first in order sent, to fill thy place;<BR> +An Alban name, but mix'd with Dardan blood,<BR> +Born in the covert of a shady wood:<BR> +Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,<BR> +Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.<BR> +In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,<BR> +And, born a king, a race of kings beget.<BR> +Then Procas, honor of the Trojan name,<BR> +Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.<BR> +A second Silvius after these appears;<BR> +Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears;<BR> +For arms and justice equally renown'd,<BR> +Who, late restor'd, in Alba shall be crown'd.<BR> +How great they look! how vig'rously they wield<BR> +Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield!<BR> +But they, who crown'd with oaken wreaths appear,<BR> +Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;<BR> +Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;<BR> +And raise Collatian tow'rs on rocky ground.<BR> +All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,<BR> +Tho' now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.<BR> +See Romulus the great, born to restore<BR> +The crown that once his injur'd grandsire wore.<BR> +This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear,<BR> +And like his sire in arms he shall appear.<BR> +Two rising crests, his royal head adorn;<BR> +Born from a god, himself to godhead born:<BR> +His sire already signs him for the skies,<BR> +And marks the seat amidst the deities.<BR> +Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,<BR> +Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome-<BR> +Rome, whose ascending tow'rs shall heav'n invade,<BR> +Involving earth and ocean in her shade;<BR> +High as the Mother of the Gods in place,<BR> +And proud, like her, of an immortal race.<BR> +Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,<BR> +With golden turrets on her temples crown'd;<BR> +A hundred gods her sweeping train supply;<BR> +Her offspring all, and all command the sky.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see<BR> +Your Roman race, and Julian progeny.<BR> +The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour,<BR> +Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis'd pow'r.<BR> +But next behold the youth of form divine,<BR> +Ceasar himself, exalted in his line;<BR> +Augustus, promis'd oft, and long foretold,<BR> +Sent to the realm that Saturn rul'd of old;<BR> +Born to restore a better age of gold.<BR> +Afric and India shall his pow'r obey;<BR> +He shall extend his propagated sway<BR> +Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,<BR> +Where Atlas turns the rolling heav'ns around,<BR> +And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown'd.<BR> +At his foreseen approach, already quake<BR> +The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake:<BR> +Their seers behold the tempest from afar,<BR> +And threat'ning oracles denounce the war.<BR> +Nile hears him knocking at his sev'nfold gates,<BR> +And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates.<BR> +Nor Hercules more lands or labors knew,<BR> +Not tho' the brazen-footed hind he slew,<BR> +Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,<BR> +And dipp'd his arrows in Lernaean gore;<BR> +Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,<BR> +By tigers drawn triumphant in his car,<BR> +From Nisus' top descending on the plains,<BR> +With curling vines around his purple reins.<BR> +And doubt we yet thro' dangers to pursue<BR> +The paths of honor, and a crown in view?<BR> +But what's the man, who from afar appears?<BR> +His head with olive crown'd, his hand a censer bears,<BR> +His hoary beard and holy vestments bring<BR> +His lost idea back: I know the Roman king.<BR> +He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,<BR> +Call'd from his mean abode a scepter to sustain.<BR> +Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,<BR> +An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.<BR> +He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare,<BR> +Disus'd to toils, and triumphs of the war.<BR> +By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,<BR> +And scour his armor from the rust of peace.<BR> +Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,<BR> +But vain within, and proudly popular.<BR> +Next view the Tarquin kings, th' avenging sword<BR> +Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor'd.<BR> +He first renews the rods and ax severe,<BR> +And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.<BR> +His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,<BR> +And long for arbitrary lords again,<BR> +With ignominy scourg'd, in open sight,<BR> +He dooms to death deserv'd, asserting public right.<BR> +Unhappy man, to break the pious laws<BR> +Of nature, pleading in his children's cause!<BR> +Howeer the doubtful fact is understood,<BR> +'T is love of honor, and his country's good:<BR> +The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.<BR> +Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;<BR> +And, next, the two devoted Decii view:<BR> +The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home<BR> +With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes o'ercome<BR> +The pair you see in equal armor shine,<BR> +Now, friends below, in close embraces join;<BR> +But, when they leave the shady realms of night,<BR> +And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light,<BR> +With mortal hate each other shall pursue:<BR> +What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!<BR> +From Alpine heights the father first descends;<BR> +His daughter's husband in the plain attends:<BR> +His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.<BR> +Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more;<BR> +Nor stain your country with her children's gore!<BR> +And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,<BR> +Thou, of my blood, who bearist the Julian name!<BR> +Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,<BR> +And to the Capitol his chariot guide,<BR> +From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.<BR> +And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils,<BR> +On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,<BR> +And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause;<BR> +Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;<BR> +Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace,<BR> +And Pallas, for her violated place.<BR> +Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd,<BR> +And conqu'ring Cossus goes with laurels crown'd.<BR> +Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare<BR> +The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war,<BR> +The double bane of Carthage? Who can see<BR> +Without esteem for virtuous poverty,<BR> +Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire<BR> +The plowman consul in his coarse attire?<BR> +Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;<BR> +And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,<BR> +Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state,<BR> +And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!<BR> +Let others better mold the running mass<BR> +Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,<BR> +And soften into flesh a marble face;<BR> +Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,<BR> +And when the stars descend, and when they rise.<BR> +But, Rome, 't is thine alone, with awful sway,<BR> +To rule mankind, and make the world obey,<BR> +Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way;<BR> +To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free:<BR> +These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He paus'd; and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd<BR> +The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd:<BR> +"See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils,<BR> +He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!<BR> +He, when his country, threaten'd with alarms,<BR> +Requires his courage and his conqu'ring arms,<BR> +Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;<BR> +Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;<BR> +Then to the Capitol in triumph move,<BR> +And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove."<BR> +Aeneas here beheld, of form divine,<BR> +A godlike youth in glitt'ring armor shine,<BR> +With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;<BR> +But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.<BR> +He saw, and, wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide,<BR> +What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side:<BR> +"His son, or one of his illustrious name?<BR> +How like the former, and almost the same!<BR> +Observe the crowds that compass him around;<BR> +All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:<BR> +But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread,<BR> +And night, with sable shades, involves his head."<BR> +"Seek not to know," the ghost replied with tears,<BR> +"The sorrows of thy sons in future years.<BR> +This youth (the blissful vision of a day)<BR> +Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch'd away.<BR> +The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state,<BR> +Were but their gifts as permanent as great.<BR> +What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!<BR> +How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!<BR> +What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tiber see,<BR> +When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!<BR> +No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,<BR> +No youth afford so great a cause to grieve;<BR> +The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast,<BR> +Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost!<BR> +Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!<BR> +Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!<BR> +No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field<BR> +Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield;<BR> +Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,<BR> +When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.<BR> +Ah! couldst thou break thro' fate's severe decree,<BR> +A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!<BR> +Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,<BR> +Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring;<BR> +Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow;<BR> +This gift which parents to their children owe,<BR> +This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!"<BR> +Thus having said, he led the hero round<BR> +The confines of the blest Elysian ground;<BR> +Which when Anchises to his son had shown,<BR> +And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne,<BR> +He tells the future wars, ordain'd by fate;<BR> +The strength and customs of the Latian state;<BR> +The prince, and people; and forearms his care<BR> +With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;<BR> +Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn:<BR> +True visions thro' transparent horn arise;<BR> +Thro' polish'd ivory pass deluding lies.<BR> +Of various things discoursing as he pass'd,<BR> +Anchises hither bends his steps at last.<BR> +Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd<BR> +His valiant offspring and divining guest.<BR> +Straight to the ships Aeneas his way,<BR> +Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea,<BR> +Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay.<BR> +At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;<BR> +Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK VII<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And thou, O matron of immortal fame,<BR> +Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;<BR> +Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee,<BR> +The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy.<BR> +Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains;<BR> +Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have) remains.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid,<BR> +He plow'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.<BR> +From land a gentle breeze arose by night,<BR> +Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright,<BR> +And the sea trembled with her silver light.<BR> +Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run,<BR> +(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)<BR> +A dang'rous coast: the goddess wastes her days<BR> +In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays:<BR> +In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,<BR> +And cedar brands supply her father's light.<BR> +From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,<BR> +The roars of lions that refuse the chain,<BR> +The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears,<BR> +And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears.<BR> +These from their caverns, at the close of night,<BR> +Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.<BR> +Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r,<BR> +(That watch'd the moon and planetary hour,)<BR> +With words and wicked herbs from humankind<BR> +Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd.<BR> +Which monsters lest the Trojans' pious host<BR> +Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted coast,<BR> +Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night<BR> +With rising gales that sped their happy flight.<BR> +Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,<BR> +And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.<BR> +Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,<BR> +And wav'd her saffron streamer thro' the skies;<BR> +When Thetis blush'd in purple not her own,<BR> +And from her face the breathing winds were blown,<BR> +A sudden silence sate upon the sea,<BR> +And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.<BR> +The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,<BR> +Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:<BR> +Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,<BR> +With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,<BR> +That drove the sand along, he took his way,<BR> +And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.<BR> +About him, and above, and round the wood,<BR> +The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,<BR> +That bath'd within, or basked upon his side,<BR> +To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.<BR> +The captain gives command; the joyful train<BR> +Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire,<BR> +And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!<BR> +Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;<BR> +Declare the past and state of things,<BR> +When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,<BR> +And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought.<BR> +These are my theme, and how the war began,<BR> +And how concluded by the godlike man:<BR> +For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,<BR> +Which princes and their people did engage;<BR> +And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate,<BR> +In fighting fields pursued and found their fate;<BR> +That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,<BR> +And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.<BR> +A larger scene of action is display'd;<BR> +And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd<BR> +The Latin scepter, and his people blest:<BR> +His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame<BR> +His mother; fair Marica was her name.<BR> +But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew<BR> +His birth from Saturn, if records be true.<BR> +Thus King Latinus, in the third degree,<BR> +Had Saturn author of his family.<BR> +But this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed,<BR> +Was blest with no male issue to succeed:<BR> +His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate;<BR> +One only daughter heir'd the royal state.<BR> +Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led,<BR> +The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed.<BR> +Among the crowd, but far above the rest,<BR> +Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.<BR> +Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,<BR> +Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen;<BR> +With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand,<BR> +But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood<BR> +A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood;<BR> +Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair<BR> +Was kept and cut with superstitious care.<BR> +This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd,<BR> +Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd;<BR> +And last, in honor of his new abode,<BR> +He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god.<BR> +It happen'd once (a boding prodigy!)<BR> +A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,<BR> +(Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,)<BR> +Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;<BR> +There with their clasping feet together clung,<BR> +And a long cluster from the laurel hung.<BR> +An ancient augur prophesied from hence:<BR> +"Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!<BR> +From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands,<BR> +To the same parts on earth; his army lands;<BR> +The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire<BR> +Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,<BR> +(Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd in smoke<BR> +Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,<BR> +Caught her dishevel'd hair and rich attire;<BR> +Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire:<BR> +From thence the fuming trail began to spread<BR> +And lambent glories danc'd about her head.<BR> +This new portent the seer with wonder views,<BR> +Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:<BR> +"The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,<BR> +Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown'd;<BR> +But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate,<BR> +War shall the country waste, and change the state."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,<BR> +For counsel to his father Faunus went,<BR> +And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy<BR> +Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie.<BR> +To these the Latian and the Sabine land<BR> +Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand.<BR> +The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease,<BR> +And nightly visions in his slumber sees;<BR> +A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears,<BR> +And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears:<BR> +These he consults, the future fates to know,<BR> +From pow'rs above, and from the fiends below.<BR> +Here, for the gods' advice, Latinus flies,<BR> +Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice:<BR> +Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd,<BR> +He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd.<BR> +No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,<BR> +When, from above, a more than mortal sound<BR> +Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke:<BR> +"Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke<BR> +Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.<BR> +A foreign son upon thy shore descends,<BR> +Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.<BR> +His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd,<BR> +Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:<BR> +'T is theirs whate'er the sun surveys around."<BR> +These answers, in the silent night receiv'd,<BR> +The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd:<BR> +The fame thro' all the neighb'ring nations flew,<BR> +When now the Trojan navy was in view.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread<BR> +His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;<BR> +And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.<BR> +They sate; and, (not without the god's command,)<BR> +Their homely fare dispatch'd, the hungry band<BR> +Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,<BR> +To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.<BR> +Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said:<BR> +"See, we devour the plates on which we fed."<BR> +The speech had omen, that the Trojan race<BR> +Should find repose, and this the time and place.<BR> +Aeneas took the word, and thus replies,<BR> +Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes:<BR> +"All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods!<BR> +Behold the destin'd place of your abodes!<BR> +For thus Anchises prophesied of old,<BR> +And this our fatal place of rest foretold:<BR> +'When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,<BR> +By famine forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat,<BR> +Then ease your weary Trojans will attend,<BR> +And the long labors of your voyage end.<BR> +Remember on that happy coast to build,<BR> +And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.'<BR> +This was that famine, this the fatal place<BR> +Which ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race.<BR> +Then, on to-morrow's dawn, your care employ,<BR> +To search the land, and where the cities lie,<BR> +And what the men; but give this day to joy.<BR> +Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest,<BR> +Call great Anchises to the genial feast:<BR> +Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;<BR> +Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, the hero bound his brows<BR> +With leafy branches, then perform'd his vows;<BR> +Adoring first the genius of the place,<BR> +Then Earth, the mother of the heav'nly race,<BR> +The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown,<BR> +And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne,<BR> +And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove,<BR> +And last his sire below, and mother queen above.<BR> +Then heav'n's high monarch thunder'd thrice aloud,<BR> +And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.<BR> +Soon thro' the joyful camp a rumor flew,<BR> +The time was come their city to renew.<BR> +Then ev'ry brow with cheerful green is crown'd,<BR> +The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When next the rosy morn disclos'd the day,<BR> +The scouts to sev'ral parts divide their way,<BR> +To learn the natives' names, their towns explore,<BR> +The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore:<BR> +Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands;<BR> +Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.<BR> +The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways<BR> +To found his empire, and his town to raise,<BR> +A hundred youths from all his train selects,<BR> +And to the Latian court their course directs,<BR> +(The spacious palace where their prince resides,)<BR> +And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides.<BR> +They go commission'd to require a peace,<BR> +And carry presents to procure access.<BR> +Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs<BR> +His new-elected seat, and draws the lines.<BR> +The Trojans round the place a rampire cast,<BR> +And palisades about the trenches plac'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,<BR> +From far the town and lofty tow'rs survey;<BR> +At length approach the walls. Without the gate,<BR> +They see the boys and Latian youth debate<BR> +The martial prizes on the dusty plain:<BR> +Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein;<BR> +Some bend the stubborn bow for victory,<BR> +And some with darts their active sinews try.<BR> +A posting messenger, dispatch'd from hence,<BR> +Of this fair troop advis'd their aged prince,<BR> +That foreign men of mighty stature came;<BR> +Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name.<BR> +The king ordains their entrance, and ascends<BR> +His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,<BR> +Supported by a hundred pillars stood,<BR> +And round incompass'd with a rising wood.<BR> +The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight;<BR> +Surpris'd at once with reverence and delight.<BR> +There kings receiv'd the marks of sov'reign pow'r;<BR> +In state the monarchs march'd; the lictors bore<BR> +Their awful axes and the rods before.<BR> +Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray'r,<BR> +And here the sacred senators repair;<BR> +All at large tables, in long order set,<BR> +A ram their off'ring, and a ram their meat.<BR> +Above the portal, carv'd in cedar wood,<BR> +Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood;<BR> +Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;<BR> +And Italus, that led the colony;<BR> +And ancient Janus, with his double face,<BR> +And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.<BR> +There good Sabinus, planter of the vines,<BR> +On a short pruning hook his head reclines,<BR> +And studiously surveys his gen'rous wines;<BR> +Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,<BR> +And honorable wounds from battle brought.<BR> +Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears,<BR> +And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,<BR> +And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.<BR> +Above the rest, as chief of all the band,<BR> +Was Picus plac'd, a buckler in his hand;<BR> +His other wav'd a long divining wand.<BR> +Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate,<BR> +Yet could not with his art avoid his fate:<BR> +For Circe long had lov'd the youth in vain,<BR> +Till love, refus'd, converted to disdain:<BR> +Then, mixing pow'rful herbs, with magic art,<BR> +She chang'd his form, who could not change his heart;<BR> +Constrain'd him in a bird, and made him fly,<BR> +With party-color'd plumes, a chatt'ring pie.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In this high temple, on a chair of state,<BR> +The seat of audience, old Latinus sate;<BR> +Then gave admission to the Trojan train;<BR> +And thus with pleasing accents he began:<BR> +"Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own,<BR> +Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown-<BR> +Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:<BR> +Were you by stress of weather cast aground?<BR> +(Such dangers as on seas are often seen,<BR> +And oft befall to miserable men,)<BR> +Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay,<BR> +Spent and disabled in so long a way?<BR> +Say what you want: the Latians you shall find<BR> +Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd;<BR> +For, since the time of Saturn's holy reign,<BR> +His hospitable customs we retain.<BR> +I call to mind (but time the tale has worn)<BR> +Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho' born<BR> +On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,<BR> +And Samothracia, Samos call'd before.<BR> +From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd his birth;<BR> +But after, when exempt from mortal earth,<BR> +From thence ascended to his kindred skies,<BR> +A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice,"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said. Ilioneus made this reply:<BR> +"O king, of Faunus' royal family!<BR> +Nor wintry winds to Latium forc'd our way,<BR> +Nor did the stars our wand'ring course betray.<BR> +Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound,<BR> +The port, so long desir'd, at length we found;<BR> +From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell'd;<BR> +Great as the greatest that the sun beheld.<BR> +The god began our line, who rules above;<BR> +And, as our race, our king descends from Jove:<BR> +And hither are we come, by his command,<BR> +To crave admission in your happy land.<BR> +How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour'd,<BR> +Our plains, our temples, and our town devour'd;<BR> +What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms<BR> +Shook Asia's crown with European arms;<BR> +Ev'n such have heard, if any such there be,<BR> +Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea;<BR> +And such as, born beneath the burning sky<BR> +And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.<BR> +From that dire deluge, thro' the wat'ry waste,<BR> +Such length of years, such various perils past,<BR> +At last escap'd, to Latium we repair,<BR> +To beg what you without your want may spare:<BR> +The common water, and the common air;<BR> +Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,<BR> +Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods.<BR> +Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,<BR> +Nor length of time our gratitude efface.<BR> +Besides, what endless honor you shall gain,<BR> +To save and shelter Troy's unhappy train!<BR> +Now, by my sov'reign, and his fate, I swear,<BR> +Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in war;<BR> +Oft our alliance other lands desir'd,<BR> +And, what we seek of you, of us requir'd.<BR> +Despite not then, that in our hands we bear<BR> +These holy boughs, sue with words of pray'r.<BR> +Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,<BR> +Have doom'd our ships to seek the Latian land.<BR> +To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;<BR> +Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends;<BR> +Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force,<BR> +And where Numicus opes his holy source.<BR> +Besides, our prince presents, with his request,<BR> +Some small remains of what his sire possess'd.<BR> +This golden charger, snatch'd from burning Troy,<BR> +Anchises did in sacrifice employ;<BR> +This royal robe and this tiara wore<BR> +Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore<BR> +In full assemblies, and in solemn games;<BR> +These purple vests were weav'd by Dardan dames."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around<BR> +His eyes, and fix'd a while upon the ground.<BR> +Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his breast;<BR> +Not by the scepter mov'd, or kingly vest,<BR> +But pond'ring future things of wondrous weight;<BR> +Succession, empire, and his daughter's fate.<BR> +On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind,<BR> +And then revolv'd what Faunus had divin'd.<BR> +This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed<BR> +To share his scepter, and Lavinia's bed;<BR> +This was the race that sure portents foreshew<BR> +To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.<BR> +At length he rais'd his cheerful head, and spoke:<BR> +"The pow'rs," said he, "the pow'rs we both invoke,<BR> +To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,<BR> +And firm our purpose with their augury!<BR> +Have what you ask; your presents I receive;<BR> +Land, where and when you please, with ample leave;<BR> +Partake and use my kingdom as your own;<BR> +All shall be yours, while I command the crown:<BR> +And, if my wish'd alliance please your king,<BR> +Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring.<BR> +Then let him not a friend's embraces fear;<BR> +The peace is made when I behold him here.<BR> +Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,<BR> +I add to his commands my own request:<BR> +One only daughter heirs my crown and state,<BR> +Whom not our oracles, nor Heav'n, nor fate,<BR> +Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join<BR> +With any native of th' Ausonian line.<BR> +A foreign son-in-law shall come from far<BR> +(Such is our doom), a chief renown'd in war,<BR> +Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,<BR> +And thro' the conquer'd world diffuse our fame.<BR> +Himself to be the man the fates require,<BR> +I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed.<BR> +Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,<BR> +Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress'd:<BR> +Of these he chose the fairest and the best,<BR> +To mount the Trojan troop. At his command<BR> +The steeds caparison'd with purple stand,<BR> +With golden trappings, glorious to behold,<BR> +And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.<BR> +Then to his absent guest the king decreed<BR> +A pair of coursers born of heav'nly breed,<BR> +Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire;<BR> +Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire,<BR> +By substituting mares produc'd on earth,<BR> +Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal birth.<BR> +These draw the chariot which Latinus sends,<BR> +And the rich present to the prince commends.<BR> +Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,<BR> +To their expecting lord with peace return.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But jealous Juno, from Pachynus' height,<BR> +As she from Argos took her airy flight,<BR> +Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight.<BR> +She saw the Trojan and his joyful train<BR> +Descend upon the shore, desert the main,<BR> +Design a town, and, with unhop'd success,<BR> +Th' embassadors return with promis'd peace.<BR> +Then, pierc'd with pain, she shook her haughty head,<BR> +Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus she said:<BR> +"O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!<BR> +O fates of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose!<BR> +Could they not fall unpitied on the plain,<BR> +But slain revive, and, taken, scape again?<BR> +When execrable Troy in ashes lay,<BR> +Thro' fires and swords and seas they forc'd their way.<BR> +Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend,<BR> +Her rage disarm'd, her empire at an end.<BR> +Breathless and tir'd, is all my fury spent?<BR> +Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?<BR> +As if 't were little from their town to chase,<BR> +I thro' the seas pursued their exil'd race;<BR> +Ingag'd the heav'ns, oppos'd the stormy main;<BR> +But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain.<BR> +What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,<BR> +When these they overpass, and those they shun?<BR> +On Tiber's shores they land, secure of fate,<BR> +Triumphant o'er the storms and Juno's hate.<BR> +Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe,<BR> +And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath,<BR> +Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon;<BR> +(What great offense had either people done?)<BR> +But I, the consort of the Thunderer,<BR> +Have wag'd a long and unsuccessful war,<BR> +With various arts and arms in vain have toil'd,<BR> +And by a mortal man at length am foil'd.<BR> +If native pow'r prevail not, shall I doubt<BR> +To seek for needful succor from without?<BR> +If Jove and Heav'n my just desires deny,<BR> +Hell shall the pow'r of Heav'n and Jove supply.<BR> +Grant that the Fates have firm'd, by their decree,<BR> +The Trojan race to reign in Italy;<BR> +At least I can defer the nuptial day,<BR> +And with protracted wars the peace delay:<BR> +With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,<BR> +And both the people near destruction brought;<BR> +So shall the son-in-law and father join,<BR> +With ruin, war, and waste of either line.<BR> +O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow'd<BR> +With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood!<BR> +Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand;<BR> +Another queen brings forth another brand,<BR> +To burn with foreign fires another land!<BR> +A second Paris, diff'ring but in name,<BR> +Shall fire his country with a second flame."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,<BR> +With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,<BR> +To rouse Alecto from th' infernal seat<BR> +Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.<BR> +This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose;<BR> +One who delights in wars and human woes.<BR> +Ev'n Pluto hates his own misshapen race;<BR> +Her sister Furies fly her hideous face;<BR> +So frightful are the forms the monster takes,<BR> +So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.<BR> +Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:<BR> +"O virgin daughter of eternal Night,<BR> +Give me this once thy labor, to sustain<BR> +My right, and execute my just disdain.<BR> +Let not the Trojans, with a feign'd pretense<BR> +Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian prince.<BR> +Expel from Italy that odious name,<BR> +And let not Juno suffer in her fame.<BR> +'T is thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a state,<BR> +Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,<BR> +And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.<BR> +Thy hand o'er towns the fun'ral torch displays,<BR> +And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.<BR> +Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds<BR> +Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds:<BR> +Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare<BR> +Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonian blood,<BR> +The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood;<BR> +And on her wicker wings, sublime thro' night,<BR> +She to the Latian palace took her flight:<BR> +There sought the queen's apartment, stood before<BR> +The peaceful threshold, and besieg'd the door.<BR> +Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast<BR> +Fir'd with disdain for Turnus dispossess'd,<BR> +And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.<BR> +From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes<BR> +Her darling plague, the fav'rite of her snakes;<BR> +With her full force she threw the poisonous dart,<BR> +And fix'd it deep within Amata's heart,<BR> +That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage,<BR> +And sacrifice to strife her house husband's age.<BR> +Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims<BR> +Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs;<BR> +His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides,<BR> +Now like a chain around her neck he rides,<BR> +Now like a fillet to her head repairs,<BR> +And with his circling volumes folds her hairs.<BR> +At first the silent venom slid with ease,<BR> +And seiz'd her cooler senses by degrees;<BR> +Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far,<BR> +In plaintive accents she began the war,<BR> +And thus bespoke her husband: "Shall," she said,<BR> +"A wand'ring prince enjoy Lavinia's bed?<BR> +If nature plead not in a parent's heart,<BR> +Pity my tears, and pity her desert.<BR> +I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,<BR> +You in vain, reverse your cruel doom;<BR> +The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,<BR> +And bear the royal virgin far away!<BR> +A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,<BR> +In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore,<BR> +And ravish'd Helen from her husband bore.<BR> +Think on a king's inviolable word;<BR> +And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord:<BR> +To this false foreigner you give your throne,<BR> +And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.<BR> +Resume your ancient care; and, if the god<BR> +Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,<BR> +Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,<BR> +Not born your subjects, or deriv'd from hence.<BR> +Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace,<BR> +He springs from Inachus of Argive race."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But when she saw her reasons idly spent,<BR> +And could not move him from his fix'd intent,<BR> +She flew to rage; for now the snake possess'd<BR> +Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast;<BR> +She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,<BR> +And fills with horrid howls the public place.<BR> +And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,<BR> +On the smooth pavement of an empty court;<BR> +The wooden engine flies and whirls about,<BR> +Admir'd, with clamors, of the beardless rout;<BR> +They lash aloud; each other they provoke,<BR> +And lend their little souls at ev'ry stroke:<BR> +Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows<BR> +Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.<BR> +Nor yet content, she strains her malice more,<BR> +And adds new ills to those contriv'd before:<BR> +She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng<BR> +Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,<BR> +Wand'ring thro' woods and wilds, and devious ways,<BR> +And with these arts the Trojan match delays.<BR> +She feign'd the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud,<BR> +And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd.<BR> +"Evoe! O Bacchus!" thus began the song;<BR> +And "Evoe!" answer'd all the female throng.<BR> +"O virgin! worthy thee alone!" she cried;<BR> +"O worthy thee alone!" the crew replied.<BR> +"For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,<BR> +And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance."<BR> +Like fury seiz'd the rest; the progress known,<BR> +All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:<BR> +All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav'lin bear,<BR> +Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair,<BR> +And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff'ring air.<BR> +The queen herself, inspir'd with rage divine,<BR> +Shook high above her head a flaming pine;<BR> +Then roll'd her haggard eyes around the throng,<BR> +And sung, in Turnus' name, the nuptial song:<BR> +"Io, ye Latian dames! if any here<BR> +Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear;<BR> +If there be here," she said, "who dare maintain<BR> +My right, nor think the name of mother vain;<BR> +Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair,<BR> +And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amata's breast the Fury thus invades,<BR> +And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades;<BR> +Then, when she found her venom spread so far,<BR> +The royal house embroil'd in civil war,<BR> +Rais'd on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies,<BR> +And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies.<BR> +His town, as fame reports, was built of old<BR> +By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,<BR> +Who fled her father's rage, and, with a train<BR> +Of following Argives, thro' the stormy main,<BR> +Driv'n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.<BR> +'T was Ardua once; now Ardea's name it bears;<BR> +Once a fair city, now consum'd with years.<BR> +Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay,<BR> +Betwixt the confines of the night and day,<BR> +Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside<BR> +Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried<BR> +The foulness of th' infernal form to hide.<BR> +Propp'd on a staff, she takes a trembling mien:<BR> +Her face is furrow'd, and her front obscene;<BR> +Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws;<BR> +Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws;<BR> +Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound,<BR> +Her temples with an olive wreath are crown'd.<BR> +Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane<BR> +Of Juno, now she seem'd, and thus began,<BR> +Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man:<BR> +"Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain<BR> +In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain?<BR> +Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize,<BR> +Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?<BR> +The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought,<BR> +The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought.<BR> +Go now, deluded man, and seek again<BR> +New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.<BR> +Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize;<BR> +Protect the Latians in luxurious ease.<BR> +This dream all-pow'rful Juno sends; I bear<BR> +Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear.<BR> +Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;<BR> +With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:<BR> +Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie<BR> +In Tiber's mouth, with fire and sword destroy.<BR> +The Latian king, unless he shall submit,<BR> +Own his old promise, and his new forget-<BR> +Let him, in arms, the pow'r of Turnus prove,<BR> +And learn to fear whom he disdains to love.<BR> +For such is Heav'n's command." The youthful prince<BR> +With scorn replied, and made this bold defense:<BR> +"You tell me, mother, what I knew before:<BR> +The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore.<BR> +I neither fear nor will provoke the war;<BR> +My fate is Juno's most peculiar care.<BR> +But time has made you dote, and vainly tell<BR> +Of arms imagin'd in your lonely cell.<BR> +Go; be the temple and the gods your care;<BR> +Permit to men the thought of peace and war."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke,<BR> +And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke.<BR> +Her eyes grow stiffen'd, and with sulphur burn;<BR> +Her hideous looks and hellish form return;<BR> +Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place,<BR> +And open all the furies of her face:<BR> +Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,<BR> +She cast him backward as he strove to rise,<BR> +And, ling'ring, sought to frame some new replies.<BR> +High on her head she rears two twisted snakes,<BR> +Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;<BR> +And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:<BR> +"Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell<BR> +Of arms imagin'd in her lonely cell!<BR> +Behold the Fates' infernal minister!<BR> +War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, her smold'ring torch, impress'd<BR> +With her full force, she plung'd into his breast.<BR> +Aghast he wak'd; and, starting from his bed,<BR> +Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o'erspread.<BR> +"Arms! arms!" he cries: "my sword and shield prepare!"<BR> +He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war.<BR> +So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,<BR> +The bubbling waters from the bottom rise:<BR> +Above the brims they force their fiery way;<BR> +Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The peace polluted thus, a chosen band<BR> +He first commissions to the Latian land,<BR> +In threat'ning embassy; then rais'd the rest,<BR> +To meet in arms th' intruding Trojan guest,<BR> +To force the foes from the Lavinian shore,<BR> +And Italy's indanger'd peace restore.<BR> +Himself alone an equal match he boasts,<BR> +To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts.<BR> +The gods invok'd, the Rutuli prepare<BR> +Their arms, and warn each other to the war.<BR> +His beauty these, and those his blooming age,<BR> +The rest his house and his own fame ingage.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,<BR> +The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies;<BR> +New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,<BR> +Which overlooks the vale with wide command;<BR> +Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train,<BR> +With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,<BR> +And pitch their toils around the shady plain.<BR> +The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent,<BR> +And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent.<BR> +'Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise<BR> +High o'er his front; his beams invade the skies.<BR> +From this light cause th' infernal maid prepares<BR> +The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred,<BR> +Snatch'd from his dams, and the tame youngling fed.<BR> +Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring,<BR> +Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king:<BR> +Their sister Silvia cherish'd with her care<BR> +The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare<BR> +To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied<BR> +His tender neck, and comb'd his silken hide,<BR> +And bathed his body. Patient of command<BR> +In time he grew, and, growing us'd to hand,<BR> +He waited at his master's board for food;<BR> +Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood,<BR> +Where grazing all the day, at night he came<BR> +To his known lodgings, and his country dame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This household beast, that us'd the woodland grounds,<BR> +Was view'd at first by the young hero's hounds,<BR> +As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat<BR> +In the cool waters, and to quench his heat.<BR> +Ascanius young, and eager of his game,<BR> +Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim;<BR> +But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides,<BR> +Which pierc'd his bowels thro' his panting sides.<BR> +The bleeding creature issues from the floods,<BR> +Possess'd with fear, and seeks his known abodes,<BR> +His old familiar hearth and household gods.<BR> +He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,<BR> +Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans.<BR> +Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud<BR> +For succor from the clownish neighborhood:<BR> +The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay<BR> +In the close woody covert, urg'd their way.<BR> +One with a brand yet burning from the flame,<BR> +Arm'd with a knotty club another came:<BR> +Whate'er they catch or find, without their care,<BR> +Their fury makes an instrument of war.<BR> +Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast,<BR> +Then clench'd a hatchet in his horny fist,<BR> +But held his hand from the descending stroke,<BR> +And left his wedge within the cloven oak,<BR> +To whet their courage and their rage provoke.<BR> +And now the goddess, exercis'd in ill,<BR> +Who watch'd an hour to work her impious will,<BR> +Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn,<BR> +Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne,<BR> +Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around,<BR> +And mountains, tremble at th' infernal sound.<BR> +The sacred lake of Trivia from afar,<BR> +The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar,<BR> +Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war.<BR> +Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess'd,<BR> +And strain their helpless infants to their breast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The clowns, a boist'rous, rude, ungovern'd crew,<BR> +With furious haste to the loud summons flew.<BR> +The pow'rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain,<BR> +With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain:<BR> +Not theirs a raw and unexperienc'd train,<BR> +But a firm body of embattled men.<BR> +At first, while fortune favor'd neither side,<BR> +The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;<BR> +But now, both parties reinforc'd, the fields<BR> +Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields.<BR> +A shining harvest either host displays,<BR> +And shoots against the sun with equal rays.<BR> +Thus, when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise,<BR> +White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries;<BR> +Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies;<BR> +Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,<BR> +The muddy bottom o'er the clouds is thrown.<BR> +First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus' eldest care,<BR> +Pierc'd with an arrow from the distant war:<BR> +Fix'd in his throat the flying weapon stood,<BR> +And stopp'd his breath, and drank his vital blood<BR> +Huge heaps of slain around the body rise:<BR> +Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;<BR> +A good old man, while peace he preach'd in vain,<BR> +Amidst the madness of th' unruly train:<BR> +Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill'd;<BR> +His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood<BR> +The Fury bath'd them in each other's blood;<BR> +Then, having fix'd the fight, exulting flies,<BR> +And bears fulfill'd her promise to the skies.<BR> +To Juno thus she speaks: "Behold! It is done,<BR> +The blood already drawn, the war begun;<BR> +The discord is complete; nor can they cease<BR> +The dire debate, nor you command the peace.<BR> +Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood<BR> +Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood;<BR> +Speak, and my pow'r shall add this office more:<BR> +The neighb'ing nations of th' Ausonian shore<BR> +Shall hear the dreadful rumor, from afar,<BR> +Of arm'd invasion, and embrace the war."<BR> +Then Juno thus: "The grateful work is done,<BR> +The seeds of discord sow'd, the war begun;<BR> +Frauds, fears, and fury have possess'd the state,<BR> +And fix'd the causes of a lasting hate.<BR> +A bloody Hymen shall th' alliance join<BR> +Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line:<BR> +But thou with speed to night and hell repair;<BR> +For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear<BR> +Thy lawless wand'ring walks in upper air.<BR> +Leave what remains to me." Saturnia said:<BR> +The sullen fiend her sounding wings display'd,<BR> +Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In midst of Italy, well known to fame,<BR> +There lies a lake (Amsanctus is the name)<BR> +Below the lofty mounts: on either side<BR> +Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.<BR> +Full in the center of the sacred wood<BR> +An arm arises of the Stygian flood,<BR> +Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,<BR> +Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around.<BR> +Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell,<BR> +And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell.<BR> +To this infernal lake the Fury flies;<BR> +Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab'ring skies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Saturnian Juno now, with double care,<BR> +Attends the fatal process of the war.<BR> +The clowns, return'd, from battle bear the slain,<BR> +Implore the gods, and to their king complain.<BR> +The corps of Almon and the rest are shown;<BR> +Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town.<BR> +Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,<BR> +And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears;<BR> +Proclaims his private injuries aloud,<BR> +A solemn promise made, and disavow'd;<BR> +A foreign son is sought, and a mix'd mungril brood.<BR> +Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear,<BR> +In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear,<BR> +And lead his dances with dishevel'd hair,<BR> +Increase the clamor, and the war demand,<BR> +(Such was Amata's interest in the land,)<BR> +Against the public sanctions of the peace,<BR> +Against all omens of their ill success.<BR> +With fates averse, the rout in arms resort,<BR> +To force their monarch, and insult the court.<BR> +But, like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves<BR> +The raging tempest and the rising waves-<BR> +Propp'd on himself he stands; his solid sides<BR> +Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides-<BR> +So stood the pious prince, unmov'd, and long<BR> +Sustain'd the madness of the noisy throng.<BR> +But, when he found that Juno's pow'r prevail'd,<BR> +And all the methods of cool counsel fail'd,<BR> +He calls the gods to witness their offense,<BR> +Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.<BR> +"Hurried by fate," he cries, "and borne before<BR> +A furious wind, we have the faithful shore.<BR> +O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear<BR> +The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:<BR> +Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate,<BR> +And pray to Heav'n for peace, but pray too late.<BR> +For me, my stormy voyage at an end,<BR> +I to the port of death securely tend.<BR> +The fun'ral pomp which to your kings you pay,<BR> +Is all I want, and all you take away."<BR> +He said no more, but, in his walls confin'd,<BR> +Shut out the woes which he too well divin'd<BR> +Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,<BR> +But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A solemn custom was observ'd of old,<BR> +Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold,<BR> +Their standard when in fighting fields they rear<BR> +Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare<BR> +The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war;<BR> +Or from the boasting Parthians would regain<BR> +Their eagles, lost in Carrhae's bloody plain.<BR> +Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear,<BR> +And still are worship'd with religious fear)<BR> +Before his temple stand: the dire abode,<BR> +And the fear'd issues of the furious god,<BR> +Are fenc'd with brazen bolts; without the gates,<BR> +The wary guardian Janus doubly waits.<BR> +Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars,<BR> +The Roman consul their decree declares,<BR> +And in his robes the sounding gates unbars.<BR> +The youth in military shouts arise,<BR> +And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies.<BR> +These rites, of old by sov'reign princes us'd,<BR> +Were the king's office; but the king refus'd,<BR> +Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar<BR> +Of sacred peace, or loose th' imprison'd war;<BR> +But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms,<BR> +Abhorr'd the wicked ministry of arms.<BR> +Then heav'n's imperious queen shot down from high:<BR> +At her approach the brazen hinges fly;<BR> +The gates are forc'd, and ev'ry falling bar;<BR> +And, like a tempest, issues out the war.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The peaceful cities of th' Ausonian shore,<BR> +Lull'd in their ease, and undisturb'd before,<BR> +Are all on fire; and some, with studious care,<BR> +Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare;<BR> +Some their soft limbs in painful marches try,<BR> +And war is all their wish, and arms the gen'ral cry.<BR> +Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part<BR> +New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart:<BR> +With joy they view the waving ensigns fly,<BR> +And hear the trumpet's clangor pierce the sky.<BR> +Five cities forge their arms: th' Atinian pow'rs,<BR> +Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow'rs,<BR> +Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town:<BR> +All these of old were places of renown.<BR> +Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;<BR> +Some twine young sallows to support the shield;<BR> +The croslet some, and some the cuishes mold,<BR> +With silver plated, and with ductile gold.<BR> +The rustic honors of the scythe and share<BR> +Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war.<BR> +Old fauchions are new temper'd in the fires;<BR> +The sounding trumpet ev'ry soul inspires.<BR> +The word is giv'n; with eager speed they lace<BR> +The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace.<BR> +The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied;<BR> +The trusty weapon sits on ev'ry side.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now the mighty labor is begun<BR> +Ye Muses, open all your Helicon.<BR> +Sing you the chiefs that sway'd th' Ausonian land,<BR> +Their arms, and armies under their command;<BR> +What warriors in our ancient clime were bred;<BR> +What soldiers follow'd, and what heroes led.<BR> +For well you know, and can record alone,<BR> +What fame to future times conveys but darkly down.<BR> +Mezentius first appear'd upon the plain:<BR> +Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain,<BR> +Defying earth and heav'n. Etruria lost,<BR> +He brings to Turnus' aid his baffled host.<BR> +The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,<BR> +Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire;<BR> +To Turnus only second in the grace<BR> +Of manly mien, and features of the face.<BR> +A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred,<BR> +With fates averse a thousand men he led:<BR> +His sire unworthy of so brave a son;<BR> +Himself well worthy of a happier throne.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Next Aventinus drives his chariot round<BR> +The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown'd.<BR> +Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field;<BR> +His father's hydra fills his ample shield:<BR> +A hundred serpents hiss about the brims;<BR> +The son of Hercules he justly seems<BR> +By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs;<BR> +Of heav'nly part, and part of earthly blood,<BR> +A mortal woman mixing with a god.<BR> +For strong Alcides, after he had slain<BR> +The triple Geryon, drove from conquer'd Spain<BR> +His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led,<BR> +On Tuscan Tiber's flow'ry banks they fed.<BR> +Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove<BR> +The priestess Rhea found, and forc'd to love.<BR> +For arms, his men long piles and jav'lins bore;<BR> +And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.<BR> +Like Hercules himself his son appears,<BR> +In salvage pomp; a lion's hide he wears;<BR> +About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin;<BR> +The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.<BR> +Thus, like the god his father, homely dress'd,<BR> +He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came,<BR> +(Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,)<BR> +Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear:<BR> +Arm'd Argive horse they led, and in the front appear.<BR> +Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height<BR> +With rapid course descending to the fight;<BR> +They rush along; the rattling woods give way;<BR> +The branches bend before their sweepy sway.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor was Praeneste's founder wanting there,<BR> +Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber:<BR> +Found in the fire, and foster'd in the plains,<BR> +A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,<BR> +And leads to Turnus' aid his country swains.<BR> +His own Praeneste sends a chosen band,<BR> +With those who plow Saturnia's Gabine land;<BR> +Besides the succor which cold Anien yields,<BR> +The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields,<BR> +Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene-<BR> +A num'rous rout, but all of naked men:<BR> +Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield,<BR> +Nor drive the chariot thro' the dusty field,<BR> +But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead,<BR> +And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head;<BR> +The left foot naked, when they march to fight,<BR> +But in a bull's raw hide they sheathe the right.<BR> +Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,)<BR> +Secure of steel, and fated from the fire,<BR> +In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms<BR> +A heartless train, unexercis'd in arms:<BR> +The just Faliscans he to battle brings,<BR> +And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs;<BR> +And where Feronia's grove and temple stands,<BR> +Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands.<BR> +All these in order march, and marching sing<BR> +The warlike actions of their sea-born king;<BR> +Like a long team of snowy swans on high,<BR> +Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky,<BR> +When, homeward from their wat'ry pastures borne,<BR> +They sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return.<BR> +Not one who heard their music from afar,<BR> +Would think these troops an army train'd to war,<BR> +But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,<BR> +With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Clausus came, who led a num'rous band<BR> +Of troops embodied from the Sabine land,<BR> +And, in himself alone, an army brought.<BR> +'T was he, the noble Claudian race begot,<BR> +The Claudian race, ordain'd, in times to come,<BR> +To share the greatness of imperial Rome.<BR> +He led the Cures forth, of old renown,<BR> +Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,<BR> +And all th' Eretian pow'rs; besides a band<BR> +That follow'd from Velinum's dewy land,<BR> +And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame,<BR> +And mountaineers, that from Severus came,<BR> +And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,<BR> +And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,<BR> +And where Himella's wanton waters play.<BR> +Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie<BR> +By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli:<BR> +The warlike aids of Horta next appear,<BR> +And the cold Nursians come to close the rear,<BR> +Mix'd with the natives born of Latine blood,<BR> +Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.<BR> +Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main,<BR> +When pale Orion sets in wintry rain;<BR> +Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,<BR> +Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,<BR> +Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around;<BR> +Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +High in his chariot then Halesus came,<BR> +A foe by birth to Troy's unhappy name:<BR> +From Agamemnon born- to Turnus' aid<BR> +A thousand men the youthful hero led,<BR> +Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown'd,<BR> +And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,<BR> +And those who live by Sidicinian shores,<BR> +And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars,<BR> +Cales' and Osca's old inhabitants,<BR> +And rough Saticulans, inur'd to wants:<BR> +Light demi-lances from afar they throw,<BR> +Fasten'd with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.<BR> +Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear;<BR> +And on their warding arm light bucklers bear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,<BR> +From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung,<BR> +Who then in Teleboan Capri reign'd;<BR> +But that short isle th' ambitious youth disdain'd,<BR> +And o'er Campania stretch'd his ample sway,<BR> +Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea;<BR> +O'er Batulum, and where Abella sees,<BR> +From her high tow'rs, the harvest of her trees.<BR> +And these (as was the Teuton use of old)<BR> +Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold;<BR> +Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight;<BR> +Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,<BR> +And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent.<BR> +The rude Equicolae his rule obey'd;<BR> +Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade.<BR> +In arms they plow'd, to battle still prepar'd:<BR> +Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led,<BR> +By King Archippus sent to Turnus' aid,<BR> +And peaceful olives crown'd his hoary head.<BR> +His wand and holy words, the viper's rage,<BR> +And venom'd wounds of serpents could assuage.<BR> +He, when he pleas'd with powerful juice to steep<BR> +Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep.<BR> +But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art,<BR> +To cure the wound giv'n by the Dardan dart:<BR> +Yet his untimely fate th' Angitian woods<BR> +In sighs remurmur'd to the Fucine floods.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The son of fam'd Hippolytus was there,<BR> +Fam'd as his sire, and, as his mother, fair;<BR> +Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,<BR> +And nurs'd his youth along the marshy shore,<BR> +Where great Diana's peaceful altars flame,<BR> +In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name.<BR> +Hippolytus, as old records have said,<BR> +Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed;<BR> +But, when no female arts his mind could move,<BR> +She turn'd to furious hate her impious love.<BR> +Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore,<BR> +Another's crimes th' unhappy hunter bore,<BR> +Glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore.<BR> +But chaste Diana, who his death deplor'd,<BR> +With Aesculapian herbs his life restor'd.<BR> +Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain,<BR> +The dead inspir'd with vital breath again,<BR> +Struck to the center, with his flaming dart,<BR> +Th' unhappy founder of the godlike art.<BR> +But Trivia kept in secret shades alone<BR> +Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown;<BR> +And call'd him Virbius in th' Egerian grove,<BR> +Where then he liv'd obscure, but safe from Jove.<BR> +For this, from Trivia's temple and her wood<BR> +Are coursers driv'n, who shed their master's blood,<BR> +Affrighted by the monsters of the flood.<BR> +His son, the second Virbius, yet retain'd<BR> +His father's art, and warrior steeds he rein'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amid the troops, and like the leading god,<BR> +High o'er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode:<BR> +A triple of plumes his crest adorn'd,<BR> +On which with belching flames Chimaera burn'd:<BR> +The more the kindled combat rises high'r,<BR> +The more with fury burns the blazing fire.<BR> +Fair Io grac'd his shield; but Io now<BR> +With horns exalted stands, and seems to low-<BR> +A noble charge! Her keeper by her side,<BR> +To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied;<BR> +And on the brims her sire, the wat'ry god,<BR> +Roll'd from a silver urn his crystal flood.<BR> +A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields<BR> +With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt'ring shields;<BR> +Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands,<BR> +And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands;<BR> +Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,<BR> +And the proud Labicans, with painted shields,<BR> +And those who near Numician streams reside,<BR> +And those whom Tiber's holy forests hide,<BR> +Or Circe's hills from the main land divide;<BR> +Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands,<BR> +Or the black water of Pomptina stands.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came,<BR> +And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame;<BR> +Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd,<BR> +She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.<BR> +Mix'd with the first, the fierce virago fought,<BR> +Sustain'd the toils of arms, the danger sought,<BR> +Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain,<BR> +Flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain:<BR> +She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along,<BR> +Her flying feet unbath'd on billows hung.<BR> +Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise,<BR> +Where'er she passes, fix their wond'ring eyes:<BR> +Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight,<BR> +Devour her o'er and o'er with vast delight;<BR> +Her purple habit sits with such a grace<BR> +On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;<BR> +Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown'd,<BR> +And in a golden caul the curls are bound.<BR> +She shakes her myrtle jav'lin; and, behind,<BR> +Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK VIII<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When Turnus had assembled all his pow'rs,<BR> +His standard planted on Laurentum's tow'rs;<BR> +When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar,<BR> +Had giv'n the signal of approaching war,<BR> +Had rous'd the neighing steeds to scour the fields,<BR> +While the fierce riders clatter'd on their shields;<BR> +Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare<BR> +To join th' allies, and headlong rush to war.<BR> +Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd,<BR> +With bold Mezentius, who blasphem'd aloud.<BR> +These thro' the country took their wasteful course,<BR> +The fields to forage, and to gather force.<BR> +Then Venulus to Diomede they send,<BR> +To beg his aid Ausonia to defend,<BR> +Declare the common danger, and inform<BR> +The Grecian leader of the growing storm:<BR> +Aeneas, landed on the Latian coast,<BR> +With banish'd gods, and with a baffled host,<BR> +Yet now aspir'd to conquest of the state,<BR> +And claim'd a title from the gods and fate;<BR> +What num'rous nations in his quarrel came,<BR> +And how they spread his formidable name.<BR> +What he design'd, what mischief might arise,<BR> +If fortune favor'd his first enterprise,<BR> +Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears,<BR> +And common interest, was involv'd in theirs.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While Turnus and th' allies thus urge the war,<BR> +The Trojan, floating in a flood of care,<BR> +Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare.<BR> +This way and that he turns his anxious mind;<BR> +Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design'd;<BR> +Explores himself in vain, in ev'ry part,<BR> +And gives no rest to his distracted heart.<BR> +So, when the sun by day, or moon by night,<BR> +Strike on the polish'd brass their trembling light,<BR> +The glitt'ring species here and there divide,<BR> +And cast their dubious beams from side to side;<BR> +Now on the walls, now on the pavement play,<BR> +And to the ceiling flash the glaring day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'T was night; and weary nature lull'd asleep<BR> +The birds of air, and fishes of the deep,<BR> +And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief<BR> +Was laid on Tiber's banks, oppress'd with grief,<BR> +And found in silent slumber late relief.<BR> +Then, thro' the shadows of the poplar wood,<BR> +Arose the father of the Roman flood;<BR> +An azure robe was o'er his body spread,<BR> +A wreath of shady reeds adorn'd his head:<BR> +Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear'd,<BR> +And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer'd:<BR> +"Undoubted offspring of ethereal race,<BR> +O long expected in this promis'd place!<BR> +Who thro' the foes hast borne thy banish'd gods,<BR> +Restor'd them to their hearths, and old abodes;<BR> +This is thy happy home, the clime where fate<BR> +Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state.<BR> +Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace,<BR> +And all the rage of haughty Juno cease.<BR> +And that this nightly vision may not seem<BR> +Th' effect of fancy, or an idle dream,<BR> +A sow beneath an oak shall lie along,<BR> +All white herself, and white her thirty young.<BR> +When thirty rolling years have run their race,<BR> +Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space,<BR> +Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame,<BR> +Which from this omen shall receive the name.<BR> +Time shall approve the truth. For what remains,<BR> +And how with sure success to crown thy pains,<BR> +With patience next attend. A banish'd band,<BR> +Driv'n with Evander from th' Arcadian land,<BR> +Have planted here, and plac'd on high their walls;<BR> +Their town the founder Pallanteum calls,<BR> +Deriv'd from Pallas, his great-grandsire's name:<BR> +But the fierce Latians old possession claim,<BR> +With war infesting the new colony.<BR> +These make thy friends, and on their aid rely.<BR> +To thy free passage I submit my streams.<BR> +Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams;<BR> +And, when the setting stars are lost in day,<BR> +To Juno's pow'r thy just devotion pay;<BR> +With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease:<BR> +Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease.<BR> +When thou return'st victorious from the war,<BR> +Perform thy vows to me with grateful care.<BR> +The god am I, whose yellow water flows<BR> +Around these fields, and fattens as it goes:<BR> +Tiber my name; among the rolling floods<BR> +Renown'd on earth, esteem'd among the gods.<BR> +This is my certain seat. In times to come,<BR> +My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and plung'd below. While yet he spoke,<BR> +His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook.<BR> +He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies<BR> +With purple blushing, and the day arise.<BR> +Then water in his hollow palm he took<BR> +From Tiber's flood, and thus the pow'rs bespoke:<BR> +"Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed,<BR> +And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed<BR> +Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep.<BR> +Whatever fount, whatever holy deep,<BR> +Conceals thy wat'ry stores; where'er they rise,<BR> +And, bubbling from below, salute the skies;<BR> +Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn<BR> +Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn,<BR> +For this thy kind compassion of our woes,<BR> +Shalt share my morning song and ev'ning vows.<BR> +But, O be present to thy people's aid,<BR> +And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!"<BR> +Thus having said, two galleys from his stores,<BR> +With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars.<BR> +Now on the shore the fatal swine is found.<BR> +Wondrous to tell!- She lay along the ground:<BR> +Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung;<BR> +She white herself, and white her thirty young.<BR> +Aeneas takes the mother and her brood,<BR> +And all on Juno's altar are bestow'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The foll'wing night, and the succeeding day,<BR> +Propitious Tiber smooth'd his wat'ry way:<BR> +He roll'd his river back, and pois'd he stood,<BR> +A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood.<BR> +The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore,<BR> +Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar.<BR> +Shouts from the land give omen to their course,<BR> +And the pitch'd vessels glide with easy force.<BR> +The woods and waters wonder at the gleam<BR> +Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream.<BR> +One summer's night and one whole day they pass<BR> +Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass.<BR> +The fiery sun had finish'd half his race,<BR> +Look'd back, and doubted in the middle space,<BR> +When they from far beheld the rising tow'rs,<BR> +The tops of sheds, and shepherds' lowly bow'rs,<BR> +Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay,<BR> +Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway.<BR> +These cots (Evander's kingdom, mean and poor)<BR> +The Trojan saw, and turn'd his ships to shore.<BR> +'T was on a solemn day: th' Arcadian states,<BR> +The king and prince, without the city gates,<BR> +Then paid their off'rings in a sacred grove<BR> +To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove.<BR> +Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies,<BR> +And fat of entrails on his altar fries.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But, when they saw the ships that stemm'd the flood,<BR> +And glitter'd thro' the covert of the wood,<BR> +They rose with fear, and left th' unfinish'd feast,<BR> +Till dauntless Pallas reassur'd the rest<BR> +To pay the rites. Himself without delay<BR> +A jav'lin seiz'd, and singly took his way;<BR> +Then gain'd a rising ground, and call'd from far:<BR> +"Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are;<BR> +Your bus'ness here; and bring you peace or war?"<BR> +High on the stern Aeneas his stand,<BR> +And held a branch of olive in his hand,<BR> +While thus he spoke: "The Phrygians' arms you see,<BR> +Expell'd from Troy, provok'd in Italy<BR> +By Latian foes, with war unjustly made;<BR> +At first affianc'd, and at last betray'd.<BR> +This message bear: 'The Trojans and their chief<BR> +Bring holy peace, and beg the king's relief.'<BR> +Struck with so great a name, and all on fire,<BR> +The youth replies: "Whatever you require,<BR> +Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend.<BR> +A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend."<BR> +He said, and, downward hasting to the strand,<BR> +Embrac'd the stranger prince, and join'd his hand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke<BR> +The silence first, and thus the king bespoke:<BR> +"Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate's command,<BR> +I bear these peaceful branches in my hand,<BR> +Undaunted I approach you, tho' I know<BR> +Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe;<BR> +From Atreus tho' your ancient lineage came,<BR> +And both the brother kings your kindred claim;<BR> +Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown,<BR> +Your virtue, thro' the neighb'ring nations blown,<BR> +Our fathers' mingled blood, Apollo's voice,<BR> +Have led me hither, less by need than choice.<BR> +Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung,<BR> +And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung:<BR> +Electra from the loins of Atlas came;<BR> +Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame.<BR> +Your sire is Mercury, whom long before<BR> +On cold Cyllene's top fair Maia bore.<BR> +Maia the fair, on fame if we rely,<BR> +Was Atlas' daughter, who sustains the sky.<BR> +Thus from one common source our streams divide;<BR> +Ours is the Trojan, yours th' Arcadian side.<BR> +Rais'd by these hopes, I sent no news before,<BR> +Nor ask'd your leave, nor did your faith implore;<BR> +But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador.<BR> +The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue<BR> +The Trojan race, are equal foes to you.<BR> +Our host expell'd, what farther force can stay<BR> +The victor troops from universal sway?<BR> +Then will they stretch their pow'r athwart the land,<BR> +And either sea from side to side command.<BR> +Receive our offer'd faith, and give us thine;<BR> +Ours is a gen'rous and experienc'd line:<BR> +We want not hearts nor bodies for the war;<BR> +In council cautious, and in fields we dare."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes<BR> +Evander view'd the man with vast surprise,<BR> +Pleas'd with his action, ravish'd with his face:<BR> +Then answer'd briefly, with a royal grace:<BR> +"O valiant leader of the Trojan line,<BR> +In whom the features of thy father shine,<BR> +How I recall Anchises! how I see<BR> +His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee!<BR> +Long tho' it be, 't is fresh within my mind,<BR> +When Priam to his sister's court design'd<BR> +A welcome visit, with a friendly stay,<BR> +And thro' th' Arcadian kingdom took his way.<BR> +Then, past a boy, the callow down began<BR> +To shade my chin, and call me first a man.<BR> +I saw the shining train with vast delight,<BR> +And Priam's goodly person pleas'd my sight:<BR> +But great Anchises, far above the rest,<BR> +With awful wonder fir'd my youthful breast.<BR> +I long'd to join in friendship's holy bands<BR> +Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands.<BR> +I first accosted him: I sued, I sought,<BR> +And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought.<BR> +He gave me, when at length constrain'd to go,<BR> +A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow,<BR> +A vest embroider'd, glorious to behold,<BR> +And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold,<BR> +Which my son's coursers in obedience hold.<BR> +The league you ask, I offer, as your right;<BR> +And, when to-morrow's sun reveals the light,<BR> +With swift supplies you shall be sent away.<BR> +Now celebrate with us this solemn day,<BR> +Whose holy rites admit no long delay.<BR> +Honor our annual feast; and take your seat,<BR> +With friendly welcome, at a homely treat."<BR> +Thus having said, the bowls (remov'd for fear)<BR> +The youths replac'd, and soon restor'd the cheer.<BR> +On sods of turf he set the soldiers round:<BR> +A maple throne, rais'd higher from the ground,<BR> +Receiv'd the Trojan chief; and, o'er the bed,<BR> +A lion's shaggy hide for ornament they spread.<BR> +The loaves were serv'd in canisters; the wine<BR> +In bowls; the priest renew'd the rites divine:<BR> +Broil'd entrails are their food, and beef's continued chine.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But when the rage of hunger was repress'd,<BR> +Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest:<BR> +"These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king,<BR> +From no vain fears or superstition spring,<BR> +Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance,<BR> +Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance;<BR> +But, sav'd from danger, with a grateful sense,<BR> +The labors of a god we recompense.<BR> +See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky,<BR> +About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie;<BR> +Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare,<BR> +How desart now it stands, expos'd in air!<BR> +'T was once a robber's den, inclos'd around<BR> +With living stone, and deep beneath the ground.<BR> +The monster Cacus, more than half a beast,<BR> +This hold, impervious to the sun, possess'd.<BR> +The pavement ever foul with human gore;<BR> +Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door.<BR> +Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire,<BR> +Black clouds he belch'd, and flakes of livid fire.<BR> +Time, long expected, eas'd us of our load,<BR> +And brought the needful presence of a god.<BR> +Th' avenging force of Hercules, from Spain,<BR> +Arriv'd in triumph, from Geryon slain:<BR> +Thrice liv'd the giant, and thrice liv'd in vain.<BR> +His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove<BR> +Near Tiber's bank, to graze the shady grove.<BR> +Allur'd with hope of plunder, and intent<BR> +By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent,<BR> +The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray'd,<BR> +Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey'd;<BR> +And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen,<BR> +He dragg'd 'em backwards to his rocky den.<BR> +The tracks averse a lying notice gave,<BR> +And led the searcher backward from the cave.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place,<BR> +To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass.<BR> +The beasts, who miss'd their mates, fill'd all around<BR> +With bellowings, and the rocks restor'd the sound.<BR> +One heifer, who had heard her love complain,<BR> +Roar'd from the cave, and made the project vain.<BR> +Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook,<BR> +And toss'd about his head his knotted oak.<BR> +Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows' flight,<BR> +He clomb, with eager haste, th' aerial height.<BR> +Then first we saw the monster mend his pace;<BR> +Fear his eyes, and paleness in his face,<BR> +Confess'd the god's approach. Trembling he springs,<BR> +As terror had increas'd his feet with wings;<BR> +Nor stay'd for stairs; but down the depth he threw<BR> +His body, on his back the door he drew<BR> +(The door, a rib of living rock; with pains<BR> +His father hew'd it out, and bound with iron chains):<BR> +He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos'd,<BR> +And bars and levers to his foe oppos'd.<BR> +The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast;<BR> +The fierce avenger came with bounding haste;<BR> +Survey'd the mouth of the forbidden hold,<BR> +And here and there his raging eyes he roll'd.<BR> +He gnash'd his teeth; and thrice he compass'd round<BR> +With winged speed the circuit of the ground.<BR> +Thrice at the cavern's mouth he pull'd in vain,<BR> +And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain.<BR> +A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black,<BR> +Grew gibbous from behind the mountain's back;<BR> +Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night,<BR> +Here built their nests, and hither wing'd their flight.<BR> +The leaning head hung threat'ning o'er the flood,<BR> +And nodded to the left. The hero stood<BR> +Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right,<BR> +Tugg'd at the solid stone with all his might.<BR> +Thus heav'd, the fix'd foundations of the rock<BR> +Gave way; heav'n echo'd at the rattling shock.<BR> +Tumbling, it chok'd the flood: on either side<BR> +The banks leap backward, and the streams divide;<BR> +The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread,<BR> +And trembling Tiber div'd beneath his bed.<BR> +The court of Cacus stands reveal'd to sight;<BR> +The cavern glares with new-admitted light.<BR> +So the pent vapors, with a rumbling sound,<BR> +Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground;<BR> +A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high,<BR> +The gods with hate beheld the nether sky:<BR> +The ghosts repine at violated night,<BR> +And curse th' invading sun, and sicken at the sight.<BR> +The graceless monster, caught in open day,<BR> +Inclos'd, and in despair to fly away,<BR> +Howls horrible from underneath, and fills<BR> +His hollow palace with unmanly yells.<BR> +The hero stands above, and from afar<BR> +Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war.<BR> +He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires<BR> +Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father's fires,<BR> +Gath'ring, with each repeated blast, the night,<BR> +To make uncertain aim, and erring sight.<BR> +The wrathful god then plunges from above,<BR> +And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove,<BR> +There lights; and wades thro' fumes, and gropes his way,<BR> +Half sing'd, half stifled, till he grasps his prey.<BR> +The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found;<BR> +He squeez'd his throat; he writh'd his neck around,<BR> +And in a knot his crippled members bound;<BR> +Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes:<BR> +Roll'd on a heap, the breathless robber lies.<BR> +The doors, unbarr'd, receive the rushing day,<BR> +And thoro' lights disclose the ravish'd prey.<BR> +The bulls, redeem'd, breathe open air again.<BR> +Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den.<BR> +The wond'ring neighborhood, with glad surprise,<BR> +Behold his shagged breast, his giant size,<BR> +His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish'd eyes.<BR> +From that auspicious day, with rites divine,<BR> +We worship at the hero's holy shrine.<BR> +Potitius first ordain'd these annual vows:<BR> +As priests, were added the Pinarian house,<BR> +Who rais'd this altar in the sacred shade,<BR> +Where honors, ever due, for ever shall be paid.<BR> +For these deserts, and this high virtue shown,<BR> +Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown:<BR> +Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood,<BR> +And with deep draughts invoke our common god."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This said, a double wreath Evander twin'd,<BR> +And poplars black and white his temples bind.<BR> +Then brims his ample bowl. With like design<BR> +The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine.<BR> +Meantime the sun descended from the skies,<BR> +And the bright evening star began to rise.<BR> +And now the priests, Potitius at their head,<BR> +In skins of beasts involv'd, the long procession led;<BR> +Held high the flaming tapers in their hands,<BR> +As custom had prescrib'd their holy bands;<BR> +Then with a second course the tables load,<BR> +And with full chargers offer to the god.<BR> +The Salii sing, and cense his altars round<BR> +With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound-<BR> +One choir of old, another of the young,<BR> +To dance, and bear the burthen of the song.<BR> +The lay records the labors, and the praise,<BR> +And all th' immortal acts of Hercules:<BR> +First, how the mighty babe, when swath'd in bands,<BR> +The serpents strangled with his infant hands;<BR> +Then, as in years and matchless force he grew,<BR> +Th' Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew.<BR> +Besides, a thousand hazards they relate,<BR> +Procur'd by Juno's and Eurystheus' hate:<BR> +"Thy hands, unconquer'd hero, could subdue<BR> +The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew:<BR> +Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood,<BR> +Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood.<BR> +The triple porter of the Stygian seat,<BR> +With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet,<BR> +And, seiz'd with fear, forgot his mangled meat.<BR> +Th' infernal waters trembled at thy sight;<BR> +Thee, god, no face of danger could affright;<BR> +Not huge Typhoeus, nor th' unnumber'd snake,<BR> +Increas'd with hissing heads, in Lerna's lake.<BR> +Hail, Jove's undoubted son! an added grace<BR> +To heav'n and the great author of thy race!<BR> +Receive the grateful off'rings which we pay,<BR> +And smile propitious on thy solemn day!"<BR> +In numbers thus they sung; above the rest,<BR> +The den and death of Cacus crown the feast.<BR> +The woods to hollow vales convey the sound,<BR> +The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound.<BR> +The rites perform'd, the cheerful train retire.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire,<BR> +The Trojan pass'd, the city to survey,<BR> +And pleasing talk beguil'd the tedious way.<BR> +The stranger cast around his curious eyes,<BR> +New objects viewing still, with new surprise;<BR> +With greedy joy enquires of various things,<BR> +And acts and monuments of ancient kings.<BR> +Then thus the founder of the Roman tow'rs:<BR> +"These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow'rs,<BR> +Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took<BR> +Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak.<BR> +Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care<BR> +Of lab'ring oxen, or the shining share,<BR> +Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain'd to spare.<BR> +Their exercise the chase; the running flood<BR> +Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food.<BR> +Then Saturn came, who fled the pow'r of Jove,<BR> +Robb'd of his realms, and banish'd from above.<BR> +The men, dispers'd on hills, to towns he brought,<BR> +And laws ordain'd, and civil customs taught,<BR> +And Latium call'd the land where safe he lay<BR> +From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway.<BR> +With his mild empire, peace and plenty came;<BR> +And hence the golden times deriv'd their name.<BR> +A more degenerate and discolor'd age<BR> +Succeeded this, with avarice and rage.<BR> +Th' Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came;<BR> +And Saturn's empire often chang'd the name.<BR> +Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest,<BR> +With arbitrary sway the land oppress'd:<BR> +For Tiber's flood was Albula before,<BR> +Till, from the tyrant's fate, his name it bore.<BR> +I last arriv'd, driv'n from my native home<BR> +By fortune's pow'r, and fate's resistless doom.<BR> +Long toss'd on seas, I sought this happy land,<BR> +Warn'd by my mother nymph, and call'd by Heav'n's command."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew'd the gate,<BR> +Since call'd Carmental by the Roman state;<BR> +Where stood an altar, sacred to the name<BR> +Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame,<BR> +Who to her son foretold th' Aenean race,<BR> +Sublime in fame, and Rome's imperial place:<BR> +Then shews the forest, which, in after times,<BR> +Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes<BR> +A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine<BR> +Where Pan below the rock had rites divine:<BR> +Then tells of Argus' death, his murder'd guest,<BR> +Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest.<BR> +Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads;<BR> +Now roof'd with gold, then thatch'd with homely reeds.<BR> +A reverent fear (such superstition reigns<BR> +Among the rude) ev'n then possess'd the swains.<BR> +Some god, they knew- what god, they could not tell-<BR> +Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell.<BR> +Th' Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw<BR> +The mighty Thund'rer with majestic awe,<BR> +Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around,<BR> +And scatter'd tempests on the teeming ground.<BR> +Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood<BR> +Two stately towns, on either side the flood,)<BR> +Saturnia's and Janicula's remains;<BR> +And either place the founder's name retains.<BR> +Discoursing thus together, they resort<BR> +Where poor Evander kept his country court.<BR> +They view'd the ground of Rome's litigious hall;<BR> +(Once oxen low'd, where now the lawyers bawl;)<BR> +Then, stooping, thro' the narrow gate they press'd,<BR> +When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest:<BR> +"Mean as it is, this palace, and this door,<BR> +Receiv'd Alcides, then a conqueror.<BR> +Dare to be poor; accept our homely food,<BR> +Which feasted him, and emulate a god."<BR> +Then underneath a lowly roof he led<BR> +The weary prince, and laid him on a bed;<BR> +The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o'erspread.<BR> +Now Night had shed her silver dews around,<BR> +And with her sable wings embrac'd the ground,<BR> +When love's fair goddess, anxious for her son,<BR> +(New tumults rising, and new wars begun,)<BR> +Couch'd with her husband in his golden bed,<BR> +With these alluring words invokes his aid;<BR> +And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move,<BR> +Inspires each accent with the charms of love:<BR> +"While cruel fate conspir'd with Grecian pow'rs,<BR> +To level with the ground the Trojan tow'rs,<BR> +I ask'd not aid th' unhappy to restore,<BR> +Nor did the succor of thy skill implore;<BR> +Nor urg'd the labors of my lord in vain,<BR> +A sinking empire longer to sustain,<BR> +Tho'much I ow'd to Priam's house, and more<BR> +The dangers of Aeneas did deplore.<BR> +But now, by Jove's command, and fate's decree,<BR> +His race is doom'd to reign in Italy:<BR> +With humble suit I beg thy needful art,<BR> +O still propitious pow'r, that rules my heart!<BR> +A mother kneels a suppliant for her son.<BR> +By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won<BR> +To forge impenetrable shields, and grace<BR> +With fated arms a less illustrious race.<BR> +Behold, what haughty nations are combin'd<BR> +Against the relics of the Phrygian kind,<BR> +With fire and sword my people to destroy,<BR> +And conquer Venus twice, in conqu'ring Troy."<BR> +She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue,<BR> +About her unresolving husband threw.<BR> +Her soft embraces soon infuse desire;<BR> +His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire;<BR> +And all the godhead feels the wonted fire.<BR> +Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies,<BR> +Or forky lightnings flash along the skies.<BR> +The goddess, proud of her successful wiles,<BR> +And conscious of her form, in secret smiles.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus the pow'r, obnoxious to her charms,<BR> +Panting, and half dissolving in her arms:<BR> +"Why seek you reasons for a cause so just,<BR> +Or your own beauties or my love distrust?<BR> +Long since, had you requir'd my helpful hand,<BR> +Th' artificer and art you might command,<BR> +To labor arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate,<BR> +Confin'd their empire to so short a date.<BR> +And, if you now desire new wars to wage,<BR> +My skill I promise, and my pains engage.<BR> +Whatever melting metals can conspire,<BR> +Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire,<BR> +Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove,<BR> +And think no task is difficult to love."<BR> +Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms,<BR> +He snatch'd the willing goddess to his arms;<BR> +Till in her lap infus'd, he lay possess'd<BR> +Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest.<BR> +Now when the Night her middle race had rode,<BR> +And his first slumber had refresh'd the god-<BR> +The time when early housewives leave the bed;<BR> +When living embers on the hearth they spread,<BR> +Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise-<BR> +With yawning mouths, and with half-open'd eyes,<BR> +They ply the distaff by the winking light,<BR> +And to their daily labor add the night:<BR> +Thus frugally they earn their children's bread,<BR> +And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed-<BR> +Not less concern'd, nor at a later hour,<BR> +Rose from his downy couch the forging pow'r.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay,<BR> +Betwixt Sicilia's coasts and Lipare,<BR> +Rais'd high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,<BR> +In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow.<BR> +The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal;<BR> +Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel,<BR> +Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,<BR> +And smoky flames thro' fuming tunnels soar.<BR> +Hether the Father of the Fire, by night,<BR> +Thro' the brown air precipitates his flight.<BR> +On their eternal anvils here he found<BR> +The brethren beating, and the blows go round.<BR> +A load of pointless thunder now there lies<BR> +Before their hands, to ripen for the skies:<BR> +These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast;<BR> +Consum'd on mortals with prodigious waste.<BR> +Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more,<BR> +Of winged southern winds and cloudy store<BR> +As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame;<BR> +And fears are added, and avenging flame.<BR> +Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair<BR> +His broken axletrees and blunted war,<BR> +And send him forth again with furbish'd arms,<BR> +To wake the lazy war with trumpets' loud alarms.<BR> +The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold<BR> +The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold.<BR> +Full on the crest the Gorgon's head they place,<BR> +With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My sons," said Vulcan, "set your tasks aside;<BR> +Your strength and master-skill must now be tried.<BR> +Arms for a hero forge; arms that require<BR> +Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire."<BR> +He said. They set their former work aside,<BR> +And their new toils with eager haste divide.<BR> +A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold,<BR> +And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll'd;<BR> +Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare,<BR> +Alone sufficient to sustain the war.<BR> +Sev'n orbs within a spacious round they close:<BR> +One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows.<BR> +The hissing steel is in the smithy drown'd;<BR> +The grot with beaten anvils groans around.<BR> +By turns their arms advance, in equal time;<BR> +By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime.<BR> +They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs;<BR> +The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While, at the Lemnian god's command, they urge<BR> +Their labors thus, and ply th' Aeolian forge,<BR> +The cheerful morn salutes Evander's eyes,<BR> +And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.<BR> +He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet<BR> +Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet:<BR> +He sets his trusty sword upon his side,<BR> +And o'er his shoulder throws a panther's hide.<BR> +Two menial dogs before their master press'd.<BR> +Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest.<BR> +Mindful of promis'd aid, he mends his pace,<BR> +But meets Aeneas in the middle space.<BR> +Young Pallas did his father's steps attend,<BR> +And true Achates waited on his friend.<BR> +They join their hands; a secret seat they choose;<BR> +Th' Arcadian first their former talk renews:<BR> +"Undaunted prince, I never can believe<BR> +The Trojan empire lost, while you survive.<BR> +Command th' assistance of a faithful friend;<BR> +But feeble are the succors I can send.<BR> +Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds;<BR> +That other side the Latian state surrounds,<BR> +Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds.<BR> +But mighty nations I prepare, to join<BR> +Their arms with yours, and aid your just design.<BR> +You come, as by your better genius sent,<BR> +And fortune seems to favor your intent.<BR> +Not far from hence there stands a hilly town,<BR> +Of ancient building, and of high renown,<BR> +Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race,<BR> +Who gave the name of Caere to the place,<BR> +Once Agyllina call'd. It flourish'd long,<BR> +In pride of wealth and warlike people strong,<BR> +Till curs'd Mezentius, in a fatal hour,<BR> +Assum'd the crown, with arbitrary pow'r.<BR> +What words can paint those execrable times,<BR> +The subjects' suff'rings, and the tyrant's crimes!<BR> +That blood, those murthers, O ye gods, replace<BR> +On his own head, and on his impious race!<BR> +The living and the dead at his command<BR> +Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand,<BR> +Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied,<BR> +The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died.<BR> +Thus plung'd in ills, and meditating more-<BR> +The people's patience, tir'd, no longer bore<BR> +The raging monster; but with arms beset<BR> +His house, and vengeance and destruction threat.<BR> +They fire his palace: while the flame ascends,<BR> +They force his guards, and execute his friends.<BR> +He cleaves the crowd, and, favor'd by the night,<BR> +To Turnus' friendly court directs his flight.<BR> +By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire,<BR> +With arms, their king to punishment require:<BR> +Their num'rous troops, now muster'd on the strand,<BR> +My counsel shall submit to your command.<BR> +Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry<BR> +To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny.<BR> +An ancient augur, skill'd in future fate,<BR> +With these foreboding words restrains their hate:<BR> +'Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow'r<BR> +Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow'r,<BR> +Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms,<BR> +To seek your tyrant's death by lawful arms;<BR> +Know this: no native of our land may lead<BR> +This pow'rful people; seek a foreign head.'<BR> +Aw'd with these words, in camps they still abide,<BR> +And wait with longing looks their promis'd guide.<BR> +Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent<BR> +Their crown, and ev'ry regal ornament:<BR> +The people join their own with his desire;<BR> +And all my conduct, as their king, require.<BR> +But the chill blood that creeps within my veins,<BR> +And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains,<BR> +And a soul conscious of its own decay,<BR> +Have forc'd me to refuse imperial sway.<BR> +My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne,<BR> +And should, but he's a Sabine mother's son,<BR> +And half a native; but, in you, combine<BR> +A manly vigor, and a foreign line.<BR> +Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way,<BR> +Pursue the ready path to sov'reign sway.<BR> +The staff of my declining days, my son,<BR> +Shall make your good or ill success his own;<BR> +In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare,<BR> +And serve the hard apprenticeship of war;<BR> +Your matchless courage and your conduct view,<BR> +And early shall begin t' admire and copy you.<BR> +Besides, two hundred horse he shall command;<BR> +Tho' few, a warlike and well-chosen band.<BR> +These in my name are listed; and my son<BR> +As many more has added in his own."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest,<BR> +With downcast eyes, their silent grief express'd;<BR> +Who, short of succors, and in deep despair,<BR> +Shook at the dismal prospect of the war.<BR> +But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud,<BR> +To cheer her issue, thunder'd thrice aloud;<BR> +Thrice forky lightning flash'd along the sky,<BR> +And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high.<BR> +Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear;<BR> +And, in a heav'n serene, refulgent arms appear:<BR> +Redd'ning the skies, and glitt'ring all around,<BR> +The temper'd metals clash, and yield a silver sound.<BR> +The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine;<BR> +Aeneas only, conscious to the sign,<BR> +Presag'd th' event, and joyful view'd, above,<BR> +Th' accomplish'd promise of the Queen of Love.<BR> +Then, to th' Arcadian king: "This prodigy<BR> +(Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me.<BR> +Heav'n calls me to the war: th' expected sign<BR> +Is giv'n of promis'd aid, and arms divine.<BR> +My goddess mother, whose indulgent care<BR> +Foresaw the dangers of the growing war,<BR> +This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms,<BR> +Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms,<BR> +Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow'd<BR> +Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood.<BR> +Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn;<BR> +And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne,<BR> +Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms;<BR> +And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur'd arms."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and, rising from his homely throne,<BR> +The solemn rites of Hercules begun,<BR> +And on his altars wak'd the sleeping fires;<BR> +Then cheerful to his household gods retires;<BR> +There offers chosen sheep. Th' Arcadian king<BR> +And Trojan youth the same oblations bring.<BR> +Next, of his men and ships he makes review;<BR> +Draws out the best and ablest of the crew.<BR> +Down with the falling stream the refuse run,<BR> +To raise with joyful news his drooping son.<BR> +Steeds are prepar'd to mount the Trojan band,<BR> +Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land.<BR> +A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest,<BR> +The king himself presents his royal guest:<BR> +A lion's hide his back and limbs infold,<BR> +Precious with studded work, and paws of gold.<BR> +Fame thro' the little city spreads aloud<BR> +Th' intended march, amid the fearful crowd:<BR> +The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears,<BR> +And double their devotion in their fears.<BR> +The war at hand appears with more affright,<BR> +And rises ev'ry moment to the sight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then old Evander, with a close embrace,<BR> +Strain'd his departing friend; and tears o'erflow his face.<BR> +"Would Heav'n," said he, "my strength and youth recall,<BR> +Such as I was beneath Praeneste's wall;<BR> +Then when I made the foremost foes retire,<BR> +And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire;<BR> +When Herilus in single fight I slew,<BR> +Whom with three lives Feronia did endue;<BR> +And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore,<BR> +Till the last ebbing soul return'd no more-<BR> +Such if I stood renew'd, not these alarms,<BR> +Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas' arms;<BR> +Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish'd, boast<BR> +His rapes and murthers on the Tuscan coast.<BR> +Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring<BR> +Relief, and hear a father and a king!<BR> +If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see<BR> +My son return with peace and victory;<BR> +If the lov'd boy shall bless his father's sight;<BR> +If we shall meet again with more delight;<BR> +Then draw my life in length; let me sustain,<BR> +In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain.<BR> +But if your hard decrees- which, O! I dread-<BR> +Have doom'd to death his undeserving head;<BR> +This, O this very moment, let me die!<BR> +While hopes and fears in equal balance lie;<BR> +While, yet possess'd of all his youthful charms,<BR> +I strain him close within these aged arms;<BR> +Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!"<BR> +He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground.<BR> +His servants bore him off, and softly laid<BR> +His languish'd limbs upon his homely bed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The horsemen march; the gates are open'd wide;<BR> +Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side.<BR> +Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along;<BR> +Last follows in the rear th' Arcadian throng.<BR> +Young Pallas shone conspicuous o'er the rest;<BR> +Gilded his arms, embroider'd was his vest.<BR> +So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head<BR> +The star by whom the lights of heav'n are led;<BR> +Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews,<BR> +Dispels the darkness, and the day renews.<BR> +The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd,<BR> +And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud,<BR> +Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far<BR> +The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war.<BR> +The troops, drawn up in beautiful array,<BR> +O'er heathy plains pursue the ready way.<BR> +Repeated peals of shouts are heard around;<BR> +The neighing coursers answer to the sound,<BR> +And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A greenwood shade, for long religion known,<BR> +Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town,<BR> +Incompass'd round with gloomy hills above,<BR> +Which add a holy horror to the grove.<BR> +The first inhabitants of Grecian blood,<BR> +That sacred forest to Silvanus vow'd,<BR> +The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay<BR> +Their due devotions on his annual day.<BR> +Not far from hence, along the river's side,<BR> +In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide,<BR> +By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground,<BR> +Aeneas cast his wond'ring eyes around,<BR> +And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight,<BR> +Stretch'd on the spacious plain from left to right.<BR> +Thether his warlike train the Trojan led,<BR> +Refresh'd his men, and wearied horses fed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the mother goddess, crown'd with charms,<BR> +Breaks thro' the clouds, and brings the fated arms.<BR> +Within a winding vale she finds her son,<BR> +On the cool river's banks, retir'd alone.<BR> +She shews her heav'nly form without disguise,<BR> +And gives herself to his desiring eyes.<BR> +"Behold," she said, "perform'd in ev'ry part,<BR> +My promise made, and Vulcan's labor'd art.<BR> +Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy,<BR> +And haughty Turnus to the field defy."<BR> +She said; and, having first her son embrac'd,<BR> +The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac'd,<BR> +Proud of the gift, he roll'd his greedy sight<BR> +Around the work, and gaz'd with vast delight.<BR> +He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires<BR> +The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires:<BR> +His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold,<BR> +One keen with temper'd steel, one stiff with gold:<BR> +Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright;<BR> +So shines a cloud, when edg'd with adverse light.<BR> +He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try<BR> +The plated cuishes on his manly thigh;<BR> +But most admires the shield's mysterious mold,<BR> +And Roman triumphs rising on the gold:<BR> +For these, emboss'd, the heav'nly smith had wrought<BR> +(Not in the rolls of future fate untaught)<BR> +The wars in order, and the race divine<BR> +Of warriors issuing from the Julian line.<BR> +The cave of Mars was dress'd with mossy greens:<BR> +There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins.<BR> +Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung;<BR> +The foster dam loll'd out her fawning tongue:<BR> +They suck'd secure, while, bending back her head,<BR> +She lick'd their tender limbs, and form'd them as they fed.<BR> +Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games<BR> +Projected for the rape of Sabine dames.<BR> +The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds,<BR> +For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds.<BR> +Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend;<BR> +The Romans there with arms the prey defend.<BR> +Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease;<BR> +And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace.<BR> +The friendly chiefs before Jove's altar stand,<BR> +Both arm'd, with each a charger in his hand:<BR> +A fatted sow for sacrifice is led,<BR> +With imprecations on the perjur'd head.<BR> +Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch'd between<BR> +Four fiery steeds, is dragg'd along the green,<BR> +By Tullus' doom: the brambles drink his blood,<BR> +And his torn limbs are left the vulture's food.<BR> +There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings,<BR> +And would by force restore the banish'd kings.<BR> +One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights;<BR> +The Roman youth assert their native rights.<BR> +Before the town the Tuscan army lies,<BR> +To win by famine, or by fraud surprise.<BR> +Their king, half-threat'ning, half-disdaining stood,<BR> +While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm'd the flood.<BR> +The captive maids there tempt the raging tide,<BR> +Scap'd from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide.<BR> +High on a rock heroic Manlius stood,<BR> +To guard the temple, and the temple's god.<BR> +Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold<BR> +The palace thatch'd with straw, now roof'd with gold.<BR> +The silver goose before the shining gate<BR> +There flew, and, by her cackle, sav'd the state.<BR> +She told the Gauls' approach; th' approaching Gauls,<BR> +Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls.<BR> +The gold dissembled well their yellow hair,<BR> +And golden chains on their white necks they wear.<BR> +Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield,<BR> +And their left arm sustains a length of shield.<BR> +Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance;<BR> +And naked thro' the streets the mad Luperci dance,<BR> +In caps of wool; the targets dropp'd from heav'n.<BR> +Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv'n,<BR> +To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear,<BR> +And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear.<BR> +Far hence remov'd, the Stygian seats are seen;<BR> +Pains of the damn'd, and punish'd Catiline<BR> +Hung on a rock- the traitor; and, around,<BR> +The Furies hissing from the nether ground.<BR> +Apart from these, the happy souls he draws,<BR> +And Cato's holy ghost dispensing laws.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea;<BR> +But foaming surges there in silver play.<BR> +The dancing dolphins with their tails divide<BR> +The glitt'ring waves, and cut the precious tide.<BR> +Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage<BR> +Their brazen beaks, oppos'd with equal rage.<BR> +Actium surveys the well-disputed prize;<BR> +Leucate's wat'ry plain with foamy billows fries.<BR> +Young Caesar, on the stern, in armor bright,<BR> +Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight:<BR> +His beamy temples shoot their flames afar,<BR> +And o'er his head is hung the Julian star.<BR> +Agrippa seconds him, with prosp'rous gales,<BR> +And, with propitious gods, his foes assails:<BR> +A naval crown, that binds his manly brows,<BR> +The happy fortune of the fight foreshows.<BR> +Rang'd on the line oppos'd, Antonius brings<BR> +Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings;<BR> +Th' Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar,<BR> +Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war:<BR> +And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife,<BR> +His ill fate follows him- th' Egyptian wife.<BR> +Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows<BR> +The froth is gather'd, and the water glows.<BR> +It seems, as if the Cyclades again<BR> +Were rooted up, and justled in the main;<BR> +Or floating mountains floating mountains meet;<BR> +Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet.<BR> +Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav'lins fly;<BR> +The fields of Neptune take a purple dye.<BR> +The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms,<BR> +With cymbals toss'd her fainting soldiers warms-<BR> +Fool as she was! who had not yet divin'd<BR> +Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind.<BR> +Her country gods, the monsters of the sky,<BR> +Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love's Queen defy:<BR> +The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain,<BR> +Nor longer dares oppose th' ethereal train.<BR> +Mars in the middle of the shining shield<BR> +Is grav'd, and strides along the liquid field.<BR> +The Dirae souse from heav'n with swift descent;<BR> +And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent,<BR> +Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads,<BR> +And shakes her iron rod above their heads.<BR> +This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height,<BR> +Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight<BR> +The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield,<BR> +And soft Sabaeans quit the wat'ry field.<BR> +The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails,<BR> +And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales.<BR> +Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath,<BR> +Panting, and pale with fear of future death.<BR> +The god had figur'd her as driv'n along<BR> +By winds and waves, and scudding thro' the throng.<BR> +Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide<BR> +His arms and ample bosom to the tide,<BR> +And spreads his mantle o'er the winding coast,<BR> +In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host.<BR> +The victor to the gods his thanks express'd,<BR> +And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless'd.<BR> +Three hundred temples in the town he plac'd;<BR> +With spoils and altars ev'ry temple grac'd.<BR> +Three shining nights, and three succeeding days,<BR> +The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise,<BR> +The domes with songs, the theaters with plays.<BR> +All altars flame: before each altar lies,<BR> +Drench'd in his gore, the destin'd sacrifice.<BR> +Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne,<BR> +Before Apollo's porch of Parian stone;<BR> +Accepts the presents vow'd for victory,<BR> +And hangs the monumental crowns on high.<BR> +Vast crowds of vanquish'd nations march along,<BR> +Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue.<BR> +Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place<BR> +For Carians, and th' ungirt Numidian race;<BR> +Then ranks the Thracians in the second row,<BR> +With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow.<BR> +And here the tam'd Euphrates humbly glides,<BR> +And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides,<BR> +And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind;<BR> +The Danes' unconquer'd offspring march behind,<BR> +And Morini, the last of humankind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These figures, on the shield divinely wrought,<BR> +By Vulcan labor'd, and by Venus brought,<BR> +With joy and wonder fill the hero's thought.<BR> +Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace,<BR> +And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK IX<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While these affairs in distant places pass'd,<BR> +The various Iris Juno sends with haste,<BR> +To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,<BR> +The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.<BR> +Retir'd alone she found the daring man,<BR> +And op'd her rosy lips, and thus began:<BR> +"What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,<BR> +That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.<BR> +Aeneas, gone to seek th' Arcadian prince,<BR> +Has left the Trojan camp without defense;<BR> +And, short of succors there, employs his pains<BR> +In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.<BR> +Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;<BR> +Unite thy forces, and attack their lines."<BR> +This said, on equal wings she pois'd her weight,<BR> +And form'd a radiant rainbow in her flight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Daunian hero lifts his hands eyes,<BR> +And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:<BR> +"Iris, the grace of heav'n, what pow'r divine<BR> +Has sent thee down, thro' dusky clouds to shine?<BR> +See, they divide; immortal day appears,<BR> +And glitt'ring planets dancing in their spheres!<BR> +With joy, these happy omens I obey,<BR> +And follow to the war the god that leads the way."<BR> +Thus having said, as by the brook he stood,<BR> +He scoop'd the water from the crystal flood;<BR> +Then with his hands the drops to heav'n he throws,<BR> +And loads the pow'rs above with offer'd vows.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now march the bold confed'rates thro' the plain,<BR> +Well hors'd, well clad; a rich and shining train.<BR> +Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,<BR> +The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.<BR> +In the main battle, with his flaming crest,<BR> +The mighty Turnus tow'rs above the rest.<BR> +Silent they move, majestically slow,<BR> +Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.<BR> +The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,<BR> +And the dark menace of the distant war.<BR> +Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,<BR> +Black'ning the fields, and thick'ning thro' the skies.<BR> +Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:<BR> +"What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?<BR> +Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears<BR> +And pointed darts! the Latian host appears."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus warn'd, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend<BR> +The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:<BR> +For their wise gen'ral, with foreseeing care,<BR> +Had charg'd them not to tempt the doubtful war,<BR> +Nor, tho' provok'd, in open fields advance,<BR> +But close within their lines attend their chance.<BR> +Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command,<BR> +And sourly wait in arms the hostile band.<BR> +The fiery Turnus flew before the rest:<BR> +A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press'd;<BR> +His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest.<BR> +With twenty horse to second his designs,<BR> +An unexpected foe, he fac'd the lines.<BR> +"Is there," he said, "in arms, who bravely dare<BR> +His leader's honor and his danger share?"<BR> +Then spurring on, his brandish'd dart he threw,<BR> +In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amaz'd to find a dastard race, that run<BR> +Behind the rampires and the battle shun,<BR> +He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes,<BR> +And stops at ev'ry post, and ev'ry passage tries.<BR> +So roams the nightly wolf about the fold:<BR> +Wet with descending show'rs, and stiff with cold,<BR> +He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain,<BR> +(His gnashing teeth are exercis'd in vain,)<BR> +And, impotent of anger, finds no way<BR> +In his distended paws to grasp the prey.<BR> +The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs<BR> +Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams.<BR> +Thus ranges eager Turnus o'er the plain.<BR> +Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain;<BR> +Surveys each passage with a piercing sight,<BR> +To force his foes in equal field to fight.<BR> +Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies,<BR> +Where, fenc'd with strong redoubts, their navy lies,<BR> +Close underneath the walls; the washing tide<BR> +Secures from all approach this weaker side.<BR> +He takes the wish'd occasion, fills his hand<BR> +With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand.<BR> +Urg'd by his presence, ev'ry soul is warm'd,<BR> +And ev'ry hand with kindled firs is arm'd.<BR> +From the fir'd pines the scatt'ring sparkles fly;<BR> +Fat vapors, mix'd with flames, involve the sky.<BR> +What pow'r, O Muses, could avert the flame<BR> +Which threaten'd, in the fleet, the Trojan name?<BR> +Tell: for the fact, thro' length of time obscure,<BR> +Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'T is said that, when the chief prepar'd his flight,<BR> +And fell'd his timber from Mount Ida's height,<BR> +The grandam goddess then approach'd her son,<BR> +And with a mother's majesty begun:<BR> +"Grant me," she said, "the sole request I bring,<BR> +Since conquer'd heav'n has own'd you for its king.<BR> +On Ida's brows, for ages past, there stood,<BR> +With firs and maples fill'd, a shady wood;<BR> +And on the summit rose a sacred grove,<BR> +Where I was worship'd with religious love.<BR> +Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight,<BR> +I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight.<BR> +Now, fill'd with fear, on their behalf I come;<BR> +Let neither winds o'erset, nor waves intomb<BR> +The floating forests of the sacred pine;<BR> +But let it be their safety to be mine."<BR> +Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls<BR> +The radiant stars, and heav'n and earth controls:<BR> +"How dare you, mother, endless date demand<BR> +For vessels molded by a mortal hand?<BR> +What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride,<BR> +Of safety certain, on th' uncertain tide?<BR> +Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o'er,<BR> +The chief is landed on the Latian shore,<BR> +Whatever ships escape the raging storms,<BR> +At my command shall change their fading forms<BR> +To nymphs divine, and plow the wat'ry way,<BR> +Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea."<BR> +To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore,<BR> +The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore,<BR> +And Phlegethon's innavigable flood,<BR> +And the black regions of his brother god.<BR> +He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now at length the number'd hours were come,<BR> +Prefix'd by fate's irrevocable doom,<BR> +When the great Mother of the Gods was free<BR> +To save her ships, and finish Jove's decree.<BR> +First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung<BR> +A light that sign'd the heav'ns, and shot along;<BR> +Then from a cloud, fring'd round with golden fires,<BR> +Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs;<BR> +And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds,<BR> +Both hosts, in arms oppos'd, with equal horror wounds:<BR> +"O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear,<BR> +And know, my ships are my peculiar care.<BR> +With greater ease the bold Rutulian may,<BR> +With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea,<BR> +Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge,<BR> +Loos'd from your crooked anchors, launch at large,<BR> +Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand,<BR> +And swim the seas, at Cybele's command."<BR> +No sooner had the goddess ceas'd to speak,<BR> +When, lo! th' obedient ships their haulsers break;<BR> +And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main<BR> +They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again:<BR> +As many beauteous maids the billows sweep,<BR> +As rode before tall vessels on the deep.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The foes, surpris'd with wonder, stood aghast;<BR> +Messapus curb'd his fiery courser's haste;<BR> +Old Tiber roar'd, and, raising up his head,<BR> +Call'd back his waters to their oozy bed.<BR> +Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock,<BR> +And with these words his trembling troops bespoke:<BR> +"These monsters for the Trojans' fate are meant,<BR> +And are by Jove for black presages sent.<BR> +He takes the cowards' last relief away;<BR> +For fly they cannot, and, constrain'd to stay,<BR> +Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey.<BR> +The liquid half of all the globe is lost;<BR> +Heav'n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast.<BR> +Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground<BR> +Which myriads of our martial men surround.<BR> +Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles.<BR> +'T was giv'n to Venus they should cross the seas,<BR> +And land secure upon the Latian plains:<BR> +Their promis'd hour is pass'd, and mine remains.<BR> +'T is in the fate of Turnus to destroy,<BR> +With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy.<BR> +Shall such affronts as these alone inflame<BR> +The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name?<BR> +My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife,<BR> +And final ruin, for a ravish'd wife.<BR> +Was 't not enough, that, punish'd for the crime,<BR> +They fell; but will they fall a second time?<BR> +One would have thought they paid enough before,<BR> +To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more.<BR> +Can they securely trust their feeble wall,<BR> +A slight partition, a thin interval,<BR> +Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho' built<BR> +By hands divine, yet perish'd by their guilt?<BR> +Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands,<BR> +To force from out their lines these dastard bands.<BR> +Less than a thousand ships will end this war,<BR> +Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare.<BR> +Let all the Tuscans, all th' Arcadians, join!<BR> +Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design.<BR> +Let them not fear the treasons of the night,<BR> +The robb'd Palladium, the pretended flight:<BR> +Our onset shall be made in open light.<BR> +No wooden engine shall their town betray;<BR> +Fires they shall have around, but fires by day.<BR> +No Grecian babes before their camp appear,<BR> +Whom Hector's arms detain'd to the tenth tardy year.<BR> +Now, since the sun is rolling to the west,<BR> +Give we the silent night to needful rest:<BR> +Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare;<BR> +The morn shall end the small remains of war."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The post of honor to Messapus falls,<BR> +To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls,<BR> +To pitch the fires at distances around,<BR> +And close the Trojans in their scanty ground.<BR> +Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand,<BR> +And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command;<BR> +All clad in shining arms the works invest,<BR> +Each with a radiant helm and waving crest.<BR> +Stretch'd at their length, they press the grassy ground;<BR> +They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,)<BR> +With lights and cheerful fires renew the day,<BR> +And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld,<BR> +And with arm'd legions all the rampires fill'd.<BR> +Seiz'd with affright, their gates they first explore;<BR> +Join works to works with bridges, tow'r to tow'r:<BR> +Thus all things needful for defense abound.<BR> +Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round,<BR> +Commission'd by their absent prince to share<BR> +The common danger, and divide the care.<BR> +The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall,<BR> +By turns relieve each other on the wall.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance,<BR> +To watch the gate was warlike Nisus' chance.<BR> +His father Hyrtacus of noble blood;<BR> +His mother was a huntress of the wood,<BR> +And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear<BR> +His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear,<BR> +But better skill'd unerring shafts to send.<BR> +Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend:<BR> +Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host<BR> +No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast-<BR> +Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun.<BR> +One was their care, and their delight was one:<BR> +One common hazard in the war they shar'd,<BR> +And now were both by choice upon the guard.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Nisus thus: "Or do the gods inspire<BR> +This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?<BR> +A gen'rous ardor boils within my breast,<BR> +Eager of action, enemy to rest:<BR> +This urges me to fight, and fires my mind<BR> +To leave a memorable name behind.<BR> +Thou see'st the foe secure; how faintly shine<BR> +Their scatter'd fires! the most, in sleep supine<BR> +Along the ground, an easy conquest lie:<BR> +The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply;<BR> +All hush'd around. Now hear what I revolve-<BR> +A thought unripe- and scarcely yet resolve.<BR> +Our absent prince both camp and council mourn;<BR> +By message both would hasten his return:<BR> +If they confer what I demand on thee,<BR> +(For fame is recompense enough for me,)<BR> +Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied<BR> +A way that safely will my passage guide."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Euryalus stood list'ning while he spoke,<BR> +With love of praise and noble envy struck;<BR> +Then to his ardent friend expos'd his mind:<BR> +"All this, alone, and leaving me behind!<BR> +Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join'd?<BR> +Thinkist thou I can my share of glory yield,<BR> +Or send thee unassisted to the field?<BR> +Not so my father taught my childhood arms;<BR> +Born in a siege, and bred among alarms!<BR> +Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend,<BR> +Nor of the heav'n-born hero I attend.<BR> +The thing call'd life, with ease I can disclaim,<BR> +And think it over-sold to purchase fame."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Nisus thus: "Alas! thy tender years<BR> +Would minister new matter to my fears.<BR> +So may the gods, who view this friendly strife,<BR> +Restore me to thy lov'd embrace with life,<BR> +Condemn'd to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,)<BR> +This thy request is cruel and unjust.<BR> +But if some chance- as many chances are,<BR> +And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war-<BR> +If one should reach my head, there let it fall,<BR> +And spare thy life; I would not perish all.<BR> +Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date:<BR> +Live thou to mourn thy love's unhappy fate;<BR> +To bear my mangled body from the foe,<BR> +Or buy it back, and fun'ral rites bestow.<BR> +Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny,<BR> +Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply.<BR> +O let not me the widow's tears renew!<BR> +Nor let a mother's curse my name pursue:<BR> +Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee,<BR> +Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily,<BR> +Her age committing to the seas and wind,<BR> +When ev'ry weary matron stay'd behind."<BR> +To this, Euryalus: "You plead in vain,<BR> +And but protract the cause you cannot gain.<BR> +No more delays, but haste!" With that, he wakes<BR> +The nodding watch; each to his office takes.<BR> +The guard reliev'd, the gen'rous couple went<BR> +To find the council at the royal tent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +All creatures else forgot their daily care,<BR> +And sleep, the common gift of nature, share;<BR> +Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate<BR> +In nightly council for th' indanger'd state.<BR> +They vote a message to their absent chief,<BR> +Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief.<BR> +Amid the camp a silent seat they chose,<BR> +Remote from clamor, and secure from foes.<BR> +On their left arms their ample shields they bear,<BR> +The right reclin'd upon the bending spear.<BR> +Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard,<BR> +And beg admission, eager to be heard:<BR> +Th' affair important, not to be deferr'd.<BR> +Ascanius bids 'em be conducted in,<BR> +Ord'ring the more experienc'd to begin.<BR> +Then Nisus thus: "Ye fathers, lend your ears;<BR> +Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years.<BR> +The foe, securely drench'd in sleep and wine,<BR> +Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine;<BR> +And where the smoke in cloudy vapors flies,<BR> +Cov'ring the plain, and curling to the skies,<BR> +Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide,<BR> +Close by the sea, a passage we have spied,<BR> +Which will our way to great Aeneas guide.<BR> +Expect each hour to see him safe again,<BR> +Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain.<BR> +Snatch we the lucky minute while we may;<BR> +Nor can we be mistaken in the way;<BR> +For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen<BR> +The rising turrets, and the stream between,<BR> +And know the winding course, with ev'ry ford."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He ceas'd; and old Alethes took the word:<BR> +"Our country gods, in whom our trust we place,<BR> +Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race,<BR> +While we behold such dauntless worth appear<BR> +In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear."<BR> +Then into tears of joy the father broke;<BR> +Each in his longing arms by turns he took;<BR> +Panted and paus'd; and thus again he spoke:<BR> +"Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we,<BR> +In recompense of such desert, decree?<BR> +The greatest, sure, and best you can receive,<BR> +The gods and your own conscious worth will give.<BR> +The rest our grateful gen'ral will bestow,<BR> +And young Ascanius till his manhood owe."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"And I, whose welfare in my father lies,"<BR> +Ascanius adds, "by the great deities,<BR> +By my dear country, by my household gods,<BR> +By hoary Vesta's rites and dark abodes,<BR> +Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands;<BR> +That and my faith I plight into your hands,)<BR> +Make me but happy in his safe return,<BR> +Whose wanted presence I can only mourn;<BR> +Your common gift shall two large goblets be<BR> +Of silver, wrought with curious imagery,<BR> +And high emboss'd, which, when old Priam reign'd,<BR> +My conqu'ring sire at sack'd Arisba gain'd;<BR> +And more, two tripods cast in antic mold,<BR> +With two great talents of the finest gold;<BR> +Beside a costly bowl, ingrav'd with art,<BR> +Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart.<BR> +But, if in conquer'd Italy we reign,<BR> +When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain-<BR> +Thou saw'st the courser by proud Turnus press'd:<BR> +That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest,<BR> +And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share:<BR> +Twelve lab'ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair<BR> +All clad in rich attire, and train'd with care;<BR> +And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains,<BR> +And a large portion of the king's domains.<BR> +But thou, whose years are more to mine allied-<BR> +No fate my vow'd affection shall divide<BR> +From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine;<BR> +Take full possession; all my soul is thine.<BR> +One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend;<BR> +My life's companion, and my bosom friend:<BR> +My peace shall be committed to thy care,<BR> +And to thy conduct my concerns in war."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus the young Euryalus replied:<BR> +"Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide,<BR> +The same shall be my age, as now my youth;<BR> +No time shall find me wanting to my truth.<BR> +This only from your goodness let me gain<BR> +(And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain)<BR> +Of Priam's royal race my mother came-<BR> +And sure the best that ever bore the name-<BR> +Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold<BR> +From me departing, but, o'erspent and old,<BR> +My fate she follow'd. Ignorant of this<BR> +(Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss,<BR> +Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave,<BR> +And in this only act of all my life deceive.<BR> +By this right hand and conscious Night I swear,<BR> +My soul so sad a farewell could not bear.<BR> +Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place<BR> +(Permit me to presume so great a grace)<BR> +Support her age, forsaken and distress'd.<BR> +That hope alone will fortify my breast<BR> +Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears."<BR> +He said. The mov'd assistants melt in tears.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see<BR> +That image of his filial piety:<BR> +"So great beginnings, in so green an age,<BR> +Exact the faith which I again ingage.<BR> +Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim,<BR> +Creusa had, and only want the name.<BR> +Whate'er event thy bold attempt shall have,<BR> +'T is merit to have borne a son so brave.<BR> +Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear,<BR> +(My father us'd it,) what, returning here<BR> +Crown'd with success, I for thyself prepare,<BR> +That, if thou fail, shall thy lov'd mother share."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word,<BR> +From his broad belt he drew a shining sword,<BR> +Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made,<BR> +And in an ivory scabbard sheath'd the blade.<BR> +This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend<BR> +A lion's hide, his body to defend;<BR> +And good Alethes furnish'd him, beside,<BR> +With his own trusty helm, of temper tried.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus arm'd they went. The noble Trojans wait<BR> +Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate<BR> +With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears<BR> +Ascanius, manly far beyond his years,<BR> +And messages committed to their care,<BR> +Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The trenches first they pass'd; then took their way<BR> +Where their proud foes in pitch'd pavilions lay;<BR> +To many fatal, ere themselves were slain.<BR> +They found the careless host dispers'd upon the plain,<BR> +Who, gorg'd, and drunk with wine, supinely snore.<BR> +Unharness'd chariots stand along the shore:<BR> +Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by,<BR> +A medley of debauch and war, they lie.<BR> +Observing Nisus shew'd his friend the sight:<BR> +"Behold a conquest gain'd without a fight.<BR> +Occasion offers, and I stand prepar'd;<BR> +There lies our way; be thou upon the guard,<BR> +And look around, while I securely go,<BR> +And hew a passage thro' the sleeping foe."<BR> +Softly he spoke; then striding took his way,<BR> +With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay;<BR> +His head rais'd high on tapestry beneath,<BR> +And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath;<BR> +A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov'd:<BR> +But fate by prescience cannot be remov'd.<BR> +Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies<BR> +Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies.<BR> +His armor-bearer first, and next he kills<BR> +His charioteer, intrench'd betwixt the wheels<BR> +And his lov'd horses; last invades their lord;<BR> +Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword:<BR> +The gasping head flies off; a purple flood<BR> +Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood,<BR> +Which, by the spurning heels dispers'd around,<BR> +The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground.<BR> +Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong,<BR> +He slew, and then Serranus fair and young.<BR> +From dice and wine the youth retir'd to rest,<BR> +And puff'd the fumy god from out his breast:<BR> +Ev'n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play-<BR> +More lucky, had it lasted till the day.<BR> +The famish'd lion thus, with hunger bold,<BR> +O'erleaps the fences of the nightly fold,<BR> +And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe<BR> +Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor with less rage Euryalus employs<BR> +The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys;<BR> +But on th' ignoble crowd his fury flew;<BR> +He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew.<BR> +Oppress'd with heavy sleep the former fell,<BR> +But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all:<BR> +Behind a spacious jar he slink'd for fear;<BR> +The fatal iron found and reach'd him there;<BR> +For, as he rose, it pierc'd his naked side,<BR> +And, reeking, thence return'd in crimson dyed.<BR> +The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood;<BR> +The purple soul comes floating in the flood.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, where Messapus quarter'd, they arrive.<BR> +The fires were fainting there, and just alive;<BR> +The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed.<BR> +Nisus observ'd the discipline, and said:<BR> +"Our eager thirst of blood may both betray;<BR> +And see the scatter'd streaks of dawning day,<BR> +Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend;<BR> +Here let our glutted execution end.<BR> +A lane thro' slaughter'd bodies we have made."<BR> +The bold Euryalus, tho' loth, obey'd.<BR> +Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find<BR> +A precious load; but these they leave behind.<BR> +Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay<BR> +To make the rich caparison his prey,<BR> +Which on the steed of conquer'd Rhamnes lay.<BR> +Nor did his eyes less longingly behold<BR> +The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish'd gold.<BR> +This present Caedicus the rich bestow'd<BR> +On Remulus, when friendship first they vow'd,<BR> +And, absent, join'd in hospitable ties:<BR> +He, dying, to his heir bequeath'd the prize;<BR> +Till, by the conqu'ring Ardean troops oppress'd,<BR> +He fell; and they the glorious gift possess'd.<BR> +These glitt'ring spoils (now made the victor's gain)<BR> +He to his body suits, but suits in vain:<BR> +Messapus' helm he finds among the rest,<BR> +And laces on, and wears the waving crest.<BR> +Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey,<BR> +They leave the camp, and take the ready way.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But far they had not pass'd, before they spied<BR> +Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide.<BR> +The queen a legion to King Turnus sent;<BR> +But the swift horse the slower foot prevent,<BR> +And now, advancing, sought the leader's tent.<BR> +They saw the pair; for, thro' the doubtful shade,<BR> +His shining helm Euryalus betray'd,<BR> +On which the moon with full reflection play'd.<BR> +"'T is not for naught," cried Volscens from the crowd,<BR> +"These men go there;" then rais'd his voice aloud:<BR> +"Stand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent?<BR> +From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?"<BR> +Silent they scud away, and haste their flight<BR> +To neighb'ring woods, and trust themselves to night.<BR> +The speedy horse all passages belay,<BR> +And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way,<BR> +And watch each entrance of the winding wood.<BR> +Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood,<BR> +Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn;<BR> +Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn.<BR> +The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey,<BR> +And fear, misled the younger from his way.<BR> +But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste,<BR> +And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass'd,<BR> +And Alban plains, from Alba's name so call'd,<BR> +Where King Latinus then his oxen stall'd;<BR> +Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground,<BR> +And miss'd his friend, and cast his eyes around:<BR> +"Ah wretch!" he cried, "where have I left behind<BR> +Th' unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find?<BR> +Or what way take?" Again he ventures back,<BR> +And treads the mazes of his former track.<BR> +He winds the wood, and, list'ning, hears the noise<BR> +Of tramping coursers, and the riders' voice.<BR> +The sound approach'd; and suddenly he view'd<BR> +The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued,<BR> +Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain<BR> +The shelter of the friendly shades to gain.<BR> +What should he next attempt? what arms employ,<BR> +What fruitless force, to free the captive boy?<BR> +Or desperate should he rush and lose his life,<BR> +With odds oppress'd, in such unequal strife?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Resolv'd at length, his pointed spear he shook;<BR> +And, casting on the moon a mournful look:<BR> +"Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night,<BR> +Fair queen," he said, "direct my dart aright.<BR> +If e'er my pious father, for my sake,<BR> +Did grateful off'rings on thy altars make,<BR> +Or I increas'd them with my sylvan toils,<BR> +And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils,<BR> +Give me to scatter these." Then from his ear<BR> +He pois'd, and aim'd, and launch'd the trembling spear.<BR> +The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove,<BR> +Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove;<BR> +Pierc'd his thin armor, drank his vital blood,<BR> +And in his body left the broken wood.<BR> +He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death,<BR> +And with short sobs he gasps away his breath.<BR> +All stand amaz'd- a second jav'lin flies<BR> +With equal strength, and quivers thro' the skies.<BR> +This thro' thy temples, Tagus, forc'd the way,<BR> +And in the brainpan warmly buried lay.<BR> +Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,<BR> +Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,<BR> +Nor knew to fix revenge: "But thou," he cries,<BR> +"Shalt pay for both," and at the pris'ner flies<BR> +With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair,<BR> +That cruel sight the lover could not bear;<BR> +But from his covert rush'd in open view,<BR> +And sent his voice before him as he flew:<BR> +"Me! me!" he cried- "turn all your swords alone<BR> +On me- the fact confess'd, the fault my own.<BR> +He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth:<BR> +Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth!<BR> +His only crime (if friendship can offend)<BR> +Is too much love to his unhappy friend."<BR> +Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides,<BR> +Driv'n with full force, had pierc'd his tender sides.<BR> +Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound<BR> +Gush'd out a purple stream, and stain'd the ground.<BR> +His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,<BR> +Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd;<BR> +Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,<BR> +Whose heavy head is overcharg'd with rain.<BR> +Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow'd,<BR> +Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.<BR> +Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends:<BR> +Borne back and bor'd by his surrounding friends,<BR> +Onward he press'd, and kept him still in sight;<BR> +Then whirl'd aloft his sword with all his might:<BR> +Th' unerring steel descended while he spoke,<BR> +Piered his wide mouth, and thro' his weazon broke.<BR> +Dying, he slew; and, stagg'ring on the plain,<BR> +With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain;<BR> +Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell,<BR> +Content, in death, to be reveng'd so well.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +O happy friends! for, if my verse can give<BR> +Immortal life, your fame shall ever live,<BR> +Fix'd as the Capitol's foundation lies,<BR> +And spread, where'er the Roman eagle flies!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The conqu'ring party first divide the prey,<BR> +Then their slain leader to the camp convey.<BR> +With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill'd,<BR> +To see such numbers whom so few had kill'd.<BR> +Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found:<BR> +Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround;<BR> +And the yet reeking blood o'erflows the ground.<BR> +All knew the helmet which Messapus lost,<BR> +But mourn'd a purchase that so dear had cost.<BR> +Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed,<BR> +And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread;<BR> +Nor long the sun his daily course withheld,<BR> +But added colors to the world reveal'd:<BR> +When early Turnus, wak'ning with the light,<BR> +All clad in armor, calls his troops to fight.<BR> +His martial men with fierce harangue he fir'd,<BR> +And his own ardor in their souls inspir'd.<BR> +This done- to give new terror to his foes,<BR> +The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows,<BR> +Rais'd high on pointed spears- a ghastly sight:<BR> +Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls;<BR> +They line their trenches, and they man their walls.<BR> +In front extended to the left they stood;<BR> +Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood.<BR> +But, casting from their tow'rs a frightful view,<BR> +They saw the faces, which too well they knew,<BR> +Tho' then disguis'd in death, and smear'd all o'er<BR> +With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore.<BR> +Soon hasty fame thro' the sad city bears<BR> +The mournful message to the mother's ears.<BR> +An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes;<BR> +Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes.<BR> +She runs the rampires round amidst the war,<BR> +Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair,<BR> +And fills with loud laments the liquid air.<BR> +"Thus, then, my lov'd Euryalus appears!<BR> +Thus looks the prop my declining years!<BR> +Was't on this face my famish'd eyes I fed?<BR> +Ah! how unlike the living is the dead!<BR> +And could'st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone?<BR> +Not one kind kiss from a departing son!<BR> +No look, no last adieu before he went,<BR> +In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent!<BR> +Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay,<BR> +To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey!<BR> +Nor was I near to close his dying eyes,<BR> +To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies,<BR> +To call about his corpse his crying friends,<BR> +Or spread the mantle (made for other ends)<BR> +On his dear body, which I wove with care,<BR> +Nor did my daily pains or nightly labor spare.<BR> +Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains<BR> +His trunk dismember'd, and his cold remains?<BR> +For this, alas! I left my needful ease,<BR> +Expos'd my life to winds and winter seas!<BR> +If any pity touch Rutulian hearts,<BR> +Here empty all your quivers, all your darts;<BR> +Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe,<BR> +And send me thunderstruck to shades below!"<BR> +Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans' ears,<BR> +Unman their courage, and augment their fears;<BR> +Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain,<BR> +Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain,<BR> +But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent,<BR> +To bear the madding mother to her tent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now the trumpets terribly, from far,<BR> +With rattling clangor, rouse the sleepy war.<BR> +The soldiers' shouts succeed the brazen sounds;<BR> +And heav'n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds.<BR> +The Volscians bear their shields upon their head,<BR> +And, rushing forward, form a moving shed.<BR> +These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down:<BR> +Some raise the ladders; others scale the town.<BR> +But, where void spaces on the walls appear,<BR> +Or thin defense, they pour their forces there.<BR> +With poles and missive weapons, from afar,<BR> +The Trojans keep aloof the rising war.<BR> +Taught, by their ten years' siege, defensive fight,<BR> +They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight,<BR> +To break the penthouse with the pond'rous blow,<BR> +Which yet the patient Volscians undergo:<BR> +But could not bear th' unequal combat long;<BR> +For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng,<BR> +The ruin falls: their shatter'd shields give way,<BR> +And their crush'd heads become an easy prey.<BR> +They shrink for fear, abated of their rage,<BR> +Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage;<BR> +Contented now to gall them from below<BR> +With darts and slings, and with the distant bow.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view,<BR> +A blazing pine within the trenches threw.<BR> +But brave Messapus, Neptune's warlike son,<BR> +Broke down the palisades, the trenches won,<BR> +And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine,<BR> +Inspire your poet in his high design,<BR> +To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made,<BR> +What souls he sent below the Stygian shade,<BR> +What fame the soldiers with their captain share,<BR> +And the vast circuit of the fatal war;<BR> +For you in singing martial facts excel;<BR> +You best remember, and alone can tell.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There stood a tow'r, amazing to the sight,<BR> +Built up of beams, and of stupendous height:<BR> +Art, and the nature of the place, conspir'd<BR> +To furnish all the strength that war requir'd.<BR> +To level this, the bold Italians join;<BR> +The wary Trojans obviate their design;<BR> +With weighty stones o'erwhelm their troops below,<BR> +Shoot thro' the loopholes, and sharp jav'lins throw.<BR> +Turnus, the chief, toss'd from his thund'ring hand<BR> +Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand:<BR> +It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high;<BR> +The planks were season'd, and the timber dry.<BR> +Contagion caught the posts; it spread along,<BR> +Scorch'd, and to distance drove the scatter'd throng.<BR> +The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain,<BR> +Still gath'ring fast upon the trembling train;<BR> +Till, crowding to the corners of the wall,<BR> +Down the defense and the defenders fall.<BR> +The mighty flaw makes heav'n itself resound:<BR> +The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground.<BR> +The tow'r, that follow'd on the fallen crew,<BR> +Whelm'd o'er their heads, and buried whom it slew:<BR> +Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent;<BR> +All the same equal ruin underwent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Young Lycus and Helenor only scape;<BR> +Sav'd- how, they know not- from the steepy leap.<BR> +Helenor, elder of the two: by birth,<BR> +On one side royal, one a son of earth,<BR> +Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare,<BR> +And sent her boasted bastard to the war<BR> +(A privilege which none but freemen share).<BR> +Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield:<BR> +No marks of honor charg'd its empty field.<BR> +Light as he fell, so light the youth arose,<BR> +And rising, found himself amidst his foes;<BR> +Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way.<BR> +Embolden'd by despair, he stood at bay;<BR> +And- like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds<BR> +Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds-<BR> +Resolv'd on death, he dissipates his fears,<BR> +And bounds aloft against the pointed spears:<BR> +So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws<BR> +His dying body on his thickest foes.<BR> +But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far,<BR> +Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war;<BR> +Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind,<BR> +And snatches at the beam he first can find;<BR> +Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch,<BR> +In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach.<BR> +But Turnus follow'd hard his hunted prey<BR> +(His spear had almost reach'd him in the way,<BR> +Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind)<BR> +"Fool!" said the chief, "tho' fleeter than the wind,<BR> +Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?"<BR> +He said, and downward by the feet he drew<BR> +The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls;<BR> +Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls.<BR> +Thus on some silver swan, or tim'rous hare,<BR> +Jove's bird comes sousing down from upper air;<BR> +Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey:<BR> +Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way.<BR> +So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb,<BR> +In vain lamented by the bleating dam.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then rushing onward with a barb'rous cry,<BR> +The troops of Turnus to the combat fly.<BR> +The ditch with fagots fill'd, the daring foe<BR> +Toss'd firebrands to the steepy turrets throw.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came<BR> +To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame,<BR> +Roll'd down the fragment of a rock so right,<BR> +It crush'd him double underneath the weight.<BR> +Two more young Liger and Asylas slew:<BR> +To bend the bow young Liger better knew;<BR> +Asylas best the pointed jav'lin threw.<BR> +Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain;<BR> +The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain.<BR> +By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall,<BR> +Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall.<BR> +From Capys' arms his fate Privernus found:<BR> +Hurt by Themilla first-but slight the wound-<BR> +His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart,<BR> +He clapp'd his hand upon the wounded part:<BR> +The second shaft came swift and unespied,<BR> +And pierc'd his hand, and nail'd it to his side,<BR> +Transfix'd his breathing lungs and beating heart:<BR> +The soul came issuing out, and hiss'd against the dart.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The son of Arcens shone amid the rest,<BR> +In glitt'ring armor and a purple vest,<BR> +(Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,)<BR> +Bred by his father in the Martian grove,<BR> +Where the fat altars of Palicus flame,<BR> +And send in arms to purchase early fame.<BR> +Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king<BR> +Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling,<BR> +Thrice whirl'd the thong around his head, and threw:<BR> +The heated lead half melted as it flew;<BR> +It pierc'd his hollow temples and his brain;<BR> +The youth came tumbling down, and spurn'd the plain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then young Ascanius, who, before this day,<BR> +Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey,<BR> +First bent in martial strife the twanging bow,<BR> +And exercis'd against a human foe-<BR> +With this bereft Numanus of his life,<BR> +Who Turnus' younger sister took to wife.<BR> +Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride,<BR> +Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen'd with a stride,<BR> +In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Twice-conquer'd cowards, now your shame is shown-<BR> +Coop'd up a second time within your town!<BR> +Who dare not issue forth in open field,<BR> +But hold your walls before you for a shield.<BR> +Thus threat you war? thus our alliance force?<BR> +What gods, what madness, hether steer'd your course?<BR> +You shall not find the sons of Atreus here,<BR> +Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear.<BR> +Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood,<BR> +We bear our newborn infants to the flood;<BR> +There bath'd amid the stream, our boys we hold,<BR> +With winter harden'd, and inur'd to cold.<BR> +They wake before the day to range the wood,<BR> +Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer'd food.<BR> +No sports, but what belong to war, they know:<BR> +To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow.<BR> +Our youth, of labor patient, earn their bread;<BR> +Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed.<BR> +From plows and harrows sent to seek renown,<BR> +They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town.<BR> +No part of life from toils of war is free,<BR> +No change in age, or diff'rence in degree.<BR> +We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel,<BR> +Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel;<BR> +Th' inverted lance makes furrows in the plain.<BR> +Ev'n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain:<BR> +The body, not the mind; nor can control<BR> +Th' immortal vigor, or abate the soul.<BR> +Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray:<BR> +We live by plunder, and delight in prey.<BR> +Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine;<BR> +In sloth you glory, and in dances join.<BR> +Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride<BR> +Your turbants underneath your chins are tied.<BR> +Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again!<BR> +Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!<BR> +Go, mix'd with eunuchs, in the Mother's rites,<BR> +Where with unequal sound the flute invites;<BR> +Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida's shade:<BR> +Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear<BR> +With patience, or a vow'd revenge forbear.<BR> +At the full stretch of both his hands he drew,<BR> +And almost join'd the horns of the tough yew.<BR> +But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood,<BR> +And thus with lifted hands invok'd the god:<BR> +"My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed!<BR> +An annual off'ring in thy grove shall bleed;<BR> +A snow-white steer, before thy altar led,<BR> +Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head,<BR> +Butts with his threat'ning brows, and bellowing stands,<BR> +And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Jove bow'd the heav'ns, and lent a gracious ear,<BR> +And thunder'd on the left, amidst the clear.<BR> +Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies<BR> +The feather'd death, and hisses thro' the skies.<BR> +The steel thro' both his temples forc'd the way:<BR> +Extended on the ground, Numanus lay.<BR> +"Go now, vain boaster, and true valor scorn!<BR> +The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return."<BR> +Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake<BR> +The heav'ns with shouting, and new vigor take.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud,<BR> +To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd;<BR> +And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud:<BR> +"Advance, illustrious youth, increase in fame,<BR> +And wide from east to west extend thy name;<BR> +Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe<BR> +To thee a race of demigods below.<BR> +This is the way to heav'n: the pow'rs divine<BR> +From this beginning date the Julian line.<BR> +To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs,<BR> +The conquer'd war is due, and the vast world is theirs.<BR> +Troy is too narrow for thy name." He said,<BR> +And plunging downward shot his radiant head;<BR> +Dispell'd the breathing air, that broke his flight:<BR> +Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight.<BR> +Old Butes' form he took, Anchises' squire,<BR> +Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire:<BR> +His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs,<BR> +His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears,<BR> +And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years:<BR> +"Suffice it thee, thy father's worthy son,<BR> +The warlike prize thou hast already won.<BR> +The god of archers gives thy youth a part<BR> +Of his own praise, nor envies equal art.<BR> +Now tempt the war no more." He said, and flew<BR> +Obscure in air, and vanish'd from their view.<BR> +The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know,<BR> +And hear the twanging of his heav'nly bow.<BR> +Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus' name,<BR> +To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame.<BR> +Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun;<BR> +From wall to wall the shouts and clamors run.<BR> +They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around;<BR> +Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground;<BR> +And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound.<BR> +The combat thickens, like the storm that flies<BR> +From westward, when the show'ry Kids arise;<BR> +Or patt'ring hail comes pouring on the main,<BR> +When Jupiter descends in harden'd rain,<BR> +Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound,<BR> +And with an armed winter strew the ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Pand'rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war,<BR> +Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare<BR> +On Ida's top, two youths of height and size<BR> +Like firs that on their mother mountain rise,<BR> +Presuming on their force, the gates unbar,<BR> +And of their own accord invite the war.<BR> +With fates averse, against their king's command,<BR> +Arm'd, on the right and on the left they stand,<BR> +And flank the passage: shining steel they wear,<BR> +And waving crests above their heads appear.<BR> +Thus two tall oaks, that Padus' banks adorn,<BR> +Lift up to heav'n their leafy heads unshorn,<BR> +And, overpress'd with nature's heavy load,<BR> +Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod.<BR> +In flows a tide of Latians, when they see<BR> +The gate set open, and the passage free;<BR> +Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on,<BR> +Equicolus, that in bright armor shone,<BR> +And Haemon first; but soon repuls'd they fly,<BR> +Or in the well-defended pass they die.<BR> +These with success are fir'd, and those with rage,<BR> +And each on equal terms at length ingage.<BR> +Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain,<BR> +The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought,<BR> +When suddenly th' unhop'd-for news was brought,<BR> +The foes had left the fastness of their place,<BR> +Prevail'd in fight, and had his men in chase.<BR> +He quits th' attack, and, to prevent their fate,<BR> +Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate.<BR> +The first he met, Antiphates the brave,<BR> +But base-begotten on a Theban slave,<BR> +Sarpedon's son, he slew: the deadly dart<BR> +Found passage thro' his breast, and pierc'd his heart.<BR> +Fix'd in the wound th' Italian cornel stood,<BR> +Warm'd in his lungs, and in his vital blood.<BR> +Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies,<BR> +And Meropes, and the gigantic size<BR> +Of Bitias, threat'ning with his ardent eyes.<BR> +Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress'd<BR> +(A dart were lost within that roomy breast),<BR> +But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong,<BR> +Which roar'd like thunder as it whirl'd along:<BR> +Not two bull hides th' impetuous force withhold,<BR> +Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.<BR> +Down sunk the monster bulk and press'd the ground;<BR> +His arms and clatt'ring shield on the vast body sound,<BR> +Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole,<BR> +Rais'd on the seas, the surges to control-<BR> +At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall;<BR> +Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall<BR> +Of the vast pile; the scatter'd ocean flies;<BR> +Black sands, discolor'd froth, and mingled mud arise:<BR> +The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores;<BR> +Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars:<BR> +Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove's command,<BR> +Astonish'd at the flaw that shakes the land,<BR> +Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake,<BR> +With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The warrior god the Latian troops inspir'd,<BR> +New strung their sinews, and their courage fir'd,<BR> +But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright:<BR> +Then black despair precipitates their flight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When Pandarus beheld his brother kill'd,<BR> +The town with fear and wild confusion fill'd,<BR> +He turns the hinges of the heavy gate<BR> +With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight<BR> +Some happier friends within the walls inclos'd;<BR> +The rest shut out, to certain death expos'd:<BR> +Fool as he was, and frantic in his care,<BR> +T' admit young Turnus, and include the war!<BR> +He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold,<BR> +Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold.<BR> +Too late his blazing buckler they descry,<BR> +And sparkling fires that shot from either eye,<BR> +His mighty members, and his ample breast,<BR> +His rattling armor, and his crimson crest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Far from that hated face the Trojans fly,<BR> +All but the fool who sought his destiny.<BR> +Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow'd<BR> +For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud:<BR> +"These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town<BR> +Amata proffers with Lavinia's crown:<BR> +'T is hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft,<BR> +No means of safe return by flight are left."<BR> +To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul sedate,<BR> +Thus Turnus: "Then begin, and try thy fate:<BR> +My message to the ghost of Priam bear;<BR> +Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw,<BR> +Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew:<BR> +With his full force he whirl'd it first around;<BR> +But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound:<BR> +Imperial Juno turn'd the course before,<BR> +And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike,<BR> +To shun thy fate: our force is not alike,<BR> +Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god."<BR> +Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood,<BR> +And aim'd from high: the full descending blow<BR> +Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two.<BR> +Down sinks the giant with a thund'ring sound:<BR> +His pond'rous limbs oppress the trembling ground;<BR> +Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound:<BR> +Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides,<BR> +And the shar'd visage hangs on equal sides.<BR> +The Trojans fly from their approaching fate;<BR> +And, had the victor then secur'd the gate,<BR> +And to his troops without unclos'd the bars,<BR> +One lucky day had ended all his wars.<BR> +But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood,<BR> +Push'd on his fury, to pursue the crowd.<BR> +Hamstring'd behind, unhappy Gyges died;<BR> +Then Phalaris is added to his side.<BR> +The pointed jav'lins from the dead he drew,<BR> +And their friends' arms against their fellows threw.<BR> +Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies;<BR> +Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies.<BR> +Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall-<BR> +Ingag'd against the foes who scal'd the wall:<BR> +But, whom they fear'd without, they found within.<BR> +At last, tho' late, by Lynceus he was seen.<BR> +He calls new succors, and assaults the prince:<BR> +But weak his force, and vain is their defense.<BR> +Turn'd to the right, his sword the hero drew,<BR> +And at one blow the bold aggressor slew.<BR> +He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong,<BR> +The helm flies off, and bears the head along.<BR> +Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill'd,<BR> +In darts invenom'd and in poison skill'd.<BR> +Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear,<BR> +And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear:<BR> +He fought with courage, and he sung the fight;<BR> +Arms were his bus'ness, verses his delight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief,<BR> +Their slaughter'd friends, and hasten their relief.<BR> +Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train,<BR> +Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain.<BR> +To save the living, and revenge the dead,<BR> +Against one warrior's arms all Troy they led.<BR> +"O, void of sense and courage!" Mnestheus cried,<BR> +"Where can you hope your coward heads to hide?<BR> +Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run?<BR> +One man, and in your camp inclos'd, you shun!<BR> +Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast,<BR> +And pass unpunish'd from a num'rous host?<BR> +Forsaking honor, and renouncing fame,<BR> +Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!"<BR> +This just reproach their virtue does excite:<BR> +They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield,<BR> +But with slow paces measures back the field,<BR> +And inches to the walls, where Tiber's tide,<BR> +Washing the camp, defends the weaker side.<BR> +The more he loses, they advance the more,<BR> +And tread in ev'ry step he trod before.<BR> +They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might<BR> +They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As, compass'd with a wood of spears around,<BR> +The lordly lion still maintains his ground;<BR> +Grins horrible, retires, and turns again;<BR> +Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane;<BR> +He loses while in vain he presses on,<BR> +Nor will his courage let him dare to run:<BR> +So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight,<BR> +Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight.<BR> +Yet twice, inrag'd, the combat he renews,<BR> +Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues.<BR> +But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied,<BR> +Come rolling on, and rush from ev'ry side:<BR> +Nor Juno, who sustain'd his arms before,<BR> +Dares with new strength suffice th' exhausted store;<BR> +For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down,<BR> +To force th' invader from the frighted town.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +With labor spent, no longer can he wield<BR> +The heavy fanchion, or sustain the shield,<BR> +O'erwhelm'd with darts, which from afar they fling:<BR> +The weapons round his hollow temples ring;<BR> +His golden helm gives way, with stony blows<BR> +Batter'd, and flat, and beaten to his brows.<BR> +His crest is rash'd away; his ample shield<BR> +Is falsified, and round with jav'lins fill'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm;<BR> +And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm.<BR> +Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev'ry pore;<BR> +With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o'er;<BR> +Shorter and shorter ev'ry gasp he takes;<BR> +And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes.<BR> +Plung'd in the flood, and made the waters fly.<BR> +The yellow god the welcome burthen bore,<BR> +And wip'd the sweat, and wash'd away the gore;<BR> +Then gently wafts him to the farther coast,<BR> +And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK X<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons all<BR> +The gods to council in the common hall.<BR> +Sublimely seated, he surveys from far<BR> +The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,<BR> +And all th' inferior world. From first to last,<BR> +The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus th' almighty sire began: "Ye gods,<BR> +Natives or denizens of blest abodes,<BR> +From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,<BR> +This backward fate from what was first design'd?<BR> +Why this protracted war, when my commands<BR> +Pronounc'd a peace, and gave the Latian lands?<BR> +What fear or hope on either part divides<BR> +Our heav'ns, and arms our powers on diff'rent sides?<BR> +A lawful time of war at length will come,<BR> +(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),<BR> +When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,<BR> +Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,<BR> +And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.<BR> +Then is your time for faction and debate,<BR> +For partial favor, and permitted hate.<BR> +Let now your immature dissension cease;<BR> +Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;<BR> +But lovely Venus thus replies at large:<BR> +"O pow'r immense, eternal energy,<BR> +(For to what else protection can we fly?)<BR> +Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare<BR> +In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care?<BR> +How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train,<BR> +In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?<BR> +Ev'n in their lines and trenches they contend,<BR> +And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:<BR> +The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats,<BR> +With a red deluge, their increasing moats.<BR> +Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence,<BR> +Has left a camp expos'd, without defense.<BR> +This endless outrage shall they still sustain?<BR> +Shall Troy renew'd be forc'd and fir'd again?<BR> +A second siege my banish'd issue fears,<BR> +And a new Diomede in arms appears.<BR> +One more audacious mortal will be found;<BR> +And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.<BR> +Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,<BR> +The Latian lands my progeny receive,<BR> +Bear they the pains of violated law,<BR> +And thy protection from their aid withdraw.<BR> +But, if the gods their sure success foretell;<BR> +If those of heav'n consent with those of hell,<BR> +To promise Italy; who dare debate<BR> +The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate?<BR> +What should I tell of tempests on the main,<BR> +Of Aeolus usurping Neptune's reign?<BR> +Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat<BR> +T' inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet?<BR> +Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends,<BR> +Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends.<BR> +That new example wanted yet above:<BR> +An act that well became the wife of Jove!<BR> +Alecto, rais'd by her, with rage inflames<BR> +The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames.<BR> +Imperial sway no more exalts my mind;<BR> +(Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav'n was kind;)<BR> +Now let my happier foes possess my place,<BR> +Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race;<BR> +And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace.<BR> +Since you can spare, from all your wide command,<BR> +No spot of earth, no hospitable land,<BR> +Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive;<BR> +(Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;)<BR> +Then, father, (if I still may use that name,)<BR> +By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame,<BR> +I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,<BR> +Be freed from danger, and dismiss'd the war:<BR> +Inglorious let him live, without a crown.<BR> +The father may be cast on coasts unknown,<BR> +Struggling with fate; but let me save the son.<BR> +Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow'rs:<BR> +In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs,<BR> +Obscurely let him rest; his right resign<BR> +To promis'd empire, and his Julian line.<BR> +Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns destroy,<BR> +Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.<BR> +What profits it my son to scape the fire,<BR> +Arm'd with his gods, and loaded with his sire;<BR> +To pass the perils of the seas and wind;<BR> +Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind;<BR> +To reach th' Italian shores; if, after all,<BR> +Our second Pergamus is doom'd to fall?<BR> +Much better had he curb'd his high desires,<BR> +And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires.<BR> +To Simois' banks the fugitives restore,<BR> +And give them back to war, and all the woes before."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's heart:<BR> +"And must I own," she said, "my secret smart-<BR> +What with more decence were in silence kept,<BR> +And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept?<BR> +Did god or man your fav'rite son advise,<BR> +With war unhop'd the Latians to surprise?<BR> +By fate, you boast, and by the gods' decree,<BR> +He left his native land for Italy!<BR> +Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more<BR> +Than Heav'n inspir'd, he sought a foreign shore!<BR> +Did I persuade to trust his second Troy<BR> +To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,<BR> +With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes,<BR> +And thro' the waves a wand'ring voyage takes?<BR> +When have I urg'd him meanly to demand<BR> +The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land?<BR> +Did I or Iris give this mad advice,<BR> +Or made the fool himself the fatal choice?<BR> +You think it hard, the Latians should destroy<BR> +With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy!<BR> +Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw<BR> +Their native air, nor take a foreign law!<BR> +That Turnus is permitted still to live,<BR> +To whom his birth a god and goddess give!<BR> +But yet is just and lawful for your line<BR> +To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join;<BR> +Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,<BR> +And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd bride;<BR> +Petition, while you public arms prepare;<BR> +Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war!<BR> +'T was giv'n to you, your darling son to shroud,<BR> +To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd,<BR> +And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud.<BR> +From flaming fleets you turn'd the fire away,<BR> +And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea.<BR> +But is my crime- the Queen of Heav'n offends,<BR> +If she presume to save her suff'ring friends!<BR> +Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,<BR> +You say, is absent: absent let him be.<BR> +Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs,<BR> +The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs.<BR> +Why do you then these needless arms prepare,<BR> +And thus provoke a people prone to war?<BR> +Did I with fire the Trojan town deface,<BR> +Or hinder from return your exil'd race?<BR> +Was I the cause of mischief, or the man<BR> +Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?<BR> +Think on whose faith th' adult'rous youth relied;<BR> +Who promis'd, who procur'd, the Spartan bride?<BR> +When all th' united states of Greece combin'd,<BR> +To purge the world of the perfidious kind,<BR> +Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate:<BR> +Your quarrels and complaints are now too late."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix'd applause,<BR> +Just as they favor or dislike the cause.<BR> +So winds, when yet unfledg'd in woods they lie,<BR> +In whispers first their tender voices try,<BR> +Then issue on the main with bellowing rage,<BR> +And storms to trembling mariners presage.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus to both replied th' imperial god,<BR> +Who shakes heav'n's axles with his awful nod.<BR> +(When he begins, the silent senate stand<BR> +With rev'rence, list'ning to the dread command:<BR> +The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;<BR> +And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.)<BR> +"Celestials, your attentive ears incline!<BR> +Since," said the god, "the Trojans must not join<BR> +In wish'd alliance with the Latian line;<BR> +Since endless jarrings and immortal hate<BR> +Tend but to discompose our happy state;<BR> +The war henceforward be resign'd to fate:<BR> +Each to his proper fortune stand or fall;<BR> +Equal and unconcern'd I look on all.<BR> +Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me;<BR> +And both shall draw the lots their fates decree.<BR> +Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend;<BR> +And, if she favors those, let those defend:<BR> +The Fates will find their way." The Thund'rer said,<BR> +And shook the sacred honors of his head,<BR> +Attesting Styx, th' inviolable flood,<BR> +And the black regions of his brother god.<BR> +Trembled the poles of heav'n, and earth confess'd the nod.<BR> +This end the sessions had: the senate rise,<BR> +And to his palace wait their sov'reign thro' the skies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes<BR> +Within their walls the Trojan host inclose:<BR> +They wound, they kill, they watch at ev'ry gate;<BR> +Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Th' Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief,<BR> +Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.<BR> +Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few<BR> +A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.<BR> +Yet in the face of danger some there stood:<BR> +The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood,<BR> +Asius and Acmon; both th' Assaraci;<BR> +Young Haemon, and tho' young, resolv'd to die.<BR> +With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join'd;<BR> +Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind.<BR> +From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came,<BR> +So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name:<BR> +Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone;<BR> +His brother Mnestheus could not more have done,<BR> +Or the great father of th' intrepid son.<BR> +Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send;<BR> +And some with darts, and some with stones defend.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,<BR> +The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.<BR> +His lovely face unarm'd, his head was bare;<BR> +In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair.<BR> +His forehead circled with a diadem;<BR> +Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem,<BR> +Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set,<BR> +Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,<BR> +Directing pointed arrows from afar,<BR> +And death with poison arm'd- in Lydia born,<BR> +Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn;<BR> +Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands,<BR> +And leaves a rich manure of golden sands.<BR> +There Capys, author of the Capuan name,<BR> +And there was Mnestheus too, increas'd in fame,<BR> +Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side.<BR> +Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide:<BR> +For, anxious, from Evander when he went,<BR> +He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's tent;<BR> +Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief;<BR> +His name and country told, and ask'd relief;<BR> +Propos'd the terms; his own small strength declar'd;<BR> +What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar'd:<BR> +What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd;<BR> +Then shew'd the slipp'ry state of humankind,<BR> +And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware,<BR> +And to his wholesome counsel added pray'r.<BR> +Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,<BR> +And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand;<BR> +Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.<BR> +Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear<BR> +Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear-<BR> +Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear.<BR> +Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate,<BR> +Revolving war's events, and various fate.<BR> +His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side,<BR> +And oft of winds enquir'd, and of the tide;<BR> +Oft of the stars, and of their wat'ry way;<BR> +And what he suffer'd both by land and sea.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!<BR> +The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing,<BR> +Which follow'd great Aeneas to the war:<BR> +Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A thousand youths brave Massicus obey,<BR> +Borne in the Tiger thro' the foaming sea;<BR> +From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care:<BR> +For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear.<BR> +Fierce Abas next: his men bright armor wore;<BR> +His stern Apollo's golden statue bore.<BR> +Six hundred Populonia sent along,<BR> +All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong.<BR> +Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,<BR> +An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted mines.<BR> +Asylas on his prow the third appears,<BR> +Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars;<BR> +From offer'd entrails prodigies expounds,<BR> +And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds.<BR> +A thousand spears in warlike order stand,<BR> +Sent by the Pisans under his command.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Fair Astur follows in the wat'ry field,<BR> +Proud of his manag'd horse and painted shield.<BR> +Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen,<BR> +And his own Caere, sent three hundred men;<BR> +With those which Minio's fields and Pyrgi gave,<BR> +All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew,<BR> +And brave Cupavo follow'd but by few;<BR> +Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man,<BR> +And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan.<BR> +Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry,<BR> +Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly.<BR> +For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton,<BR> +And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone,<BR> +Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief.<BR> +Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'd his relief,<BR> +And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair,<BR> +And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air.<BR> +His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood:<BR> +Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood,<BR> +Who heav'd a rock, and, threat'ning still to throw,<BR> +With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below:<BR> +They seem'd to fear the formidable sight,<BR> +And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ocnus was next, who led his native train<BR> +Of hardy warriors thro' the wat'ry plain:<BR> +The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream,<BR> +From whence the Mantuan town derives the name-<BR> +An ancient city, but of mix'd descent:<BR> +Three sev'ral tribes compose the government;<BR> +Four towns are under each; but all obey<BR> +The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more,<BR> +Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore:<BR> +Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er.<BR> +These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep<BR> +With stretching oars at once the glassy deep.<BR> +Him and his martial train the Triton bears;<BR> +High on his poop the sea-green god appears:<BR> +Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound,<BR> +And at the blast the billows dance around.<BR> +A hairy man above the waist he shows;<BR> +A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows;<BR> +And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides,<BR> +And froth and foam augment the murm'ring tides.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Full thirty ships transport the chosen train<BR> +For Troy's relief, and scour the briny main.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now was the world forsaken by the sun,<BR> +And Phoebe half her nightly race had run.<BR> +The careful chief, who never clos'd his eyes,<BR> +Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies.<BR> +A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,<BR> +Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood;<BR> +But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep,<BR> +As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep.<BR> +They know him from afar; and in a ring<BR> +Inclose the ship that bore the Trojan king.<BR> +Cymodoce, whose voice excell'd the rest,<BR> +Above the waves advanc'd her snowy breast;<BR> +Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides<BR> +The curling ocean, and corrects the tides.<BR> +She spoke for all the choir, and thus began<BR> +With pleasing words to warn th' unknowing man:<BR> +"Sleeps our lov'd lord? O goddess-born, awake!<BR> +Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat'ry track,<BR> +And haste your course. Your navy once were we,<BR> +From Ida's height descending to the sea;<BR> +Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood,<BR> +Presum'd to violate our holy wood.<BR> +Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires profane<BR> +(Unwillingly we broke our master's chain),<BR> +And since have sought you thro' the Tuscan main.<BR> +The mighty Mother chang'd our forms to these,<BR> +And gave us life immortal in the seas.<BR> +But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd,<BR> +By your insulting foes is hardly press'd.<BR> +Th' Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host,<BR> +Advance in order on the Latian coast:<BR> +To cut their way the Daunian chief designs,<BR> +Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines.<BR> +Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light,<BR> +First arm thy soldiers for th' ensuing fight:<BR> +Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield,<BR> +And bear aloft th' impenetrable shield.<BR> +To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain,<BR> +Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain."<BR> +Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force<BR> +Push'd on the vessel in her wat'ry course;<BR> +For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind,<BR> +The ship flew forward, and outstripp'd the wind.<BR> +The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,<BR> +The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes:<BR> +"Hear thou, great Mother of the deities.<BR> +With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill<BR> +Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, obey thy will.)<BR> +Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight;<BR> +And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said no more. And now renewing day<BR> +Had chas'd the shadows of the night away.<BR> +He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care,<BR> +Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare;<BR> +Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade 'em hope the war.<BR> +Now, his lofty poop, he view'd below<BR> +His camp incompass'd, and th' inclosing foe.<BR> +His blazing shield, imbrac'd, he held on high;<BR> +The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.<BR> +Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw<BR> +Their darts with double force, and drive the foe.<BR> +Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise<BR> +Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd,<BR> +Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd,<BR> +The seas with swelling canvas cover'd o'er,<BR> +And the swift ships descending on the shore.<BR> +The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes,<BR> +The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to rise,<BR> +And dart diffusive fires around the field,<BR> +And the keen glitt'ring of the golden shield.<BR> +Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise,<BR> +Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies:<BR> +So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights,<BR> +Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent<BR> +To man the shores, and hinder their descent,<BR> +And thus awakes the courage of his friends:<BR> +"What you so long have wish'd, kind Fortune sends;<BR> +In ardent arms to meet th' invading foe:<BR> +You find, and find him at advantage now.<BR> +Yours is the day: you need but only dare;<BR> +Your swords will make you masters of the war.<BR> +Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands,<BR> +And dearest wifes, are all within your hands.<BR> +Be mindful of the race from whence you came,<BR> +And emulate in arms your fathers' fame.<BR> +Now take the time, while stagg'ring yet they stand<BR> +With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand:<BR> +Fortune befriends the bold." Nor more he said,<BR> +But balanc'd whom to leave, and whom to lead;<BR> +Then these elects, the landing to prevent;<BR> +And those he leaves, to keep the city pent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore:<BR> +Some are by boats expos'd, by bridges more.<BR> +With lab'ring oars they bear along the strand,<BR> +Where the tide languishes, and leap aland.<BR> +Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes,<BR> +And, where no ford he finds, no water fries,<BR> +Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar,<BR> +But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore,<BR> +That course he steer'd, and thus he gave command:<BR> +"Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land:<BR> +Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound<BR> +This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground.<BR> +Let me securely land- I ask no more;<BR> +Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends:<BR> +They tug at ev'ry oar, and ev'ry stretcher bends;<BR> +They run their ships aground; the vessels knock,<BR> +(Thus forc'd ashore,) and tremble with the shock.<BR> +Tarchon's alone was lost, that stranded stood,<BR> +Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood:<BR> +She breaks her back; the loosen'd sides give way,<BR> +And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea.<BR> +Their broken oars and floating planks withstand<BR> +Their passage, while they labor to the land,<BR> +And ebbing tides bear back upon th' uncertain sand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Turnus leads his troops without delay,<BR> +Advancing to the margin of the sea.<BR> +The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail'd<BR> +The clowns new-rais'd and raw, and soon prevail'd.<BR> +Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight;<BR> +Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height.<BR> +He first in open field defied the prince:<BR> +But armor scal'd with gold was no defense<BR> +Against the fated sword, which open'd wide<BR> +His plated shield, and pierc'd his naked side.<BR> +Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born,<BR> +Was from his wretched mother ripp'd and torn;<BR> +Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee;<BR> +For his beginning life from biting steel was free.<BR> +Not far from him was Gyas laid along,<BR> +Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong:<BR> +Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail'd,<BR> +Nor valor nor Herculean arms avail'd,<BR> +Nor their fam'd father, wont in war to go<BR> +With great Alcides, while he toil'd below.<BR> +The noisy Pharos next receiv'd his death:<BR> +Aeneas writh'd his dart, and stopp'd his bawling breath.<BR> +Then wretched Cydon had receiv'd his doom,<BR> +Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom,<BR> +And sought with lust obscene polluted joys:<BR> +The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys,<BR> +Had not his sev'n bold brethren stopp'd the course<BR> +Of the fierce champions, with united force.<BR> +Sev'n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound<BR> +From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound:<BR> +The rest had reach'd him; but his mother's care<BR> +Prevented those, and turn'd aside in air.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The prince then call'd Achates, to supply<BR> +The spears that knew the way to victory-<BR> +"Those fatal weapons, which, inur'd to blood,<BR> +In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood:<BR> +Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain<BR> +Against our foes, on this contended plain."<BR> +He said; then seiz'd a mighty spear, and threw;<BR> +Which, wing'd with fate, thro' Maeon's buckler flew,<BR> +Pierc'd all the brazen plates, and reach'd his heart:<BR> +He stagger'd with intolerable smart.<BR> +Alcanor saw; and reach'd, but reach'd in vain,<BR> +His helping hand, his brother to sustain.<BR> +A second spear, which kept the former course,<BR> +From the same hand, and sent with equal force,<BR> +His right arm pierc'd, and holding on, bereft<BR> +His use of both, and pinion'd down his left.<BR> +Then Numitor from his dead brother drew<BR> +Th' ill-omen'd spear, and at the Trojan threw:<BR> +Preventing fate directs the lance awry,<BR> +Which, glancing, only mark'd Achates' thigh.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came,<BR> +And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim.<BR> +The spear flew hissing thro' the middle space,<BR> +And pierc'd his throat, directed at his face;<BR> +It stopp'd at once the passage of his wind,<BR> +And the free soul to flitting air resign'd:<BR> +His forehead was the first that struck the ground;<BR> +Lifeblood and life rush'd mingled thro' the wound.<BR> +He slew three brothers of the Borean race,<BR> +And three, whom Ismarus, their native place,<BR> +Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace.<BR> +Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads:<BR> +The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds,<BR> +Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand,<BR> +These fight to keep, and those to win, the land.<BR> +With mutual blood th' Ausonian soil is dyed,<BR> +While on its borders each their claim decide.<BR> +As wintry winds, contending in the sky,<BR> +With equal force of lungs their titles try:<BR> +They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav'n<BR> +Stands without motion, and the tide undriv'n:<BR> +Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,<BR> +They long suspend the fortune of the field.<BR> +Both armies thus perform what courage can;<BR> +Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But, in another part, th' Arcadian horse<BR> +With ill success ingage the Latin force:<BR> +For, where th' impetuous torrent, rushing down,<BR> +Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,<BR> +They left their coursers, and, unus'd to fight<BR> +On foot, were scatter'd in a shameful flight.<BR> +Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view'd<BR> +His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,<BR> +Us'd threat'nings mix'd with pray'rs, his last resource,<BR> +With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force<BR> +"Which way, companions? whether would you run?<BR> +By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,<BR> +By my great sire, by his establish'd name,<BR> +And early promise of my future fame;<BR> +By my youth, emulous of equal right<BR> +To share his honors- shun ignoble flight!<BR> +Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way<BR> +Thro' yon black body, and that thick array:<BR> +'T is thro' that forward path that we must come;<BR> +There lies our way, and that our passage home.<BR> +Nor pow'rs above, nor destinies below<BR> +Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,<BR> +With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.<BR> +See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,<BR> +The sea behind, our enemies before;<BR> +No passage left, unless we swim the main;<BR> +Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain."<BR> +This said, he strode with eager haste along,<BR> +And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.<BR> +Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,<BR> +Had heav'd a stone of mighty weight, to throw:<BR> +Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,<BR> +Just where the bone distinguished either loin:<BR> +It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,<BR> +That scarce the victor forc'd the steel away.<BR> +Hisbon came on: but, while he mov'd too slow<BR> +To wish'd revenge, the prince prevents his blow;<BR> +For, warding his at once, at once he press'd,<BR> +And plung'd the fatal weapon in his breast.<BR> +Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,<BR> +Who stain'd his stepdam's bed with impious lust.<BR> +And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,<BR> +Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;<BR> +So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,<BR> +As caus'd an error in their parents' eyes-<BR> +Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides<BR> +The nice distinction, and their fate divides:<BR> +For Thymbrus' head was lopp'd; and Laris' hand,<BR> +Dismember'd, sought its owner on the strand:<BR> +The trembling fingers yet the fauchion strain,<BR> +And threaten still th' intended stroke in vain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, to renew the charge, th' Arcadians came:<BR> +Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,<BR> +And grief, with anger mix'd, their minds inflame.<BR> +Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,<BR> +Who chanc'd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:<BR> +The flying spear was after Ilus sent;<BR> +But Rhoeteus happen'd on a death unmeant:<BR> +From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,<BR> +The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:<BR> +Roll'd from his chariot with a mortal wound,<BR> +And intercepted fate, he spurn'd the ground.<BR> +As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,<BR> +The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,<BR> +And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,<BR> +And catching flames infect the neighb'ring heads;<BR> +Around the forest flies the furious blast,<BR> +And all the leafy nation sinks at last,<BR> +And Vulcan rides in triumph o'er the waste;<BR> +The pastor, pleas'd with his dire victory,<BR> +Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:<BR> +So Pallas' troops their scatter'd strength unite,<BR> +And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;<BR> +But first collected in his arms he stood:<BR> +Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,<BR> +Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.<BR> +Around his head he toss'd his glitt'ring brand,<BR> +And from Strymonius hew'd his better hand,<BR> +Held up to guard his throat; then hurl'd a stone<BR> +At Thoas' ample front, and pierc'd the bone:<BR> +It struck beneath the space of either eye;<BR> +And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.<BR> +Deep skill'd in future fates, Halesus' sire<BR> +Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:<BR> +But, when the father's mortal race was run,<BR> +Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,<BR> +And haul'd him to the war, to find, beneath<BR> +Th' Evandrian spear, a memorable death.<BR> +Pallas th' encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,<BR> +To Tuscan Tiber thus address'd his vows:<BR> +"O sacred stream, direct my flying dart,<BR> +And give to pass the proud Halesus' heart!<BR> +His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear."<BR> +Pleas'd with the bribe, the god receiv'd his pray'r:<BR> +For, while his shield protects a friend distress'd,<BR> +The dart came driving on, and pierc'd his breast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But Lausus, no small portion of the war,<BR> +Permits not panic fear to reign too far,<BR> +Caus'd by the death of so renown'd a knight;<BR> +But by his own example cheers the fight.<BR> +Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay<BR> +Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.<BR> +The Phrygian troops escap'd the Greeks in vain:<BR> +They, and their mix'd allies, now load the plain.<BR> +To the rude shock of war both armies came;<BR> +Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.<BR> +The rear so press'd the front, they could not wield<BR> +Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.<BR> +Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:<BR> +Of equal youth and beauty both appear,<BR> +But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.<BR> +Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:<BR> +Both doom'd to fall, but fall by greater hands.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief<BR> +Of Lausus' danger, urging swift relief.<BR> +With his driv'n chariot he divides the crowd,<BR> +And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:<BR> +"Let none presume his needless aid to join;<BR> +Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:<BR> +To this right hand is Pallas only due;<BR> +O were his father here, my just revenge to view!"<BR> +From the forbidden space his men retir'd.<BR> +Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir'd;<BR> +Survey'd him o'er and o'er with wond'ring sight,<BR> +Struck with his haughty mien, and tow'ring height.<BR> +Then to the king: "Your empty vaunts forbear;<BR> +Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;<BR> +Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;<BR> +Jove is impartial, and to both the same."<BR> +He said, and to the void advanc'd his pace:<BR> +Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.<BR> +Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,<BR> +Address'd himself on foot to single fight.<BR> +And, as a lion- when he spies from far<BR> +A bull that seems to meditate the war,<BR> +Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand-<BR> +Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:<BR> +Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,<BR> +To rush from high on his unequal foe.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance<BR> +Within due distance of his flying lance,<BR> +Prepares to charge him first, resolv'd to try<BR> +If fortune would his want of force supply;<BR> +And thus to Heav'n and Hercules address'd:<BR> +"Alcides, once on earth Evander's guest,<BR> +His son adjures you by those holy rites,<BR> +That hospitable board, those genial nights;<BR> +Assist my great attempt to gain this prize,<BR> +And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes,<BR> +His ravish'd spoils." 'T was heard, the vain request;<BR> +Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast.<BR> +Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began:<BR> +"Short bounds of life are set to mortal man.<BR> +'T is virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span.<BR> +So many sons of gods, in bloody fight,<BR> +Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light:<BR> +My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe;<BR> +Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow.<BR> +Ev'n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath,<BR> +And stands already on the verge of death."<BR> +This said, the god permits the fatal fight,<BR> +But from the Latian fields averts his sight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw,<BR> +And, having thrown, his shining fauchion drew<BR> +The steel just graz'd along the shoulder joint,<BR> +And mark'd it slightly with the glancing point,<BR> +Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew,<BR> +And pois'd his pointed spear, before he threw:<BR> +Then, as the winged weapon whizz'd along,<BR> +"See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung."<BR> +The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd<BR> +By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid:<BR> +Thro' folded brass and tough bull hides it pass'd,<BR> +His corslet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last.<BR> +In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood;<BR> +The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:<BR> +He falls; his arms upon his body sound;<BR> +And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Turnus bestrode the corpse: "Arcadians, hear,"<BR> +Said he; "my message to your master bear:<BR> +Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send;<BR> +It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend.<BR> +The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,<BR> +Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below."<BR> +He said, and trampled down with all the force<BR> +Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse;<BR> +Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid;<BR> +The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made,<BR> +Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight,<BR> +All in the compass of one mournful night,<BR> +Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore<BR> +Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.<BR> +O mortals, blind in fate, who never know<BR> +To bear high fortune, or endure the low!<BR> +The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,<BR> +Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain;<BR> +Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,<BR> +And curse the dire remembrance of the day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field,<BR> +Bear back the breathless body on a shield.<BR> +O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd,<BR> +With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd!<BR> +One day first sent thee to the fighting field,<BR> +Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd;<BR> +One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.<BR> +This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,<BR> +But sad spectators, to the hero came:<BR> +His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,<BR> +Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand.<BR> +He whirls his sword around, without delay,<BR> +And hews thro' adverse foes an ample way,<BR> +To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:<BR> +Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd<BR> +To large deserts, are present to his eyes;<BR> +His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,<BR> +He took in fight, and living victims led,<BR> +To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,<BR> +In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire.<BR> +At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below<BR> +The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow;<BR> +Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd:<BR> +"By young Iulus, by thy father's shade,<BR> +O spare my life, and send me back to see<BR> +My longing sire, and tender progeny!<BR> +A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,<BR> +In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:<BR> +All these, and sums besides, which see no day,<BR> +The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.<BR> +If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?<BR> +A single soul's too light to turn the scale."<BR> +He said. The hero sternly thus replied:<BR> +"Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,<BR> +Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke<BR> +All rules of war by one relentless stroke,<BR> +When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone<BR> +My father's shadow, but my living son."<BR> +Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,<BR> +He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left;<BR> +Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd,<BR> +Up to the hilts his shining fauchion sheath'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Apollo's priest, Emonides, was near;<BR> +His holy fillets on his front appear;<BR> +Glitt'ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd;<BR> +Much of his god, more of his purple, proud.<BR> +Him the fierce Trojan follow'd thro' the field:<BR> +The holy coward fell; and, forc'd to yield,<BR> +The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow,<BR> +Sent him an off'ring to the shades below.<BR> +His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears,<BR> +Design'd a trophy to the God of Wars.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight,<BR> +And Umbro, born upon the mountains' height.<BR> +The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those,<BR> +And seeks revenge himself on other foes.<BR> +At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at the blow,<BR> +Both shield and arm to ground together go.<BR> +Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,<BR> +And thought he wore impenetrable arms,<BR> +So made by mutter'd spells; and, from the spheres,<BR> +Had life secur'd, in vain, for length of years.<BR> +Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod;<BR> +A nymph his mother, his sire a god.<BR> +Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince:<BR> +With his protended lance he makes defense;<BR> +Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,<BR> +Arrests his better hand, and drags him down;<BR> +Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay,<BR> +Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray,<BR> +Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood,<BR> +Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood.<BR> +The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain:<BR> +"Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain;<BR> +Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,<BR> +Far from thy mother and thy native home,<BR> +Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey,<BR> +Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran,<BR> +Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van.<BR> +They fled for fear; with these, he chas'd along<BR> +Camers the yellow-lock'd, and Numa strong;<BR> +Both great in arms, and both were fair and young.<BR> +Camers was son to Volscens lately slain,<BR> +In wealth surpassing all the Latian train,<BR> +And in Amycla fix'd his silent easy reign.<BR> +And, as Aegaeon, when with heav'n he strove,<BR> +Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove;<BR> +Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war,<BR> +Defied the forky lightning from afar;<BR> +At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires,<BR> +And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires;<BR> +In his right hand as many swords he wields,<BR> +And takes the thunder on as many shields:<BR> +With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood;<BR> +And soon the fields with falling corps were strow'd,<BR> +When once his fauchion found the taste of blood.<BR> +With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew<BR> +Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew.<BR> +They, when they see the fiery chief advance,<BR> +And pushing at their chests his pointed lance,<BR> +Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear,<BR> +They threw their master headlong from the chair.<BR> +They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before<BR> +They bear the bounding chariot to the shore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains,<BR> +With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins,<BR> +And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains:<BR> +Bold brethren both. The former wav'd in air<BR> +His flaming sword: Aeneas couch'd his spear,<BR> +Unus'd to threats, and more unus'd to fear.<BR> +Then Liger thus: "Thy confidence is vain<BR> +To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain:<BR> +Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode,<BR> +Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode;<BR> +Nor Venus' veil is here, near Neptune's shield;<BR> +Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field."<BR> +Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer<BR> +Return'd his answer with his flying spear.<BR> +As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends,<BR> +Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,<BR> +Prepar'd for fight; the fatal dart arrives,<BR> +And thro' the borders of his buckler drives;<BR> +Pass'd thro' and pierc'd his groin: the deadly wound,<BR> +Cast from his chariot, roll'd him on the ground.<BR> +Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite:<BR> +"Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight;<BR> +Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat;<BR> +But you yourself forsake your empty seat."<BR> +He said, and seiz'd at once the loosen'd rein;<BR> +For Liger lay already on the plain,<BR> +By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands,<BR> +The recreant thus his wretched life demands:<BR> +"Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man!<BR> +By her and him from whom thy breath began,<BR> +Who form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare<BR> +This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's pray'r."<BR> +Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said;<BR> +But the stern hero turn'd aside his head,<BR> +And cut him short: "I hear another man;<BR> +You talk'd not thus before the fight began.<BR> +Now take your turn; and, as a brother should,<BR> +Attend your brother to the Stygian flood."<BR> +Then thro' his breast his fatal sword he sent,<BR> +And the soul issued at the gaping vent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground,<BR> +Thus rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around.<BR> +At length Ascanius and the Trojan train<BR> +Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd in vain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man<BR> +Held conference with his queen, and thus began:<BR> +"My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife,<BR> +Still think you Venus' aid supports the strife-<BR> +Sustains her Trojans- or themselves, alone,<BR> +With inborn valor force their fortune on?<BR> +How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd!<BR> +Judge if such warriors want immortal aid."<BR> +To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,<BR> +Soft in her tone, submissively replies:<BR> +"Why, O my sov'reign lord, whose frown I fear,<BR> +And cannot, unconcern'd, your anger bear;<BR> +Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still<BR> +(As once I was) were mistress of your will,<BR> +From your almighty pow'r your pleasing wife<BR> +Might gain the grace of length'ning Turnus' life,<BR> +Securely snatch him from the fatal fight,<BR> +And give him to his aged father's sight.<BR> +Now let him perish, since you hold it good,<BR> +And glut the Trojans with his pious blood.<BR> +Yet from our lineage he derives his name,<BR> +And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came;<BR> +Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine,<BR> +And offers daily incense at your shrine."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then shortly thus the sov'reign god replied:<BR> +"Since in my pow'r and goodness you confide,<BR> +If for a little space, a lengthen'd span,<BR> +You beg reprieve for this expiring man,<BR> +I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence<BR> +From instant fate, and can so far dispense.<BR> +But, if some secret meaning lies beneath,<BR> +To save the short-liv'd youth from destin'd death,<BR> +Or if a farther thought you entertain,<BR> +To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain."<BR> +To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes:<BR> +"And what if that request, your tongue denies,<BR> +Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve,<BR> +But length of certain life, to Turnus give?<BR> +Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth,<BR> +If my presaging soul divines with truth;<BR> +Which, O! I wish, might err thro' causeless fears,<BR> +And you (for you have pow'r) prolong his years!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said, involv'd in clouds, she flies,<BR> +And drives a storm before her thro' the skies.<BR> +Swift she descends, alighting on the plain,<BR> +Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain.<BR> +Of air condens'd a specter soon she made;<BR> +And, what Aeneas was, such seem'd the shade.<BR> +Adorn'd with Dardan arms, the phantom bore<BR> +His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore;<BR> +This hand appear'd a shining sword to wield,<BR> +And that sustain'd an imitated shield.<BR> +With manly mien he stalk'd along the ground,<BR> +Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound.<BR> +(Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight,<BR> +Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.)<BR> +The specter seems the Daunian chief to dare,<BR> +And flourishes his empty sword in air.<BR> +At this, advancing, Turnus hurl'd his spear:<BR> +The phantom wheel'd, and seem'd to fly for fear.<BR> +Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled,<BR> +And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed.<BR> +"Whether, O coward?" (thus he calls aloud,<BR> +Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas'd a cloud,)<BR> +"Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me<BR> +The fated land you sought so long by sea."<BR> +He said, and, brandishing at once his blade,<BR> +With eager pace pursued the flying shade.<BR> +By chance a ship was fasten'd to the shore,<BR> +Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore:<BR> +The plank was ready laid for safe ascent;<BR> +For shelter there the trembling shadow bent,<BR> +And skipp't and skulk'd, and under hatches went.<BR> +Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste,<BR> +Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass'd.<BR> +Scarce had he reach'd the prow: Saturnia's hand<BR> +The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land.<BR> +With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea,<BR> +And measures back with speed her former way.<BR> +Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe,<BR> +And sends his slaughter'd troops to shades below.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud,<BR> +And flew sublime, and vanish'd in a cloud.<BR> +Too late young Turnus the delusion found,<BR> +Far on the sea, still making from the ground.<BR> +Then, thankless for a life redeem'd by shame,<BR> +With sense of honor stung, and forfeit fame,<BR> +Fearful besides of what in fight had pass'd,<BR> +His hands and haggard eyes to heav'n he cast;<BR> +"O Jove!" he cried, "for what offense have<BR> +Deserv'd to bear this endless infamy?<BR> +Whence am I forc'd, and whether am I borne?<BR> +How, and with what reproach, shall I return?<BR> +Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,<BR> +Or see Laurentum's lofty tow'rs again?<BR> +What will they say of their deserting chief<BR> +The war was mine: I fly from their relief;<BR> +I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave;<BR> +And ev'n from hence their dying groans receive.<BR> +Here, overmatch'd in fight, in heaps they lie;<BR> +There, scatter'd o'er the fields, ignobly fly.<BR> +Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive!<BR> +Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve!<BR> +On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive;<BR> +Or set me shipwrack'd on some desart shore,<BR> +Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more,<BR> +Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame,<BR> +Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Turnus rav'd, and various fates revolv'd:<BR> +The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv'd.<BR> +And now the sword, and now the sea took place,<BR> +That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace.<BR> +Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main,<BR> +By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain.<BR> +Thrice he the sword assay'd, and thrice the flood;<BR> +But Juno, mov'd with pity, both withstood.<BR> +And thrice repress'd his rage; strong gales supplied,<BR> +And push'd the vessel o'er the swelling tide.<BR> +At length she lands him on his native shores,<BR> +And to his father's longing arms restores.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime, by Jove's impulse, Mezentius arm'd,<BR> +Succeeding Turnus, with his ardor warm'd<BR> +His fainting friends, reproach'd their shameful flight,<BR> +Repell'd the victors, and renew'd the fight.<BR> +Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire;<BR> +Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire<BR> +Of wish'd revenge: on him, and him alone,<BR> +All hands employ'd, and all their darts are thrown.<BR> +He, like a solid rock by seas inclos'd,<BR> +To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd,<BR> +From his proud summit looking down, disdains<BR> +Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead,<BR> +Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled.<BR> +At Latagus a weighty stone he flung:<BR> +His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.<BR> +But Palmus from behind receives his wound;<BR> +Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground:<BR> +His crest and armor, from his body torn,<BR> +Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn.<BR> +Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew.<BR> +Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew,<BR> +Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire,<BR> +The queen produc'd young Paris to his sire:<BR> +But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain,<BR> +Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred,<BR> +With forest mast and fatt'ning marshes fed,<BR> +When once he sees himself in toils inclos'd,<BR> +By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos'd-<BR> +He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war;<BR> +Th' invaders dart their jav'lins from afar:<BR> +All keep aloof, and safely shout around;<BR> +But none presumes to give a nearer wound:<BR> +He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide,<BR> +And shakes a grove of lances from his side:<BR> +Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir'd,<BR> +And just revenge against the tyrant fir'd,<BR> +Their darts with clamor at a distance drive,<BR> +And only keep the languish'd war alive.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +From Coritus came Acron to the fight,<BR> +Who left his spouse betroth'd, and unconsummate night.<BR> +Mezentius sees him thro' the squadrons ride,<BR> +Proud of the purple favors of his bride.<BR> +Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds<BR> +A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds,<BR> +Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain-<BR> +He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane,<BR> +He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws;<BR> +The prey lies panting underneath his paws:<BR> +He fills his famish'd maw; his mouth runs o'er<BR> +With unchew'd morsels, while he churns the gore:<BR> +So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,<BR> +And first unhappy Acron overthrows:<BR> +Stretch'd at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground;<BR> +The lance, besmear'd with blood, lies broken in the wound.<BR> +Then with disdain the haughty victor view'd<BR> +Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued,<BR> +Nor thought the dastard's back deserv'd a wound,<BR> +But, running, gain'd th' advantage of the ground:<BR> +Then turning short, he met him face to face,<BR> +To give his victor the better grace.<BR> +Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress'd:<BR> +Mezentius fix'd his foot upon his breast,<BR> +And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries:<BR> +"Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!"<BR> +The fields around with Io Paean! ring;<BR> +And peals of shouts applaud the conqu'ring king.<BR> +At this the vanquish'd, with his dying breath,<BR> +Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death:<BR> +"Nor thou, proud man, unpunish'd shalt remain:<BR> +Like death attends thee on this fatal plain."<BR> +Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied:<BR> +"For what belongs to me, let Jove provide;<BR> +But die thou first, whatever chance ensue."<BR> +He said, and from the wound the weapon drew.<BR> +A hov'ring mist came swimming o'er his sight,<BR> +And seal'd his eyes in everlasting night.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain;<BR> +Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain;<BR> +Orses the strong to greater strength must yield;<BR> +He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill'd.<BR> +Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew,<BR> +Who from Lycaon's blood his lineage drew.<BR> +But from his headstrong horse his fate he found,<BR> +Who threw his master, as he made a bound:<BR> +The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground;<BR> +Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails:<BR> +The Trojan sinks, and Neptune's son prevails.<BR> +Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride,<BR> +To single fight the boldest foe defied;<BR> +Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o'ercame,<BR> +And not belied his mighty father's fame.<BR> +Salius to death the great Antronius sent:<BR> +But the same fate the victor underwent,<BR> +Slain by Nealces' hand, well-skill'd to throw<BR> +The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance;<BR> +By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance:<BR> +Victors and vanquish'd, in the various field,<BR> +Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.<BR> +The gods from heav'n survey the fatal strife,<BR> +And mourn the miseries of human life.<BR> +Above the rest, two goddesses appear<BR> +Concern'd for each: here Venus, Juno there.<BR> +Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes<BR> +Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain,<BR> +Brandish'd his spear, and rush'd into the plain,<BR> +Where tow'ring in the midmost rank she stood,<BR> +Like tall Orion stalking o'er the flood.<BR> +(When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves,<BR> +His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves),<BR> +Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread,<BR> +Deep fix'd in earth; in clouds he hides his head.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,<BR> +And dauntless undertook the doubtful war.<BR> +Collected in his strength, and like a rock,<BR> +Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.<BR> +He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes<BR> +The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:<BR> +"My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke!<BR> +(Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.)<BR> +His armor, from the Trojan pirate torn,<BR> +By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn."<BR> +He said; and with his utmost force he threw<BR> +The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew,<BR> +Reach'd the celestial shield, that stopp'd the course;<BR> +But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force<BR> +Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt<BR> +The side and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd.<BR> +Anthores had from Argos travel'd far,<BR> +Alcides' friend, and brother of the war;<BR> +Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose,<BR> +And in Evander's palace sought repose.<BR> +Now, falling by another's wound, his eyes<BR> +He cast to heav'n, on Argos thinks, and dies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The pious Trojan then his jav'lin sent;<BR> +The shield gave way; thro' treble plates it went<BR> +Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd,<BR> +And three bull hides which round the buckler fold.<BR> +All these it pass'd, resistless in the course,<BR> +Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force.<BR> +The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood.<BR> +The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,<BR> +His faunchion drew, to closer fight address'd,<BR> +And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief;<BR> +He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief.<BR> +And here, heroic youth, 't is here I must<BR> +To thy immortal memory be just,<BR> +And sing an act so noble and so new,<BR> +Posterity will scarce believe 't is true.<BR> +Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight,<BR> +The father sought to save himself by flight:<BR> +Incumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along,<BR> +Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung.<BR> +The pious youth, resolv'd on death, below<BR> +The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe;<BR> +Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.<BR> +Shouts of applause ran ringing thro' the field,<BR> +To see the son the vanquish'd father shield.<BR> +All, fir'd with gen'rous indignation, strive,<BR> +And with a storm of darts to distance drive<BR> +The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far,<BR> +On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind,<BR> +The plowman, passenger, and lab'ring hind<BR> +For shelter to the neighb'ring covert fly,<BR> +Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie;<BR> +But, that o'erblown, when heav'n above 'em smiles,<BR> +Return to travel, and renew their toils:<BR> +Aeneas thus, o'erwhelmed on ev'ry side,<BR> +The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide;<BR> +And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat'ning cried:<BR> +"Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage<BR> +In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,<BR> +Betray'd by pious love?" Nor, thus forborne,<BR> +The youth desists, but with insulting scorn<BR> +Provokes the ling'ring prince, whose patience, tir'd,<BR> +Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir'd.<BR> +For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd shears;<BR> +And lifted high the flaming sword appears,<BR> +Which, full descending with a frightful sway,<BR> +Thro' shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way,<BR> +And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.<BR> +The purple streams thro' the thin armor strove,<BR> +And drench'd th' imbroider'd coat his mother wove;<BR> +And life at length forsook his heaving heart,<BR> +Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread,<BR> +The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead,<BR> +He griev'd; he wept; the sight an image brought<BR> +Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought:<BR> +Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said:<BR> +"Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid<BR> +To love so great, to such transcendent store<BR> +Of early worth, and sure presage of more?<BR> +Accept whate'er Aeneas can afford;<BR> +Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword;<BR> +And all that pleas'd thee living, still remain<BR> +Inviolate, and sacred to the slain.<BR> +Thy body on thy parents I bestow,<BR> +To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know,<BR> +Or have a sense of human things below.<BR> +There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell:<BR> +''T was by the great Aeneas hand I fell.'"<BR> +With this, his distant friends he beckons near,<BR> +Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear:<BR> +Himself assists to lift him from the ground,<BR> +With clotted locks, and blood that well'd from out the wound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime, his father, now no father, stood,<BR> +And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood:<BR> +Oppress'd with anguish, panting, and o'erspent,<BR> +His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.<BR> +A bough his brazen helmet did sustain;<BR> +His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain:<BR> +A chosen train of youth around him stand;<BR> +His drooping head was rested on his hand:<BR> +His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought;<BR> +And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.<BR> +Careful, concern'd his danger to prevent,<BR> +He much enquir'd, and many a message sent<BR> +To warn him from the field- alas! in vain!<BR> +Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain!<BR> +O'er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning wound,<BR> +And drew a bloody trail along the ground.<BR> +Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd<BR> +The dire event, with a foreboding mind.<BR> +With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head;<BR> +Then both his lifted hands to heav'n he spread;<BR> +Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said:<BR> +"What joys, alas! could this frail being give,<BR> +That I have been so covetous to live?<BR> +To see my son, and such a son, resign<BR> +His life, a ransom for preserving mine!<BR> +And am I then preserv'd, and art thou lost?<BR> +How much too dear has that redemption cost!<BR> +'T is now my bitter banishment I feel:<BR> +This is a wound too deep for time to heal.<BR> +My guilt thy growing virtues did defame;<BR> +My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name.<BR> +Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd<BR> +For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild:<BR> +I ow'd my people these, and, from their hate,<BR> +With less resentment could have borne my fate.<BR> +And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight<BR> +Of hated men, and of more hated light:<BR> +But will not long." With that he rais'd from ground<BR> +His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound;<BR> +Yet, with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd<BR> +With pains or perils, for his courser call'd<BR> +Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did dress<BR> +With daily care, and mounted with success;<BR> +His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,<BR> +The steed seem'd sensible, while thus he spoke:<BR> +"O Rhoebus, we have liv'd too long for me-<BR> +If life and long were terms that could agree!<BR> +This day thou either shalt bring back the head<BR> +And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead;<BR> +This day thou either shalt revenge my woe,<BR> +For murther'd Lausus, on his cruel foe;<BR> +Or, if inexorable fate deny<BR> +Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die:<BR> +For, after such a lord, I rest secure,<BR> +Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure."<BR> +He said; and straight th' officious courser kneels,<BR> +To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills<BR> +With pointed jav'lins; on his head he lac'd<BR> +His glitt'ring helm, which terribly was grac'd<BR> +With waving horsehair, nodding from afar;<BR> +Then spurr'd his thund'ring steed amidst the war.<BR> +Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought,<BR> +Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought<BR> +Of inborn worth, his lab'ring soul oppress'd,<BR> +Roll'd in his eyes, and rag'd within his breast.<BR> +Then loud he call'd Aeneas thrice by name:<BR> +The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came.<BR> +"Great Jove," he said, "and the far-shooting god,<BR> +Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!"<BR> +He spoke no more; but hasten'd, void of fear,<BR> +And threaten'd with his long protended spear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To whom Mezentius thus: "Thy vaunts are vain.<BR> +My Lausus lies extended on the plain:<BR> +He's lost! thy conquest is already won;<BR> +The wretched sire is murther'd in the son.<BR> +Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy.<BR> +Forbear thy threats: my bus'ness is to die;<BR> +But first receive this parting legacy."<BR> +He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent;<BR> +Another after, and another went.<BR> +Round in a spacious ring he rides the field,<BR> +And vainly plies th' impenetrable shield.<BR> +Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel'd,<BR> +Turn'd as he turn'd: the golden orb withstood<BR> +The strokes, and bore about an iron wood.<BR> +Impatient of delay, and weary grown,<BR> +Still to defend, and to defend alone,<BR> +To wrench the darts which in his buckler light,<BR> +Urg'd and o'er-labor'd in unequal fight;<BR> +At length resolv'd, he throws with all his force<BR> +Full at the temples of the warrior horse.<BR> +Just where the stroke was aim'd, th' unerring spear<BR> +Made way, and stood transfix'd thro' either ear.<BR> +Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd with fright,<BR> +The wounded steed curvets, and, rais'd upright,<BR> +Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind<BR> +Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.<BR> +Down comes the rider headlong from his height:<BR> +His horse came after with unwieldy weight,<BR> +And, flound'ring forward, pitching on his head,<BR> +His lord's incumber'd shoulder overlaid.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +From either host, the mingled shouts and cries<BR> +Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies.<BR> +Aeneas, hast'ning, wav'd his fatal sword<BR> +High o'er his head, with this reproachful word:<BR> +"Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain<BR> +Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies,<BR> +With scarce recover'd sight he thus replies:<BR> +"Why these insulting words, this waste of breath,<BR> +To souls undaunted, and secure of death?<BR> +'T is no dishonor for the brave to die,<BR> +Nor came I here with hope victory;<BR> +Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design:<BR> +As I had us'd my fortune, use thou thine.<BR> +My dying son contracted no such band;<BR> +The gift is hateful from his murd'rer's hand.<BR> +For this, this only favor let me sue,<BR> +If pity can to conquer'd foes be due:<BR> +Refuse it not; but let my body have<BR> +The last retreat of humankind, a grave.<BR> +Too well I know th' insulting people's hate;<BR> +Protect me from their vengeance after fate:<BR> +This refuge for my poor remains provide,<BR> +And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side."<BR> +He said, and to the sword his throat applied.<BR> +The crimson stream distain'd his arms around,<BR> +And the disdainful soul came rushing thro' the wound.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK XI<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Scarce had the rosy Morning rais'd her head<BR> +Above the waves, and left her wat'ry bed;<BR> +The pious chief, whom double cares attend<BR> +For his unburied soldiers and his friend,<BR> +Yet first to Heav'n perform'd a victor's vows:<BR> +He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs;<BR> +Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd,<BR> +Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd.<BR> +The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,<BR> +Now on a naked snag in triumph borne,<BR> +Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar,<BR> +A trophy sacred to the God of War.<BR> +Above his arms, fix'd on the leafless wood,<BR> +Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood:<BR> +His brazen buckler on the left was seen;<BR> +Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between;<BR> +And on the right was placed his corslet, bor'd;<BR> +And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,<BR> +Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began:<BR> +"Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure success;<BR> +The greater part perform'd, achieve the less.<BR> +Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;<BR> +Press but an entrance, and presume it won.<BR> +Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies,<BR> +As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.<BR> +Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,<BR> +And, in this omen, is already slain.<BR> +Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance;<BR> +That none unwarn'd may plead his ignorance,<BR> +And I, at Heav'n's appointed hour, may find<BR> +Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.<BR> +Meantime the rites and fun'ral pomps prepare,<BR> +Due to your dead companions of the war:<BR> +The last respect the living can bestow,<BR> +To shield their shadows from contempt below.<BR> +That conquer'd earth be theirs, for which they fought,<BR> +And which for us with their own blood they bought;<BR> +But first the corpse of our unhappy friend<BR> +To the sad city of Evander send,<BR> +Who, not inglorious, in his age's bloom,<BR> +Was hurried hence by too severe a doom."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,<BR> +Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.<BR> +Acoetes watch'd the corpse; whose youth deserv'd<BR> +The father's trust; and now the son he serv'd<BR> +With equal faith, but less auspicious care.<BR> +Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share.<BR> +A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear,<BR> +And mourning matrons with dishevel'd hair.<BR> +Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry;<BR> +All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.<BR> +They rear his drooping forehead from the ground;<BR> +But, when Aeneas view'd the grisly wound<BR> +Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,<BR> +And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore;<BR> +First, melting into tears, the pious man<BR> +Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began:<BR> +"Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest<BR> +Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best!<BR> +She came; but brought not thee along, to bless<BR> +My longing eyes, and share in my success:<BR> +She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due<BR> +To prosp'rous valor, in the public view.<BR> +Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent<BR> +Thy needless succor with a sad consent;<BR> +Embrac'd me, parting for th' Etrurian land,<BR> +And sent me to possess a large command.<BR> +He warn'd, and from his own experience told,<BR> +Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold.<BR> +And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return,<BR> +Rich odors on his loaded altars burn,<BR> +While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare<BR> +To send him back his portion of the war,<BR> +A bloody breathless body, which can owe<BR> +No farther debt, but to the pow'rs below.<BR> +The wretched father, ere his race is run,<BR> +Shall view the fun'ral honors of his son.<BR> +These are my triumphs of the Latian war,<BR> +Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care!<BR> +And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see<BR> +A son whose death disgrac'd his ancestry;<BR> +Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd:<BR> +Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd.<BR> +He died no death to make thee wish, too late,<BR> +Thou hadst not liv'd to see his shameful fate:<BR> +But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast,<BR> +And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around,<BR> +To raise the breathless body from the ground;<BR> +And chose a thousand horse, the flow'r of all<BR> +His warlike troops, to wait the funeral,<BR> +To bear him back and share Evander's grief:<BR> +A well-becoming, but a weak relief.<BR> +Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier,<BR> +Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear.<BR> +The body on this rural hearse is borne:<BR> +Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn.<BR> +All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow'r,<BR> +New cropp'd by virgin hands, to dress the bow'r:<BR> +Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,<BR> +No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe.<BR> +Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost,<BR> +Of purple woven, and with gold emboss'd,<BR> +For ornament the Trojan hero brought,<BR> +Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought.<BR> +One vest array'd the corpse; and one they spread<BR> +O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his head,<BR> +That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall,<BR> +The catching fire might burn the golden caul.<BR> +Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain,<BR> +When he descended on the Latian plain;<BR> +Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led<BR> +In long array- th' achievements of the dead.<BR> +Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear<BR> +Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear,<BR> +Appointed off'rings in the victor's name,<BR> +To sprinkle with their blood the fun'ral flame.<BR> +Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne;<BR> +Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn;<BR> +And fair inscriptions fix'd, and titles read<BR> +Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Acoetes on his pupil's corpse attends,<BR> +With feeble steps, supported by his friends.<BR> +Pausing at ev'ry pace, in sorrow drown'd,<BR> +Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground;<BR> +Where grov'ling while he lies in deep despair,<BR> +He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.<BR> +The champion's chariot next is seen to roll,<BR> +Besmear'd with hostile blood, and honorably foul.<BR> +To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state,<BR> +Is led, the fun'rals of his lord to wait.<BR> +Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace<BR> +He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face.<BR> +The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,<BR> +Are borne behind: the victor seiz'd the rest.<BR> +The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound;<BR> +The pikes and lances trail along the ground.<BR> +Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse<BR> +To Pallantean tow'rs direct their course,<BR> +In long procession rank'd, the pious chief<BR> +Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief:<BR> +"The public care," he said, "which war attends,<BR> +Diverts our present woes, at least suspends.<BR> +Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell!<BR> +Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!"<BR> +He said no more, but, inly thro' he mourn'd,<BR> +Restrained his tears, and to the camp return'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand<BR> +A truce, with olive branches in their hand;<BR> +Obtest his clemency, and from the plain<BR> +Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.<BR> +They plead, that none those common rites deny<BR> +To conquer'd foes that in fair battle die.<BR> +All cause of hate was ended in their death;<BR> +Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.<BR> +A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request,<BR> +Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Their suit, which was too just to be denied,<BR> +The hero grants, and farther thus replied:<BR> +"O Latian princes, how severe a fate<BR> +In causeless quarrels has involv'd your state,<BR> +And arm'd against an unoffending man,<BR> +Who sought your friendship ere the war began!<BR> +You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,<BR> +Not only for the slain, but those who live.<BR> +I came not hither but by Heav'n's command,<BR> +And sent by fate to share the Latian land.<BR> +Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied<BR> +My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride;<BR> +Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try<BR> +His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.<BR> +My right and his are in dispute: the slain<BR> +Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.<BR> +In equal arms let us alone contend;<BR> +And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.<BR> +This is the way (so tell him) to possess<BR> +The royal virgin, and restore the peace.<BR> +Bear this message back, with ample leave,<BR> +That your slain friends may fun'ral rites receive."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus having said- th' embassadors, amaz'd,<BR> +Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd.<BR> +Drances, their chief, who harbor'd in his breast<BR> +Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess'd,<BR> +Broke silence first, and to the godlike man,<BR> +With graceful action bowing, thus began:<BR> +"Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,<BR> +But yet whose actions far transcend your fame;<BR> +Would I your justice or your force express,<BR> +Thought can but equal; and all words are less.<BR> +Your answer we shall thankfully relate,<BR> +And favors granted to the Latian state.<BR> +If wish'd success our labor shall attend,<BR> +Think peace concluded, and the king your friend:<BR> +Let Turnus leave the realm to your command,<BR> +And seek alliance in some other land:<BR> +Build you the city which your fates assign;<BR> +We shall be proud in the great work to join."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade<BR> +The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made.<BR> +Twelve days the term allow'd: and, during those,<BR> +Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,<BR> +Mix'd in the woods, for fun'ral piles prepare<BR> +To fell the timber, and forget the war.<BR> +Loud axes thro' the groaning groves resound;<BR> +Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground;<BR> +First fall from high; and some the trunks receive<BR> +In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now the fatal news by Fame is blown<BR> +Thro' the short circuit of th' Arcadian town,<BR> +Of Pallas slain- by Fame, which just before<BR> +His triumphs on distended pinions bore.<BR> +Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,<BR> +Each with a fun'ral flambeau in his hand.<BR> +Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze:<BR> +The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze,<BR> +That cast a sullen splendor on their friends,<BR> +The marching troop which their dead prince attends.<BR> +Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry;<BR> +The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply,<BR> +And their mix'd mourning rends the vaulted sky.<BR> +The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears,<BR> +Till the loud clamors reach Evander's ears:<BR> +Forgetful of his state, he runs along,<BR> +With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng;<BR> +Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies,<BR> +With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.<BR> +Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks<BR> +A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word,<BR> +To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword!<BR> +I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew<BR> +What perils youthful ardor would pursue,<BR> +That boiling blood would carry thee too far,<BR> +Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!<BR> +O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,<BR> +Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!<BR> +Hard elements of unauspicious war,<BR> +Vain vows to Heav'n, and unavailing care!<BR> +Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,<BR> +Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled,<BR> +Praescious of ills, and leaving me behind,<BR> +To drink the dregs of life by fate assign'd!<BR> +Beyond the goal of nature I have gone:<BR> +My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon.<BR> +If, for my league against th' Ausonian state,<BR> +Amidst their weapons I had found my fate,<BR> +(Deserv'd from them,) then I had been return'd<BR> +A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd.<BR> +Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid,<BR> +Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made.<BR> +'T was not his fault, my Pallas fell so young,<BR> +But my own crime, for having liv'd too long.<BR> +Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die,<BR> +At least he led the way to victory:<BR> +First for his friends he won the fatal shore,<BR> +And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before;<BR> +A death too great, too glorious to deplore.<BR> +Nor will I add new honors to thy grave,<BR> +Content with those the Trojan hero gave:<BR> +That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd,<BR> +In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd.<BR> +Great spoils and trophies, gain'd by thee, they bear:<BR> +Then let thy own achievements be thy share.<BR> +Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood,<BR> +Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood,<BR> +If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length<BR> +Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.<BR> +But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain<BR> +These troops, to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain?<BR> +Go, friends, this message to your lord relate:<BR> +Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate,<BR> +And, after Pallas' death, live ling'ring on,<BR> +'T is to behold his vengeance for my son.<BR> +I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head<BR> +Is owing to the living and the dead.<BR> +My son and I expect it from his hand;<BR> +'T is all that he can give, or we demand.<BR> +Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,<BR> +To greet my Pallas with such news below."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night,<BR> +Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light.<BR> +The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command<BR> +To raise the piles along the winding strand.<BR> +Their friends convey the dead fun'ral fires;<BR> +Black smold'ring smoke from the green wood expires;<BR> +The light of heav'n is chok'd, and the new day retires.<BR> +Then thrice around the kindled piles they go<BR> +(For ancient custom had ordain'd it so)<BR> +Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led;<BR> +And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead.<BR> +Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground,<BR> +And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.<BR> +Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw<BR> +The spoils, in battle taken from the foe:<BR> +Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel;<BR> +One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;<BR> +Some to their fellows their own arms restore:<BR> +The fauchions which in luckless fight they bore,<BR> +Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain,<BR> +And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain.<BR> +Whole herds of offer'd bulls, about the fire,<BR> +And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire.<BR> +Around the piles a careful troop attends,<BR> +To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends;<BR> +Ling'ring along the shore, till dewy night<BR> +New decks the face of heav'n with starry light.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care,<BR> +Piles without number for their dead prepare.<BR> +Part in the places where they fell are laid;<BR> +And part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd.<BR> +The corps of kings, and captains of renown,<BR> +Borne off in state, are buried in the town;<BR> +The rest, unhonor'd, and without a name,<BR> +Are cast a common heap to feed the flame.<BR> +Trojans and Latians vie with like desires<BR> +To make the field of battle shine with fires,<BR> +And the promiscuous blaze to heav'n aspires.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light,<BR> +And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night,<BR> +When those who round the wasted fires remain,<BR> +Perform the last sad office to the slain.<BR> +They rake the yet warm ashes from below;<BR> +These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow;<BR> +These relics with their country rites they grace,<BR> +And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But, in the palace of the king, appears<BR> +A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.<BR> +Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans;<BR> +Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.<BR> +All in that universal sorrow share,<BR> +And curse the cause of this unhappy war:<BR> +A broken league, a bride unjustly sought,<BR> +A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought!<BR> +These are the crimes with which they load the name<BR> +Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim:<BR> +"Let him who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land<BR> +Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand:<BR> +His is the gain; our lot is but to serve;<BR> +'T is just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve."<BR> +This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite:<BR> +"His foe expects, and dares him to the fight."<BR> +Nor Turnus wants a party, to support<BR> +His cause and credit in the Latian court.<BR> +His former acts secure his present fame,<BR> +And the queen shades him with her mighty name.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While thus their factious minds with fury burn,<BR> +The legates from th' Aetolian prince return:<BR> +Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost<BR> +And care employ'd, their embassy is lost;<BR> +That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war,<BR> +Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r.<BR> +Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought,<BR> +Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late,<BR> +A foreign son is pointed out by fate;<BR> +And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed,<BR> +The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head.<BR> +The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side,<BR> +When late their titles in the field were tried:<BR> +Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried.<BR> +Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all<BR> +The Latian senate to the council hall.<BR> +The princes come, commanded by their head,<BR> +And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.<BR> +Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years,<BR> +He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.<BR> +Majestically sad, he sits in state,<BR> +And bids his envoys their success relate.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When Venulus began, the murmuring sound<BR> +Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around.<BR> +"We have," said he, "perform'd your high command,<BR> +And pass'd with peril a long tract of land:<BR> +We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd,<BR> +The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld.<BR> +Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls<BR> +The city, which Argyripa he calls,<BR> +From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy,<BR> +The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy.<BR> +When introduc'd, our presents first we bring,<BR> +Then crave an instant audience from the king.<BR> +His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name,<BR> +And tell th' important cause for which we came.<BR> +Attentively he heard us, while we spoke;<BR> +Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look,<BR> +Made this return: 'Ausonian race, of old<BR> +Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold,<BR> +What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd,<BR> +To change for war hereditary rest,<BR> +Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword,<BR> +A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd?<BR> +We- for myself I speak, and all the name<BR> +Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came,<BR> +Omitting those who were in battle slain,<BR> +Or borne by rolling Simois to the main-<BR> +Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought<BR> +The prize of honor which in arms he sought;<BR> +Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driv'n.<BR> +Outcasts, abandon'd by the care of Heav'n;<BR> +So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew,<BR> +As ev'n old Priam might with pity view.<BR> +Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd<BR> +In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast;<BR> +Th' Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led<BR> +Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed,<BR> +In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men<BR> +Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops' den.<BR> +Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain<BR> +Restor'd to scepters, and expell'd again?<BR> +Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?<BR> +Ev'n he, the King of Men, the foremost name<BR> +Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame,<BR> +The proud revenger of another's wife,<BR> +Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life;<BR> +Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy<BR> +The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.<BR> +The gods have envied me the sweets of life,<BR> +My much lov'd country, and my more lov'd wife:<BR> +Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky,<BR> +Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly:<BR> +Hov'ring about the coasts, they make their moan,<BR> +And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.<BR> +What squalid specters, in the dead of night,<BR> +Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!<BR> +I might have promis'd to myself those harms,<BR> +Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms,<BR> +Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move,<BR> +And violate with wounds the Queen of Love.<BR> +Such arms this hand shall never more employ;<BR> +No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy.<BR> +I war not with its dust; nor am I glad<BR> +To think of past events, or good or bad.<BR> +Your presents I return: whate'er you bring<BR> +To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.<BR> +We met in fight; I know him, to my cost:<BR> +With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd!<BR> +Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw!<BR> +How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow!<BR> +Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might,<BR> +They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight:<BR> +Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd,<BR> +Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd.<BR> +The long defense the Trojan people made,<BR> +The war protracted, and the siege delay'd,<BR> +Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand:<BR> +Both brave alike, and equal in command;<BR> +Aeneas, not inferior in the field,<BR> +In pious reverence to the gods excell'd.<BR> +Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care<BR> +Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.'<BR> +He said no more; but, with this cold excuse,<BR> +Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Venulus concluded his report.<BR> +A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court:<BR> +As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force,<BR> +And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course,<BR> +The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space,<BR> +Roars horrible along th' uneasy race;<BR> +White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around;<BR> +The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne<BR> +The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun:<BR> +"I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate<BR> +Had been resolv'd before it was too late.<BR> +Much better had it been for you and me,<BR> +Unforc'd by this our last necessity,<BR> +To have been earlier wise, than now to call<BR> +A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.<BR> +O citizens, we wage unequal war,<BR> +With men not only Heav'n's peculiar care,<BR> +But Heav'n's own race; unconquer'd in the field,<BR> +Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield.<BR> +What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down:<BR> +Our hopes must center on ourselves alone.<BR> +Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,<BR> +You see too well; nor need my words explain.<BR> +Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate;<BR> +Factions within, a foe without the gate!<BR> +Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts<BR> +With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:<BR> +With our united strength the war we wag'd;<BR> +With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd.<BR> +You see th' event.- Now hear what I propose,<BR> +To save our friends, and satisfy our foes.<BR> +A tract of land the Latins have possess'd<BR> +Along the Tiber, stretching to the west,<BR> +Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till,<BR> +And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill.<BR> +Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land,<BR> +If you consent, the Trojan shall command,<BR> +Call'd into part of what is ours; and there,<BR> +On terms agreed, the common country share.<BR> +There let'em build and settle, if they please;<BR> +Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,<BR> +In search of seats remote from Italy,<BR> +And from unwelcome inmates set us free.<BR> +Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed,<BR> +Or twice as many more, if more they need.<BR> +Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood<BR> +Runs equal with the margin of the flood:<BR> +Let them the number and the form assign;<BR> +The care and cost of all the stores be mine.<BR> +To treat the peace, a hundred senators<BR> +Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs,<BR> +With olive the presents they shall bear,<BR> +A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair,<BR> +And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear,<BR> +And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate<BR> +This great affair, and save the sinking state."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since,<BR> +The rising glories of the Daunian prince.<BR> +Factious and rich, bold at the council board,<BR> +But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword;<BR> +A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.<BR> +Noble his mother was, and near the throne;<BR> +But, what his father's parentage, unknown.<BR> +He rose, and took th' advantage of the times,<BR> +To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.<BR> +"Such truths, O king," said he, "your words contain,<BR> +As strike the sense, and all replies are vain;<BR> +Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek<BR> +What common needs require, but fear to speak.<BR> +Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,<BR> +Whose pride this unauspicious war began;<BR> +For whose ambition (let me dare to say,<BR> +Fear set apart, tho' death is in my way)<BR> +The plains of Latium run with blood around.<BR> +So many valiant heroes bite the ground;<BR> +Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears;<BR> +A town in mourning, and a land in tears;<BR> +While he, th' undoubted author of our harms,<BR> +The man who menaces the gods with arms,<BR> +Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,<BR> +And sought his safety in ignoble flight.<BR> +Now, best of kings, since you propose to send<BR> +Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend;<BR> +Add yet a greater at our joint request,<BR> +One which he values more than all the rest:<BR> +Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride;<BR> +With that alliance let the league be tied,<BR> +And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.<BR> +Let insolence no longer awe the throne;<BR> +But, with a father's right, bestow your own.<BR> +For this maligner of the general good,<BR> +If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd;<BR> +His haughty godhead we with pray'rs implore,<BR> +Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore.<BR> +O cursed cause of all our ills, must we<BR> +Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee!<BR> +What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,<BR> +And send us out to meet our certain fate?<BR> +'T is a destructive war: from Turnus' hand<BR> +Our peace and public safety we demand.<BR> +Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain;<BR> +If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.<BR> +Turnus, I know you think me not your friend,<BR> +Nor will I much with your belief contend:<BR> +I beg your greatness not to give the law<BR> +In others' realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.<BR> +Pity your own, or pity our estate;<BR> +Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.<BR> +Your interest is, the war should never cease;<BR> +But we have felt enough to wish the peace:<BR> +A land exhausted to the last remains,<BR> +Depopulated towns, and driven plains.<BR> +Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r,<BR> +A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r,<BR> +So fire your mind, in arms assert your right,<BR> +And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.<BR> +Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone;<BR> +We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne:<BR> +A base ignoble crowd, without a name,<BR> +Unwept, unworthy, of the fun'ral flame,<BR> +By duty bound to forfeit each his life,<BR> +That Turnus may possess a royal wife.<BR> +Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew<BR> +Should share such triumphs, and detain from you<BR> +The post of honor, your undoubted due.<BR> +Rather alone your matchless force employ,<BR> +To merit what alone you must enjoy."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These words, so full of malice mix'd with art,<BR> +Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart.<BR> +Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast,<BR> +He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd:<BR> +"You, Drances, never want a stream of words,<BR> +Then, when the public need requires our swords.<BR> +First in the council hall to steer the state,<BR> +And ever foremost in a tongue-debate,<BR> +While our strong walls secure us from the foe,<BR> +Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:<BR> +But let the potent orator declaim,<BR> +And with the brand of coward blot my name;<BR> +Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand<BR> +Has cover'd with more corps the sanguine strand,<BR> +And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand.<BR> +If any doubt remains, who dares the most,<BR> +Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost,<BR> +And issue both abreast, where honor calls-<BR> +Foes are not far to seek without the walls-<BR> +Unless his noisy tongue can only fight,<BR> +And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight.<BR> +I beaten from the field? I forc'd away?<BR> +Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?<BR> +Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes<BR> +Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies:<BR> +What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,<BR> +And how the bloody Tiber swell'd the main.<BR> +All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire<BR> +In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire.<BR> +The giant brothers, in their camp, have found,<BR> +I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground.<BR> +Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd,<BR> +I singly their united arms oppos'd:<BR> +First forc'd an entrance thro' their thick array;<BR> +Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.<BR> +'T is a destructive war? So let it be,<BR> +But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee!<BR> +Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears<BR> +With false reports, their minds with panic fears:<BR> +Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race;<BR> +Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.<BR> +Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town<BR> +Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown;<BR> +Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies,<BR> +And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies.<BR> +Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread<BR> +Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,<BR> +When the great Trojan on his bank appears;<BR> +For that's as true as thy dissembled fears<BR> +Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity:<BR> +Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.<BR> +Let that vile soul in that vile body rest;<BR> +The lodging is well worthy of the guest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Now, royal father, to the present state<BR> +Of our affairs, and of this high debate:<BR> +If in your arms thus early you diffide,<BR> +And think your fortune is already tried;<BR> +If one defeat has brought us down so low,<BR> +As never more in fields to meet the foe;<BR> +Then I conclude for peace: 't is time to treat,<BR> +And lie like vassals at the victor's feet.<BR> +But, O! if any ancient blood remains,<BR> +One drop of all our fathers', in our veins,<BR> +That man would I prefer before the rest,<BR> +Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast;<BR> +Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound,<BR> +To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground.<BR> +But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,<BR> +If our confederates can afford us more;<BR> +If the contended field we bravely fought,<BR> +And not a bloodless victory was bought;<BR> +Their losses equal'd ours; and, for their slain,<BR> +With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain;<BR> +Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield,<BR> +And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?<BR> +Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,<BR> +Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene:<BR> +Some, rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain;<BR> +Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.<BR> +If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,<BR> +The great Messapus yet remains our friend:<BR> +Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours;<BR> +Th' Italian chiefs and princes join their pow'rs:<BR> +Nor least in number, nor in name the last,<BR> +Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac'd<BR> +Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon<BR> +Contains an army in herself alone,<BR> +And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,<BR> +With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright.<BR> +Yet, if the foe a single fight demand,<BR> +And I alone the public peace withstand;<BR> +If you consent, he shall not be refus'd,<BR> +Nor find a hand to victory unus'd.<BR> +This new Achilles, let him take the field,<BR> +With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield!<BR> +For you, my royal father, and my fame,<BR> +I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,<BR> +Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand,<BR> +And I alone will answer his demand.<BR> +Drances shall rest secure, and neither share<BR> +The danger, nor divide the prize of war."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While they debate, nor these nor those will yield,<BR> +Aeneas draws his forces to the field,<BR> +And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed<BR> +Return, and thro' the frighted city spread<BR> +Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried,<BR> +In battle marching by the river side,<BR> +And bending to the town. They take th' alarm:<BR> +Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm.<BR> +Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field;<BR> +They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield:<BR> +The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;<BR> +Old feeble men with fainter groans reply;<BR> +A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,<BR> +Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods,<BR> +Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud:<BR> +"Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd:<BR> +Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls,<BR> +And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls."<BR> +He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace,<BR> +Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place:<BR> +"Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command<BR> +To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.<BR> +Messapus and Catillus, post your force<BR> +Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.<BR> +Some guard the passes, others man the wall;<BR> +Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town,<BR> +And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown.<BR> +Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,<BR> +The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state,<BR> +Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time,<BR> +And own'd his easy temper as his crime,<BR> +Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied<BR> +To break the treaty for the promis'd bride.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Some help to sink new trenches; others aid<BR> +To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.<BR> +Hoarse trumpets sound th' alarm; around the walls<BR> +Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls.<BR> +A sad procession in the streets is seen,<BR> +Of matrons, that attend the mother queen:<BR> +High in her chair she sits, and, at her side,<BR> +With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride.<BR> +They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands;<BR> +Pray'rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands,<BR> +With censers first they fume the sacred shrine,<BR> +Then in this common supplication join:<BR> +"O patroness of arms, unspotted maid,<BR> +Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid!<BR> +Break short the pirate's lance; pronounce his fate,<BR> +And lay the Phrygian low before the gate."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast<BR> +Well-temper'd steel and scaly brass invest:<BR> +The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold<BR> +Are mingled metal damask'd o'er with gold.<BR> +His faithful fauchion sits upon his side;<BR> +Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide:<BR> +But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends,<BR> +With godlike grace, he from the tow'r descends.<BR> +Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare<BR> +His absent rival, and to promise war.<BR> +Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins,<BR> +The wanton courser prances o'er the plains,<BR> +Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the mounds,<BR> +And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds.<BR> +Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood,<BR> +To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood:<BR> +He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain,<BR> +And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane:<BR> +He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high;<BR> +Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Soon as the prince appears without the gate,<BR> +The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait<BR> +His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien,<BR> +Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen:<BR> +Her squadron imitates, and each descends;<BR> +Whose common suit Camilla thus commends:<BR> +"If sense of honor, if a soul secure<BR> +Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure,<BR> +Can promise aught, or on itself rely<BR> +Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die;<BR> +Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet<BR> +The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.<BR> +Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown:<BR> +You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town:"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise,<BR> +And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes;<BR> +Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy,<BR> +With what becoming thanks can I reply?<BR> +Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast,<BR> +But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd.<BR> +Yet rob me not of all; but let me join<BR> +My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.<BR> +The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd,<BR> +Sends his light horse before to scour the field:<BR> +Himself, thro' steep ascents and thorny brakes,<BR> +A larger compass to the city takes.<BR> +This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare<BR> +To foil his cunning, and his force to dare;<BR> +With chosen foot his passage to forelay,<BR> +And place an ambush in the winding way.<BR> +Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse;<BR> +The brave Messapus shall thy troops inforce<BR> +With those of Tibur, and the Latian band,<BR> +Subjected all to thy supreme command."<BR> +This said, he warns Messapus to the war,<BR> +Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care.<BR> +All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins,<BR> +And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Inclos'd with hills, a winding valley lies,<BR> +By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise.<BR> +A narrow track, by human steps untrode,<BR> +Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode.<BR> +High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands,<BR> +Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.<BR> +The top is level, an offensive seat<BR> +Of war; and from the war a safe retreat:<BR> +For, on the right and left, is room to press<BR> +The foes at hand, or from afar distress;<BR> +To drive 'em headlong downward, and to pour<BR> +On their descending backs a stony show'r.<BR> +Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,<BR> +Possess'd the pass, and in blind ambush lay.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,<BR> +Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes,<BR> +And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid,<BR> +Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid;<BR> +Then with a sigh began: "Camilla goes<BR> +To meet her death amidst her fatal foes:<BR> +The nymphs I lov'd of all my mortal train,<BR> +Invested with Diana's arms, in vain.<BR> +Nor is my kindness for the virgin new:<BR> +'T was born with her; and with her years it grew.<BR> +Her father Metabus, when forc'd away<BR> +From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,<BR> +Snatch'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes,<BR> +This tender babe, companion of his woes.<BR> +Casmilla was her mother; but he drown'd<BR> +One hissing letter in a softer sound,<BR> +And call'd Camilla. Thro' the woods he flies;<BR> +Wrapp'd in his robe the royal infant lies.<BR> +His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;<BR> +With shout and clamors they pursue the chase.<BR> +The banks of Amasene at length he gains:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The raging flood his farther flight restrains,<BR> +Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains.<BR> +Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears,<BR> +Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.<BR> +Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste;<BR> +Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last.<BR> +A knotty lance of well-boil'd oak he bore;<BR> +The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er:<BR> +He clos'd the child within the hollow space;<BR> +With twigs of bending osier bound the case;<BR> +Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight,<BR> +And thus invok'd my favor for the freight:<BR> +'Accept, great goddess of the woods,' he said,<BR> +'Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!<BR> +Thro' air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine;<BR> +And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.'<BR> +He said; and with full force the spear he threw:<BR> +Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.<BR> +Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide,<BR> +And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side.<BR> +His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground,<BR> +And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound;<BR> +Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,<BR> +Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;<BR> +But, rough, in open air he chose to lie;<BR> +Earth was his couch, his cov'ring was the sky.<BR> +On hills unshorn, or in a desart den,<BR> +He shunn'd the dire society of men.<BR> +A shepherd's solitary life he led;<BR> +His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.<BR> +The dugs of bears, and ev'ry salvage beast,<BR> +He drew, and thro' her lips the liquor press'd.<BR> +The little Amazon could scarcely go:<BR> +He loads her with a quiver and a bow;<BR> +And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command,<BR> +He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand.<BR> +Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;<BR> +Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.<BR> +Instead of these, a tiger's hide o'erspread<BR> +Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head.<BR> +The flying dart she first attempts to fling,<BR> +And round her tender temples toss'd the sling;<BR> +Then, as her strength with years increas'd, began<BR> +To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,<BR> +And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.<BR> +The Tuscan matrons with each other vied,<BR> +To bless their rival sons with such a bride;<BR> +But she disdains their love, to share with me<BR> +The sylvan shades and vow'd virginity.<BR> +And, O! I wish, contented with my cares<BR> +Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!<BR> +Then had she been of my celestial train,<BR> +And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain.<BR> +But since, opposing Heav'n's decree, she goes<BR> +To find her death among forbidden foes,<BR> +Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.<BR> +Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight.<BR> +This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath,<BR> +This chosen arrow, to revenge her death:<BR> +By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain,<BR> +Or of the Trojan or Italian train,<BR> +Let him not pass unpunish'd from the plain.<BR> +Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid<BR> +To bear the breathless body of my maid:<BR> +Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd<BR> +Her holy limbs with any human hand,<BR> +And in a marble tomb laid in her native land."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said. The faithful nymph descends from high<BR> +With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:<BR> +Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,<BR> +Drawn up in squadrons, with united force,<BR> +Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound,<BR> +Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.<BR> +Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far;<BR> +And the fields glitter with a waving war.<BR> +Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force<BR> +Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;<BR> +These in the body plac'd, on either hand<BR> +Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band.<BR> +Advancing in a line, they couch their spears;<BR> +And less and less the middle space appears.<BR> +Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen<BR> +The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.<BR> +In distance of their darts they stop their course;<BR> +Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.<BR> +The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide,<BR> +And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.<BR> +Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,<BR> +By mettled coursers borne in full career,<BR> +Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock,<BR> +Their horses' heads against each other knock.<BR> +Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,<BR> +As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast:<BR> +He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.<BR> +The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright,<BR> +And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight<BR> +Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew;<BR> +Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue,<BR> +And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;<BR> +Till, seiz'd, with shame, they wheel about and face,<BR> +Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry.<BR> +The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.<BR> +So swelling surges, with a thund'ring roar,<BR> +Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the shore,<BR> +Bound o'er the rocks, incroach upon the land,<BR> +And far upon the beach eject the sand;<BR> +Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,<BR> +Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea;<BR> +With equal hurry quit th' invaded shore,<BR> +And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field,<BR> +Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell'd.<BR> +Asham'd at length, to the third charge they ran;<BR> +Both hosts resolv'd, and mingled man to man.<BR> +Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow'd<BR> +With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.<BR> +Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie:<BR> +Confus'd the fight, and more confus'd the cry.<BR> +Orsilochus, who durst not press too near<BR> +Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear,<BR> +And stuck the steel beneath his horse's ear.<BR> +The fiery steed, impatient of the wound,<BR> +Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound,<BR> +His helpless lord cast backward on the ground.<BR> +Catillus pierc'd Iolas first; then drew<BR> +His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw,<BR> +The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew.<BR> +His neck and throat unarm'd, his head was bare,<BR> +But shaded with a length of yellow hair:<BR> +Secure, he fought, expos'd on ev'ry part,<BR> +A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart.<BR> +Across the shoulders came the feather'd wound;<BR> +Transfix'd he fell, and doubled to the ground.<BR> +The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed,<BR> +And death with honor sought on either side.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Resistless thro' the war Camilla rode,<BR> +In danger unappall'd, and pleas'd with blood.<BR> +One side was bare for her exerted breast;<BR> +One shoulder with her painted quiver press'd.<BR> +Now from afar her fatal jav'lins play;<BR> +Now with her ax's edge she hews her way:<BR> +Diana's arms upon her shoulder sound;<BR> +And when, too closely press'd, she quits the ground,<BR> +From her bent bow she sends a backward wound.<BR> +Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side,<BR> +Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride:<BR> +Italians all; in peace, their queen's delight;<BR> +In war, the bold companions of the fight.<BR> +So march'd the Tracian Amazons of old,<BR> +When Thermodon with bloody billows roll'd:<BR> +Such troops as these in shining arms were seen,<BR> +When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen:<BR> +Such to the field Penthisilea led,<BR> +From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled;<BR> +With such, return'd triumphant from the war,<BR> +Her maids with cries attend the lofty car;<BR> +They clash with manly force their moony shields;<BR> +With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid,<BR> +On the cold earth were by thy courage laid?<BR> +Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first,<BR> +With fury driv'n, from side to side transpierc'd:<BR> +A purple stream came spouting from the wound;<BR> +Bath'd in his blood he lies, and bites the ground.<BR> +Liris and Pegasus at once she slew:<BR> +The former, as the slacken'd reins he drew<BR> +Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch'd<BR> +His arm to prop his friend, the jav'lin reach'd.<BR> +By the same weapon, sent from the same hand,<BR> +Both fall together, and both spurn the sand.<BR> +Amastrus next is added to the slain:<BR> +The rest in rout she follows o'er the plain:<BR> +Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,<BR> +And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun.<BR> +Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost;<BR> +Each was attended with a Trojan ghost.<BR> +Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed,<BR> +Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed.<BR> +Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown:<BR> +O'er his broad back an ox's hide was thrown;<BR> +His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread<BR> +A cov'ring for his cheeks, and grinn'd around his head,<BR> +He clench'd within his hand an iron prong,<BR> +And tower'd above the rest, conspicuous in the throng.<BR> +Him soon she singled from the flying train,<BR> +And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain:<BR> +"Vain hunter, didst thou think thro' woods to chase<BR> +The savage herd, a vile and trembling race?<BR> +Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory:<BR> +A woman warrior was too strong for thee.<BR> +Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu'ror's name,<BR> +Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame."<BR> +Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew,<BR> +The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew;<BR> +But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends<BR> +Above the gorget, where his helmet ends,<BR> +And o'er the shield which his left side defends.<BR> +Orsilochus and she their courses ply:<BR> +He seems to follow, and she seems to fly;<BR> +But in a narrower ring she makes the race;<BR> +And then he flies, and she pursues the chase.<BR> +Gath'ring at length on her deluded foe,<BR> +She swings her ax, and rises to the blow<BR> +Full on the helm behind, with such a sway<BR> +The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way:<BR> +He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace;<BR> +Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by chance,<BR> +To see his fall; nor farther dares advance;<BR> +But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye,<BR> +He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly;<BR> +Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat,<BR> +(At least while fortune favor'd his deceit,)<BR> +Cries out aloud: "What courage have you shown,<BR> +Who trust your courser's strength, and not your own?<BR> +Forego the vantage of your horse, alight,<BR> +And then on equal terms begin the fight:<BR> +It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can,<BR> +When, foot to foot, you combat with a man,"<BR> +He said. She glows with anger and disdain,<BR> +Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain,<BR> +And leaves her horse at large among her train;<BR> +With her drawn sword defies him to the field,<BR> +And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield.<BR> +The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed,<BR> +Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed;<BR> +Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides<BR> +The goring rowels in his bleeding sides.<BR> +"Vain fool, and coward!" cries the lofty maid,<BR> +"Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid!<BR> +On others practice thy Ligurian arts;<BR> +Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts<BR> +Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire,<BR> +With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire."<BR> +At this, so fast her flying feet she sped,<BR> +That soon she strain'd beyond his horse's head:<BR> +Then turning short, at once she seiz'd the rein,<BR> +And laid the boaster grov'ling on the plain.<BR> +Not with more ease the falcon, from above,<BR> +Trusses in middle air the trembling dove,<BR> +Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound:<BR> +The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now mighty Jove, from his superior height,<BR> +With his broad eye surveys th' unequal fight.<BR> +He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain,<BR> +And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd plain.<BR> +Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides,<BR> +And these encourages, and those he chides;<BR> +Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight;<BR> +Renews their ardor, and restores the fight.<BR> +"What panic fear has seiz'd your souls? O shame,<BR> +O brand perpetual of th' Etrurian name!<BR> +Cowards incurable, a woman's hand<BR> +Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band!<BR> +Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield!<BR> +What use of weapons which you dare not wield?<BR> +Not thus you fly your female foes by night,<BR> +Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite;<BR> +When to fat off'rings the glad augur calls,<BR> +And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals.<BR> +These are your studied cares, your lewd delight:<BR> +Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight."<BR> +Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes,<BR> +Not managing the life he meant to lose.<BR> +The first he found he seiz'd with headlong haste,<BR> +In his strong gripe, and clasp'd around the waist;<BR> +'T was Venulus, whom from his horse he tore,<BR> +And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore.<BR> +Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes,<BR> +And view th' unusual sight with vast surprise.<BR> +The fiery Tarchon, flying o'er the plains,<BR> +Press'd in his arms the pond'rous prey sustains;<BR> +Then, with his shorten'd spear, explores around<BR> +His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound.<BR> +Nor less the captive struggles for his life:<BR> +He writhes his body to prolong the strife,<BR> +And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts<BR> +His utmost vigor, and the point averts.<BR> +So stoops the yellow eagle from on high,<BR> +And bears a speckled serpent thro' the sky,<BR> +Fast'ning his crooked talons on the prey:<BR> +The pris'ner hisses thro' the liquid way;<BR> +Resists the royal hawk; and, tho' oppress'd,<BR> +She fights in volumes, and erects her crest:<BR> +Turn'd to her foe, she stiffens ev'ry scale,<BR> +And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat'ning tail.<BR> +Against the victor, all defense is weak:<BR> +Th' imperial bird still plies her with his beak;<BR> +He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores;<BR> +Then claps his pinions, and securely soars.<BR> +Thus, thro' the midst of circling enemies,<BR> +Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his prize.<BR> +The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press<BR> +The Latins, and presume the like success.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Aruns, doom'd to death, his arts assay'd,<BR> +To murther, unespied, the Volscian maid:<BR> +This way and that his winding course he bends,<BR> +And, whereso'er she turns, her steps attends.<BR> +When she retires victorious from the chase,<BR> +He wheels about with care, and shifts his place;<BR> +When, rushing on, she seeks her foes flight,<BR> +He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight:<BR> +He threats, and trembles, trying ev'ry way,<BR> +Unseen to kill, and safely to betray.<BR> +Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far,<BR> +Glitt'ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war,<BR> +Was by the virgin view'd. The steed he press'd<BR> +Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest<BR> +With scales of gilded brass was cover'd o'er;<BR> +A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore.<BR> +With deadly wounds he gall'd the distant foe;<BR> +Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow:<BR> +A golden helm his front and head surrounds<BR> +A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds.<BR> +Gold, weav'd with linen, on his thighs he wore,<BR> +With flowers of needlework distinguish'd o'er,<BR> +With golden buckles bound, and gather'd up before.<BR> +Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes,<BR> +Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize,<BR> +Or that the temple might his trophies hold,<BR> +Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold.<BR> +Blind in her haste, she chases him alone.<BR> +And seeks his life, regardless of her own.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This lucky moment the sly traitor chose:<BR> +Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose,<BR> +And threw, but first to Heav'n address'd his vows:<BR> +"O patron of Socrates' high abodes,<BR> +Phoebus, the ruling pow'r among the gods,<BR> +Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine<BR> +Are fell'd for thee, and to thy glory shine;<BR> +By thee protected with our naked soles,<BR> +Thro' flames unsing'd we march, and tread the kindled coals<BR> +Give me, propitious pow'r, to wash away<BR> +The stains of this dishonorable day:<BR> +Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim,<BR> +But with my future actions trust my fame.<BR> +Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome,<BR> +And from the field return inglorious home."<BR> +Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r,<BR> +Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air.<BR> +He gives the death desir'd; his safe return<BR> +By southern tempests to the seas is borne.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies,<BR> +Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes,<BR> +Directed by the sound. Of either host,<BR> +Th' unhappy virgin, tho' concern'd the most,<BR> +Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent<BR> +On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;<BR> +Till in her pap the winged weapon stood<BR> +Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood.<BR> +Her sad attendants hasten to sustain<BR> +Their dying lady, drooping on the plain.<BR> +Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,<BR> +With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys;<BR> +Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow,<BR> +Or ev'n to bear the sight of his expiring foe.<BR> +As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide<BR> +At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side,<BR> +Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies,<BR> +And claps his quiv'ring tail between his thighs:<BR> +So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,<BR> +But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands,<BR> +But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands;<BR> +The wood she draws, the steely point remains;<BR> +She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains:<BR> +(A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes,<BR> +And from her cheeks the rosy color flies:)<BR> +Then turns to her, whom of her female train<BR> +She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:<BR> +"Acca, 't is past! he swims before my sight,<BR> +Inexorable Death; and claims his right.<BR> +Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed,<BR> +And bid him timely to my charge succeed,<BR> +Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:<BR> +Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive."<BR> +She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain:<BR> +Dying, her open'd hand forsakes the rein;<BR> +Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees<BR> +Her mind the passage from her body frees.<BR> +She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest,<BR> +Her drooping head declining on her breast:<BR> +In the last sigh her struggling soul expires,<BR> +And, murm'ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued;<BR> +Despair and rage the languish'd fight renew'd.<BR> +The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line,<BR> +Advance to charge; the mix'd Arcadians join.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar<BR> +Surveys the field, and fortune of the war,<BR> +Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain,<BR> +Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain,<BR> +And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.<BR> +Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew<BR> +A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue:<BR> +"Too dear a fine, ah much lamented maid,<BR> +For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid!<BR> +Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife,<BR> +Diana's sacred arms, to save thy life.<BR> +Yet unreveng'd thy goddess will not leave<BR> +Her vot'ry's death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve.<BR> +Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd;<BR> +But after ages shall thy praise record.<BR> +Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:<BR> +Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +High o'er the field there stood a hilly mound,<BR> +Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around,<BR> +Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay,<BR> +A king that once in Latium bore the sway.<BR> +The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,<BR> +To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.<BR> +Him in refulgent arms she soon espied,<BR> +Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried:<BR> +"Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late;<BR> +Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.<BR> +Charg'd with my message, to Camilla go,<BR> +And say I sent thee to the shades below,<BR> +An honor undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +She said, and from her quiver chose with speed<BR> +The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed;<BR> +Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied,<BR> +Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side.<BR> +The bowstring touch'd her breast, so strong she drew;<BR> +Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.<BR> +At once the twanging bow and sounding dart<BR> +The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.<BR> +Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death,<BR> +His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.<BR> +The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings,<BR> +The welcome message to her mistress brings.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field,<BR> +And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield.<BR> +The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly,<BR> +More on their speed than on their strength rely.<BR> +Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down,<BR> +And spur their horses headlong to the town.<BR> +Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd,<BR> +Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind.<BR> +These drop the shield, and those the lance forego,<BR> +Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow.<BR> +The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound,<BR> +Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.<BR> +Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky,<BR> +And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly.<BR> +The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,<BR> +Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.<BR> +All pressing on, pursuers and pursued,<BR> +Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude.<BR> +Some happy few escape: the throng too late<BR> +Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.<BR> +Ev'n in the sight of home, the wretched sire<BR> +Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.<BR> +Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,<BR> +But leave their friends excluded with their foes.<BR> +The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout;<BR> +'T is terror all within, and slaughter all without.<BR> +Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,<BR> +Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,<BR> +Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share:<BR> +So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd;<BR> +So much Camilla's great example fir'd.<BR> +Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw,<BR> +With imitated darts, to gall the foe.<BR> +Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath,<BR> +And crowd each other to be first in death.<BR> +Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade,<BR> +With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid:<BR> +"The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill'd;<BR> +The foes, entirely masters of the field,<BR> +Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:<BR> +The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Inflam'd with rage, (for so the Furies fire<BR> +The Daunian's breast, and so the Fates require,)<BR> +He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain<BR> +Possess'd, and downward issues on the plain.<BR> +Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed<BR> +From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed.<BR> +Thro' the black forest and the ferny brake,<BR> +Unknowingly secure, their way they take;<BR> +From the rough mountains to the plain descend,<BR> +And there, in order drawn, their line extend.<BR> +Both armies now in open fields are seen;<BR> +Nor far the distance of the space between.<BR> +Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees,<BR> +Thro' smoking fields, his hast'ning enemies;<BR> +And Turnus views the Trojans in array,<BR> +And hears th' approaching horses proudly neigh.<BR> +Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd;<BR> +But westward to the sea the sun declin'd.<BR> +Intrench'd before the town both armies lie,<BR> +While Night with sable wings involves the sky.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BOOK XII<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,<BR> +Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd,<BR> +Himself become the mark of public spite,<BR> +His honor question'd for the promis'd fight;<BR> +The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd,<BR> +The more his fury boil'd within his breast:<BR> +He rous'd his vigor for the last debate,<BR> +And rais'd his haughty soul to meet his fate.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,<BR> +He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;<BR> +But, if the pointed jav'lin pierce his side,<BR> +The lordly beast returns with double pride:<BR> +He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;<BR> +His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:<BR> +So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire,<BR> +Thro' his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,<BR> +At length approach'd the king, and thus began:<BR> +"No more excuses or delays: I stand<BR> +In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand,<BR> +This base deserter of his native land.<BR> +The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take<BR> +The same conditions which himself did make.<BR> +Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,<BR> +And to my single virtue trust the war.<BR> +The Latians unconcern'd shall see the fight;<BR> +This arm unaided shall assert your right:<BR> +Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,<BR> +To him the crown and beauteous bride remain."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To whom the king sedately thus replied:<BR> +"Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,<BR> +The more becomes it us, with due respect,<BR> +To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.<BR> +You want not wealth, or a successive throne,<BR> +Or cities which your arms have made your own:<BR> +My towns and treasures are at your command,<BR> +And stor'd with blooming beauties is my land;<BR> +Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,<BR> +Unmarried, fair, of noble families.<BR> +Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,<BR> +Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear,<BR> +But sound advice, proceeding from a heart<BR> +Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.<BR> +The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,<BR> +No prince Italian born should heir my throne:<BR> +Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd,<BR> +And oft our priests, foreign son reveal'd.<BR> +Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,<BR> +Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood,<BR> +Urg'd by my wife, who would not be denied,<BR> +I promis'd my Lavinia for your bride:<BR> +Her from her plighted lord by force I took;<BR> +All ties of treaties, and of honor, broke:<BR> +On your account I wag'd an impious war-<BR> +With what success, 't is needless to declare;<BR> +I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share.<BR> +Twice vanquish'd while in bloody fields we strive,<BR> +Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive:<BR> +The rolling flood runs warm with human gore;<BR> +The bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring shore.<BR> +Why put I not an end to this debate,<BR> +Still unresolv'd, and still a slave to fate?<BR> +If Turnus' death a lasting peace can give,<BR> +Why should I not procure it whilst you live?<BR> +Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,<BR> +What would my kinsmen the Rutulians say?<BR> +And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav'n defend!)<BR> +How curse the cause which hasten'd to his end<BR> +The daughter's lover and the father's friend?<BR> +Weigh in your mind the various chance of war;<BR> +Pity your parent's age, and ease his care."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain:<BR> +The proffer'd med'cine but provok'd the pain.<BR> +The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief,<BR> +With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief:<BR> +"The care, O best of fathers, which you take<BR> +For my concerns, at my desire forsake.<BR> +Permit me not to languish out my days,<BR> +But make the best exchange of life for praise.<BR> +This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize;<BR> +And the blood follows, where the weapon flies.<BR> +His goddess mother is not near, to shroud<BR> +The flying coward with an empty cloud."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life,<BR> +And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife,<BR> +Held him by force; and, dying in his death,<BR> +In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath:<BR> +"O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears,<BR> +And whate'er price Amata's honor bears<BR> +Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope,<BR> +My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's prop;<BR> +Since on the safety of thy life alone<BR> +Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne:<BR> +Refuse me not this one, this only pray'r,<BR> +To waive the combat, and pursue the war.<BR> +Whatever chance attends this fatal strife,<BR> +Think it includes, in thine, Amata's life.<BR> +I cannot live a slave, or see my throne<BR> +Usurp'd by strangers or a Trojan son."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;<BR> +A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,<BR> +Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.<BR> +The driving colors, never at a stay,<BR> +Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.<BR> +Delightful change! Thus Indian iv'ry shows,<BR> +Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows;<BR> +Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire,<BR> +The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire:<BR> +Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,<BR> +Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.<BR> +Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,<BR> +Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:<BR> +"O mother, do not by your tears prepare<BR> +Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.<BR> +Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free<BR> +To shun my death, if Heav'n my death decree."<BR> +Then turning to the herald, thus pursues:<BR> +"Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news;<BR> +Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light<BR> +Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight;<BR> +The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more<BR> +Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:<BR> +Our single swords the quarrel shall decide,<BR> +And to the victor be the beauteous bride."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said, and striding on, with speedy pace,<BR> +He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.<BR> +At his approach they toss their heads on high,<BR> +And, proudly neighing, promise victory.<BR> +The sires of these Orythia sent from far,<BR> +To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.<BR> +The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white,<BR> +Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight.<BR> +Officious grooms stand ready by his side;<BR> +And some with combs their flowing manes divide,<BR> +And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass<BR> +Of golden metal those, and mountain brass.<BR> +Then to his head his glitt'ring helm he tied,<BR> +And girt his faithful fauchion to his side.<BR> +In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire<BR> +That fauchion labor'd for the hero's sire;<BR> +Immortal keenness on the blade bestow'd,<BR> +And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood.<BR> +Propp'd on a pillar, which the ceiling bore,<BR> +Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore;<BR> +Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand,<BR> +The tough ash trembled like an osier wand:<BR> +Then cried: "O pond'rous spoil of Actor slain,<BR> +And never yet by Turnus toss'd in vain,<BR> +Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go,<BR> +Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe!<BR> +Give me to tear his corslet from his breast,<BR> +And from that eunuch head to rend the crest;<BR> +Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil,<BR> +Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies<BR> +A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.<BR> +So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight:<BR> +Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight;<BR> +He tries his goring horns against a tree,<BR> +And meditates his absent enemy;<BR> +He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand<BR> +With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,<BR> +To future fight his manly courage warms:<BR> +He whets his fury, and with joy prepares<BR> +To terminate at once the ling'ring wars;<BR> +To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates<BR> +What Heav'n had promis'd, and expounds the fates.<BR> +Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease<BR> +The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The morn ensuing, from the mountain's height,<BR> +Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light;<BR> +Th' ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea,<BR> +From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day;<BR> +When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,<BR> +In friendly labor join'd, the list prepar'd.<BR> +Beneath the walls they measure out the space;<BR> +Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass,<BR> +Where, with religious their common gods they place.<BR> +In purest white the priests their heads attire;<BR> +And living waters bear, and holy fire;<BR> +And, o'er their linen hoods and shaded hair,<BR> +Long twisted wreaths of sacred veryain wear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In order issuing from the town appears<BR> +The Latin legion, arm'd with pointed spears;<BR> +And from the fields, advancing on a line,<BR> +The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join:<BR> +Their various arms afford a pleasing sight;<BR> +A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for fight.<BR> +Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,<BR> +Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed;<BR> +Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line,<BR> +And there Messapus, born of seed divine.<BR> +The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space,<BR> +Each man in order fills his proper place.<BR> +Reclining on their ample shields, they stand,<BR> +And fix their pointed lances in the sand.<BR> +Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng<BR> +Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,<BR> +Swarm the town: by those who rest behind,<BR> +The gates and walls and houses' tops are lin'd.<BR> +Meantime the Queen of Heav'n beheld the sight,<BR> +With eyes unpleas'd, from Mount Albano's height<BR> +(Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame,<BR> +But then an empty hill, without a name).<BR> +She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs,<BR> +The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs.<BR> +Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke,<BR> +With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake,<BR> +King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid,<BR> +Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'd:<BR> +Compress'd by force, but, by the grateful god,<BR> +Now made the Nais of the neighb'ring flood.<BR> +"O nymph, the pride of living lakes," said she,<BR> +"O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me,<BR> +Long hast thou known, nor need I to record,<BR> +The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord.<BR> +Of ev'ry Latian fair whom Jove misled<BR> +To mount by stealth my violated bed,<BR> +To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace,<BR> +But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place.<BR> +Now learn from me thy near approaching grief,<BR> +Nor think my wishes want to thy relief.<BR> +While fortune favor'd, nor Heav'n's King denied<BR> +To lend my succor to the Latian side,<BR> +I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state:<BR> +But now he struggles with unequal fate,<BR> +And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in might,<BR> +To meet inevitable death in fight;<BR> +Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.<BR> +Thou, if thou dar'st thy present aid supply;<BR> +It well becomes a sister's care to try."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress'd,<BR> +Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.<BR> +To whom Saturnia thus: "Thy tears are late:<BR> +Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch'd from fate:<BR> +New tumults kindle; violate the truce:<BR> +Who knows what changeful fortune may produce?<BR> +'T is not a crime t' attempt what I decree;<BR> +Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me."<BR> +She said, and, sailing on the winged wind,<BR> +Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now pomp the peaceful kings appear:<BR> +Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear;<BR> +Twelve golden beams around his temples play,<BR> +To mark his lineage from the God of Day.<BR> +Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke,<BR> +And in his hand two massy spears he shook:<BR> +Then issued from the camp, in arms divine,<BR> +Aeneas, author of the Roman line;<BR> +And by his side Ascanius took his place,<BR> +The second hope of Rome's immortal race.<BR> +Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears,<BR> +And off'rings to the flaming altars bears;<BR> +A porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears.<BR> +Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes,<BR> +And strews the beasts, design'd for sacrifice,<BR> +With salt and meal: with like officious care<BR> +He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.<BR> +Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds;<BR> +With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Aeneas then unsheath'd his shining sword,<BR> +And thus with pious pray'rs the gods ador'd:<BR> +"All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil,<BR> +For which I have sustain'd so long a toil,<BR> +Thou, King of Heav'n, and thou, the Queen of Air,<BR> +Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r;<BR> +Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway<BR> +The labors and events of arms obey;<BR> +Ye living fountains, and ye running floods,<BR> +All pow'rs of ocean, all ethereal gods,<BR> +Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,<BR> +Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,<BR> +My Trojans shall encrease Evander's town;<BR> +Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown:<BR> +All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease;<BR> +Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.<BR> +But, if my juster arms prevail in fight,<BR> +(As sure they shall, if I divine aright,)<BR> +My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign:<BR> +Both equal, both unconquer'd shall remain,<BR> +Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes;<BR> +I ask but altars for my weary gods.<BR> +The care of those religious rites be mine;<BR> +The crown to King Latinus I resign:<BR> +His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share<BR> +His pow'r in peace, or his command in war.<BR> +For me, my friends another town shall frame,<BR> +And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's name."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands,<BR> +The Latian king before his altar stands.<BR> +"By the same heav'n," said he, "and earth, and main,<BR> +And all the pow'rs that all the three contain;<BR> +By hell below, and by that upper god<BR> +Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod;<BR> +So let Latona's double offspring hear,<BR> +And double-fronted Janus, what I swear:<BR> +I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames,<BR> +And all those pow'rs attest, and all their names;<BR> +Whatever chance befall on either side,<BR> +No term of time this union shall divide:<BR> +No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind,<BR> +Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind;<BR> +Not tho' the circling seas should break their bound,<BR> +O'erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground;<BR> +Not tho' the lamps of heav'n their spheres forsake,<BR> +Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake:<BR> +Ev'n as this royal scepter" (for he bore<BR> +A scepter in his hand) "shall never more<BR> +Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth:<BR> +An orphan now, cut from the mother earth<BR> +By the keen ax, dishonor'd of its hair,<BR> +And cas'd in brass, for Latian kings to bear."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When thus in public view the peace was tied<BR> +With solemn vows, and sworn on either side,<BR> +All dues perform'd which holy rites require;<BR> +The victim beasts are slain before the fire,<BR> +The trembling entrails from their bodies torn,<BR> +And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Already the Rutulians deem their man<BR> +O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began.<BR> +First rising fears are whisper'd thro' the crowd;<BR> +Then, gath'ring sound, they murmur more aloud.<BR> +Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes<BR> +The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size:<BR> +The nearer they approach, the more is known<BR> +Th' apparent disadvantage of their own.<BR> +Turnus himself appears in public sight<BR> +Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.<BR> +Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands<BR> +With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands;<BR> +And, while he mutters undistinguish'd pray'rs,<BR> +A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +With anxious pleasure when Juturna view'd<BR> +Th' increasing fright of the mad multitude,<BR> +When their short sighs and thick'ning sobs she heard,<BR> +And found their ready minds for change prepar'd;<BR> +Dissembling her immortal form, she took<BR> +Camertus' mien, his habit, and his look;<BR> +A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known<BR> +Was his great sire, and he his greater son.<BR> +His shape assum'd, amid the ranks she ran,<BR> +And humoring their first motions, thus began:<BR> +"For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight<BR> +Of one expos'd for all, in single fight?<BR> +Can we, before the face of heav'n, confess<BR> +Our courage colder, or our numbers less?<BR> +View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band,<BR> +And Tuscan army; count 'em as they stand:<BR> +Undaunted to the battle if we go,<BR> +Scarce ev'ry second man will share a foe.<BR> +Turnus, 't is true, in this unequal strife,<BR> +Shall lose, with honor, his devoted life,<BR> +Or change it rather for immortal fame,<BR> +Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came:<BR> +But you, a servile and inglorious band,<BR> +For foreign lords shall sow your native land,<BR> +Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain'd,<BR> +Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd."<BR> +With words like these, she carried her design:<BR> +A rising murmur runs along the line.<BR> +Then ev'n the city troops, and Latians, tir'd<BR> +With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd:<BR> +Their champion's fate with pity they lament,<BR> +And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage<BR> +With lying wonders, and a false presage;<BR> +But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes,<BR> +Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.<BR> +For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above,<BR> +Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove:<BR> +A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes,<BR> +And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes;<BR> +Then, stooping on the fairest of the train,<BR> +In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan.<BR> +Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight;<BR> +But, while he lags, and labors in his flight,<BR> +Behold, the dastard fowl return anew,<BR> +And with united force the foe pursue:<BR> +Clam'rous around the royal hawk they fly,<BR> +And, thick'ning in a cloud, o'ershade the sky.<BR> +They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course;<BR> +Nor can th' incumber'd bird sustain their force;<BR> +But vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the pond'rous prey,<BR> +And, lighten'd of his burthen, wings his way.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight,<BR> +Eager of action, and demand the fight.<BR> +Then King Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts,<BR> +Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:<BR> +"At length 't is granted, what I long desir'd!<BR> +This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd.<BR> +Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey.<BR> +Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way.<BR> +These are the foreign foes, whose impious band,<BR> +Like that rapacious bird, infest our land:<BR> +But soon, like him, they shall be forc'd to sea<BR> +By strength united, and forego the prey.<BR> +Your timely succor to your country bring,<BR> +Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said; and, pressing onward thro' the crew,<BR> +Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.<BR> +The winged weapon, whistling in the wind,<BR> +Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd.<BR> +At once the cornel rattled in the skies;<BR> +At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise.<BR> +Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,<BR> +Born of Arcadian mix'd with Tuscan blood,<BR> +Gylippus' sons: the fatal jav'lin flew,<BR> +Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew.<BR> +A passage thro' the jointed arms it found,<BR> +Just where the belt was to the body bound,<BR> +And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.<BR> +Then, fir'd with pious rage, the gen'rous train<BR> +Run madly forward to revenge the slain.<BR> +And some with eager haste their jav'lins throw;<BR> +And some with sword in hand assault the foe.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The wish'd insult the Latine troops embrace,<BR> +And meet their ardor in the middle space.<BR> +The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line,<BR> +With equal courage obviate their design.<BR> +Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate<BR> +Both armies urges to their mutual fate.<BR> +With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd,<BR> +The sacrifice half-broil'd, and half-unburn'd.<BR> +Thick storms of steel from either army fly,<BR> +And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky;<BR> +Brands from the fire are missive weapons made,<BR> +With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.<BR> +Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray,<BR> +And bears his unregarded gods away.<BR> +These on their horses vault; those yoke the car;<BR> +The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Messapus, eager to confound the peace,<BR> +Spurr'd his hot courser thro' the fighting prease,<BR> +At King Aulestes, by his purple known<BR> +A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown;<BR> +And, with a shock encount'ring, bore him down.<BR> +Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd,<BR> +The ruins of an altar were behind:<BR> +There, pitching on his shoulders and his head,<BR> +Amid the scatt'ring fires he lay supinely spread.<BR> +The beamy spear, descending from above,<BR> +His cuirass pierc'd, and thro' his body drove.<BR> +Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries:<BR> +"The gods have found a fitter sacrifice."<BR> +Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead<BR> +Of his rich armor, and uncrown his head.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Priest Corynaeus, arm'd his better hand,<BR> +From his own altar, with a blazing brand;<BR> +And, as Ebusus with a thund'ring pace<BR> +Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face:<BR> +His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires;<BR> +The crackling crop a noisome scent expires.<BR> +Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown<BR> +With his left hand; his other cast him down.<BR> +The prostrate body with his knees he press'd,<BR> +And plung'd his holy poniard in his breast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued<BR> +The shepherd Alsus thro' the flying crowd,<BR> +Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow<BR> +Full on the front of his unwary foe.<BR> +The broad ax enters with a crashing sound,<BR> +And cleaves the chin with one continued wound;<BR> +Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around<BR> +An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd,<BR> +And seal'd their heavy lids in endless rest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But good Aeneas rush'd amid the bands;<BR> +Bare was his head, and naked were his hands,<BR> +In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud:<BR> +"What sudden rage, what new desire of blood,<BR> +Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans, cease<BR> +From impious arms, nor violate the peace!<BR> +By human sanctions, and by laws divine,<BR> +The terms are all agreed; the war is mine.<BR> +Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue;<BR> +This hand alone shall right the gods and you:<BR> +Our injur'd altars, and their broken vow,<BR> +To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defense,<BR> +A winged arrow struck the pious prince.<BR> +But, whether from some human hand it came,<BR> +Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame:<BR> +No human hand or hostile god was found,<BR> +To boast the triumph of so base a wound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,<BR> +His chiefs dismay'd, his troops a fainting train,<BR> +Th' unhop'd event his heighten'd soul inspires:<BR> +At once his arms and coursers he requires;<BR> +Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,<BR> +And with a ready hand assumes the reins.<BR> +He drives impetuous, and, where'er he goes,<BR> +He leaves behind a lane of slaughter'd foes.<BR> +These his lance reaches; over those he rolls<BR> +His rapid car, and crushes out their souls:<BR> +In vain the vanquish'd fly; the victor sends<BR> +The dead men's weapons at their living friends.<BR> +Thus, on the banks of Hebrus' freezing flood,<BR> +The God of Battles, in his angry mood,<BR> +Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,<BR> +Let loose the reins, and scours along the field:<BR> +Before the wind his fiery coursers fly;<BR> +Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.<BR> +Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair<BR> +(Dire faces, and deform'd) surround the car;<BR> +Friends of the god, and followers of the war.<BR> +With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,<BR> +Exulting Turnus flies along the plain:<BR> +His smoking horses, at their utmost speed,<BR> +He lashes on, and urges o'er the dead.<BR> +Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound,<BR> +The gore and gath'ring dust are dash'd around.<BR> +Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,<BR> +He kill'd at hand, but Sthenelus afar:<BR> +From far the sons of Imbracus he slew,<BR> +Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew;<BR> +Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join'd,<BR> +Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,<BR> +New fir'd the Trojans, and their foes repell'd.<BR> +This son of Dolon bore his grandsire's name,<BR> +But emulated more his father's fame;<BR> +His guileful father, sent a nightly spy,<BR> +The Grecian camp and order to descry:<BR> +Hard enterprise! and well he might require<BR> +Achilles' car and horses, for his hire:<BR> +But, met upon the scout, th' Aetolian prince<BR> +In death bestow'd a juster recompense.<BR> +Fierce Turnus view'd the Trojan from afar,<BR> +And launch'd his jav'lin from his lofty car;<BR> +Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow,<BR> +And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe,<BR> +Wrench'd from his feeble hold the shining sword,<BR> +And plung'd it in the bosom of its lord.<BR> +"Possess," said he, "the fruit of all thy pains,<BR> +And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains.<BR> +Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand;<BR> +Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew,<BR> +Whom o'er his neck his flound'ring courser threw.<BR> +As when loud Boreas, with his blust'ring train,<BR> +Stoops from above, incumbent on the main;<BR> +Where'er he flies, he drives the rack before,<BR> +And rolls the billows on th' Aegaean shore:<BR> +So, where resistless Turnus takes his course,<BR> +The scatter'd squadrons bend before his force;<BR> +His crest of horses' hair is blown behind<BR> +By adverse air, and rustles in the wind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain,<BR> +And, as the chariot roll'd along the plain,<BR> +Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz'd the rein.<BR> +Thus hung in air, he still retain'd his hold,<BR> +The coursers frighted, and their course controll'd.<BR> +The lance of Turnus reach'd him as he hung,<BR> +And pierc'd his plated arms, but pass'd along,<BR> +And only raz'd the skin. He turn'd, and held<BR> +Against his threat'ning foe his ample shield;<BR> +Then call'd for aid: but, while he cried in vain,<BR> +The chariot bore him backward on the plain.<BR> +He lies revers'd; the victor king descends,<BR> +And strikes so justly where his helmet ends,<BR> +He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk<BR> +With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield,<BR> +The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field:<BR> +Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried,<BR> +And young Ascanius, weeping by his side,<BR> +Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear<BR> +His limbs from earth, supported on his spear.<BR> +Resolv'd in mind, regardless of the smart,<BR> +He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart.<BR> +The steel remains. No readier way he found<BR> +To draw the weapon, than t' inlarge the wound.<BR> +Eager of fight, impatient of delay,<BR> +He begs; and his unwilling friends obey.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Iapis was at hand to prove his art,<BR> +Whose blooming youth so fir'd Apollo's heart,<BR> +That, for his love, he proffer'd to bestow<BR> +His tuneful harp and his unerring bow.<BR> +The pious youth, more studious how to save<BR> +His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,<BR> +Preferr'd the pow'r of plants, and silent praise<BR> +Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood,<BR> +And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd.<BR> +The fam'd physician tucks his robes around<BR> +With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.<BR> +With gentle touches he performs his part,<BR> +This way and that, soliciting the dart,<BR> +And exercises all his heav'nly art.<BR> +All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use,<BR> +He presses out, and pours their noble juice.<BR> +These first infus'd, to lenify the pain,<BR> +He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.<BR> +Then to the patron of his art he pray'd:<BR> +The patron of his art refus'd his aid.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime the war approaches to the tents;<BR> +Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments:<BR> +The driving dust proclaims the danger near;<BR> +And first their friends, and then their foes appear:<BR> +Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear.<BR> +The camp is fill'd with terror and affright:<BR> +The hissing shafts within the trench alight;<BR> +An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky,<BR> +The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief,<BR> +And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief.<BR> +A branch of healing dittany she brought,<BR> +Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought:<BR> +Rough is the stern, which woolly leafs surround;<BR> +The leafs with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd,<BR> +Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief<BR> +To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.<BR> +This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews<BR> +Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews,<BR> +And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands,<BR> +Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands,<BR> +And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd<BR> +With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound.<BR> +The leech, unknowing of superior art<BR> +Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;<BR> +And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart.<BR> +Stanch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands:<BR> +The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands,<BR> +Moves up, and follows of its own accord,<BR> +And health and vigor are at once restor'd.<BR> +Iapis first perceiv'd the closing wound,<BR> +And first the footsteps of a god he found.<BR> +"Arms! arms!" he cries; "the sword and shield prepare,<BR> +And send the willing chief, renew'd, to war.<BR> +This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,<BR> +Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine.<BR> +Some god our general to the battle sends;<BR> +Some god preserves his life for greater ends."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The hero arms in haste; his hands infold<BR> +His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:<BR> +Inflam'd to fight, and rushing to the field,<BR> +That hand sustaining the celestial shield,<BR> +This gripes the lance, and with such vigor shakes,<BR> +That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.<BR> +Then with a close embrace he strain'd his son,<BR> +And, kissing thro' his helmet, thus begun:<BR> +"My son, from my example learn the war,<BR> +In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare;<BR> +But happier chance than mine attend thy care!<BR> +This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,<BR> +And crown with honors of the conquer'd field:<BR> +Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth<BR> +To toils of war, be mindful of my worth;<BR> +Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known,<BR> +For Hector's nephew, and Aeneas' son."<BR> +He said; and, striding, issued on the plain.<BR> +Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num'rous train,<BR> +Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take,<BR> +And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake.<BR> +A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around,<BR> +Labors beneath their feet the trembling ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far<BR> +Beheld the progress of the moving war:<BR> +With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains,<BR> +And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.<BR> +Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear,<BR> +And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.<BR> +Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,<BR> +Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.<BR> +As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore<BR> +From the mid ocean, drives the waves before;<BR> +The painful hind with heavy heart foresees<BR> +The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;<BR> +With like impetuous rage the prince appears<BR> +Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears.<BR> +And now both armies shock in open field;<BR> +Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill'd.<BR> +Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain<BR> +(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train)<BR> +By Gyas', Mnestheus', and Achates' hand.<BR> +The fatal augur falls, by whose command<BR> +The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued<BR> +With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd.<BR> +Loud shouts and clamors rend the liquid sky,<BR> +And o'er the field the frighted Latins fly.<BR> +The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,<BR> +Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few;<BR> +Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,<BR> +He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.<BR> +Juturna heard, and, seiz'd with mortal fear,<BR> +Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer;<BR> +Assumes his shape, his armor, and his mien,<BR> +And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As the black swallow near the palace plies;<BR> +O'er empty courts, and under arches, flies;<BR> +Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,<BR> +To furnish her loquacious nest with food:<BR> +So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains;<BR> +The smoking horses run with loosen'd reins.<BR> +She steers a various course among the foes;<BR> +Now here, now there, her conqu'ring brother shows;<BR> +Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,<BR> +She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight.<BR> +Aeneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd,<BR> +And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:<BR> +He runs within a narrower ring, and tries<BR> +To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies.<BR> +If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,<BR> +And far away the Daunian hero bears.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail;<BR> +And various cares in vain his mind assail.<BR> +The great Messapus, thund'ring thro' the field,<BR> +In his left hand two pointed jav'lins held:<BR> +Encount'ring on the prince, one dart he drew,<BR> +And with unerring aim and utmost vigor threw.<BR> +Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low<BR> +Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threat'ning blow.<BR> +The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore<BR> +The waving plume which on his helm he wore.<BR> +Forced by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite,<BR> +That flying Turnus still declin'd the fight,<BR> +The Prince, whose piety had long repell'd<BR> +His inborn ardor, now invades the field;<BR> +Invokes the pow'rs of violated peace,<BR> +Their rites and injur'd altars to redress;<BR> +Then, to his rage abandoning the rein,<BR> +With blood and slaughter'd bodies fills the plain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What god can tell, what numbers can display,<BR> +The various labors of that fatal day;<BR> +What chiefs and champions fell on either side,<BR> +In combat slain, or by what deaths they died;<BR> +Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd;<BR> +Who shar'd the fame and fortune of the field!<BR> +Jove, could'st thou view, and not avert thy sight,<BR> +Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight,<BR> +Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found,<BR> +Whose valor made the Trojans quit their ground;<BR> +Betwixt his ribs the jav'lin drove so just,<BR> +It reach'd his heart, nor needs a second thrust.<BR> +Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew;<BR> +First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw:<BR> +Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail'd<BR> +Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd.<BR> +Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;<BR> +Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw,<BR> +Whom without respite at one charge he slew:<BR> +Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress'd,<BR> +And sad Onythes, added to the rest,<BR> +Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore,<BR> +And from Apollo's fane to battle sent,<BR> +O'erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent.<BR> +Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill'd,<BR> +Who long had shunn'd the dangers of the field:<BR> +On Lerna's lake a silent life he led,<BR> +And with his nets and angle earn'd his bread;<BR> +Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew,<BR> +But wisely from th' infectious world withdrew:<BR> +Poor was his house; his father's painful hand<BR> +Discharg'd his rent, and plow'd another's land.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As flames among the lofty woods are thrown<BR> +On diff'rent sides, and both by winds are blown;<BR> +The laurels crackle in the sputt'ring fire;<BR> +The frighted sylvans from their shades retire:<BR> +Or as two neighb'ring torrents fall from high;<BR> +Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry;<BR> +They roll to sea with unresisted force,<BR> +And down the rocks precipitate their course:<BR> +Not with less rage the rival heroes take<BR> +Their diff'rent ways, nor less destruction make.<BR> +With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike;<BR> +And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike.<BR> +Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field;<BR> +And hearts are pierc'd, unknowing how to yield:<BR> +They blow for blow return, and wound for wound;<BR> +And heaps of bodies raise the level ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs<BR> +From a long royal race of Latian kings,<BR> +Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown,<BR> +Crush'd with the weight of an unwieldy stone:<BR> +Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore<BR> +His living load, his dying body tore.<BR> +His starting steeds, to shun the glitt'ring sword,<BR> +Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Fierce Hyllus threaten'd high, and, face to face,<BR> +Affronted Turnus in the middle space:<BR> +The prince encounter'd him in full career,<BR> +And at his temples aim'd the deadly spear;<BR> +So fatally the flying weapon sped,<BR> +That thro' his helm it pierc'd his head.<BR> +Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus' hand,<BR> +In vain the strongest of th' Arcadian band:<BR> +Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford<BR> +Availing aid against th' Aenean sword,<BR> +Which to his naked heart pursued the course;<BR> +Nor could his plated shield sustain the force.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow'rs,<BR> +Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow'rs,<BR> +Were doom'd to kill, while Heav'n prolong'd his date;<BR> +But who can pass the bounds, prefix'd by fate?<BR> +In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held<BR> +Two palaces, and was from each expell'd:<BR> +Of all the mighty man, the last remains<BR> +A little spot of foreign earth contains.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now both hosts their broken troops unite<BR> +In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight.<BR> +Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join<BR> +The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line:<BR> +Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads<BR> +The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads.<BR> +They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space,<BR> +Resolv'd on death, impatient of disgrace;<BR> +And, where one falls, another fills his place.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son<BR> +To leave th' unfinish'd fight, and storm the town:<BR> +For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain<BR> +In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain,<BR> +He views th' unguarded city from afar,<BR> +In careless quiet, and secure of war.<BR> +Occasion offers, and excites his mind<BR> +To dare beyond the task he first design'd.<BR> +Resolv'd, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight:<BR> +Attended thus, he takes a neighb'ring height;<BR> +The crowding troops about their gen'ral stand,<BR> +All under arms, and wait his high command.<BR> +Then thus the lofty prince: "Hear and obey,<BR> +Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay<BR> +Jove is with us; and what I have decreed<BR> +Requires our utmost vigor, and our speed.<BR> +Your instant arms against the town prepare,<BR> +The source of mischief, and the seat of war.<BR> +This day the Latian tow'rs, that mate the sky,<BR> +Shall level with the plain in ashes lie:<BR> +The people shall be slaves, unless in time<BR> +They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime.<BR> +Twice have our foes been vanquish'd on the plain:<BR> +Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain?<BR> +Your force against the perjur'd city bend.<BR> +There it began, and there the war shall end.<BR> +The peace profan'd our rightful arms requires;<BR> +Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He finish'd; and, one soul inspiring all,<BR> +Form'd in a wedge, the foot approach the wall.<BR> +Without the town, an unprovided train<BR> +Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain.<BR> +Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear,<BR> +And those they toss aloft, and these they rear:<BR> +The flames now launch'd, the feather'd arrows fly,<BR> +And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky.<BR> +Advancing to the front, the hero stands,<BR> +And, stretching out to heav'n his pious hands,<BR> +Attests the gods, asserts his innocence,<BR> +Upbraids with breach of faith th' Ausonian prince;<BR> +Declares the royal honor doubly stain'd,<BR> +And twice the rites of holy peace profan'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Dissenting clamors in the town arise;<BR> +Each will be heard, and all at once advise.<BR> +One part for peace, and one for war contends;<BR> +Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends.<BR> +The helpless king is hurried in the throng,<BR> +And, whate'er tide prevails, is borne along.<BR> +Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock,<BR> +Invades the bees with suffocating smoke,<BR> +They run around, or labor on their wings,<BR> +Disus'd to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings;<BR> +To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try;<BR> +Black vapors, issuing from the vent, involve the sky.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But fate and envious fortune now prepare<BR> +To plunge the Latins in the last despair.<BR> +The queen, who saw the foes invade the town,<BR> +And brands on tops of burning houses thrown,<BR> +Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear-<BR> +No troops of Turnus in the field appear.<BR> +Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain,<BR> +And then concludes the royal youth is slain.<BR> +Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear<BR> +The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air.<BR> +She calls herself the cause of all this ill,<BR> +And owns the dire effects of her ungovern'd will;<BR> +She raves against the gods; she beats her breast;<BR> +She tears with both her hands her purple vest:<BR> +Then round a beam a running noose she tied,<BR> +And, fasten'd by the neck, obscenely died.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown,<BR> +And to her dames and to her daughter known,<BR> +The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair<BR> +And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share:<BR> +With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair.<BR> +The spreading rumor fills the public place:<BR> +Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace,<BR> +And silent shame, are seen in ev'ry face.<BR> +Latinus tears his garments as he goes,<BR> +Both for his public and his private woes;<BR> +With filth his venerable beard besmears,<BR> +And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs.<BR> +And much he blames the softness of his mind,<BR> +Obnoxious to the charms of womankind,<BR> +And soon seduc'd to change what he so well design'd;<BR> +To break the solemn league so long desir'd,<BR> +Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir'd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now Turnus rolls aloof o'er empty plains,<BR> +And here and there some straggling foes he gleans.<BR> +His flying coursers please him less and less,<BR> +Asham'd of easy fight and cheap success.<BR> +Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind,<BR> +The distant cries come driving in the wind,<BR> +Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown'd;<BR> +A jarring mixture, and a boding sound.<BR> +"Alas!" said he, "what mean these dismal cries?<BR> +What doleful clamors from the town arise?"<BR> +Confus'd, he stops, and backward pulls the reins.<BR> +She who the driver's office now sustains,<BR> +Replies: "Neglect, my lord, these new alarms;<BR> +Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms:<BR> +There want not others to defend the wall.<BR> +If by your rival's hand th' Italians fall,<BR> +So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress,<BR> +In honor equal, equal in success."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To this, the prince: "O sister- for I knew<BR> +The peace infring'd proceeded first from you;<BR> +I knew you, when you mingled first in fight;<BR> +And now in vain you would deceive my sight-<BR> +Why, goddess, this unprofitable care?<BR> +Who sent you down from heav'n, involv'd in air,<BR> +Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain,<BR> +And see your brother bleeding on the plain?<BR> +For to what pow'r can Turnus have recourse,<BR> +Or how resist his fate's prevailing force?<BR> +These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground:<BR> +Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound.<BR> +I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath,<BR> +My name invoking to revenge his death.<BR> +Brave Ufens fell with honor on the place,<BR> +To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace.<BR> +On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies;<BR> +His vest and armor are the victor's prize.<BR> +Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame,<BR> +Which only wanted, to complete my shame?<BR> +How will the Latins hoot their champion's flight!<BR> +How Drances will insult and point them to the sight!<BR> +Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below,<BR> +(Since those above so small compassion show,)<BR> +Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame,<BR> +Which not belies my great forefather's name!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed<BR> +Came Sages urging on his foamy steed:<BR> +Fix'd on his wounded face a shaft he bore,<BR> +And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before:<BR> +"Turnus, on you, on you alone, depends<BR> +Our last relief: compassionate your friends!<BR> +Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on,<BR> +With arms invests, with flames invades the town:<BR> +The brands are toss'd on high; the winds conspire<BR> +To drive along the deluge of the fire.<BR> +All eyes are fix'd on you: your foes rejoice;<BR> +Ev'n the king staggers, and suspends his choice;<BR> +Doubts to deliver or defend the town,<BR> +Whom to reject, or whom to call his son.<BR> +The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac'd,<BR> +Herself suborning death, has breath'd her last.<BR> +'T is true, Messapus, fearless of his fate,<BR> +With fierce Atinas' aid, defends the gate:<BR> +On ev'ry side surrounded by the foe,<BR> +The more they kill, the greater numbers grow;<BR> +An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow.<BR> +You, far aloof from your forsaken bands,<BR> +Your rolling chariot drive o'er empty sands.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin'd,<BR> +And various cares revolving in his mind:<BR> +Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast,<BR> +And sorrow mix'd with shame, his soul oppress'd;<BR> +And conscious worth lay lab'ring in his thought,<BR> +And love by jealousy to madness wrought.<BR> +By slow degrees his reason drove away<BR> +The mists of passion, and resum'd her sway.<BR> +Then, rising on his car, he turn'd his look,<BR> +And saw the town involv'd in fire and smoke.<BR> +A wooden tow'r with flames already blaz'd,<BR> +Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais'd;<BR> +And bridges laid above to join the space,<BR> +And wheels below to roll from place to place.<BR> +"Sister, the Fates have vanquish'd: let us go<BR> +The way which Heav'n and my hard fortune show.<BR> +The fight is fix'd; nor shall the branded name<BR> +Of a base coward blot your brother's fame.<BR> +Death is my choice; but suffer me to try<BR> +My force, and vent my rage before I die."<BR> +He said; and, leaping down without delay,<BR> +Thro' crowds of scatter'd foes he freed his way.<BR> +Striding he pass'd, impetuous as the wind,<BR> +And left the grieving goddess far behind.<BR> +As when a fragment, from a mountain torn<BR> +By raging tempests, or by torrents borne,<BR> +Or sapp'd by time, or loosen'd from the roots-<BR> +Prone thro' the void the rocky ruin shoots,<BR> +Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep;<BR> +Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep:<BR> +Involv'd alike, they rush to nether ground;<BR> +Stunn'd with the shock they fall, and stunn'd from earth rebound:<BR> +So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town,<BR> +Should'ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down.<BR> +Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew,<BR> +Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew,<BR> +And sanguine streams the slipp'ry ground embrue.<BR> +First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace,<BR> +He cries aloud, to make the combat cease:<BR> +"Rutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire!<BR> +The fight is mine; and me the gods require.<BR> +'T is just that I should vindicate alone<BR> +The broken truce, or for the breach atone.<BR> +This day shall free from wars th' Ausonian state,<BR> +Or finish my misfortunes in my fate."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Both armies from their bloody work desist,<BR> +And, bearing backward, form a spacious list.<BR> +The Trojan hero, who receiv'd from fame<BR> +The welcome sound, and heard the champion's name,<BR> +Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls,<BR> +Greedy of war where greater glory calls.<BR> +He springs to fight, exulting in his force<BR> +His jointed armor rattles in the course.<BR> +Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows,<BR> +Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows,<BR> +His head divine obscure in clouds he hides,<BR> +And shakes the sounding forest on his sides.<BR> +The nations, overaw'd, surcease the fight;<BR> +Immovable their bodies, fix'd their sight.<BR> +Ev'n death stands still; nor from above they throw<BR> +Their darts, nor drive their batt'ring-rams below.<BR> +In silent order either army stands,<BR> +And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands.<BR> +Th' Ausonian king beholds, with wond'ring sight,<BR> +Two mighty champions match'd in single fight,<BR> +Born under climes remote, and brought by fate,<BR> +With swords to try their titles to the state.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now, in clos'd field, each other from afar<BR> +They view; and, rushing on, begin the war.<BR> +They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet;<BR> +The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet:<BR> +Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high,<BR> +And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly.<BR> +Courage conspires with chance, and both ingage<BR> +With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage.<BR> +As when two bulls for their fair female fight<BR> +In Sila's shades, or on Taburnus' height;<BR> +With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies;<BR> +Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes,<BR> +And wait th' event; which victor they shall bear,<BR> +And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year:<BR> +With rage of love the jealous rivals burn,<BR> +And push for push, and wound for wound return;<BR> +Their dewlaps gor'd, their sides are lav'd in blood;<BR> +Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro' the wood:<BR> +Such was the combat in the listed ground;<BR> +So clash their swords, and so their shields resound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays<BR> +The champions' fate, and each exactly weighs.<BR> +On this side, life and lucky chance ascends;<BR> +Loaded with death, that other scale descends.<BR> +Rais'd on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow<BR> +Full on the helm of his unguarded foe:<BR> +Shrill shouts and clamors ring on either side,<BR> +As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide.<BR> +But all in pieces flies the traitor sword,<BR> +And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord.<BR> +Now is but death, or flight; disarm'd he flies,<BR> +When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies.<BR> +Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join'd,<BR> +Hurrying to war, disorder'd in his mind,<BR> +Snatch'd the first weapon which his haste could find.<BR> +'T was not the fated sword his father bore,<BR> +But that his charioteer Metiscus wore.<BR> +This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held;<BR> +But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield,<BR> +The mortal-temper'd steel deceiv'd his hand:<BR> +The shiver'd fragments shone amid the sand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Surpris'd with fear, he fled along the field,<BR> +And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel'd;<BR> +For here the Trojan troops the list surround,<BR> +And there the pass is clos'd with pools and marshy ground.<BR> +Aeneas hastens, tho' with heavier pace-<BR> +His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase,<BR> +And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse-<BR> +Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus, when a fearful stag is clos'd around<BR> +With crimson toils, or in a river found,<BR> +High on the bank the deep-mouth'd hound appears,<BR> +Still opening, following still, where'er he steers;<BR> +The persecuted creature, to and fro,<BR> +Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe:<BR> +Steep is th' ascent, and, if he gains the land,<BR> +The purple death is pitch'd along the strand.<BR> +His eager foe, determin'd to the chase,<BR> +Stretch'd at his length, gains ground at ev'ry pace;<BR> +Now to his beamy head he makes his way,<BR> +And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey:<BR> +Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear;<BR> +He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air:<BR> +The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries;<BR> +The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies.<BR> +Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames<BR> +His tardy troops, and, calling by their names,<BR> +Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats<BR> +The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats<BR> +To lay in ashes, if they dare supply<BR> +With arms or aid his vanquish'd enemy:<BR> +Thus menacing, he still pursues the course,<BR> +With vigor, tho' diminish'd of his force.<BR> +Ten times already round the listed place<BR> +One chief had fled, and t' other giv'n the chase:<BR> +No trivial prize is play'd; for on the life<BR> +Or death of Turnus now depends the strife.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Within the space, an olive tree had stood,<BR> +A sacred shade, a venerable wood,<BR> +For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins' guardian god.<BR> +Here hung the vests, and tablets were ingrav'd,<BR> +Of sinking mariners from shipwrack sav'd.<BR> +With heedless hands the Trojans fell'd the tree,<BR> +To make the ground inclos'd for combat free.<BR> +Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance,<BR> +Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance;<BR> +Then stoop'd, and tugg'd with force immense, to free<BR> +Th' incumber'd spear from the tenacious tree;<BR> +That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain,<BR> +His flying weapon might from far attain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Confus'd with fear, bereft of human aid,<BR> +Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray'd:<BR> +"O Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth,<BR> +Where I thy foster son receiv'd my birth,<BR> +Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand<BR> +Your plant has honor'd, which your foes profan'd,<BR> +Propitious hear my pious pray'r!" He said,<BR> +Nor with successless vows invok'd their aid.<BR> +Th' incumbent hero wrench'd, and pull'd, and strain'd;<BR> +But still the stubborn earth the steel detain'd.<BR> +Juturna took her time; and, while in vain<BR> +He strove, assum'd Meticus' form again,<BR> +And, in that imitated shape, restor'd<BR> +To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.<BR> +The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief,<BR> +Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief,<BR> +T' assert her offspring with a greater deed,<BR> +From the tough root the ling'ring weapon freed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance:<BR> +One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance;<BR> +And both resolv'd alike to try their fatal chance.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke,<BR> +Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock:<BR> +"What new arrest, O Queen of Heav'n, is sent<BR> +To stop the Fates now lab'ring in th' event?<BR> +What farther hopes are left thee to pursue?<BR> +Divine Aeneas, (and thou know'st it too,)<BR> +Foredoom'd, to these celestial seats are due.<BR> +What more attempts for Turnus can be made,<BR> +That thus thou ling'rest in this lonely shade?<BR> +Is it becoming of the due respect<BR> +And awful honor of a god elect,<BR> +A wound unworthy of our state to feel,<BR> +Patient of human hands and earthly steel?<BR> +Or seems it just, the sister should restore<BR> +A second sword, when one was lost before,<BR> +And arm a conquer'd wretch against his conqueror?<BR> +For what, without thy knowledge and avow,<BR> +Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do?<BR> +At last, in deference to my love, forbear<BR> +To lodge within thy soul this anxious care;<BR> +Reclin'd upon my breast, thy grief unload:<BR> +Who should relieve the goddess, but the god?<BR> +Now all things to their utmost issue tend,<BR> +Push'd by the Fates to their appointed<BR> +While leave was giv'n thee, and a lawful hour<BR> +For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow'r,<BR> +Toss'd on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress,<BR> +And, driv'n ashore, with hostile arms oppress;<BR> +Deform the royal house; and, from the side<BR> +Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride:<BR> +Now cease at my command." The Thund'rer said;<BR> +And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made:<BR> +"Because your dread decree too well I knew,<BR> +From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew.<BR> +Else should you not behold me here, alone,<BR> +Involv'd in empty clouds, my friends bemoan,<BR> +But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight<BR> +Engag'd against my foes in mortal fight.<BR> +'T is true, Juturna mingled in the strife<BR> +By my command, to save her brother's life-<BR> +At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake,<BR> +(The most religious oath the gods can take,)<BR> +With this restriction, not to bend the bow,<BR> +Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw.<BR> +And now, resign'd to your superior might,<BR> +And tir'd with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight.<BR> +This let me beg (and this no fates withstand)<BR> +Both for myself and for your father's land,<BR> +That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace,<BR> +(Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,)<BR> +The laws of either nation be the same;<BR> +But let the Latins still retain their name,<BR> +Speak the same language which they spoke before,<BR> +Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore.<BR> +Call them not Trojans: perish the renown<BR> +And name of Troy, with that detested town.<BR> +Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign<BR> +And Rome's immortal majesty remain."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then thus the founder of mankind replies<BR> +(Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes)<BR> +"Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir,<BR> +Such endless anger in her bosom bear?<BR> +Be mistress, and your full desires obtain;<BR> +But quench the choler you foment in vain.<BR> +From ancient blood th' Ausonian people sprung,<BR> +Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue.<BR> +The Trojans to their customs shall be tied:<BR> +I will, myself, their common rites provide;<BR> +The natives shall command, the foreigners subside.<BR> +All shall be Latium; Troy without a name;<BR> +And her lost sons forget from whence they came.<BR> +From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow,<BR> +Equal to gods, excelling all below.<BR> +No nation more respect to you shall pay,<BR> +Or greater off'rings on your altars lay."<BR> +Juno consents, well pleas'd that her desires<BR> +Had found success, and from the cloud retires.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The peace thus made, the Thund'rer next prepares<BR> +To force the wat'ry goddess from the wars.<BR> +Deep in the dismal regions void of light,<BR> +Three daughters at a birth were born to Night:<BR> +These their brown mother, brooding on her care,<BR> +Indued with windy wings to flit in air,<BR> +With serpents girt alike, and crown'd with hissing hair.<BR> +In heav'n the Dirae call'd, and still at hand,<BR> +Before the throne of angry Jove they stand,<BR> +His ministers of wrath, and ready still<BR> +The minds of mortal men with fears to fill,<BR> +Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate<BR> +On realms or towns deserving of their fate,<BR> +Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care,<BR> +And terrifies the guilty world with war.<BR> +One sister plague if these from heav'n he sent,<BR> +To fright Juturna with a dire portent.<BR> +The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow<BR> +Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow,<BR> +Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies,<BR> +And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies.<BR> +With such a sudden and unseen a flight<BR> +Shot thro' the clouds the daughter of the night.<BR> +Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view,<BR> +And from afar her destin'd quarry knew,<BR> +Contracted, to the boding bird she turns,<BR> +Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns,<BR> +And beats about the tombs with nightly wings,<BR> +Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings.<BR> +Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries<BR> +The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies,<BR> +Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A lazy chillness crept along his blood;<BR> +Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood.<BR> +Juturna from afar beheld her fly,<BR> +And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry<BR> +And stridor of her wings. Amaz'd with fear,<BR> +Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Ah me!" she cries, "in this unequal strife<BR> +What can thy sister more to save thy life?<BR> +Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend<BR> +In arms with that inexorable fiend?<BR> +Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright<BR> +My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night;<BR> +The lashing of your wings I know too well,<BR> +The sounding flight, and fun'ral screams of hell!<BR> +These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove,<BR> +The worthy recompense of ravish'd love!<BR> +Did he for this exempt my life from fate?<BR> +O hard conditions of immortal state,<BR> +Tho' born to death, not privileg'd to die,<BR> +But forc'd to bear impos'd eternity!<BR> +Take back your envious bribes, and let me go<BR> +Companion to my brother's ghost below!<BR> +The joys are vanish'd: nothing now remains,<BR> +Of life immortal, but immortal pains.<BR> +What earth will open her devouring womb,<BR> +To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!"<BR> +She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said,<BR> +But in her azure mantle wrapp'd her head,<BR> +Then plung'd into her stream, with deep despair,<BR> +And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now stern Aeneas his weighty spear<BR> +Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear:<BR> +"What farther subterfuge can Turnus find?<BR> +What empty hopes are harbor'd in his mind?<BR> +'T is not thy swiftness can secure thy flight;<BR> +Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight.<BR> +Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare<BR> +What skill and courage can attempt in war;<BR> +Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky;<BR> +Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!"<BR> +The champion shook his head, and made this short reply:<BR> +"No threats of thine my manly mind can move;<BR> +'T is hostile heav'n I dread, and partial Jove."<BR> +He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress'd<BR> +The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then, as he roll'd his troubled eyes around,<BR> +An antique stone he saw, the common bound<BR> +Of neighb'ring fields, and barrier of the ground;<BR> +So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days<BR> +Th' enormous weight from earth could hardly raise.<BR> +He heav'd it at a lift, and, pois'd on high,<BR> +Ran stagg'ring on against his enemy,<BR> +But so disorder'd, that he scarcely knew<BR> +His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw.<BR> +His knocking knees are bent beneath the load,<BR> +And shiv'ring cold congeals his vital blood.<BR> +The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short<BR> +For want of vigor, mocks his vain effort.<BR> +And as, when heavy sleep has clos'd the sight,<BR> +The sickly fancy labors in the night;<BR> +We seem to run; and, destitute of force,<BR> +Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course:<BR> +In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry;<BR> +The nerves, unbrac'd, their usual strength deny;<BR> +And on the tongue the falt'ring accents die:<BR> +So Turnus far'd; whatever means he tried,<BR> +All force of arms and points of art employ'd,<BR> +The Fury flew athwart, and made th' endeavor void.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A thousand various thoughts his soul confound;<BR> +He star'd about, nor aid nor issue found;<BR> +His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround.<BR> +Once more he pauses, and looks out again,<BR> +And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain.<BR> +Trembling he views the thund'ring chief advance,<BR> +And brandishing aloft the deadly lance:<BR> +Amaz'd he cow'rs beneath his conqu'ring foe,<BR> +Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow.<BR> +Astonish'd while he stands, and fix'd with fear,<BR> +Aim'd at his shield he sees th' impending spear.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The hero measur'd first, with narrow view,<BR> +The destin'd mark; and, rising as he threw,<BR> +With its full swing the fatal weapon flew.<BR> +Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls,<BR> +Or stones from batt'ring-engines break the walls:<BR> +Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong,<BR> +The lance drove on, and bore the death along.<BR> +Naught could his sev'nfold shield the prince avail,<BR> +Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail:<BR> +It pierc'd thro' all, and with a grisly wound<BR> +Transfix'd his thigh, and doubled him to ground.<BR> +With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky:<BR> +Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid,<BR> +With eyes cast upward, and with arms display'd,<BR> +And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray'd:<BR> +"I know my death deserv'd, nor hope to live:<BR> +Use what the gods and thy good fortune give.<BR> +Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown-<BR> +Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son-<BR> +Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave;<BR> +And for Anchises' sake old Daunus save!<BR> +Or, if thy vow'd revenge pursue my death,<BR> +Give to my friends my body void of breath!<BR> +The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life;<BR> +Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife:<BR> +Against a yielded man, 't is mean ignoble strife."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In deep suspense the Trojan seem'd to stand,<BR> +And, just prepar'd to strike, repress'd his hand.<BR> +He roll'd his eyes, and ev'ry moment felt<BR> +His manly soul with more compassion melt;<BR> +When, casting down a casual glance, he spied<BR> +The golden belt that glitter'd on his side,<BR> +The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore<BR> +From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore.<BR> +Then, rous'd anew to wrath, he loudly cries<BR> +(Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes)<BR> +"Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend,<BR> +Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend?<BR> +To his sad soul a grateful off'ring go!<BR> +'T is Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow."<BR> +He rais'd his arm aloft, and, at the word,<BR> +Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword.<BR> +The streaming blood distain'd his arms around,<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Aeneid, by Virgil + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + +***** This file should be named 228-h.htm or 228-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/228/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Aeneid + +Author: Virgil + +Release Date: March 10, 2008 [EBook #228] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 19 BC + + THE AENEID + + by Virgil + + + BOOK I + + Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate, + And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate, + Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore. + Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore, + And in the doubtful war, before he won + The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town; + His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine, + And settled sure succession in his line, + From whence the race of Alban fathers come, + And the long glories of majestic Rome. + + O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate; + What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate; + For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began + To persecute so brave, so just a man; + Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares, + Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars! + Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show, + Or exercise their spite in human woe? + + Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away, + An ancient town was seated on the sea; + A Tyrian colony; the people made + Stout for the war, and studious of their trade: + Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more + Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore. + Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind, + The seat of awful empire she design'd. + Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly, + (Long cited by the people of the sky,) + That times to come should see the Trojan race + Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface; + Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway + Should on the necks of all the nations lay. + She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate; + Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late + For conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state. + Besides, long causes working in her mind, + And secret seeds of envy, lay behind; + Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd + Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd; + The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed, + Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed. + Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd + To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind. + For this, far distant from the Latian coast + She drove the remnants of the Trojan host; + And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train + Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main. + Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name, + Such length of labor for so vast a frame. + + Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars, + Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores, + Ent'ring with cheerful shouts the wat'ry reign, + And plowing frothy furrows in the main; + When, lab'ring still with endless discontent, + The Queen of Heav'n did thus her fury vent: + + "Then am I vanquish'd? must I yield?" said she, + "And must the Trojans reign in Italy? + So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force; + Nor can my pow'r divert their happy course. + Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen, + The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men? + She, for the fault of one offending foe, + The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw: + With whirlwinds from beneath she toss'd the ship, + And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep; + Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game, + The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame, + She strongly seiz'd, and with a burning wound + Transfix'd, and naked, on a rock she bound. + But I, who walk in awful state above, + The majesty of heav'n, the sister wife of Jove, + For length of years my fruitless force employ + Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy! + What nations now to Juno's pow'r will pray, + Or off'rings on my slighted altars lay?" + + Thus rag'd the goddess; and, with fury fraught. + The restless regions of the storms she sought, + Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, + The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne, + With pow'r imperial curbs the struggling winds, + And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds. + This way and that th' impatient captives tend, + And, pressing for release, the mountains rend. + High in his hall th' undaunted monarch stands, + And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands; + Which did he not, their unresisted sway + Would sweep the world before them in their way; + Earth, air, and seas thro' empty space would roll, + And heav'n would fly before the driving soul. + In fear of this, the Father of the Gods + Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes, + And lock'd 'em safe within, oppress'd with mountain loads; + Impos'd a king, with arbitrary sway, + To loose their fetters, or their force allay. + To whom the suppliant queen her pray'rs address'd, + And thus the tenor of her suit express'd: + + "O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav'n + The pow'r of tempests and of winds has giv'n; + Thy force alone their fury can restrain, + And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main- + A race of wand'ring slaves, abhorr'd by me, + With prosp'rous passage cut the Tuscan sea; + To fruitful Italy their course they steer, + And for their vanquish'd gods design new temples there. + Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies; + Sink or disperse my fatal enemies. + Twice sev'n, the charming daughters of the main, + Around my person wait, and bear my train: + Succeed my wish, and second my design; + The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine, + And make thee father of a happy line." + + To this the god: "'T is yours, O queen, to will + The work which duty binds me to fulfil. + These airy kingdoms, and this wide command, + Are all the presents of your bounteous hand: + Yours is my sov'reign's grace; and, as your guest, + I sit with gods at their celestial feast; + Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue; + Dispose of empire, which I hold from you." + + He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side + His quiv'ring spear, and all the god applied. + The raging winds rush thro' the hollow wound, + And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground; + Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep, + Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep. + South, East, and West with mix'd confusion roar, + And roll the foaming billows to the shore. + The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries + Ascend; and sable night involves the skies; + And heav'n itself is ravish'd from their eyes. + Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue; + Then flashing fires the transient light renew; + The face of things a frightful image bears, + And present death in various forms appears. + Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief, + With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief; + And, "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried, + "That under Ilian walls before their parents died! + Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train! + Why could not I by that strong arm be slain, + And lie by noble Hector on the plain, + Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields + Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields + Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear + The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!" + + Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails, + Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails, + And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise, + And mount the tossing vessels to the skies: + Nor can the shiv'ring oars sustain the blow; + The galley gives her side, and turns her prow; + While those astern, descending down the steep, + Thro' gaping waves behold the boiling deep. + Three ships were hurried by the southern blast, + And on the secret shelves with fury cast. + Those hidden rocks th' Ausonian sailors knew: + They call'd them Altars, when they rose in view, + And show'd their spacious backs above the flood. + Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood, + Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand, + And in mid ocean left them moor'd aland. + Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew, + (A horrid sight!) ev'n in the hero's view, + From stem to stern by waves was overborne: + The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn, + Was headlong hurl'd; thrice round the ship was toss'd, + Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost; + And here and there above the waves were seen + Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men. + The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way, + And suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea. + Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old, + Achates faithful, Abas young and bold, + Endur'd not less; their ships, with gaping seams, + Admit the deluge of the briny streams. + + Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound + Of raging billows breaking on the ground. + Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign, + He rear'd his awful head above the main, + Serene in majesty; then roll'd his eyes + Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies. + He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd, + By stormy winds and wintry heav'n oppress'd. + Full well the god his sister's envy knew, + And what her aims and what her arts pursue. + He summon'd Eurus and the western blast, + And first an angry glance on both he cast; + Then thus rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from whence + This bold attempt, this rebel insolence? + Is it for you to ravage seas and land, + Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command? + To raise such mountains on the troubled main? + Whom I- but first 't is fit the billows to restrain; + And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign. + Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear- + The realms of ocean and the fields of air + Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me + The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea. + His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd: + There let him reign, the jailer of the wind, + With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, + And boast and bluster in his empty hall." + He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea, + Dispell'd the darkness, and restor'd the day. + Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train + Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main, + Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands: + The god himself with ready trident stands, + And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands; + Then heaves them off the shoals. Where'er he guides + His finny coursers and in triumph rides, + The waves unruffle and the sea subsides. + As, when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd, + Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; + And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly, + And all the rustic arms that fury can supply: + If then some grave and pious man appear, + They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear; + He soothes with sober words their angry mood, + And quenches their innate desire of blood: + So, when the Father of the Flood appears, + And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears, + Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains, + High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins, + Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains. + The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars + To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores. + + Within a long recess there lies a bay: + An island shades it from the rolling sea, + And forms a port secure for ships to ride; + Broke by the jutting land, on either side, + In double streams the briny waters glide. + Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene + Appears above, and groves for ever green: + A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats, + To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats. + Down thro' the crannies of the living walls + The crystal streams descend in murm'ring falls: + No haulsers need to bind the vessels here, + Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear. + Sev'n ships within this happy harbor meet, + The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet. + The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes, + Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish'd repose. + + First, good Achates, with repeated strokes + Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes: + Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither'd leaves + The dying sparkles in their fall receives: + Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise, + And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies. + The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around + The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground: + Some dry their corn, infected with the brine, + Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine. + Aeneas climbs the mountain's airy brow, + And takes a prospect of the seas below, + If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy, + Or see the streamers of Caicus fly. + No vessels were in view; but, on the plain, + Three beamy stags command a lordly train + Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng + Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along. + He stood; and, while secure they fed below, + He took the quiver and the trusty bow + Achates us'd to bear: the leaders first + He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd; + Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain + Sev'n mighty bodies with their blood distain. + For the sev'n ships he made an equal share, + And to the port return'd, triumphant from the war. + The jars of gen'rous wine (Acestes' gift, + When his Trinacrian shores the navy left) + He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd, + In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd. + Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief + With cheerful words allay'd the common grief: + "Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose + To future good our past and present woes. + With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried; + Th' inhuman Cyclops and his den defied. + What greater ills hereafter can you bear? + Resume your courage and dismiss your care, + An hour will come, with pleasure to relate + Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate. + Thro' various hazards and events, we move + To Latium and the realms foredoom'd by Jove. + Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies) + Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise, + Endure the hardships of your present state; + Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate." + + These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart; + His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart. + The jolly crew, unmindful of the past, + The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste. + Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil; + The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil; + Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil. + Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine, + Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with + wine. + Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends + The doubtful fortune of their absent friends: + Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess, + Whether to deem 'em dead, or in distress. + Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate + Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state + Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus. + The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus. + + When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys + Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas, + At length on Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes- + Whom, pond'ring thus on human miseries, + When Venus saw, she with a lowly look, + Not free from tears, her heav'nly sire bespoke: + + "O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand + Disperses thunder on the seas and land, + Disposing all with absolute command; + How could my pious son thy pow'r incense? + Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offense? + Our hope of Italy not only lost, + On various seas by various tempests toss'd, + But shut from ev'ry shore, and barr'd from ev'ry coast. + You promis'd once, a progeny divine + Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line, + In after times should hold the world in awe, + And to the land and ocean give the law. + How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care + When Troy was ruin'd in that cruel war? + Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now, + When Fortune still pursues her former blow, + What can I hope? What worse can still succeed? + What end of labors has your will decreed? + Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts, + Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts, + Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves + And thro' nine channels disembogues his waves. + At length he founded Padua's happy seat, + And gave his Trojans a secure retreat; + There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their name, + And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame. + But we, descended from your sacred line, + Entitled to your heav'n and rites divine, + Are banish'd earth; and, for the wrath of one, + Remov'd from Latium and the promis'd throne. + Are these our scepters? these our due rewards? + And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?" + + To whom the Father of th' immortal race, + Smiling with that serene indulgent face, + With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies, + First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies: + + "Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire + The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire. + Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls; + And, ripe for heav'n, when fate Aeneas calls, + Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me: + No councils have revers'd my firm decree. + And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state, + Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of Fate: + Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far) + In Italy shall wage successful war, + Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field, + And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build, + Till, after ev'ry foe subdued, the sun + Thrice thro' the signs his annual race shall run: + This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then, + Now call'd Iulus, shall begin his reign. + He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear, + Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer, + And, with hard labor, Alba Longa build. + The throne with his succession shall be fill'd + Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen + Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen, + Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes, + Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose. + The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain: + Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain, + Of martial tow'rs the founder shall become, + The people Romans call, the city Rome. + To them no bounds of empire I assign, + Nor term of years to their immortal line. + Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils, + Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils; + At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join, + To cherish and advance the Trojan line. + The subject world shall Rome's dominion own, + And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown. + An age is ripening in revolving fate + When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state, + And sweet revenge her conqu'ring sons shall call, + To crush the people that conspir'd her fall. + Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise, + Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies + Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils, + Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils, + Securely shall repay with rites divine; + And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine. + Then dire debate and impious war shall cease, + And the stern age be soften'd into peace: + Then banish'd Faith shall once again return, + And Vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn; + And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain + The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain. + Janus himself before his fane shall wait, + And keep the dreadful issues of his gate, + With bolts and iron bars: within remains + Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains; + High on a trophy rais'd, of useless arms, + He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms." + + He said, and sent Cyllenius with command + To free the ports, and ope the Punic land + To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate, + The queen might force them from her town and state. + Down from the steep of heav'n Cyllenius flies, + And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies. + Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god, + Performs his message, and displays his rod: + The surly murmurs of the people cease; + And, as the fates requir'd, they give the peace: + The queen herself suspends the rigid laws, + The Trojans pities, and protects their cause. + + Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies: + Care seiz'd his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes. + But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day, + He rose, the coast and country to survey, + Anxious and eager to discover more. + It look'd a wild uncultivated shore; + But, whether humankind, or beasts alone + Possess'd the new-found region, was unknown. + Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides: + Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides; + The bending brow above a safe retreat provides. + Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends, + And true Achates on his steps attends. + Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood, + Before his eyes his goddess mother stood: + A huntress in her habit and her mien; + Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen. + Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind; + Loose was her hair, and wanton'd in the wind; + Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver hung behind. + She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood: + With such array Harpalyce bestrode + Her Thracian courser and outstripp'd the rapid flood. + "Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said, + "One of my sisters, like myself array'd, + Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest stray'd? + A painted quiver at her back she bore; + Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore; + And at full cry pursued the tusky boar." + + Thus Venus: thus her son replied again: + "None of your sisters have we heard or seen, + O virgin! or what other name you bear + Above that style- O more than mortal fair! + Your voice and mien celestial birth betray! + If, as you seem, the sister of the day, + Or one at least of chaste Diana's train, + Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain; + But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss'd, + What earth we tread, and who commands the coast? + Then on your name shall wretched mortals call, + And offer'd victims at your altars fall." + "I dare not," she replied, "assume the name + Of goddess, or celestial honors claim: + For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear, + And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear. + Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are- + A people rude in peace, and rough in war. + The rising city, which from far you see, + Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony. + Phoenician Dido rules the growing state, + Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate. + Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate; + Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known + For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne, + Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart + At once was wounded with an equal dart. + Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid; + Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway'd: + One who condemn'd divine and human laws. + Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause. + The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth, + With steel invades his brother's life by stealth; + Before the sacred altar made him bleed, + And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed. + Some tale, some new pretense, he daily coin'd, + To soothe his sister, and delude her mind. + At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears + Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares, + And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares. + The cruel altars and his fate he tells, + And the dire secret of his house reveals, + Then warns the widow, with her household gods, + To seek a refuge in remote abodes. + Last, to support her in so long a way, + He shows her where his hidden treasure lay. + Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright, + The queen provides companions of her flight: + They meet, and all combine to leave the state, + Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate. + They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find; + Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind. + The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea + With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way. + I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n, + Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n; + At last they landed, where from far your eyes + May view the turrets of new Carthage rise; + There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd, + From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd. + But whence are you? what country claims your birth? + What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?" + + To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes, + And deeply sighing, thus her son replies: + "Could you with patience hear, or I relate, + O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate! + Thro' such a train of woes if I should run, + The day would sooner than the tale be done! + From ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we came- + If you by chance have heard the Trojan name. + On various seas by various tempests toss'd, + At length we landed on your Libyan coast. + The good Aeneas am I call'd- a name, + While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame. + My household gods, companions of my woes, + With pious care I rescued from our foes. + To fruitful Italy my course was bent; + And from the King of Heav'n is my descent. + With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea; + Fate and my mother goddess led my way. + Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet, + From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet. + Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown, + Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown, + In Libyan desarts wander thus alone." + + His tender parent could no longer bear; + But, interposing, sought to soothe his care. + "Whoe'er you are- not unbelov'd by Heav'n, + Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n- + Have courage: to the gods permit the rest, + And to the queen expose your just request. + Now take this earnest of success, for more: + Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore; + The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free; + Or I renounce my skill in augury. + Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move, + And stoop with closing pinions from above; + Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along, + And thro' the clouds pursued the scatt'ring throng: + Now, all united in a goodly team, + They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream. + As they, with joy returning, clap their wings, + And ride the circuit of the skies in rings; + Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend, + Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend. + No more advice is needful; but pursue + The path before you, and the town in view." + + Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear + Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair, + Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground. + And widely spread ambrosial scents around: + In length of train descends her sweeping gown; + And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known. + The prince pursued the parting deity + With words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly? + Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son + In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun; + Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown; + And still to speak in accents not your own." + Against the goddess these complaints he made, + But took the path, and her commands obey'd. + They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds + With mists their persons, and involves in clouds, + That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay, + Or force to tell the causes of their way. + This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime + To visit Paphos and her native clime; + Where garlands, ever green and ever fair, + With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r: + A hundred altars in her temple smoke; + A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke. + + They climb the next ascent, and, looking down, + Now at a nearer distance view the town. + The prince with wonder sees the stately tow'rs, + Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs, + The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part, + The noise and busy concourse of the mart. + The toiling Tyrians on each other call + To ply their labor: some extend the wall; + Some build the citadel; the brawny throng + Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along. + Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground, + Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround. + Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice + Of holy senates, and elect by voice. + Here some design a mole, while others there + Lay deep foundations for a theater; + From marble quarries mighty columns hew, + For ornaments of scenes, and future view. + Such is their toil, and such their busy pains, + As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains, + When winter past, and summer scarce begun, + Invites them forth to labor in the sun; + Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense + Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense; + Some at the gate stand ready to receive + The golden burthen, and their friends relieve; + All with united force, combine to drive + The lazy drones from the laborious hive: + With envy stung, they view each other's deeds; + The fragrant work with diligence proceeds. + "Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!" + Aeneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes, + Their lofty tow'rs; then, entiring at the gate, + Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate) + He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng, + Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along. + + Full in the center of the town there stood, + Thick set with trees, a venerable wood. + The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground, + And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found: + From under earth a courser's head they drew, + Their growth and future fortune to foreshew. + This fated sign their foundress Juno gave, + Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave. + Sidonian Dido here with solemn state + Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate, + Enrich'd with gifts, and with a golden shrine; + But more the goddess made the place divine. + On brazen steps the marble threshold rose, + And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose: + The rafters are with brazen cov'rings crown'd; + The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound. + What first Aeneas this place beheld, + Reviv'd his courage, and his fear expell'd. + For while, expecting there the queen, he rais'd + His wond'ring eyes, and round the temple gaz'd, + Admir'd the fortune of the rising town, + The striving artists, and their arts' renown; + He saw, in order painted on the wall, + Whatever did unhappy Troy befall: + The wars that fame around the world had blown, + All to the life, and ev'ry leader known. + There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies, + And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies. + He stopp'd, and weeping said: "O friend! ev'n here + The monuments of Trojan woes appear! + Our known disasters fill ev'n foreign lands: + See there, where old unhappy Priam stands! + Ev'n the mute walls relate the warrior's fame, + And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim." + He said (his tears a ready passage find), + Devouring what he saw so well design'd, + And with an empty picture fed his mind: + For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield, + And here the trembling Trojans quit the field, + Pursued by fierce Achilles thro' the plain, + On his high chariot driving o'er the slain. + The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew, + By their white sails betray'd to nightly view; + And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword + The sentries slew, nor spar'd their slumb'ring lord, + Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food + Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood. + Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied + Achilles, and unequal combat tried; + Then, where the boy disarm'd, with loosen'd reins, + Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains, + Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg'd around: + The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound, + With tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground. + Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe, + To Pallas' fane in long procession go, + In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe. + They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair, + And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear; + But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r. + Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew + The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew. + Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold, + The lifeless body of his son is sold. + So sad an object, and so well express'd, + Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast, + To see the figure of his lifeless friend, + And his old sire his helpless hand extend. + Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train, + Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain; + And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew, + His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew. + Penthisilea there, with haughty grace, + Leads to the wars an Amazonian race: + In their right hands a pointed dart they wield; + The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield. + Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws, + Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes, + And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose. + + Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes, + Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise, + The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train + And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane. + Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height, + Diana seems; and so she charms the sight, + When in the dance the graceful goddess leads + The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads: + Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien, + She walks majestic, and she looks their queen; + Latona sees her shine above the rest, + And feeds with secret joy her silent breast. + Such Dido was; with such becoming state, + Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great. + Their labor to her future sway she speeds, + And passing with a gracious glance proceeds; + Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine: + In crowds around, the swarming people join. + She takes petitions, and dispenses laws, + Hears and determines ev'ry private cause; + Their tasks in equal portions she divides, + And, where unequal, there by lots decides. + Another way by chance Aeneas bends + His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends, + Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong, + And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng, + Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd, + And widely scatter'd on another coast. + The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands, + And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands; + But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays, + And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys, + Impatient till they told their present state, + And where they left their ships, and what their fate, + And why they came, and what was their request; + For these were sent, commission'd by the rest, + To sue for leave to land their sickly men, + And gain admission to the gracious queen. + Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane; + Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began: + + "O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods + To found an empire in these new abodes, + To build a town, with statutes to restrain + The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign, + We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore, + From sea to sea, thy clemency implore. + Forbid the fires our shipping to deface! + Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace, + And spare the remnant of a pious race! + We come not with design of wasteful prey, + To drive the country, force the swains away: + Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire; + The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire. + A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old; + The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold- + Th' Oenotrians held it once- by common fame + Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. + To that sweet region was our voyage bent, + When winds and ev'ry warring element + Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land, + Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand: + The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar, + Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore. + Those few you see escap'd the Storm, and fear, + Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here. + What men, what monsters, what inhuman race, + What laws, what barb'rous customs of the place, + Shut up a desart shore to drowning men, + And drive us to the cruel seas again? + If our hard fortune no compassion draws, + Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws, + The gods are just, and will revenge our cause. + Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord, + Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword; + Observant of the right, religious of his word. + If yet he lives, and draws this vital air, + Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair; + Nor you, great queen, these offices repent, + Which he will equal, and perhaps augment. + We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts, + Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts. + Permit our ships a shelter on your shores, + Refitted from your woods with planks and oars, + That, if our prince be safe, we may renew + Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue. + But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain + That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main, + And if our young Iulus be no more, + Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore, + That we to good Acestes may return, + And with our friends our common losses mourn." + Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew + With cries and clamors his request renew. + + The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes, + Ponder'd the speech; then briefly thus replies: + "Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate, + And doubts attending an unsettled state, + Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes. + Who has not heard the story of your woes, + The name and fortune of your native place, + The fame and valor of the Phrygian race? + We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense, + Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence. + Whether to Latian shores your course is bent, + Or, driv'n by tempests from your first intent, + You seek the good Acestes' government, + Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd, + And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard: + Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs + To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs, + My wealth, my city, and myself are yours. + And would to Heav'n, the Storm, you felt, would bring + On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king. + My people shall, by my command, explore + The ports and creeks of ev'ry winding shore, + And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest + Of so renown'd and so desir'd a guest." + + Rais'd in his mind the Trojan hero stood, + And long'd to break from out his ambient cloud: + Achates found it, and thus urg'd his way: + "From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay? + What more can you desire, your welcome sure, + Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure? + One only wants; and him we saw in vain + Oppose the Storm, and swallow'd in the main. + Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid; + The rest agrees with what your mother said." + Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way, + The mists flew upward and dissolv'd in day. + + The Trojan chief appear'd in open sight, + August in visage, and serenely bright. + His mother goddess, with her hands divine, + Had form'd his curling locks, and made his temples shine, + And giv'n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace, + And breath'd a youthful vigor on his face; + Like polish'd ivory, beauteous to behold, + Or Parian marble, when enchas'd in gold: + Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke, + And thus with manly modesty he spoke: + + "He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss'd, + And sav'd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast; + Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne, + A prince that owes his life to you alone. + Fair majesty, the refuge and redress + Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress, + You, who your pious offices employ + To save the relics of abandon'd Troy; + Receive the shipwreck'd on your friendly shore, + With hospitable rites relieve the poor; + Associate in your town a wand'ring train, + And strangers in your palace entertain: + What thanks can wretched fugitives return, + Who, scatter'd thro' the world, in exile mourn? + The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin'd; + If acts of mercy touch their heav'nly mind, + And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart. + Conscious of worth, requite its own desert! + In you this age is happy, and this earth, + And parents more than mortal gave you birth. + While rolling rivers into seas shall run, + And round the space of heav'n the radiant sun; + While trees the mountain tops with shades supply, + Your honor, name, and praise shall never die. + Whate'er abode my fortune has assign'd, + Your image shall be present in my mind." + Thus having said, he turn'd with pious haste, + And joyful his expecting friends embrac'd: + With his right hand Ilioneus was grac'd, + Serestus with his left; then to his breast + Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press'd; + And so by turns descended to the rest. + + The Tyrian queen stood fix'd upon his face, + Pleas'd with his motions, ravish'd with his grace; + Admir'd his fortunes, more admir'd the man; + Then recollected stood, and thus began: + "What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow'rs + Have cast you shipwrack'd on our barren shores? + Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame, + Who from celestial seed your lineage claim? + + The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore + To fam'd Anchises on th' Idaean shore? + It calls into my mind, tho' then a child, + When Teucer came, from Salamis exil'd, + And sought my father's aid, to be restor'd: + My father Belus then with fire and sword + Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare, + And, conqu'ring, finish'd the successful war. + From him the Trojan siege I understood, + The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood. + Your foe himself the Dardan valor prais'd, + And his own ancestry from Trojans rais'd. + Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find, + If not a costly welcome, yet a kind: + For I myself, like you, have been distress'd, + Till Heav'n afforded me this place of rest; + Like you, an alien in a land unknown, + I learn to pity woes so like my own." + She said, and to the palace led her guest; + Then offer'd incense, and proclaim'd a feast. + Nor yet less careful for her absent friends, + Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends; + Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs, + With bleating cries, attend their milky dams; + And jars of gen'rous wine and spacious bowls + She gives, to cheer the sailors' drooping souls. + Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls, + And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls: + On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine; + With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine, + And antique vases, all of gold emboss'd + (The gold itself inferior to the cost), + Of curious work, where on the sides were seen + The fights and figures of illustrious men, + From their first founder to the present queen. + + The good Aeneas, paternal care + Iulus' absence could no longer bear, + Dispatch'd Achates to the ships in haste, + To give a glad relation of the past, + And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy, + Snatch'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy: + A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire; + An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire, + From Argos by the fam'd adultress brought, + With golden flow'rs and winding foliage wrought, + Her mother Leda's present, when she came + To ruin Troy and set the world on flame; + The scepter Priam's eldest daughter bore, + Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore + Of double texture, glorious to behold, + One order set with gems, and one with gold. + Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes, + And in his diligence his duty shows. + + But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs, + New counsels tries, and new designs prepares: + That Cupid should assume the shape and face + Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace; + Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead, + And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed: + For much she fear'd the Tyrians, double-tongued, + And knew the town to Juno's care belong'd. + These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke, + And thus alarm'd, to winged Love she spoke: + "My son, my strength, whose mighty pow'r alone + Controls the Thund'rer on his awful throne, + To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies, + And on thy succor and thy faith relies. + Thou know'st, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife, + By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life; + And often hast thou mourn'd with me his pains. + Him Dido now with blandishment detains; + But I suspect the town where Juno reigns. + For this 't is needful to prevent her art, + And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart: + A love so violent, so strong, so sure, + As neither age can change, nor art can cure. + How this may be perform'd, now take my mind: + Ascanius by his father is design'd + To come, with presents laden, from the port, + To gratify the queen, and gain the court. + I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep, + And, ravish'd, in Idalian bow'rs to keep, + Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit + May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat. + Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace + But only for a night's revolving space: + Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face; + That when, amidst the fervor of the feast, + The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast, + And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains, + Thou may'st infuse thy venom in her veins." + The God of Love obeys, and sets aside + His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride; + He walks Iulus in his mother's sight, + And in the sweet resemblance takes delight. + + The goddess then to young Ascanius flies, + And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes: + Lull'd in her lap, amidst a train of Loves, + She gently bears him to her blissful groves, + Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head, + And softly lays him on a flow'ry bed. + Cupid meantime assum'd his form and face, + Foll'wing Achates with a shorter pace, + And brought the gifts. The queen already sate + Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state, + High on a golden bed: her princely guest + Was next her side; in order sate the rest. + Then canisters with bread are heap'd on high; + Th' attendants water for their hands supply, + And, having wash'd, with silken towels dry. + Next fifty handmaids in long order bore + The censers, and with fumes the gods adore: + Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join + To place the dishes, and to serve the wine. + The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast, + Approach, and on the painted couches rest. + All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze, + But view the beauteous boy with more amaze, + His rosy-color'd cheeks, his radiant eyes, + His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's disguise; + Nor pass unprais'd the vest and veil divine, + Which wand'ring foliage and rich flow'rs entwine. + But, far above the rest, the royal dame, + (Already doom'd to love's disastrous flame,) + With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy, + Beholds the presents, and admires the boy. + The guileful god about the hero long, + With children's play, and false embraces, hung; + Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms + With greedy pleasure, and devour'd his charms. + Unhappy Dido little thought what guest, + How dire a god, she drew so near her breast; + But he, not mindless of his mother's pray'r, + Works in the pliant bosom of the fair, + And molds her heart anew, and blots her former care. + The dead is to the living love resign'd; + And all Aeneas enters in her mind. + + Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas'd, + The meat remov'd, and ev'ry guest was pleas'd, + The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown'd, + And thro' the palace cheerful cries resound. + From gilded roofs depending lamps display + Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day. + A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine, + The queen commanded to be crown'd with wine: + The bowl that Belus us'd, and all the Tyrian line. + Then, silence thro' the hall proclaim'd, she spoke: + "O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke, + With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow'r; + Bless to both nations this auspicious hour! + So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line + In lasting concord from this day combine. + Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer, + And gracious Juno, both be present here! + And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address + To Heav'n with mine, to ratify the peace." + The goblet then she took, with nectar crown'd + (Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,) + And rais'd it to her mouth with sober grace; + Then, sipping, offer'd to the next in place. + 'T was Bitias whom she call'd, a thirsty soul; + He took challenge, and embrac'd the bowl, + With pleasure swill'd the gold, nor ceas'd to draw, + Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw. + The goblet goes around: Iopas brought + His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught: + The various labors of the wand'ring moon, + And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun; + Th' original of men and beasts; and whence + The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense, + And fix'd and erring stars dispose their influence; + What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays + The summer nights and shortens winter days. + With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song: + Those peals are echo'd by the Trojan throng. + Th' unhappy queen with talk prolong'd the night, + And drank large draughts of love with vast delight; + Of Priam much enquir'd, of Hector more; + Then ask'd what arms the swarthy Memnon wore, + What troops he landed on the Trojan shore; + The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse, + And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force; + At length, as fate and her ill stars requir'd, + To hear the series of the war desir'd. + "Relate at large, my godlike guest," she said, + "The Grecian stratagems, the town betray'd: + The fatal issue of so long a war, + Your flight, your wand'rings, and your woes, declare; + For, since on ev'ry sea, on ev'ry coast, + Your men have been distress'd, your navy toss'd, + Sev'n times the sun has either tropic view'd, + The winter banish'd, and the spring renew'd." + + + + + BOOK II + + All were attentive to the godlike man, + When from his lofty couch he thus began: + "Great queen, what you command me to relate + Renews the sad remembrance of our fate: + An empire from its old foundations rent, + And ev'ry woe the Trojans underwent; + A peopled city made a desart place; + All that I saw, and part of which I was: + Not ev'n the hardest of our foes could hear, + Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. + And now the latter watch of wasting night, + And setting stars, to kindly rest invite; + But, since you take such int'rest in our woe, + And Troy's disastrous end desire to know, + I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell + What in our last and fatal night befell. + + "By destiny compell'd, and in despair, + The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, + And by Minerva's aid a fabric rear'd, + Which like a steed of monstrous height appear'd: + The sides were plank'd with pine; they feign'd it made + For their return, and this the vow they paid. + Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side + Selected numbers of their soldiers hide: + With inward arms the dire machine they load, + And iron bowels stuff the dark abode. + In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle + (While Fortune did on Priam's empire smile) + Renown'd for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay, + Where ships expos'd to wind and weather lay. + There was their fleet conceal'd. We thought, for Greece + Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release. + The Trojans, coop'd within their walls so long, + Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng, + Like swarming bees, and with delight survey + The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay: + The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they show'd; + Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode; + Here join'd the battles; there the navy rode. + Part on the pile their wond'ring eyes employ: + The pile by Pallas rais'd to ruin Troy. + Thymoetes first ('t is doubtful whether hir'd, + Or so the Trojan destiny requir'd) + Mov'd that the ramparts might be broken down, + To lodge the monster fabric in the town. + But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind, + The fatal present to the flames designed, + Or to the wat'ry deep; at least to bore + The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore. + The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, + With noise say nothing, and in parts divide. + Laocoon, follow'd by a num'rous crowd, + Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud: + 'O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns? + What more than madness has possess'd your brains? + Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone? + And are Ulysses' arts no better known? + This hollow fabric either must inclose, + Within its blind recess, our secret foes; + Or 't is an engine rais'd above the town, + T' o'erlook the walls, and then to batter down. + Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force: + Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.' + Thus having said, against the steed he threw + His forceful spear, which, hissing as flew, + Pierc'd thro' the yielding planks of jointed wood, + And trembling in the hollow belly stood. + The sides, transpierc'd, return a rattling sound, + And groans of Greeks inclos'd come issuing thro' the wound + And, had not Heav'n the fall of Troy design'd, + Or had not men been fated to be blind, + Enough was said and done t'inspire a better mind. + Then had our lances pierc'd the treach'rous wood, + And Ilian tow'rs and Priam's empire stood. + Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring + A captive Greek, in bands, before the king; + Taken to take; who made himself their prey, + T' impose on their belief, and Troy betray; + Fix'd on his aim, and obstinately bent + To die undaunted, or to circumvent. + About the captive, tides of Trojans flow; + All press to see, and some insult the foe. + Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd; + Behold a nation in a man compris'd. + Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm'd and bound; + He star'd, and roll'd his haggard eyes around, + Then said: 'Alas! what earth remains, what sea + Is open to receive unhappy me? + What fate a wretched fugitive attends, + Scorn'd by my foes, abandon'd by my friends?' + He said, and sigh'd, and cast a rueful eye: + Our pity kindles, and our passions die. + We cheer youth to make his own defense, + And freely tell us what he was, and whence: + What news he could impart, we long to know, + And what to credit from a captive foe. + + "His fear at length dismiss'd, he said: 'Whate'er + My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere: + I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim; + Greece is my country, Sinon is my name. + Tho' plung'd by Fortune's pow'r in misery, + 'T is not in Fortune's pow'r to make me lie. + If any chance has hither brought the name + Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame, + Who suffer'd from the malice of the times, + Accus'd and sentenc'd for pretended crimes, + Because these fatal wars he would prevent; + Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament- + Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare + Of other means, committed to his care, + His kinsman and companion in the war. + While Fortune favor'd, while his arms support + The cause, and rul'd the counsels, of the court, + I made some figure there; nor was my name + Obscure, nor I without my share of fame. + But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts, + Had made impression in the people's hearts, + And forg'd a treason in my patron's name + (I speak of things too far divulg'd by fame), + My kinsman fell. Then I, without support, + In private mourn'd his loss, and left the court. + Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate + With silent grief, but loudly blam'd the state, + And curs'd the direful author of my woes. + 'T was told again; and hence my ruin rose. + I threaten'd, if indulgent Heav'n once more + Would land me safely on my native shore, + His death with double vengeance to restore. + This mov'd the murderer's hate; and soon ensued + Th' effects of malice from a man so proud. + Ambiguous rumors thro' the camp he spread, + And sought, by treason, my devoted head; + New crimes invented; left unturn'd no stone, + To make my guilt appear, and hide his own; + Till Calchas was by force and threat'ning wrought- + But why- why dwell I on that anxious thought? + If on my nation just revenge you seek, + And 't is t' appear a foe, t' appear a Greek; + Already you my name and country know; + Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow: + My death will both the kingly brothers please, + And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.' + This fair unfinish'd tale, these broken starts, + Rais'd expectations in our longing hearts: + Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts. + His former trembling once again renew'd, + With acted fear, the villain thus pursued: + + "'Long had the Grecians (tir'd with fruitless care, + And wearied with an unsuccessful war) + Resolv'd to raise the siege, and leave the town; + And, had the gods permitted, they had gone; + But oft the wintry seas and southern winds + Withstood their passage home, and chang'd their minds. + Portents and prodigies their souls amaz'd; + But most, when this stupendous pile was rais'd: + Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen, + And thunders rattled thro' a sky serene. + Dismay'd, and fearful of some dire event, + Eurypylus t' enquire their fate was sent. + He from the gods this dreadful answer brought: + + "O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought, + Your passage with a virgin's blood was bought: + So must your safe return be bought again, + And Grecian blood once more atone the main." + The spreading rumor round the people ran; + All fear'd, and each believ'd himself the man. + Ulysses took th' advantage of their fright; + Call'd Calchas, and produc'd in open sight: + Then bade him name the wretch, ordain'd by fate + The public victim, to redeem the state. + Already some presag'd the dire event, + And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant. + For twice five days the good old seer withstood + Th' intended treason, and was dumb to blood, + Till, tir'd, with endless clamors and pursuit + Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; + But, as it was agreed, pronounc'd that I + Was destin'd by the wrathful gods to die. + All prais'd the sentence, pleas'd the storm should fall + On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all. + The dismal day was come; the priests prepare + Their leaven'd cakes, and fillets for my hair. + I follow'd nature's laws, and must avow + I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow. + Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay, + Secure of safety when they sail'd away. + But now what further hopes for me remain, + To see my friends, or native soil, again; + My tender infants, or my careful sire, + Whom they returning will to death require; + Will perpetrate on them their first design, + And take the forfeit of their heads for mine? + Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move, + If there be faith below, or gods above, + If innocence and truth can claim desert, + Ye Trojans, from an injur'd wretch avert.' + + "False tears true pity move; the king commands + To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands: + Then adds these friendly words: 'Dismiss thy fears; + Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs. + But truly tell, was it for force or guile, + Or some religious end, you rais'd the pile?' + Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts, + This well-invented tale for truth imparts: + 'Ye lamps of heav'n!' he said, and lifted high + His hands now free, 'thou venerable sky! + Inviolable pow'rs, ador'd with dread! + Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head! + Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled! + Be all of you adjur'd; and grant I may, + Without a crime, th' ungrateful Greeks betray, + Reveal the secrets of the guilty state, + And justly punish whom I justly hate! + But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave, + If I, to save myself, your empire save. + The Grecian hopes, and all th' attempts they made, + Were only founded on Minerva's aid. + But from the time when impious Diomede, + And false Ulysses, that inventive head, + Her fatal image from the temple drew, + The sleeping guardians of the castle slew, + Her virgin statue with their bloody hands + Polluted, and profan'd her holy bands; + From thence the tide of fortune left their shore, + And ebb'd much faster than it flow'd before: + Their courage languish'd, as their hopes decay'd; + And Pallas, now averse, refus'd her aid. + Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare + Her alter'd mind and alienated care. + When first her fatal image touch'd the ground, + She sternly cast her glaring eyes around, + That sparkled as they roll'd, and seem'd to threat: + Her heav'nly limbs distill'd a briny sweat. + Thrice from the ground she leap'd, was seen to wield + Her brandish'd lance, and shake her horrid shield. + Then Calchas bade our host for flight + And hope no conquest from the tedious war, + Till first they sail'd for Greece; with pray'rs besought + Her injur'd pow'r, and better omens brought. + And now their navy plows the wat'ry main, + Yet soon expect it on your shores again, + With Pallas pleas'd; as Calchas did ordain. + But first, to reconcile the blue-ey'd maid + For her stol'n statue and her tow'r betray'd, + Warn'd by the seer, to her offended name + We rais'd and dedicate this wondrous frame, + So lofty, lest thro' your forbidden gates + It pass, and intercept our better fates: + For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost; + And Troy may then a new Palladium boast; + For so religion and the gods ordain, + That, if you violate with hands profane + Minerva's gift, your town in flames shall burn, + (Which omen, O ye gods, on Graecia turn!) + But if it climb, with your assisting hands, + The Trojan walls, and in the city stands; + Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn, + And the reverse of fate on us return.' + + "With such deceits he gain'd their easy hearts, + Too prone to credit his perfidious arts. + What Diomede, nor Thetis' greater son, + A thousand ships, nor ten years' siege, had done- + False tears and fawning words the city won. + + "A greater omen, and of worse portent, + Did our unwary minds with fear torment, + Concurring to produce the dire event. + Laocoon, Neptune's priest by lot that year, + With solemn pomp then sacrific'd a steer; + When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied + Two serpents, rank'd abreast, the seas divide, + And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide. + Their flaming crests above the waves they show; + Their bellies seem to burn the seas below; + Their speckled tails advance to steer their course, + And on the sounding shore the flying billows force. + And now the strand, and now the plain they held; + Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill'd; + Their nimble tongues they brandish'd as they came, + And lick'd their hissing jaws, that sputter'd flame. + We fled amaz'd; their destin'd way they take, + And to Laocoon and his children make; + And first around the tender boys they wind, + Then with their sharpen'd fangs their limbs and bodies grind. + The wretched father, running to their aid + With pious haste, but vain, they next invade; + Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll'd; + And twice about his gasping throat they fold. + The priest thus doubly chok'd, their crests divide, + And tow'ring o'er his head in triumph ride. + With both his hands he labors at the knots; + His holy fillets the blue venom blots; + His roaring fills the flitting air around. + Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound, + He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies, + And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies. + Their tasks perform'd, the serpents quit their prey, + And to the tow'r of Pallas make their way: + Couch'd at her feet, they lie protected there + By her large buckler and protended spear. + Amazement seizes all; the gen'ral cry + Proclaims Laocoon justly doom'd to die, + Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood, + And dared to violate the sacred wood. + All vote t' admit the steed, that vows be paid + And incense offer'd to th' offended maid. + A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare; + Some hoisting-levers, some the wheels prepare + And fasten to the horse's feet; the rest + With cables haul along th' unwieldly beast. + Each on his fellow for assistance calls; + At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls, + Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown'd, + And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around. + Thus rais'd aloft, and then descending down, + It enters o'er our heads, and threats the town. + O sacred city, built by hands divine! + O valiant heroes of the Trojan line! + Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound + Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound. + Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate, + We haul along the horse in solemn state; + Then place the dire portent within the tow'r. + Cassandra cried, and curs'd th' unhappy hour; + Foretold our fate; but, by the god's decree, + All heard, and none believ'd the prophecy. + With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste, + In jollity, the day ordain'd to be the last. + Meantime the rapid heav'ns roll'd down the light, + And on the shaded ocean rush'd the night; + Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held, + But easy sleep their weary limbs compell'd. + The Grecians had embark'd their naval pow'rs + From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores, + Safe under covert of the silent night, + And guided by th' imperial galley's light; + When Sinon, favor'd by the partial gods, + Unlock'd the horse, and op'd his dark abodes; + Restor'd to vital air our hidden foes, + Who joyful from their long confinement rose. + Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide, + And dire Ulysses down the cable slide: + Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste; + Nor was the Podalirian hero last, + Nor injur'd Menelaus, nor the fam'd + Epeus, who the fatal engine fram'd. + A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join + T' invade the town, oppress'd with sleep and wine. + Those few they find awake first meet their fate; + Then to their fellows they unbar the gate. + + "'T was in the dead of night, when sleep repairs + Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares, + When Hector's ghost before my sight appears: + A bloody shroud he seem'd, and bath'd in tears; + Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain, + Thessalian coursers dragg'd him o'er the plain. + Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust + Thro' the bor'd holes; his body black with dust; + Unlike that Hector who return'd from toils + Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils, + Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire, + And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire. + His hair and beard stood stiffen'd with his gore; + And all the wounds he for his country bore + Now stream'd afresh, and with new purple ran. + I wept to see the visionary man, + And, while my trance continued, thus began: + 'O light of Trojans, and support of Troy, + Thy father's champion, and thy country's joy! + O, long expected by thy friends! from whence + Art thou so late return'd for our defense? + Do we behold thee, wearied as we are + With length of labors, and with toils of war? + After so many fun'rals of thy own + Art thou restor'd to thy declining town? + But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace + Deforms the manly features of thy face?' + + "To this the specter no reply did frame, + But answer'd to the cause for which he came, + And, groaning from the bottom of his breast, + This warning in these mournful words express'd: + 'O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight, + The flames and horrors of this fatal night. + The foes already have possess'd the wall; + Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall. + Enough is paid to Priam's royal name, + More than enough to duty and to fame. + If by a mortal hand my father's throne + Could be defended, 't was by mine alone. + Now Troy to thee commends her future state, + And gives her gods companions of thy fate: + From their assistance walls expect, + Which, wand'ring long, at last thou shalt erect.' + He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes, + The venerable statues of the gods, + With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir, + The wreaths and relics of th' immortal fire. + + "Now peals of shouts come thund'ring from afar, + Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war: + The noise approaches, tho' our palace stood + Aloof from streets, encompass'd with a wood. + Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th' alarms + Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms. + Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay, + But mount the terrace, thence the town survey, + And hearken what the frightful sounds convey. + Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne, + Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn; + Or deluges, descending on the plains, + Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains + Of lab'ring oxen and the peasant's gains; + Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away + Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish'd prey: + The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far + The wasteful ravage of the wat'ry war. + Then Hector's faith was manifestly clear'd, + And Grecian frauds in open light appear'd. + The palace of Deiphobus ascends + In smoky flames, and catches on his friends. + Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright + With splendor not their own, and shine with Trojan light. + New clamors and new clangors now arise, + The sound of trumpets mix'd with fighting cries. + With frenzy seiz'd, I run to meet th' alarms, + Resolv'd on death, resolv'd to die in arms, + But first to gather friends, with them t' oppose + (If fortune favor'd) and repel the foes; + Spurr'd by my courage, by my country fir'd, + With sense of honor and revenge inspir'd. + + "Pantheus, Apollo's priest, a sacred name, + Had scap'd the Grecian swords, and pass'd the flame: + With relics loaden. to my doors he fled, + And by the hand his tender grandson led. + 'What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run? + Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?' + Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan: + 'Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town! + The fatal day, th' appointed hour, is come, + When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom + Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands. + The fire consumes the town, the foe commands; + And armed hosts, an unexpected force, + Break from the bowels of the fatal horse. + Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about + The flames; and foes for entrance press without, + With thousand others, whom I fear to name, + More than from Argos or Mycenae came. + To sev'ral posts their parties they divide; + Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide: + The bold they kill, th' unwary they surprise; + Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies. + The warders of the gate but scarce maintain + Th' unequal combat, and resist in vain.' + + "I heard; and Heav'n, that well-born souls inspires, + Prompts me thro' lifted swords and rising fires + To run where clashing arms and clamor calls, + And rush undaunted to defend the walls. + Ripheus and Iph'itus by my side engage, + For valor one renown'd, and one for age. + Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew + My motions and my mien, and to my party drew; + With young Coroebus, who by love was led + To win renown and fair Cassandra's bed, + And lately brought his troops to Priam's aid, + Forewarn'd in vain by the prophetic maid. + Whom when I saw resolv'd in arms to fall, + And that one spirit animated all: + 'Brave souls!' said I,- 'but brave, alas! in vain- + Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain. + You see the desp'rate state of our affairs, + And heav'n's protecting pow'rs are deaf to pray'rs. + The passive gods behold the Greeks defile + Their temples, and abandon to the spoil + Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire + To save a sinking town, involv'd in fire. + Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes: + Despair of life the means of living shows.' + So bold a speech incourag'd their desire + Of death, and added fuel to their fire. + + "As hungry wolves, with raging appetite, + Scour thro' the fields, nor fear the stormy night- + Their whelps at home expect the promis'd food, + And long to temper their dry chaps in blood- + So rush'd we forth at once; resolv'd to die, + Resolv'd, in death, the last extremes to try. + We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare + Th' unequal combat in the public square: + Night was our friend; our leader was despair. + What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night? + What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright? + An ancient and imperial city falls: + The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals; + Houses and holy temples float in blood, + And hostile nations make a common flood. + Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn, + The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors mourn. + Ours take new courage from despair and night: + Confus'd the fortune is, confus'd the fight. + All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears; + And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears. + Androgeos fell among us, with his band, + Who thought us Grecians newly come to land. + 'From whence,' said he, 'my friends, this long delay? + You loiter, while the spoils are borne away: + Our ships are laden with the Trojan store; + And you, like truants, come too late ashore.' + He said, but soon corrected his mistake, + Found, by the doubtful answers which we make: + Amaz'd, he would have shunn'd th' unequal fight; + But we, more num'rous, intercept his flight. + As when some peasant, in a bushy brake, + Has with unwary footing press'd a snake; + He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies + His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes; + So from our arms surpris'd Androgeos flies. + In vain; for him and his we compass'd round, + Possess'd with fear, unknowing of the ground, + And of their lives an easy conquest found. + Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil'd. + Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil'd, + Swoln with success, and a daring mind, + This new invention fatally design'd. + 'My friends,' said he, 'since Fortune shows the way, + 'T is fit we should th' auspicious guide obey. + For what has she these Grecian arms bestow'd, + But their destruction, and the Trojans' good? + Then change we shields, and their devices bear: + Let fraud supply the want of force in war. + They find us arms.' This said, himself he dress'd + In dead Androgeos' spoils, his upper vest, + His painted buckler, and his plumy crest. + Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train, + Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain. + Mix'd with the Greeks, we go with ill presage, + Flatter'd with hopes to glut our greedy rage; + Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet, + And strew with Grecian carcasses the street. + Thus while their straggling parties we defeat, + Some to the shore and safer ships retreat; + And some, oppress'd with more ignoble fear, + Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there. + + "But, ah! what use of valor can be made, + When heav'n's propitious pow'rs refuse their aid! + Behold the royal prophetess, the fair + Cassandra, dragg'd by her dishevel'd hair, + Whom not Minerva's shrine, nor sacred bands, + In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands: + On heav'n she cast her eyes, she sigh'd, she cried- + 'T was all she could- her tender arms were tied. + So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear; + But, fir'd with rage, distracted with despair, + Amid the barb'rous ravishers he flew: + Our leader's rash example we pursue. + But storms of stones, from the proud temple's height, + Pour down, and on our batter'd helms alight: + We from our friends receiv'd this fatal blow, + Who thought us Grecians, as we seem'd in show. + They aim at the mistaken crests, from high; + And ours beneath the pond'rous ruin lie. + Then, mov'd with anger and disdain, to see + Their troops dispers'd, the royal virgin free, + The Grecians rally, and their pow'rs unite, + With fury charge us, and renew the fight. + The brother kings with Ajax join their force, + And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse. + + "Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try, + Contending for the kingdom of the sky, + South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne; + The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn: + Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise, + And, mix'd with ooze and sand, pollute the skies. + The troops we squander'd first again appear + From several quarters, and enclose the rear. + They first observe, and to the rest betray, + Our diff'rent speech; our borrow'd arms survey. + Oppress'd with odds, we fall; Coroebus first, + At Pallas' altar, by Peneleus pierc'd. + Then Ripheus follow'd, in th' unequal fight; + Just of his word, observant of the right: + Heav'n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends, + With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends. + Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy miter, nor the bands + Of awful Phoebus, sav'd from impious hands. + Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear, + What I perform'd, and what I suffer'd there; + No sword avoiding in the fatal strife, + Expos'd to death, and prodigal of life; + Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault: + I strove to have deserv'd the death I sought. + But, when I could not fight, and would have died, + Borne off to distance by the growing tide, + Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence, + With Pelias wounded, and without defense. + New clamors from th' invested palace ring: + We run to die, or disengage the king. + So hot th' assault, so high the tumult rose, + While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose + As all the Dardan and Argolic race + Had been contracted in that narrow space; + Or as all Ilium else were void of fear, + And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there. + Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes, + Secure advancing, to the turrets rose: + Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold, + Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold; + Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th' ascent, + While with their right they seize the battlement. + From their demolish'd tow'rs the Trojans throw + Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe; + And heavy beams and rafters from the sides + (Such arms their last necessity provides) + And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high, + The marks of state and ancient royalty. + The guards below, fix'd in the pass, attend + The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. + Renew'd in courage with recover'd breath, + A second time we ran to tempt our death, + To clear the palace from the foe, succeed + The weary living, and revenge the dead. + + "A postern door, yet unobserv'd and free, + Join'd by the length of a blind gallery, + To the king's closet led: a way well known + To Hector's wife, while Priam held the throne, + Thro' which she brought Astyanax, unseen, + To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire's queen. + Thro' this we pass, and mount the tow'r, from whence + With unavailing arms the Trojans make defense. + From this the trembling king had oft descried + The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride. + Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew, + Then, wrenching with our hands, th' assault renew; + And, where the rafters on the columns meet, + We push them headlong with our arms and feet. + The lightning flies not swifter than the fall, + Nor thunder louder than the ruin'd wall: + Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath + Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death. + Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent; + We cease not from above, nor they below relent. + Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat'ning loud, + With glitt'ring arms conspicuous in the crowd. + So shines, renew'd in youth, the crested snake, + Who slept the winter in a thorny brake, + And, casting off his slough when spring returns, + Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns; + Restor'd with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides + Reflect the sun; and rais'd on spires he rides; + High o'er the grass, hissing he rolls along, + And brandishes by fits his forky tongue. + Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon, + His father's charioteer, together run + To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry + Rush on in crowds, and the barr'd passage free. + Ent'ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend; + And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend. + Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows, + And with his ax repeated strokes bestows + On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply, + Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly. + He hews apace; the double bars at length + Yield to his ax and unresisted strength. + A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal'd + Appear, and all the palace is reveal'd; + The halls of audience, and of public state, + And where the lonely queen in secret sate. + Arm'd soldiers now by trembling maids are seen, + With not a door, and scarce a space, between. + The house is fill'd with loud laments and cries, + And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies; + The fearful matrons run from place to place, + And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace. + The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies, + And all his father sparkles in his eyes; + Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain: + The bars are broken, and the guards are slain. + In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill; + Those few defendants whom they find, they kill. + Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood + Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood; + Bears down the dams with unresisted sway, + And sweeps the cattle and the cots away. + These eyes beheld him when he march'd between + The brother kings: I saw th' unhappy queen, + The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood, + To stain his hallow'd altar with his brood. + The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he, + So large a promise, of a progeny), + The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils, + Fell the reward of the proud victor's toils. + Where'er the raging fire had left a space, + The Grecians enter and possess the place. + + "Perhaps you may of Priam's fate enquire. + He, when he saw his regal town on fire, + His ruin'd palace, and his ent'ring foes, + On ev'ry side inevitable woes, + In arms, disus'd, invests his limbs, decay'd, + Like them, with age; a late and useless aid. + His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain; + Loaded, not arm'd, he creeps along with pain, + Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain! + Uncover'd but by heav'n, there stood in view + An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew, + Dodder'd with age, whose boughs encompass round + The household gods, and shade the holy ground. + Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train + Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain. + Driv'n like a flock of doves along the sky, + Their images they hug, and to their altars fly. + The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord, + And hanging by his side a heavy sword, + 'What rage,' she cried, 'has seiz'd my husband's mind? + What arms are these, and to what use design'd? + These times want other aids! Were Hector here, + Ev'n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear. + With us, one common shelter thou shalt find, + Or in one common fate with us be join'd.' + She said, and with a last salute embrac'd + The poor old man, and by the laurel plac'd. + Behold! Polites, one of Priam's sons, + Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs. + Thro' swords and foes, amaz'd and hurt, he flies + Thro' empty courts and open galleries. + Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues, + And often reaches, and his thrusts renews. + The youth, transfix'd, with lamentable cries, + Expires before his wretched parent's eyes: + Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw, + The fear of death gave place to nature's law; + And, shaking more with anger than with age, + 'The gods,' said he, 'requite thy brutal rage! + As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must, + If there be gods in heav'n, and gods be just- + Who tak'st in wrongs an insolent delight; + With a son's death t' infect a father's sight. + Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire + To call thee his- not he, thy vaunted sire, + Thus us'd my wretched age: the gods he fear'd, + The laws of nature and of nations heard. + He cheer'd my sorrows, and, for sums of gold, + The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold; + Pitied the woes a parent underwent, + And sent me back in safety from his tent.' + + "This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw, + Which, flutt'ring, seem'd to loiter as it flew: + Just, and but barely, to the mark it held, + And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield. + + "Then Pyrrhus thus: 'Go thou from me to fate, + And to my father my foul deeds relate. + Now die!' With that he dragg'd the trembling sire, + Slidd'ring thro' clotter'd blood and holy mire, + (The mingled paste his murder'd son had made,) + Haul'd from beneath the violated shade, + And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid. + His right hand held his bloody falchion bare, + His left he twisted in his hoary hair; + Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found: + The lukewarm blood came rushing thro' the wound, + And sanguine streams distain'd the sacred ground. + Thus Priam fell, and shar'd one common fate + With Troy in ashes, and his ruin'd state: + He, who the scepter of all Asia sway'd, + Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey'd. + On the bleak shore now lies th' abandon'd king, + A headless carcass, and a nameless thing. + + "Then, not before, I felt my cruddled blood + Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood: + My father's image fill'd my pious mind, + Lest equal years might equal fortune find. + Again I thought on my forsaken wife, + And trembled for my son's abandon'd life. + I look'd about, but found myself alone, + Deserted at my need! My friends were gone. + Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress'd, + Leap'd headlong from the heights; the flames consum'd the rest. + Thus, wand'ring in my way, without a guide, + The graceless Helen in the porch I spied + Of Vesta's temple; there she lurk'd alone; + Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown: + But, by the flames that cast their blaze around, + That common bane of Greece and Troy I found. + For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword; + More dreads the vengeance of her injur'd lord; + Ev'n by those gods who refug'd her abhorr'd. + Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard, + Resolv'd to give her guilt the due reward: + 'Shall she triumphant sail before the wind, + And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind? + Shall she her kingdom and her friends review, + In state attended with a captive crew, + While unreveng'd the good old Priam falls, + And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls? + For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood + Were swell'd with bodies, and were drunk with blood? + 'T is true, a soldier can small honor gain, + And boast no conquest, from a woman slain: + Yet shall the fact not pass without applause, + Of vengeance taken in so just a cause; + The punish'd crime shall set my soul at ease, + And murm'ring manes of my friends appease.' + Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light + Spread o'er the place; and, shining heav'nly bright, + My mother stood reveal'd before my sight + Never so radiant did her eyes appear; + Not her own star confess'd a light so clear: + Great in her charms, as when on gods above + She looks, and breathes herself into their love. + She held my hand, the destin'd blow to break; + Then from her rosy lips began to speak: + 'My son, from whence this madness, this neglect + Of my commands, and those whom I protect? + Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind + Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind. + Look if your helpless father yet survive, + Or if Ascanius or Creusa live. + Around your house the greedy Grecians err; + And these had perish'd in the nightly war, + But for my presence and protecting care. + Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault; + But by the gods was this destruction brought. + Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve + The mists and films that mortal eyes involve, + Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see + The shape of each avenging deity. + Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil, + Nor fear obedience to your mother's will. + Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, + Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise- + Amid that smother Neptune holds his place, + Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, + And heaves the building from the solid base. + Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands + Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands, + Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands. + See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud, + Bestrides the tow'r, refulgent thro' the cloud: + See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies, + And arms against the town the partial deities. + Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labor end: + Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend: + Haste; and a mother's care your passage shall befriend.' + She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight, + Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night. + I look'd, I listen'd; dreadful sounds I hear; + And the dire forms of hostile gods appear. + Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent), + And Ilium from its old foundations rent; + Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds, + And stood the sturdy strokes of lab'ring hinds. + About the roots the cruel ax resounds; + The stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated wounds: + The war is felt on high; the nodding crown + Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honors down. + To their united force it yields, tho' late, + And mourns with mortal groans th' approaching fate: + The roots no more their upper load sustain; + But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro' the plain. + + "Descending thence, I scape thro' foes and fire: + Before the goddess, foes and flames retire. + Arriv'd at home, he, for whose only sake, + Or most for his, such toils I undertake, + The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight, + I purpos'd to secure on Ida's height, + Refus'd the journey, resolute to die + And add his fun'rals to the fate of Troy, + Rather than exile and old age sustain. + 'Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev'ry vein. + Had Heav'n decreed that I should life enjoy, + Heav'n had decreed to save unhappy Troy. + 'T is, sure, enough, if not too much, for one, + Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown. + Make haste to save the poor remaining crew, + And give this useless corpse a long adieu. + These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath; + At least the pitying foes will aid my death, + To take my spoils, and leave my body bare: + As for my sepulcher, let Heav'n take care. + 'T is long since I, for my celestial wife + Loath'd by the gods, have dragg'd a ling'ring life; + Since ev'ry hour and moment I expire, + Blasted from heav'n by Jove's avenging fire.' + This oft repeated, he stood fix'd to die: + Myself, my wife, my son, my family, + Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry- + 'What, will he still persist, on death resolve, + And in his ruin all his house involve!' + He still persists his reasons to maintain; + Our pray'rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain. + + "Urg'd by despair, again I go to try + The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die: + 'What hope remains, but what my death must give? + Can I, without so dear a father, live? + You term it prudence, what I baseness call: + Could such a word from such a parent fall? + If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain, + That nothing should of ruin'd Troy remain, + And you conspire with Fortune to be slain, + The way to death is wide, th' approaches near: + For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear, + Reeking with Priam's blood- the wretch who slew + The son (inhuman) in the father's view, + And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew. + O goddess mother, give me back to Fate; + Your gift was undesir'd, and came too late! + Did you, for this, unhappy me convey + Thro' foes and fires, to see my house a prey? + Shall I my father, wife, and son behold, + Welt'ring in blood, each other's arms infold? + Haste! gird my sword, tho' spent and overcome: + 'T is the last summons to receive our doom. + I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call! + Not unreveng'd the foe shall see my fall. + Restore me to the yet unfinish'd fight: + My death is wanting to conclude the night.' + Arm'd once again, my glitt'ring sword I wield, + While th' other hand sustains my weighty shield, + And forth I rush to seek th' abandon'd field. + I went; but sad Creusa stopp'd my way, + And cross the threshold in my passage lay, + Embrac'd my knees, and, when I would have gone, + Shew'd me my feeble sire and tender son: + 'If death be your design, at least,' said she, + 'Take us along to share your destiny. + If any farther hopes in arms remain, + This place, these pledges of your love, maintain. + To whom do you expose your father's life, + Your son's, and mine, your now forgotten wife!' + While thus she fills the house with clam'rous cries, + Our hearing is diverted by our eyes: + For, while I held my son, in the short space + Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace; + Strange to relate, from young Iulus' head + A lambent flame arose, which gently spread + Around his brows, and on his temples fed. + Amaz'd, with running water we prepare + To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair; + But old Anchises, vers'd in omens, rear'd + His hands to heav'n, and this request preferr'd: + 'If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend + Thy will; if piety can pray'rs commend, + Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas'd to send.' + Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear + A peal of rattling thunder roll in air: + There shot a streaming lamp along the sky, + Which on the winged lightning seem'd to fly; + From o'er the roof the blaze began to move, + And, trailing, vanish'd in th' Idaean grove. + It swept a path in heav'n, and shone a guide, + Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died. + + "The good old man with suppliant hands implor'd + The gods' protection, and their star ador'd. + 'Now, now,' said he, 'my son, no more delay! + I yield, I follow where Heav'n shews the way. + Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place, + And guard this relic of the Trojan race, + This tender child! These omens are your own, + And you can yet restore the ruin'd town. + At least accomplish what your signs foreshow: + I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go.' + + "He said. The crackling flames appear on high. + And driving sparkles dance along the sky. + With Vulcan's rage the rising winds conspire, + And near our palace roll the flood of fire. + 'Haste, my dear father, ('t is no time to wait,) + And load my shoulders with a willing freight. + Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care; + One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share. + My hand shall lead our little son; and you, + My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue. + Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands: + Without the walls a ruin'd temple stands, + To Ceres hallow'd once; a cypress nigh + Shoots up her venerable head on high, + By long religion kept; there bend your feet, + And in divided parties let us meet. + Our country gods, the relics, and the bands, + Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands: + In me 't is impious holy things to bear, + Red as I am with slaughter, new from war, + Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt + Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.' + Thus, ord'ring all that prudence could provide, + I clothe my shoulders with a lion's hide + And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back, + The welcome load of my dear father take; + While on my better hand Ascanius hung, + And with unequal paces tripp'd along. + Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray + Thro' ev'ry dark and ev'ry devious way. + I, who so bold and dauntless, just before, + The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore, + At ev'ry shadow now am seiz'd with fear, + Not for myself, but for the charge I bear; + Till, near the ruin'd gate arriv'd at last, + Secure, and deeming all the danger past, + A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear. + My father, looking thro' the shades, with fear, + Cried out: 'Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh; + Their swords and shining armor I descry.' + Some hostile god, for some unknown offense, + Had sure bereft my mind of better sense; + For, while thro' winding ways I took my flight, + And sought the shelter of the gloomy night, + Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell + If by her fatal destiny she fell, + Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright; + But she was lost for ever to my sight. + I knew not, or reflected, till I meet + My friends, at Ceres' now deserted seat. + We met: not one was wanting; only she + Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me. + + "What mad expressions did my tongue refuse! + Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse! + This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more + Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before. + Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, + Abandoning my now forgotten care, + Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, + My sire, my son, my country gods I left. + In shining armor once again I sheathe + My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death. + Then headlong to the burning walls I run, + And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun. + I tread my former tracks; thro' night explore + Each passage, ev'ry street I cross'd before. + All things were full of horror and affright, + And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night. + Then to my father's house I make repair, + With some small glimpse of hope to find her there. + Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met; + The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset. + Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire, + Thro' air transported, to the roofs aspire. + From thence to Priam's palace I resort, + And search the citadel and desart court. + Then, unobserv'd, I pass by Juno's church: + A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch; + There Phoenix and Ulysses watch prey, + And thither all the wealth of Troy convey: + The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought, + And golden bowls from burning altars caught, + The tables of the gods, the purple vests, + The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests. + A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands, + And captive matrons, in long order stands. + Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim, + Thro' all the silent street, Creusa's name: + Creusa still I call; at length she hears, + And sudden thro' the shades of night appears- + Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife, + But a pale specter, larger than the life. + Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear, + I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair. + Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief + 'Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief. + Desist, my much-lov'd lord,'t indulge your pain; + You bear no more than what the gods ordain. + My fates permit me not from hence to fly; + Nor he, the great controller of the sky. + Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree; + On land hard labors, and a length of sea. + Then, after many painful years are past, + On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast, + Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds + The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds. + There end your toils; and there your fates provide + A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: + There fortune shall the Trojan line restore, + And you for lost Creusa weep no more. + Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame, + Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame; + Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace + My goddess mother, or my royal race. + And now, farewell! The parent of the gods + Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes: + I trust our common issue to your care.' + She said, and gliding pass'd unseen in air. + I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue; + And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, + And, thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung. + Light as an empty dream at break of day, + Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away. + + "Thus having pass'd the night in fruitless pain, + I to my longing friends return again, + Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold, + Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old; + A wretched exil'd crew together brought, + With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught, + Resolv'd, and willing, under my command, + To run all hazards both of sea and land. + The Morn began, from Ida, to display + Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day: + Before the gates the Grecians took their post, + And all pretense of late relief was lost. + I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire, + And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire." + + + + + BOOK III + + "When Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state + And Priam's throne, by too severe a fate; + When ruin'd Troy became the Grecians' prey, + And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay; + Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat, + To seek in foreign lands a happier seat. + Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot, + The timber of the sacred groves we cut, + And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find + What place the gods for our repose assign'd. + Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring + Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing, + When old Anchises summon'd all to sea: + The crew my father and the Fates obey. + With sighs and tears I leave my native shore, + And empty fields, where Ilium stood before. + My sire, my son, our less and greater gods, + All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods. + + "Against our coast appears a spacious land, + Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command, + (Thracia the name- the people bold in war; + Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,) + A hospitable realm while Fate was kind, + With Troy in friendship and religion join'd. + I land; with luckless omens then adore + Their gods, and draw a line along the shore; + I lay the deep foundations of a wall, + And Aenos, nam'd from me, the city call. + To Dionaean Venus vows are paid, + And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid; + A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid. + Not far, a rising hillock stood in view; + Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew. + There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes, + And shade our altar with their leafy greens, + I pull'd a plant- with horror I relate + A prodigy so strange and full of fate. + The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound + Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground. + Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood; + Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal'd my blood. + Mann'd once again, another plant I try: + That other gush'd with the same sanguine dye. + Then, fearing guilt for some offense unknown, + With pray'rs and vows the Dryads I atone, + With all the sisters of the woods, and most + The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast, + That they, or he, these omens would avert, + Release our fears, and better signs impart. + Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length + To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength: + I bent my knees against the ground; once more + The violated myrtle ran with gore. + Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb + Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb, + A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew'd + My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued: + 'Why dost thou thus my buried body rend? + O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend! + Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood: + The tears distil not from the wounded wood; + But ev'ry drop this living tree contains + Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins. + O fly from this unhospitable shore, + Warn'd by my fate; for I am Polydore! + Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued, + Again shoot upward, by my blood renew'd.' + + "My falt'ring tongue and shiv'ring limbs declare + My horror, and in bristles rose my hair. + When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent, + Old Priam, fearful of the war's event, + This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent: + Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far + From noise and tumults, and destructive war, + Committed to the faithless tyrant's care; + Who, when he saw the pow'r of Troy decline, + Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join; + Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth, + And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth. + O sacred hunger of pernicious gold! + What bands of faith can impious lucre hold? + Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears, + I call my father and the Trojan peers; + Relate the prodigies of Heav'n, require + What he commands, and their advice desire. + All vote to leave that execrable shore, + Polluted with the blood of Polydore; + But, ere we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare, + Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear. + In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round, + With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd, + With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound. + Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour, + And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore. + + "Now, when the raging storms no longer reign, + But southern gales invite us to the main, + We launch our vessels, with a prosp'rous wind, + And leave the cities and the shores behind. + + "An island in th' Aegaean main appears; + Neptune and wat'ry Doris claim it theirs. + It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the sides + To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides. + Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore, + With needful ease our weary limbs restore, + And the Sun's temple and his town adore. + + "Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd, + His hoary locks with purple fillets bound, + Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend, + Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend; + Invites him to his palace; and, in sign + Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join. + Then to the temple of the god I went, + And thus, before the shrine, my vows present: + 'Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place + To the sad relics of the Trojan race; + A seat secure, a region of their own, + A lasting empire, and a happier town. + Where shall we fix? where shall our labors end? + Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend? + Let not my pray'rs a doubtful answer find; + But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.' + Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground, + The laurels, and the lofty hills around; + And from the tripos rush'd a bellowing sound. + Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god, + Who gave this answer from his dark abode: + 'Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth + From which your ancestors derive their birth. + The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race + In her old bosom shall again embrace. + Thro' the wide world th' Aeneian house shall reign, + And children's children shall the crown sustain.' + Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose: + A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose. + + "All are concern'd to know what place the god + Assign'd, and where determin'd our abode. + My father, long revolving in his mind + The race and lineage of the Trojan kind, + Thus answer'd their demands: 'Ye princes, hear + Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear. + The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame, + Sacred of old to Jove's imperial name, + In the mid ocean lies, with large command, + And on its plains a hundred cities stand. + Another Ida rises there, and we + From thence derive our Trojan ancestry. + From thence, as 't is divulg'd by certain fame, + To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came; + There fix'd, and there the seat of empire chose, + Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose. + In humble vales they built their soft abodes, + Till Cybele, the mother of the gods, + With tinkling cymbals charm'd th' Idaean woods, + She secret rites and ceremonies taught, + And to the yoke the savage lions brought. + Let us the land which Heav'n appoints, explore; + Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore. + If Jove assists the passage of our fleet, + The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.' + Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid + On smoking altars, to the gods he paid: + A bull, to Neptune an oblation due, + Another bull to bright Apollo slew; + A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please, + And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas. + Ere this, a flying rumor had been spread + That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled, + Expell'd and exil'd; that the coast was free + From foreign or domestic enemy. + + "We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea; + By Naxos, fam'd for vintage, make our way; + Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight + Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white. + We pass the scatter'd isles of Cyclades, + That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the seas. + The shouts of sailors double near the shores; + They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars. + 'All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!' they cry, + And swiftly thro' the foamy billows fly. + Full on the promis'd land at length we bore, + With joy descending on the Cretan shore. + With eager haste a rising town I frame, + Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name: + The name itself was grateful; I exhort + To found their houses, and erect a fort. + Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand; + The youth begin to till the labor'd land; + And I myself new marriages promote, + Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot; + When rising vapors choke the wholesome air, + And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year; + The trees devouring caterpillars burn; + Parch'd was the grass, and blighted was the corn: + Nor 'scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high, + With pestilential heat infects the sky: + My men- some fall, the rest in fevers fry. + Again my father bids me seek the shore + Of sacred Delos, and the god implore, + To learn what end of woes we might expect, + And to what clime our weary course direct. + + "'T was night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares, + The common gift of balmy slumber shares: + The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd), + Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd, + Before me stood, majestically bright, + Full in the beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light. + Then thus they spoke, and eas'd my troubled mind: + 'What from the Delian god thou go'st to find, + He tells thee here, and sends us to relate. + Those pow'rs are we, companions of thy fate, + Who from the burning town by thee were brought, + Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought. + Thro' seas and lands as we thy steps attend, + So shall our care thy glorious race befriend. + An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain, + A town that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign. + Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build; + Nor let thy weary mind to labors yield: + But change thy seat; for not the Delian god, + Nor we, have giv'n thee Crete for our abode. + A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old, + (The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold- + Th' Oenotrians held it once,) by later fame + Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. + lasius there and Dardanus were born; + From thence we came, and thither must return. + Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet. + Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.' + + "Astonish'd at their voices and their sight, + (Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night; + I saw, I knew their faces, and descried, + In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;) + I started from my couch; a clammy sweat + On all my limbs and shiv'ring body sate. + To heav'n I lift my hands with pious haste, + And sacred incense in the flames I cast. + Thus to the gods their perfect honors done, + More cheerful, to my good old sire I run, + And tell the pleasing news. In little space + He found his error of the double race; + Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from Crete; + No more deluded by the doubtful seat: + Then said: 'O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate! + Such things as these Cassandra did relate. + This day revives within my mind what she + Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy, + And Latian lands; but who could then have thought + That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought, + Or who believ'd what mad Cassandra taught? + Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.' + + "He said; and we with glad consent obey, + Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind, + We spread our sails before the willing wind. + Now from the sight of land our galleys move, + With only seas around and skies above; + When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain, + And night with sable clouds involves the main; + The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise; + The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways; + The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes, + And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies. + Cast from our course, we wander in the dark. + No stars to guide, no point of land to mark. + Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found + Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around. + Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays, + Without distinction, and three sunless days; + The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds, + We view a rising land, like distant clouds; + The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight, + And curling smoke ascending from their height. + The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply; + From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly. + At length I land upon the Strophades, + Safe from the danger of the stormy seas. + Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main, + The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign, + Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair + To their old homes, and leave their costly fare. + Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent + From hell's abyss, for human punishment: + With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene, + Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; + With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean. + + "We landed at the port, and soon beheld + Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field, + And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd. + With weapons we the welcome prey invade, + Then call the gods for partners of our feast, + And Jove himself, the chief invited guest. + We spread the tables on the greensward ground; + We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round; + When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry, + And clatt'ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly; + They snatch the meat, defiling all they find, + And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind. + Close by a hollow rock, again we sit, + New dress the dinner, and the beds refit, + Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade, + Where tufted trees a native arbor made. + Again the holy fires on altars burn; + And once again the rav'nous birds return, + Or from the dark recesses where they lie, + Or from another quarter of the sky; + With filthy claws their odious meal repeat, + And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat. + I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare, + And with the hellish nation wage the war. + They, as commanded, for the fight provide, + And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide; + Then, when along the crooked shore we hear + Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear, + Misenus sounds a charge: we take th' alarm, + And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm. + In this new kind of combat all employ + Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy. + In vain- the fated skin is proof to wounds; + And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds. + At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey, + And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display. + Yet one remain'd- the messenger of Fate: + High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate, + And thus her dismal errand did relate: + 'What! not contented with our oxen slain, + Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain, + And drive the Harpies from their native reign? + Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind + What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd, + And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate- + You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate: + Th' Italian shores are granted you to find, + And a safe passage to the port assign'd. + But know, that ere your promis'd walls you build, + My curses shall severely be fulfill'd. + Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed, + Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.' + She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew. + Our courage fails us, and our fears renew. + Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall, + And on th' offended Harpies humbly call, + And whether gods or birds obscene they were, + Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer. + But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice, + And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes, + Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said he, + 'These omens; render vain this prophecy, + And from th' impending curse a pious people free!' + + "Thus having said, he bids us put to sea; + We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey, + And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat'ry way. + Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear; + And next by rocky Neritos we steer: + We fly from Ithaca's detested shore, + And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore. + At length Leucate's cloudy top appears, + And the Sun's temple, which the sailor fears. + Resolv'd to breathe a while from labor past, + Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast, + And joyful to the little city haste. + Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay + To Jove, the guide and patron of our way. + The customs of our country we pursue, + And Trojan games on Actian shores renew. + Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil, + And exercise the wrastlers' noble toil; + Pleas'd to have sail'd so long before the wind, + And left so many Grecian towns behind. + The sun had now fulfill'd his annual course, + And Boreas on the seas display'd his force: + I fix'd upon the temple's lofty door + The brazen shield which vanquish'd Abas bore; + The verse beneath my name and action speaks: + 'These arms Aeneas took from conqu'ring Greeks.' + Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply + Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly. + The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost, + And skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast. + + "Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend, + And, landed, to Buthrotus' heights ascend. + Here wondrous things were loudly blaz'd fame: + How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name, + And reign'd in Greece; that Priam's captive son + Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne; + And fair Andromache, restor'd by fate, + Once more was happy in a Trojan mate. + I leave my galleys riding in the port, + And long to see the new Dardanian court. + By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate, + Then solemniz'd her former husband's fate. + Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she crown'd, + And sacred priests in order stand around, + And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound. + The grove itself resembles Ida's wood; + And Simois seem'd the well-dissembled flood. + But when at nearer distance she beheld + My shining armor and my Trojan shield, + Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat + Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat: + She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring strength, + Thus, with a falt'ring tongue, she speaks at length: + + "'Are you alive, O goddess-born?' she said, + 'Or if a ghost, then where is Hector's shade?' + At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry. + With broken words I made this brief reply: + 'All of me that remains appears in sight; + I live, if living be to loathe the light. + No phantom; but I drag a wretched life, + My fate resembling that of Hector's wife. + What have you suffer'd since you lost your lord? + By what strange blessing are you now restor'd? + Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled, + And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?' + With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone, + After a modest pause she thus begun: + + "'O only happy maid of Priam's race, + Whom death deliver'd from the foes' embrace! + Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die, + Not forc'd, like us, to hard captivity, + Or in a haughty master's arms to lie. + In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne, + Endur'd the victor's lust, sustain'd the scorn: + Thus I submitted to the lawless pride + Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride. + Cloy'd with possession, he forsook my bed, + And Helen's lovely daughter sought to wed; + Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd, + And his two slaves in equal marriage join'd; + Till young Orestes, pierc'd with deep despair, + And longing to redeem the promis'd fair, + Before Apollo's altar slew the ravisher. + By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we regain'd: + At least one half with Helenus remain'd. + Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls, + And names from Pergamus his rising walls. + But you, what fates have landed on our coast? + What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss'd? + Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy, + Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy? + O tell me how his mother's loss he bears, + What hopes are promis'd from his blooming years, + How much of Hector in his face appears?' + She spoke; and mix'd her speech with mournful cries, + And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes. + + "At length her lord descends upon the plain, + In pomp, attended with a num'rous train; + Receives his friends, and to the city leads, + And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds. + Proceeding on, another Troy I see, + Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome. + A riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran, + And I embrace the Scaean gate again. + My friends in porticoes were entertain'd, + And feasts and pleasures thro' the city reign'd. + The tables fill'd the spacious hall around, + And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown'd. + Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales, + Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails. + Then to the royal seer I thus began: + 'O thou, who know'st, beyond the reach of man, + The laws of heav'n, and what the stars decree; + Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy, + From his own tripod, and his holy tree; + Skill'd in the wing'd inhabitants of air, + What auspices their notes and flights declare: + O say- for all religious rites portend + A happy voyage, and a prosp'rous end; + And ev'ry power and omen of the sky + Direct my course for destin'd Italy; + But only dire Celaeno, from the gods, + A dismal famine fatally forebodes- + O say what dangers I am first to shun, + What toils vanquish, and what course to run.' + + "The prophet first with sacrifice adores + The greater gods; their pardon then implores; + Unbinds the fillet from his holy head; + To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led, + Full of religious doubts and awful dread. + Then, with his god possess'd, before the shrine, + These words proceeded from his mouth divine: + 'O goddess-born, (for Heav'n's appointed will, + With greater auspices of good than ill, + Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs; + Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,) + Of many things some few I shall explain, + Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main, + And how at length the promis'd shore to gain. + The rest the fates from Helenus conceal, + And Juno's angry pow'r forbids to tell. + First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh, + Will far from your deluded wishes fly; + Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy: + For you must cruise along Sicilian shores, + And stem the currents with your struggling oars; + Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer; + And, after this, to Circe's island veer; + And, last, before your new foundations rise, + Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies. + Now mark the signs of future ease and rest, + And bear them safely treasur'd in thy breast. + When, in the shady shelter of a wood, + And near the margin of a gentle flood, + Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground, + With thirty sucking young encompass'd round; + The dam and offspring white as falling snow- + These on thy city shall their name bestow, + And there shall end thy labors and thy woe. + Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind, + For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find. + Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent, + Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent: + Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd; + The salvage Locrians here the shores infest; + There fierce Idomeneus his city builds, + And guards with arms the Salentinian fields; + And on the mountain's brow Petilia stands, + Which Philoctetes with his troops commands. + Ev'n when thy fleet is landed on the shore, + And priests with holy vows the gods adore, + Then with a purple veil involve your eyes, + Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice. + These rites and customs to the rest commend, + That to your pious race they may descend. + + "'When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits + For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits + Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way, + Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea: + Veer starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore + And fair Sicilia's coast were one, before + An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring tides + The passage broke that land from land divides; + And where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides. + Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand, + Now rising cities in long order stand, + And fruitful fields: so much can time invade + The mold'ring work that beauteous Nature made. + Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides: + Charybdis roaring on the left presides, + And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides; + Then spouts them from below: with fury driv'n, + The waves mount up and wash the face of heav'n. + But Scylla from her den, with open jaws, + The sinking vessel in her eddy draws, + Then dashes on the rocks. A human face, + And virgin bosom, hides her tail's disgrace: + Her parts obscene below the waves descend, + With dogs inclos'd, and in a dolphin end. + 'T is safer, then, to bear aloof to sea, + And coast Pachynus, tho' with more delay, + Than once to view misshapen Scylla near, + And the loud yell of wat'ry wolves to hear. + + "'Besides, if faith to Helenus be due, + And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true, + Do not this precept of your friend forget, + Which therefore more than once I must repeat: + Above the rest, great Juno's name adore; + Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore. + Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd, + And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind. + Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free, + And you shall safe descend on Italy. + Arriv'd at Cumae, when you view the flood + Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood, + The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find, + Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin'd. + She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits, + The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leafs commits. + What she commits to leafs, in order laid, + Before the cavern's entrance are display'd: + Unmov'd they lie; but, if a blast of wind + Without, or vapors issue from behind, + The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air, + And she resumes no more her museful care, + Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse, + Nor sets in order what the winds disperse. + Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid + The madness of the visionary maid, + And with loud curses leave the mystic shade. + + "'Think it not loss of time a while to stay, + Tho' thy companions chide thy long delay; + Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho' pleasing gales + Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails: + But beg the sacred priestess to relate + With willing words, and not to write thy fate. + The fierce Italian people she will show, + And all thy wars, and all thy future woe, + And what thou may'st avoid, and what must undergo. + She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind, + And teach thee how the happy shores to find. + This is what Heav'n allows me to relate: + Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate, + And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.' + + "This when the priest with friendly voice declar'd, + He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd: + Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want + With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant; + Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board, + And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor'd. + A trusty coat of mail to me he sent, + Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament; + The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest, + That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest. + Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends; + And large recruits he to my navy sends: + Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores; + Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars. + Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails, + Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales. + + "The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last, + With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd: + 'Old happy man, the care of gods above, + Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love, + And twice preserv'd thy life, when Troy was lost, + Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast: + There land; but take a larger compass round, + For that before is all forbidden ground. + The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you, + At farther distance lies, conceal'd from view. + Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes, + Blest in a son, and favor'd by the gods: + For I with useless words prolong your stay, + When southern gales have summon'd you away.' + + "Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd, + Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord. + A noble present to my son she brought, + A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought, + A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside + Of precious texture, and of Asian pride. + 'Accept,' she said, 'these monuments of love, + Which in my youth with happier hands I wove: + Regard these trifles for the giver's sake; + 'T is the last present Hector's wife can make. + Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind; + In thee his features and his form I find: + His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame; + Such were his motions; such was all his frame; + And ah! had Heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the same.' + + "With tears I took my last adieu, and said: + 'Your fortune, happy pair, already made, + Leaves you no farther wish. My diff'rent state, + Avoiding one, incurs another fate. + To you a quiet seat the gods allow: + You have no shores to search, no seas to plow, + Nor fields of flying Italy to chase: + (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!) + You see another Simois, and enjoy + The labor of your hands, another Troy, + With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs, + And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs. + If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore, + Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy shore; + If ever I ascend the Latian throne, + And build a city I may call my own; + As both of us our birth from Troy derive, + So let our kindred lines in concord live, + And both in acts of equal friendship strive. + Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same: + The double Troy shall differ but in name; + That what we now begin may never end, + But long to late posterity descend.' + + "Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore; + The shortest passage to th' Italian shore. + Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, + And hills were hid in dusky shades of night: + We land, and, on the bosom Of the ground, + A safe retreat and a bare lodging found. + Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep + Their watches, and the rest securely sleep. + The night, proceeding on with silent pace, + Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face + Her steepy rise and her declining race. + Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy + The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky; + And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try; + Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course, + The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat'ry force; + And both the Bears is careful to behold, + And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold. + Then, when he saw no threat'ning tempest nigh, + But a sure promise of a settled sky, + He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep, + Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep. + + "And now the rising morn with rosy light + Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight; + When we from far, like bluish mists, descry + The hills, and then the plains, of Italy. + Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound; + Then, 'Italy!' the cheerful crew rebound. + My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine, + And, off'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine: + 'Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas, + And you who raging winds and waves appease, + Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind, + And smooth our passage to the port assign'd!' + The gentle gales their flagging force renew, + And now the happy harbor is in view. + Minerva's temple then salutes our sight, + Plac'd, as a landmark, on the mountain's height. + We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore; + The curling waters round the galleys roar. + The land lies open to the raging east, + Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress'd, + Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain, + And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain. + The port lies hid within; on either side + Two tow'ring rocks the narrow mouth divide. + The temple, which aloft we view'd before, + To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore. + Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld + Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry field. + 'War, war is threaten'd from this foreign ground,' + My father cried, 'where warlike steeds are found. + Yet, since reclaim'd to chariots they submit, + And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit, + Peace may succeed to war.' Our way we bend + To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend; + There prostrate to the fierce virago pray, + Whose temple was the landmark of our way. + Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head, + And all commands of Helenus obey'd, + And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid. + These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails, and stand + To sea, forsaking that suspected land. + + "From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view, + For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true. + Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands; + Caulonian tow'rs, and Scylacaean strands, + For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Aetna thence we spy, + Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky. + Far off we hear the waves with surly sound + Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound. + The billows break upon the sounding strand, + And roll the rising tide, impure with sand. + Then thus Anchises, in experience old: + ''T is that Charybdis which the seer foretold, + And those the promis'd rocks! Bear off to sea!' + With haste the frighted mariners obey. + First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd; + Then all the fleet by his example steer'd. + To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride, + Then down to hell descend, when they divide; + And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground, + And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound, + And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around. + The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun; + And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run. + The port capacious, and secure from wind, + Is to the foot of thund'ring Aetna join'd. + By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high; + By turns hot embers from her entrails fly, + And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky. + Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown, + And, shiver'd by the force, come piecemeal down. + Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow, + Fed from the fiery springs that boil below. + Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove, + With blasted limbs came tumbling from above; + And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew + This flaming hill, and on his body threw. + As often as he turns his weary sides, + He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides. + In shady woods we pass the tedious night, + Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright, + Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight; + For not one star was kindled in the sky, + Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply; + For misty clouds involv'd the firmament, + The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent. + + "Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd, + Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell'd, + When from the woods there bolts, before our sight, + Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite, + So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan, + So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man. + This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' implore + Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore. + We look behind, then view his shaggy beard; + His clothes were tagg'd with thorns, and filth his limbs + besmear'd; + The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face, + Appear'd a Greek, and such indeed he was. + He cast on us, from far, a frightful view, + Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew; + Stood still, and paus'd; then all at once began + To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran. + Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls, + And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: + 'Now, by the pow'rs above, and what we share + From Nature's common gift, this vital air, + O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more; + But bear me far from this unhappy shore. + 'T is true, I am a Greek, and farther own, + Among your foes besieg'd th' imperial town. + For such demerits if my death be due, + No more for this abandon'd life I sue; + This only favor let my tears obtain, + To throw me headlong in the rapid main: + Since nothing more than death my crime demands, + I die content, to die by human hands.' + He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd: + I bade him boldly tell his fortune past, + His present state, his lineage, and his name, + Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he came. + The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand; + Who, thus encourag'd, answer'd our demand: + 'From Ithaca, my native soil, I came + To Troy; and Achaemenides my name. + Me my poor father with Ulysses sent; + (O had I stay'd, with poverty content!) + But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen + Left me forsaken in the Cyclops' den. + The cave, tho' large, was dark; the dismal floor + Was pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore. + Our monstrous host, of more than human size, + Erects his head, and stares within the skies; + Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue. + Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view! + The joints of slaughter'd wretches are his food; + And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood. + These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand + He seiz'd two captives of our Grecian band; + Stretch'd on his back, he dash'd against the stones + Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones: + With spouting blood the purple pavement swims, + While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs. + + "'Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate, + Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state; + For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human wine + While fast asleep the giant lay supine, + Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw + His indigested foam, and morsels raw; + We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround + The monstrous body, stretch'd along the ground: + Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand + To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand. + Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye; + For only one did the vast frame supply- + But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd, + Like the sun's disk or like a Grecian shield. + The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends: + This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd friends. + But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly! + Your cables cut, and on your oars rely! + Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears, + A hundred more this hated island bears: + Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep; + Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep; + Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep + And now three moons their sharpen'd horns renew, + Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view, + I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright, + And in deserted caverns lodge by night; + Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see + Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree: + From far I hear his thund'ring voice resound, + And trampling feet that shake the solid ground. + Cornels and salvage berries of the wood, + And roots and herbs, have been my meager food. + While all around my longing eyes I cast, + I saw your happy ships appear at last. + On those I fix'd my hopes, to these I run; + 'T is all I ask, this cruel race to shun; + What other death you please, yourselves bestow.' + + "Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's brow + We saw the giant shepherd stalk before + His following flock, and leading to the shore: + A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight; + His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright. + His pond'rous whistle from his neck descends; + His woolly care their pensive lord attends: + This only solace his hard fortune sends. + Soon as he reach'd the shore and touch'd the waves, + From his bor'd eye the gutt'ring blood he laves: + He gnash'd his teeth, and groan'd; thro' seas he strides, + And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his sides. + + "Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea, + The cables cut, and silent haste away; + The well-deserving stranger entertain; + Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main. + The giant harken'd to the dashing sound: + But, when our vessels out of reach he found, + He strided onward, and in vain essay'd + Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade. + With that he roar'd aloud: the dreadful cry + Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly + Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy. + The neigh'ring Aetna trembling all around, + The winding caverns echo to the sound. + His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar, + And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore. + We saw their stern distorted looks, from far, + And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten'd war: + A dreadful council, with their heads on high; + (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;) + Not yielding to the tow'ring tree of Jove, + Or tallest cypress of Diana's grove. + New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail; + We tug at ev'ry oar, and hoist up ev'ry sail, + And take th' advantage of the friendly gale. + Forewarn'd by Helenus, we strive to shun + Charybdis' gulf, nor dare to Scylla run. + An equal fate on either side appears: + We, tacking to the left, are free from fears; + For, from Pelorus' point, the North arose, + And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows. + His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way + By Thapsus and Megara's winding bay. + This passage Achaemenides had shown, + Tracing the course which he before had run. + + "Right o'er against Plemmyrium's wat'ry strand, + There lies an isle once call'd th' Ortygian land. + Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found + From Greece a secret passage under ground, + By love to beauteous Arethusa led; + And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed. + As Helenus enjoin'd, we next adore + Diana's name, protectress of the shore. + With prosp'rous gales we pass the quiet sounds + Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds. + Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey + The rocky shore extended to the sea. + The town of Camarine from far we see, + And fenny lake, undrain'd by fate's decree. + In sight of the Geloan fields we pass, + And the large walls, where mighty Gela was; + Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown'd, + Long for the race of warlike steeds renown'd. + We pass'd Selinus, and the palmy land, + And widely shun the Lilybaean strand, + Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand. + At length on shore the weary fleet arriv'd, + Which Drepanum's unhappy port receiv'd. + Here, after endless labors, often toss'd + By raging storms, and driv'n on ev'ry coast, + My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost: + Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain, + Sav'd thro' a thousand toils, but sav'd in vain + The prophet, who my future woes reveal'd, + Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal'd; + And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill + Denounc'd all else, was silent of the ill. + This my last labor was. Some friendly god + From thence convey'd us to your blest abode." + + Thus, to the list'ning queen, the royal guest + His wand'ring course and all his toils express'd; + And here concluding, he retir'd to rest. + + + + + BOOK IV + + But anxious cares already seiz'd the queen: + She fed within her veins a flame unseen; + The hero's valor, acts, and birth inspire + Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire. + His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart, + Improve the passion, and increase the smart. + Now, when the purple morn had chas'd away + The dewy shadows, and restor'd the day, + Her sister first with early care she sought, + And thus in mournful accents eas'd her thought: + + "My dearest Anna, what new dreams affright + My lab'ring soul! what visions of the night + Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast + With strange ideas of our Trojan guest! + His worth, his actions, and majestic air, + A man descended from the gods declare. + Fear ever argues a degenerate kind; + His birth is well asserted by his mind. + Then, what he suffer'd, when by Fate betray'd! + What brave attempts for falling Troy he made! + Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke, + That, were I not resolv'd against the yoke + Of hapless marriage, never to be curst + With second love, so fatal was my first, + To this one error I might yield again; + For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain, + This only man is able to subvert + The fix'd foundations of my stubborn heart. + And, to confess my frailty, to my shame, + Somewhat I find within, if not the same, + Too like the sparkles of my former flame. + But first let yawning earth a passage rend, + And let me thro' the dark abyss descend; + First let avenging Jove, with flames from high, + Drive down this body to the nether sky, + Condemn'd with ghosts in endless night to lie, + Before I break the plighted faith I gave! + No! he who had my vows shall ever have; + For, whom I lov'd on earth, I worship in the grave." + + She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes, + And stopp'd her speech. Her sister thus replies: + "O dearer than the vital air I breathe, + Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath, + Condemn'd to waste in woes your lonely life, + Without the joys of mother or of wife? + Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe, + Are known or valued by the ghosts below? + I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green, + It well became a woman, and a queen, + The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect, + To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject, + With all the Libyan lords of mighty name; + But will you fight against a pleasing flame! + This little spot of land, which Heav'n bestows, + On ev'ry side is hemm'd with warlike foes; + Gaetulian cities here are spread around, + And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound; + Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land, + And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand; + Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore, + And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more. + Propitious Heav'n, and gracious Juno, lead + This wand'ring navy to your needful aid: + How will your empire spread, your city rise, + From such a union, and with such allies? + Implore the favor of the pow'rs above, + And leave the conduct of the rest to love. + Continue still your hospitable way, + And still invent occasions of their stay, + Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat, + And planks and oars repair their shatter'd fleet." + + These words, which from a friend and sister came, + With ease resolv'd the scruples of her fame, + And added fury to the kindled flame. + Inspir'd with hope, the project they pursue; + On ev'ry altar sacrifice renew: + A chosen ewe of two years old they pay + To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day; + Preferring Juno's pow'r, for Juno ties + The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys. + The beauteous queen before her altar stands, + And holds the golden goblet in her hands. + A milk-white heifer she with flow'rs adorns, + And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns; + And, while the priests with pray'r the gods invoke, + She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke, + With hourly care the sacrifice renews, + And anxiously the panting entrails views. + What priestly rites, alas! what pious art, + What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart! + A gentle fire she feeds within her veins, + Where the soft god secure in silence reigns. + + Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves, + From street to street the raving Dido roves. + So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind, + Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind, + Distracted with her pain she flies the woods, + Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods, + With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart + Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart. + And now she leads the Trojan chief along + The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng; + Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town, + Which love, without his labor, makes his own. + This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand'ring guest; + Her falt'ring tongue forbids to speak the rest. + When day declines, and feasts renew the night, + Still on his face she feeds her famish'd sight; + She longs again to hear the prince relate + His own adventures and the Trojan fate. + He tells it o'er and o'er; but still in vain, + For still she begs to hear it once again. + The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends, + And thus the tragic story never ends. + + Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light + Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite, + She last remains, when ev'ry guest is gone, + Sits on the bed he press'd, and sighs alone; + Absent, her absent hero sees and hears; + Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears, + And seeks the father's image in the child, + If love by likeness might be so beguil'd. + + Meantime the rising tow'rs are at a stand; + No labors exercise the youthful band, + Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know; + The mole is left unfinish'd to the foe; + The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie, + Short of their promis'd heighth, that seem'd to threat the sky, + + But when imperial Juno, from above, + Saw Dido fetter'd in the chains of love, + Hot with the venom which her veins inflam'd, + And by no sense of shame to be reclaim'd, + With soothing words to Venus she begun: + "High praises, endless honors, you have won, + And mighty trophies, with your worthy son! + Two gods a silly woman have undone! + Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect + This rising city, which my hands erect: + But shall celestial discord never cease? + 'T is better ended in a lasting peace. + You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd: + Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd. + Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join; + So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine: + One common kingdom, one united line. + Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey, + And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey." + Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried, + Which would the scepter of the world misguide + To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied: + "Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose, + And such alliance and such gifts refuse, + If Fortune with our joint desires comply? + The doubt is all from Jove and destiny; + Lest he forbid, with absolute command, + To mix the people in one common land- + Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line + In lasting leagues and sure succession join? + But you, the partner of his bed and throne, + May move his mind; my wishes are your own." + + "Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care; + Time urges, now, to perfect this affair: + Attend my counsel, and the secret share. + When next the Sun his rising light displays, + And gilds the world below with purple rays, + The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court + Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort. + There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around, + And cheerful horns from side to side resound, + A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain + With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain; + The fearful train shall take their speedy flight, + Dispers'd, and all involv'd in gloomy night; + One cave a grateful shelter shall afford + To the fair princess and the Trojan lord. + I will myself the bridal bed prepare, + If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there: + So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights, + And Hymen shall be present at the rites." + The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles + At her vain project, and discover'd wiles. + + The rosy morn was risen from the main, + And horns and hounds awake the princely train: + They issue early thro' the city gate, + Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait, + With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force + Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse. + The Tyrian peers and officers of state + For the slow queen in antechambers wait; + Her lofty courser, in the court below, + Who his majestic rider seems to know, + Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground, + And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around. + The queen at length appears; on either hand + The brawny guards in martial order stand. + A flow'r'd simar with golden fringe she wore, + And at her back a golden quiver bore; + Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains, + A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains. + Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, + Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase. + But far above the rest in beauty shines + The great Aeneas, the troop he joins; + Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost + Of wint'ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast, + When to his native Delos he resorts, + Ordains the dances, and renews the sports; + Where painted Scythians, mix'd with Cretan bands, + Before the joyful altars join their hands: + Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below + The merry madness of the sacred show. + Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose; + A golden fillet binds his awful brows; + His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen + In manly presence, or in lofty mien. + + Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat + Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat. + The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound + From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground; + Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train, + In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain, + And a long chase in open view maintain. + The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides, + Spurs thro' the vale, and these and those outrides. + His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel + The clanking lash, and goring of the steel. + Impatiently he views the feeble prey, + Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way, + And rather would the tusky boar attend, + Or see the tawny lion downward bend. + + Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the skies: + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; + The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours + A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs. + The company, dispers'd, to converts ride, + And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side. + The rapid rains, descending from the hills, + To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills. + The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides, + One common cavern in her bosom hides. + Then first the trembling earth the signal gave, + And flashing fires enlighten all the cave; + Hell from below, and Juno from above, + And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love. + From this ill-omen'd hour in time arose + Debate and death, and all succeeding woes. + + The queen, whom sense of honor could not move, + No longer made a secret of her love, + But call'd it marriage, by that specious name + To veil the crime and sanctify the shame. + + The loud report thro' Libyan cities goes. + Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows: + Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings + New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings. + Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size; + Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies. + Inrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth + Produc'd her last of the Titanian birth. + Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste: + A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast. + As many plumes as raise her lofty flight, + So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight; + Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong, + And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue, + And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is hung. + She fills the peaceful universe with cries; + No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes; + By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shews, + And spreads thro' trembling crowds disastrous news; + With court informers haunts, and royal spies; + Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies. + + Talk is her business, and her chief delight + To tell of prodigies and cause affright. + She fills the people's ears with Dido's name, + Who, lost to honor and the sense of shame, + Admits into her throne and nuptial bed + A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled: + Whole days with him she passes in delights, + And wastes in luxury long winter nights, + Forgetful of her fame and royal trust, + Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust. + + The goddess widely spreads the loud report, + And flies at length to King Hyarba's court. + When first possess'd with this unwelcome news + Whom did he not of men and gods accuse? + This prince, from ravish'd Garamantis born, + A hundred temples did with spoils adorn, + In Ammon's honor, his celestial sire; + A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire; + And, thro' his vast dominions, priests ordain'd, + Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain'd. + The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd, + And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground. + + He, when he heard a fugitive could move + The Tyrian princess, who disdain'd his love, + His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire, + Mad with despair, impatient with desire; + Then on the sacred altars pouring wine, + He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine: + "Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race, + Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace + Thy temples, and adore thy pow'r divine + With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine, + Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain + Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign? + Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance? + Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance? + A wand'ring woman builds, within our state, + A little town, bought at an easy rate; + She pays me homage, and my grants allow + A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow; + Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led, + Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed! + And now this other Paris, with his train + Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign! + (Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess, + Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian dress.) + He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame; + And I, rejected I, adore an empty name." + + His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd, + And held his altar's horns. The mighty Thund'rer heard; + Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found + The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd, + Lost in their loves, insensible of shame, + And both forgetful of their better fame. + He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends, + By whom his menacing command he sends: + "Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky; + Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly: + There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days + In slothful riot and inglorious ease, + Nor minds the future city, giv'n by fate. + To him this message from my mouth relate: + 'Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won + Thy life with pray'rs, nor promis'd such a son. + Hers was a hero, destin'd to command + A martial race, and rule the Latian land, + Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw, + And on the conquer'd world impose the law.' + If glory cannot move a mind so mean, + Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean, + Yet why should he defraud his son of fame, + And grudge the Romans their immortal name! + What are his vain designs! what hopes he more + From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore, + Regardless to redeem his honor lost, + And for his race to gain th' Ausonian coast! + Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake; + With this command the slumb'ring warrior wake." + + Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds + His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: + And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, + With rapid force they bear him down the skies. + But first he grasps within his awful hand + The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand; + With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves; + With this he drives them down the Stygian waves; + With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, + And eyes, tho' clos'd in death, restores to light. + Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, + And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space; + Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies, + Whose brawny back supports the starry skies; + Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd, + Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound. + Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin + The founts of rolling streams their race begin; + A beard of ice on his large breast depends. + Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends: + Then, rested thus, he from the tow'ring height + Plung'd downward, with precipitated flight, + Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood. + As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food, + Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show; + By turns they dance aloft, and dive below: + Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies, + And near the surface of the water flies, + Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands, + He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands: + Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds, + Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads. + Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince + New ramparts raising for the town's defense. + A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er, + (Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore; + A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified, + For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side. + + Then thus, with winged words, the god began, + Resuming his own shape: "Degenerate man, + Thou woman's property, what mak'st thou here, + These foreign walls and Tyrian tow'rs to rear, + Forgetful of thy own? All-pow'rful Jove, + Who sways the world below and heav'n above, + Has sent me down with this severe command: + What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land? + If glory cannot move a mind so mean, + Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean, + Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir: + The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear, + To whom th' Ausonian scepter, and the state + Of Rome's imperial name is ow'd by fate." + So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight, + Involv'd in clouds, and vanish'd out of sight. + + The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden fear; + Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair. + Revolving in his mind the stern command, + He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land. + What should he say? or how should he begin? + What course, alas! remains to steer between + Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen? + This way and that he turns his anxious mind, + And all expedients tries, and none can find. + Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means, + After long thought, to this advice he leans: + Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair + The fleet, and ship their men with silent care; + Some plausible pretense he bids them find, + To color what in secret he design'd. + Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose, + Before the love-sick lady heard the news; + And move her tender mind, by slow degrees, + To suffer what the sov'reign pow'r decrees: + Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say. + They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey. + + But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise: + (What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes!) + She was the first to find the secret fraud, + Before the fatal news was blaz'd abroad. + Love the first motions of the lover hears, + Quick to presage, and ev'n in safety fears. + Nor impious Fame was wanting to report + The ships repair'd, the Trojans' thick resort, + And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court. + Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound, + And impotent of mind, she roves the city round. + Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear, + When, from afar, their nightly god they hear, + And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear. + At length she finds the dear perfidious man; + Prevents his form'd excuse, and thus began: + "Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly, + And undiscover'd scape a lover's eye? + Nor could my kindness your compassion move. + Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love? + Or is the death of a despairing queen + Not worth preventing, tho' too well foreseen? + Ev'n when the wintry winds command your stay, + You dare the tempests, and defy the sea. + False as you are, suppose you were not bound + To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound; + Were Troy restor'd, and Priam's happy reign, + Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main? + See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun? + Now, by those holy vows, so late begun, + By this right hand, (since I have nothing more + To challenge, but the faith you gave before;) + I beg you by these tears too truly shed, + By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed; + If ever Dido, when you most were kind, + Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your mind; + By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have place, + Pity the fortunes of a falling race. + For you I have provok'd a tyrant's hate, + Incens'd the Libyan and the Tyrian state; + For you alone I suffer in my fame, + Bereft of honor, and expos'd to shame. + Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest? + (That only name remains of all the rest!) + What have I left? or whither can I fly? + Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty, + Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead + A queen that proudly scorn'd his proffer'd bed? + Had you deferr'd, at least, your hasty flight, + And left behind some pledge of our delight, + Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight, + Some young Aeneas, to supply your place, + Whose features might express his father's face; + I should not then complain to live bereft + Of all my husband, or be wholly left." + + Here paus'd the queen. Unmov'd he holds his eyes, + By Jove's command; nor suffer'd love to rise, + Tho' heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies: + "Fair queen, you never can enough repeat + Your boundless favors, or I own my debt; + Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name, + While vital breath inspires this mortal frame. + This only let me speak in my defense: + I never hop'd a secret flight from hence, + Much less pretended to the lawful claim + Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name. + For, if indulgent Heav'n would leave me free, + And not submit my life to fate's decree, + My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore, + Those relics to review, their dust adore, + And Priam's ruin'd palace to restore. + But now the Delphian oracle commands, + And fate invites me to the Latian lands. + That is the promis'd place to which I steer, + And all my vows are terminated there. + If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born, + With walls and tow'rs a Libyan town adorn, + Why may not we- like you, a foreign race- + Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place? + As often as the night obscures the skies + With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise, + Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears, + Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears; + And young Ascanius justly may complain + Of his defrauded and destin'd reign. + Ev'n now the herald of the gods appear'd: + Waking I saw him, and his message heard. + From Jove he came commission'd, heav'nly bright + With radiant beams, and manifest to sight + (The sender and the sent I both attest) + These walls he enter'd, and those words express'd. + Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command; + Forc'd by my fate, I leave your happy land." + + Thus while he spoke, already she began, + With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man; + From head to foot survey'd his person o'er, + Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore: + "False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn! + Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born, + But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock! + And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck! + Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear? + Did he once look, or lent a list'ning ear, + Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?- + All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind, + So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find. + Of man's injustice why should I complain? + The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain + Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies, + Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes; + Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies! + Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more! + I sav'd the shipwrack'd exile on my shore; + With needful food his hungry Trojans fed; + I took the traitor to my throne and bed: + Fool that I was- 't is little to repeat + The rest- I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet. + I rave, I rave! A god's command he pleads, + And makes Heav'n accessary to his deeds. + Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god, + Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode, + To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state + Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human fate! + But go! thy flight no longer I detain- + Go seek thy promis'd kingdom thro' the main! + Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow, + The faithless waves, not half so false as thou, + Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford + To thy proud vessels, and their perjur'd lord. + Then shalt thou call on injur'd Dido's name: + Dido shall come in a black sulph'ry flame, + When death has once dissolv'd her mortal frame; + Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep: + Her angry ghost, arising from the deep, + Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep. + At least my shade thy punishment shall know, + And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below." + + Abruptly here she stops; then turns away + Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day. + Amaz'd he stood, revolving in his mind + What speech to frame, and what excuse to find. + Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led, + And softly laid her on her ivory bed. + + But good Aeneas, tho' he much desir'd + To give that pity which her grief requir'd; + Tho' much he mourn'd, and labor'd with his love, + Resolv'd at length, obeys the will of Jove; + Reviews his forces: they with early care + Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare. + The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride, + And well-calk'd galleys in the harbor ride. + Then oaks for oars they fell'd; or, as they stood, + Of its green arms despoil'd the growing wood, + Studious of flight. The beach is cover'd o'er + With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore: + On ev'ry side are seen, descending down, + Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town. + Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants, + Fearful of winter, and of future wants, + T' invade the corn, and to their cells convey + The plunder'd forage of their yellow prey. + The sable troops, along the narrow tracks, + Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs: + Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain; + Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train; + All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain. + + What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore, + When, from the tow'r, she saw the cover'd shore, + And heard the shouts of sailors from afar, + Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war! + All-pow'rful Love! what changes canst thou cause + In human hearts, subjected to thy laws! + Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends: + To pray'rs and mean submissions she descends. + No female arts or aids she left untried, + Nor counsels unexplor'd, before she died. + "Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea; + They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh. + The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind, + Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind. + Could I have thought this threat'ning blow so near, + My tender soul had been forewarn'd to bear. + But do not you my last request deny; + With yon perfidious man your int'rest try, + And bring me news, if I must live or die. + You are his fav'rite; you alone can find + The dark recesses of his inmost mind: + In all his trusted secrets you have part, + And know the soft approaches to his heart. + Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe; + Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go, + Nor did my fleet against his friends employ, + Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy, + Nor mov'd with hands profane his father's dust: + Why should he then reject a suit so just! + Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly! + Can he this last, this only pray'r deny! + Let him at least his dang'rous flight delay, + Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea. + The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more: + Let him pursue the promis'd Latian shore. + A short delay is all I ask him now; + A pause of grief, an interval from woe, + Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain + Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain. + If you in pity grant this one request, + My death shall glut the hatred of his breast." + This mournful message pious Anna bears, + And seconds with her own her sister's tears: + But all her arts are still employ'd in vain; + Again she comes, and is refus'd again. + His harden'd heart nor pray'rs nor threat'nings move; + Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love. + + As, when the winds their airy quarrel try, + Justling from ev'ry quarter of the sky, + This way and that the mountain oak they bend, + His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend; + With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground; + The hollow valleys echo to the sound: + Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks, + Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks; + Far as he shoots his tow'ring head on high, + So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie. + No less a storm the Trojan hero bears; + Thick messages and loud complaints he hears, + And bandied words, still beating on his ears. + Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains; + But the firm purpose of his heart remains. + + The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate, + Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate, + And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees, + To hasten on the death her soul decrees: + Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine, + She pours in sacrifice the purple wine, + The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood, + And the white offer'd milk converts to mud. + This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd, + From all, and ev'n her sister, she conceal'd. + A marble temple stood within the grove, + Sacred to death, and to her murther'd love; + That honor'd chapel she had hung around + With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd: + Oft, when she visited this lonely dome, + Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb; + She thought she heard him summon her away, + Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay. + Hourly 't is heard, when with a boding note + The solitary screech owl strains her throat, + And, on a chimney's top, or turret's height, + With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night. + Besides, old prophecies augment her fears; + And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears, + Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone, + To wander in her sleep, thro' ways unknown, + Guideless and dark; or, in a desart plain, + To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain: + Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, + He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear; + Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost + Full in his face infernal torches toss'd, + And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight, + Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright; + The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight. + + Now, sinking underneath a load of grief, + From death alone she seeks her last relief; + The time and means resolv'd within her breast, + She to her mournful sister thus address'd + (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears, + And a false vigor in her eyes appears): + "Rejoice!" she said. "Instructed from above, + My lover I shall gain, or lose my love. + Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun, + Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run: + There a Massylian priestess I have found, + Honor'd for age, for magic arts renown'd: + Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care; + 'T was she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare. + She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep, + Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep. + She watch'd the golden fruit; her charms unbind + The chains of love, or fix them on the mind: + She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry, + Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky. + The yawning earth rebellows to her call, + Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall. + Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part, + How loth I am to try this impious art! + Within the secret court, with silent care, + Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air: + Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest, + Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest. + Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd, + Where I my ruin in his arms embrac'd: + All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire; + For so the priestess and her charms require." + + Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears; + A mortal paleness in her face appears: + Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find + The secret fun'ral in these rites design'd; + Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind. + Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well, + She fear'd no worse than when Sichaeus fell; + Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear, + Within the secret court, expos'd in air. + The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high, + And garlands on the hollow spaces lie. + Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath, + And ev'ry baleful green denoting death. + The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed, + The spoils and sword he left, in order spread, + And the man's image on the nuptial bed. + + And now (the sacred altars plac'd around) + The priestess enters, with her hair unbound, + And thrice invokes the pow'rs below the ground. + Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims, + And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names, + And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round + With feign'd Avernian drops the hallow'd ground; + Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light, + With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night; + Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl, + And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal, + Robbing the mother's love. The destin'd queen + Observes, assisting at the rites obscene; + A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands + She holds, and next the highest altar stands: + One tender foot was shod, her other bare; + Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair. + Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying breath, + The heav'ns and planets conscious of her death, + And ev'ry pow'r, if any rules above, + Who minds, or who revenges, injur'd love. + + "'T was dead of night, when weary bodies close + Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose: + The winds no longer whisper thro' the woods, + Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods. + The stars in silent order mov'd around; + And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground + The flocks and herds, and party-color'd fowl, + Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool, + Stretch'd on the quiet earth, securely lay, + Forgetting the past labors of the day. + All else of nature's common gift partake: + Unhappy Dido was alone awake. + Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find; + Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind. + Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart; + Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part. + + Then thus she said within her secret mind: + "What shall I do? what succor can I find? + Become a suppliant to Hyarba's pride, + And take my turn, to court and be denied? + Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go, + Forsake an empire, and attend a foe? + Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd- + 'T is true- but am I sure to be receiv'd? + Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place! + Laomedon still lives in all his race! + Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew, + Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue? + What force have I but those whom scarce before + I drew reluctant from their native shore? + Will they again embark at my desire, + Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre? + Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, + And take the fortune thou thyself hast made. + Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind, + Or seconded too well what I design'd. + These dear-bought pleasures had I never known, + Had I continued free, and still my own; + Avoiding love, I had not found despair, + But shar'd with salvage beasts the common air. + Like them, a lonely life I might have led, + Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead." + These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast. + On board, the Trojan found more easy rest. + Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night; + And order'd all things for his early flight. + + To whom once more the winged god appears; + His former youthful mien and shape he wears, + And with this new alarm invades his ears: + "Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown + Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town, + Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales + Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails? + She harbors in her heart a furious hate, + And thou shalt find the dire effects too late; + Fix'd on revenge, and obstinate to die. + Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow'r to fly. + The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er, + And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore. + Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies, + And sail before the purple morn arise. + Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring? + Woman's a various and a changeful thing." + Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight + Aloft in air unseen, and mix'd with night. + + Twice warn'd by the celestial messenger, + The pious prince arose with hasty fear; + Then rous'd his drowsy train without delay: + "Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh, + And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea. + A god commands: he stood before my sight, + And urg'd us once again to speedy flight. + O sacred pow'r, what pow'r soe'er thou art, + To thy blest orders I resign my heart. + Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands, + And prosper the design thy will commands." + He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword, + His thund'ring arm divides the many-twisted cord. + An emulating zeal inspires his train: + They run; they snatch; they rush into the main. + With headlong haste they leave the desert shores, + And brush the liquid seas with lab'ring oars. + + Aurora now had left her saffron bed, + And beams of early light the heav'ns o'erspread, + When, from a tow'r, the queen, with wakeful eyes, + Saw day point upward from the rosy skies. + She look'd to seaward; but the sea was void, + And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried. + Stung with despite, and furious with despair, + She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair. + "And shall th' ungrateful traitor go," she said, + "My land forsaken, and my love betray'd? + Shall we not arm? not rush from ev'ry street, + To follow, sink, and burn his perjur'd fleet? + Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe! + Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row! + What have I said? where am I? Fury turns + My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns. + Then, when I gave my person and my throne, + This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. + See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name, + The pious man, who, rushing thro' the flame, + Preserv'd his gods, and to the Phrygian shore + The burthen of his feeble father bore! + I should have torn him piecemeal; strow'd in floods + His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods; + Destroy'd his friends and son; and, from the fire, + Have set the reeking boy before the sire. + Events are doubtful, which on battles wait: + Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate? + My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command, + Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band; + At once extinguish'd all the faithless name; + And I myself, in vengeance of my shame, + Had fall'n upon the pile, to mend the fun'ral flame. + Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below; + Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow; + Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes! + Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods, + All pow'rs invok'd with Dido's dying breath, + Attend her curses and avenge her death! + If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands, + Th' ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands, + Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes, + His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose: + Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field, + His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd, + Let him for succor sue from place to place, + Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace. + First, let him see his friends in battle slain, + And their untimely fate lament in vain; + And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease, + On hard conditions may he buy his peace: + Nor let him then enjoy supreme command; + But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand, + And lie unburied on the barren sand! + These are my pray'rs, and this my dying will; + And you, my Tyrians, ev'ry curse fulfil. + Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim, + Against the prince, the people, and the name. + These grateful off'rings on my grave bestow; + Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know! + Now, and from hence, in ev'ry future age, + When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage + Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood, + With fire and sword pursue the perjur'd brood; + Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos'd to theirs; + And the same hate descend on all our heirs!" + + This said, within her anxious mind she weighs + The means of cutting short her odious days. + Then to Sichaeus' nurse she briefly said + (For, when she left her country, hers was dead): + "Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care + The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare; + The sheep, and all th' atoning off'rings bring, + Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring + With living drops; then let her come, and thou + With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow. + Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove, + And end the cares of my disastrous love; + Then cast the Trojan image on the fire, + And, as that burns, my passions shall expire." + + The nurse moves onward, with officious care, + And all the speed her aged limbs can bear. + But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd, + Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd. + With livid spots distinguish'd was her face; + Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace; + Ghastly she gaz'd, with pain she drew her breath, + And nature shiver'd at approaching death. + + Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd, + And mounts the fun'ral pile with furious haste; + Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind + (Not for so dire an enterprise design'd). + But when she view'd the garments loosely spread, + Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed, + She paus'd, and with a sigh the robes embrac'd; + Then on the couch her trembling body cast, + Repress'd the ready tears, and spoke her last: + "Dear pledges of my love, while Heav'n so pleas'd, + Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas'd: + My fatal course is finish'd; and I go, + A glorious name, among the ghosts below. + A lofty city by my hands is rais'd, + Pygmalion punish'd, and my lord appeas'd. + What could my fortune have afforded more, + Had the false Trojan never touch'd my shore!" + Then kiss'd the couch; and, "Must I die," she said, + "And unreveng'd? 'T is doubly to be dead! + Yet ev'n this death with pleasure I receive: + On any terms, 't is better than to live. + These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view; + These boding omens his base flight pursue!" + + She said, and struck; deep enter'd in her side + The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed: + Clogg'd in the wound the cruel weapon stands; + The spouting blood came streaming on her hands. + Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke, + And with loud cries the sounding palace shook. + Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled, + And thro' the town the dismal rumor spread. + First from the frighted court the yell began; + Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran: + The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries + Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies. + Not less the clamor, than if- ancient Tyre, + Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire- + The rolling ruin, with their lov'd abodes, + Involv'd the blazing temples of their gods. + + Her sister hears; and, furious with despair, + She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair, + And, calling on Eliza's name aloud, + Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd. + "Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar'd; + These fires, this fun'ral pile, these altars rear'd? + Was all this train of plots contriv'd," said she, + "All only to deceive unhappy me? + Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend + To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend? + Thy summon'd sister, and thy friend, had come; + One sword had serv'd us both, one common tomb: + Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke, + Not to be present at the fatal stroke? + At once thou hast destroy'd thyself and me, + Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony! + Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death + Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath." + This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste, + And in her arms the gasping queen embrac'd; + Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore, + To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore. + Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head, + And, fainting thrice, fell grov'ling on the bed; + Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and sought the light, + But, having found it, sicken'd at the sight, + And clos'd her lids at last in endless night. + + Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain + A death so ling'ring, and so full of pain, + Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife + Of lab'ring nature, and dissolve her life. + For since she died, not doom'd by Heav'n's decree, + Or her own crime, but human casualty, + And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair, + The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair, + Which Proserpine and they can only know; + Nor made her sacred to the shades below. + Downward the various goddess took her flight, + And drew a thousand colors from the light; + Then stood above the dying lover's head, + And said: "I thus devote thee to the dead. + This off'ring to th' infernal gods I bear." + Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair: + The struggling soul was loos'd, and life dissolv'd in air. + + + + + BOOK V + + Meantime the Trojan cuts his wat'ry way, + Fix'd on his voyage, thro' the curling sea; + Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze, + Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze. + The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind + The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd; + He knew the stormy souls of womankind, + What secret springs their eager passions move, + How capable of death for injur'd love. + Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw; + Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw. + Now seas and skies their prospect only bound; + An empty space above, a floating field around. + But soon the heav'ns with shadows were o'erspread; + A swelling cloud hung hov'ring o'er their head: + Livid it look'd, the threat'ning of a storm: + Then night and horror ocean's face deform. + The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud: + "What gusts of weather from that gath'ring cloud + My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars, + Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars; + Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind." + The frighted crew perform the task assign'd. + Then, to his fearless chief: "Not Heav'n," said he, + "Tho' Jove himself should promise Italy, + Can stem the torrent of this raging sea. + Mark how the shifting winds from west arise, + And what collected night involves the skies! + Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea, + Much less against the tempest force their way. + 'T is fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey. + Not far from hence, if I observ'd aright + The southing of the stars, and polar light, + Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores + In safety we may reach with struggling oars." + Aeneas then replied: "Too sure I find + We strive in vain against the seas and wind: + Now shift your sails; what place can please me more + Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore, + Whose hallow'd earth Anchises' bones contains, + And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?" + The course resolv'd, before the western wind + They scud amain, and make the port assign'd. + Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand, + Beheld the fleet descending on the land; + And, not unmindful of his ancient race, + Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace, + And held the hero in a strict embrace. + Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore, + And either hand a pointed jav'lin bore. + His mother was a dame of Dardan blood; + His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood. + He welcomes his returning friends ashore + With plenteous country cates and homely store. + + Now, when the following morn had chas'd away + The flying stars, and light restor'd the day, + Aeneas call'd the Trojan troops around, + And thus bespoke them from a rising ground: + "Offspring of heav'n, divine Dardanian race! + The sun, revolving thro' th' ethereal space, + The shining circle of the year has fill'd, + Since first this isle my father's ashes held: + And now the rising day renews the year; + A day for ever sad, for ever dear. + This would I celebrate with annual games, + With gifts on altars pil'd, and holy flames, + Tho' banish'd to Gaetulia's barren sands, + Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands: + But since this happy storm our fleet has driv'n + (Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav'n) + Upon these friendly shores and flow'ry plains, + Which hide Anchises and his blest remains, + Let us with joy perform his honors due, + And pray for prosp'rous winds, our voyage to renew; + Pray, that in towns and temples of our own, + The name of great Anchises may be known, + And yearly games may spread the gods' renown. + Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race, + With royal gifts ordain'd, is pleas'd to grace: + Two steers on ev'ry ship the king bestows; + His gods and ours shall share your equal vows. + Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn + Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn, + That day with solemn sports I mean to grace: + Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat'ry race; + Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend, + And others try the twanging bow to bend; + The strong, with iron gauntlets arm'd, shall stand + Oppos'd in combat on the yellow sand. + Let all be present at the games prepar'd, + And joyful victors wait the just reward. + But now assist the rites, with garlands crown'd." + He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound. + Then Helymus, by his example led, + And old Acestes, each adorn'd his head; + Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, + His temples tied, and all the Trojan race. + Aeneas then advanc'd amidst the train, + By thousands follow'd thro' the flow'ry plain, + To great Anchises' tomb; which when he found, + He pour'd to Bacchus, on the hallow'd ground, + Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more, + And two (from offer'd bulls) of purple gore, + With roses then the sepulcher he strow'd + And thus his father's ghost bespoke aloud: + "Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again, + Paternal ashes, now review'd in vain! + The gods permitted not, that you, with me, + Should reach the promis'd shores of Italy, + Or Tiber's flood, what flood soe'er it be." + Scarce had he finish'd, when, with speckled pride, + A serpent from the tomb began to glide; + His hugy bulk on sev'n high volumes roll'd; + Blue was his breadth of back, but streak'd with scaly gold: + Thus riding on his curls, he seem'd to pass + A rolling fire along, and singe the grass. + More various colors thro' his body run, + Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun. + Betwixt the rising altars, and around, + The sacred monster shot along the ground; + With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass'd, + And with his lolling tongue assay'd the taste: + Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest + Within the hollow tomb retir'd to rest. + The pious prince, surpris'd at what he view'd, + The fun'ral honors with more zeal renew'd, + Doubtful if this place's genius were, + Or guardian of his father's sepulcher. + Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew; + As many swine, and steers of sable hue; + New gen'rous wine he from the goblets pour'd. + And call'd his father's ghost, from hell restor'd. + The glad attendants in long order come, + Off'ring their gifts at great Anchises' tomb: + Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil; + Some place the chargers on the grassy soil; + Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil. + + Now came the day desir'd. The skies were bright + With rosy luster of the rising light: + The bord'ring people, rous'd by sounding fame + Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes' name, + The crowded shore with acclamations fill, + Part to behold, and part to prove their skill. + And first the gifts in public view they place, + Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors' grace: + Within the circle, arms and tripods lie, + Ingots of gold and silver, heap'd on high, + And vests embroider'd, of the Tyrian dye. + The trumpet's clangor then the feast proclaims, + And all prepare for their appointed games. + Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear, + Advancing, in the wat'ry lists appear. + The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind, + Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind: + Gyas the vast Chimaera's bulk commands, + Which rising, like a tow'ring city stands; + Three Trojans tug at ev'ry lab'ring oar; + Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore; + Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar. + Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race, + In the great Centaur took the leading place; + Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood, + From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood. + + Far in the sea, against the foaming shore, + There stands a rock: the raging billows roar + Above his head in storms; but, when 't is clear, + Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear. + In peace below the gentle waters run; + The cormorants above lie basking in the sun. + On this the hero fix'd an oak in sight, + The mark to guide the mariners aright. + To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars; + Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores. + The lots decide their place. Above the rest, + Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest; + The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs + Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows: + Besmear'd with oil, their naked shoulders shine. + All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign: + They gripe their oars; and ev'ry panting breast + Is rais'd by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress'd. + The clangor of the trumpet gives the sign; + At once they start, advancing in a line: + With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies; + Lash'd with their oars, the smoky billows rise; + Sparkles the briny main, and the vex'd ocean fries. + Exact in time, with equal strokes they row: + At once the brushing oars and brazen prow + Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below. + Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race, + Invade the field with half so swift a pace; + Not the fierce driver with more fury lends + The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends, + Low to the wheels his pliant body bends. + The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide, + And aid with eager shouts the favor'd side. + Cries, murmurs, clamors, with a mixing sound, + From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound. + + Amidst the loud applauses of the shore, + Gyas outstripp'd the rest, and sprung before: + Cloanthus, better mann'd, pursued him fast, + But his o'er-masted galley check'd his haste. + The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine + With equal oars, advancing in a line; + And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead, + And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead; + Now board to board the rival vessels row, + The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below. + They reach'd the mark. Proud Gyas and his train + In triumph rode, the victors of the main; + But, steering round, he charg'd his pilot stand + More close to shore, and skim along the sand- + "Let others bear to sea!" Menoetes heard; + But secret shelves too cautiously he fear'd, + And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer'd. + With louder cries the captain call'd again: + "Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main." + He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw + The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw. + Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood, + And in a closer compass plow'd the flood. + He pass'd the mark; and, wheeling, got before: + Gyas blasphem'd the gods, devoutly swore, + Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore. + Mindless of others' lives (so high was grown + His rising rage) and careless of his own, + The trembling dotard to the deck he drew; + Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw: + This done, he seiz'd the helm; his fellows cheer'd, + Turn'd short upon the shelfs, and madly steer'd. + + Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears, + Clogg'd with his clothes, and cumber'd with his years: + Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain. + The crowd, that saw him fall and float again, + Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh'd, + To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught. + The following Centaur, and the Dolphin's crew, + Their vanish'd hopes of victory renew; + While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race, + To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place; + Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind, + Comes up, not half his galley's length behind; + Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear'd, + And thus their drooping courage he cheer'd: + "My friends, and Hector's followers heretofore, + Exert your vigor; tug the lab'ring oar; + Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer'd crew, + Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew. + In this, our common int'rest, let me find + That strength of hand, that courage of the mind, + As when you stemm'd the strong Malean flood, + And o'er the Syrtes' broken billows row'd. + I seek not now the foremost palm to gain; + Tho' yet- but, ah! that haughty wish is vain! + Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain. + But to be last, the lags of all the race!- + Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace." + Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row + At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow. + The sea beneath 'em sinks; their lab'ring sides + Are swell'd, and sweat runs gutt'ring down in tides. + Chance aids their daring with unhop'd success; + Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press + Betwixt the rival galley and the rock, + Shuts up th' unwieldly Centaur in the lock. + The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock, + Her oars she shiver'd, and her head she broke. + The trembling rowers from their banks arise, + And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize. + With iron poles they heave her off the shores, + And gather from the sea their floating oars. + The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds, + Urge their success, and call the willing winds; + Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way + In larger compass on the roomy sea. + As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes, + Rous'd in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes; + The cavern rings with clatt'ring; out she flies, + And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies: + At first she flutters; but at length she springs + To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings: + So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea; + And, flying with a force, that force assists his way. + Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass'd, + Wedg'd in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast. + In vain the victor he with cries implores, + And practices to row with shatter'd oars. + Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies: + The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize. + Unvanquish'd Scylla now alone remains; + Her he pursues, and all his vigor strains. + Shouts from the fav'ring multitude arise; + Applauding Echo to the shouts replies; + Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro' the skies. + These clamors with disdain the Scylla heard, + Much grudg'd the praise, but more the robb'd reward: + Resolv'd to hold their own, they mend their pace, + All obstinate to die, or gain the race. + Rais'd with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran; + For they can conquer, who believe they can. + Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies, + And both perhaps had shar'd an equal prize; + When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands, + And succor from the wat'ry pow'rs demands: + "Gods of the liquid realms, on which I row! + If, giv'n by you, the laurel bind my brow, + Assist to make me guilty of my vow! + A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain; + His offer'd entrails cast into the main, + And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown, + Your grateful gift and my return shall own." + The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below, + With virgin Panopea, heard his vow; + And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand, + Push'd on, and sped the galley to the land. + Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies, + And, darting to the port, obtains the prize. + + The herald summons all, and then proclaims + Cloanthus conqu'ror of the naval games. + The prince with laurel crowns the victor's head, + And three fat steers are to his vessel led, + The ship's reward; with gen'rous wine beside, + And sums of silver, which the crew divide. + The leaders are distinguish'd from the rest; + The victor honor'd with a nobler vest, + Where gold and purple strive in equal rows, + And needlework its happy cost bestows. + There Ganymede is wrought with living art, + Chasing thro' Ida's groves the trembling hart: + Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue; + When from aloft descends, in open view, + The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey, + With crooked talons bears the boy away. + In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes, + His guards behold him soaring thro' the skies, + And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries. + + Mnestheus the second victor was declar'd; + And, summon'd there, the second prize he shard. + A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore, + More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore, + In single combat on the Trojan shore: + This was ordain'd for Mnestheus to possess; + In war for his defense, for ornament in peace. + Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold, + But yet so pond'rous with its plates of gold, + That scarce two servants could the weight sustain; + Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o'er the plain + Pursued and lightly seiz'd the Trojan train. + The third, succeeding to the last reward, + Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar'd, + With figures prominent, and richly wrought, + And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought. + + Thus all, rewarded by the hero's hands, + Their conqu'ring temples bound with purple bands; + And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock, + Brought back his galley shatter'd with the shock. + Forlorn she look'd, without an aiding oar, + And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore. + As when a snake, surpris'd upon the road, + Is crush'd athwart her body by the load + Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound + Her belly bruis'd, and trodden to the ground: + In vain, with loosen'd curls, she crawls along; + Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue; + Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales; + But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails: + So slowly to the port the Centaur tends, + But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends. + Yet, for his galley sav'd, the grateful prince + Is pleas'd th' unhappy chief to recompense. + Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care, + Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair. + + From thence his way the Trojan hero bent + Into the neighb'ring plain, with mountains pent, + Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood. + Full in the midst of this fair valley stood + A native theater, which, rising slow + By just degrees, o'erlook'd the ground below. + High on a sylvan throne the leader sate; + A num'rous train attend in solemn state. + Here those that in the rapid course delight, + Desire of honor and the prize invite. + The rival runners without order stand; + The Trojans mix'd with the Sicilian band. + First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears; + Euryalus a boy of blooming years, + With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown'd; + Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown'd. + Diores next, of Priam's royal race, + Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place; + (But Patron in Arcadia had his birth, + And Salius his from Arcananian earth;) + Then two Sicilian youths- the names of these, + Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes: + Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred, + And owning old Acestes for their head; + With sev'ral others of ignobler name, + Whom time has not deliver'd o'er to fame. + + To these the hero thus his thoughts explain'd, + In words which gen'ral approbation gain'd: + "One common largess is for all design'd, + (The vanquish'd and the victor shall be join'd,) + Two darts of polish'd steel and Gnosian wood, + A silver-studded ax, alike bestow'd. + The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed: + The first of these obtains a stately steed, + Adorn'd with trappings; and the next in fame, + The quiver of an Amazonian dame, + With feather'd Thracian arrows well supplied: + A golden belt shall gird his manly side, + Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied. + The third this Grecian helmet shall content." + He said. To their appointed base they went; + With beating hearts th' expected sign receive, + And, starting all at once, the barrier leave. + Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew, + And seiz'd the distant goal with greedy view. + Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o'erpass'd; + Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste. + The next, but tho' the next, yet far disjoin'd, + Came Salius, and Euryalus behind; + Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied, + Step after step, and almost side by side, + His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space, + Had won, or left at least a dubious race. + + Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last, + When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste, + Slipp'd first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain, + Soak'd with the blood of oxen newly slain. + The careless victor had not mark'd his way; + But, treading where the treach'rous puddle lay, + His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor + He fell, besmear'd with filth and holy gore. + Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee, + Nor of the sacred bonds of amity, + He strove th' immediate rival's hope to cross, + And caught the foot of Salius as he rose. + So Salius lay extended on the plain; + Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain, + And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend + The victor to the goal, who vanquish'd by his friend. + Next Helymus; and then Diores came, + By two misfortunes made the third in fame. + + But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud + For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd; + Urges his cause may in the court be heard; + And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr'd. + But favor for Euryalus appears; + His blooming beauty, with his tender tears, + Had brib'd the judges for the promis'd prize. + Besides, Diores fills the court with cries, + Who vainly reaches at the last reward, + If the first palm on Salius be conferr'd. + Then thus the prince: "Let no disputes arise: + Where fortune plac'd it, I award the prize. + But fortune's errors give me leave to mend, + At least to pity my deserving friend." + He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws + (Pond'rous with shaggy mane and golden paws) + A lion's hide: to Salius this he gives. + Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves. + "If such rewards to vanquish'd men are due." + He said, "and falling is to rise by you, + What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim, + Who merited the first rewards and fame? + In falling, both an equal fortune tried; + Would fortune for my fall so well provide!" + With this he pointed to his face, and show'd + His hand and all his habit smear'd with blood. + Th' indulgent father of the people smil'd, + And caus'd to be produc'd an ample shield, + Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought, + Long since from Neptune's bars in triumph brought. + This giv'n to Nisus, he divides the rest, + And equal justice in his gifts express'd. + + The race thus ended, and rewards bestow'd, + Once more the prince bespeaks th' attentive crowd: + "If there he here whose dauntless courage dare + In gauntlet-fight, with limbs and body bare, + His opposite sustain in open view, + Stand forth the champion, and the games renew. + Two prizes I propose, and thus divide: + A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied, + Shall be the portion of the conqu'ring chief; + A sword and helm shall cheer the loser's grief." + + Then haughty Dares in the lists appears; + Stalking he strides, his head erected bears: + His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, + And loud applauses echo thro' the field. + Dares alone in combat us'd to stand + The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand; + The same, at Hector's fun'rals, undertook + Gigantic Butes, of th' Amycian stock, + And, by the stroke of his resistless hand, + Stretch'd the vast bulk upon the yellow sand. + Such Dares was; and such he strode along, + And drew the wonder of the gazing throng. + His brawny back and ample breast he shows, + His lifted arms around his head he throws, + And deals in whistling air his empty blows. + His match is sought; but, thro' the trembling band, + Not one dares answer to the proud demand. + Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes + Already he devours the promis'd prize. + He claims the bull with awless insolence, + And having seiz'd his horns, accosts the prince: + "If none my matchless valor dares oppose, + How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes? + Permit me, chief, permit without delay, + To lead this uncontended gift away." + The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries + For the proud challenger demands the prize. + + Acestes, fir'd with just disdain, to see + The palm usurp'd without a victory, + Reproach'd Entellus thus, who sate beside, + And heard and saw, unmov'd, the Trojan's pride: + "Once, but in vain, a champion of renown, + So tamely can you bear the ravish'd crown, + A prize in triumph borne before your sight, + And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight? + Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name, + The god who taught your thund'ring arm the game? + Where now your baffled honor? Where the spoil + That fill'd your house, and fame that fill'd our isle?" + Entellus, thus: "My soul is still the same, + Unmov'd with fear, and mov'd with martial fame; + But my chill blood is curdled in my veins, + And scarce the shadow of a man remains. + O could I turn to that fair prime again, + That prime of which this boaster is so vain, + The brave, who this decrepid age defies, + Should feel my force, without the promis'd prize." + + He said; and, rising at the word, he threw + Two pond'rous gauntlets down in open view; + Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield, + And sheathe his hands with in the listed field. + With fear and wonder seiz'd, the crowd beholds + The gloves of death, with sev'n distinguish'd folds + Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread + With iron, or with loads of heavy lead: + Dares himself was daunted at the sight, + Renounc'd his challenge, and refus'd to fight. + Astonish'd at their weight, the hero stands, + And pois'd the pond'rous engines in his hands. + "What had your wonder," said Entellus, "been, + Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen, + Or view'd the stern debate on this unhappy green! + These which I bear your brother Eryx bore, + Still mark'd with batter'd brains and mingled gore. + With these he long sustain'd th' Herculean arm; + And these I wielded while my blood was warm, + This languish'd frame while better spirits fed, + Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o'ersnow'd my head. + But if the challenger these arms refuse, + And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use; + If great Aeneas and Acestes join + In his request, these gauntlets I resign; + Let us with equal arms perform the fight, + And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right." + + This said, Entellus for the strife prepares; + Stripp'd of his quilted coat, his body bares; + Compos'd of mighty bones and brawn he stands, + A goodly tow'ring object on the sands. + Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied, + Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied. + Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent, + Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent; + Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar; + With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war. + One on his youth and pliant limbs relies; + One on his sinews and his giant size. + The last is stiff with age, his motion slow; + He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro, + And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow. + Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike; + Their ways are diff'rent, but their art alike. + Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around + Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound. + A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies, + And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes. + Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws + A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws. + Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground, + But with his warping body wards the wound. + His hand and watchful eye keep even pace; + While Dares traverses and shifts his place, + And, like a captain who beleaguers round + Some strong-built castle on a rising ground, + Views all th' approaches with observing eyes: + This and that other part in vain he tries, + And more on industry than force relies. + With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe; + But Dares watch'd the motion from below, + And slipp'd aside, and shunn'd the long descending blow. + Entellus wastes his forces on the wind, + And, thus deluded of the stroke design'd, + Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast + And weighty limbs his ancient mother press'd. + So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood + On Ida's height, or Erymanthus' wood, + Torn from the roots. The diff'ring nations rise, + And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies, + Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise + The fall'n companion of his youthful days. + Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return'd; + With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn'd. + Disdain and conscious virtue fir'd his breast, + And with redoubled force his foe he press'd. + He lays on load with either hand, amain, + And headlong drives the Trojan o'er the plain; + Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows; + But storms of strokes descend about his brows, + A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows. + But now the prince, who saw the wild increase + Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, + And bounds Entellus' wrath, and bids the peace. + First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, + And sooth'd his sorrow for the suffer'd shame. + "What fury seiz'd my friend? The gods," said he, + "To him propitious, and averse to thee, + Have giv'n his arm superior force to thine. + 'T is madness to contend with strength divine." + The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore + His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore: + His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood, + And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood. + Faintly he stagger'd thro' the hissing throng, + And hung his head, and trail'd his legs along. + The sword and casque are carried by his train; + But with his foe the palm and ox remain. + + The champion, then, before Aeneas came, + Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame: + "O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host, + Mark with attention, and forgive my boast; + Learn what I was, by what remains; and know + From what impending fate you sav'd my foe." + Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull; + And, on his ample forehead aiming full, + The deadly stroke, descending, pierc'd the skull. + Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound, + But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground. + Then, thus: "In Dares' stead I offer this. + Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice; + Take the last gift my wither'd arms can yield: + Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field." + + This done, Aeneas orders, for the close, + The strife of archers with contending bows. + The mast Sergesthus' shatter'd galley bore + With his own hands he raises on the shore. + A flutt'ring dove upon the top they tie, + The living mark at which their arrows fly. + The rival archers in a line advance, + Their turn of shooting to receive from chance. + A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn: + On the first scroll was read Hippocoon. + The people shout. Upon the next was found + Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd. + The third contain'd Eurytion's noble name, + Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame, + Whom Pallas urg'd the treaty to confound, + And send among the Greeks a feather'd wound. + Acestes in the bottom last remain'd, + Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain'd. + Soon all with vigor bend their trusty bows, + And from the quiver each his arrow chose. + Hippocoon's was the first: with forceful sway + It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way. + Fix'd in the mast the feather'd weapon stands: + The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands, + And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries + Of the pleas'd people rend the vaulted skies. + Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove, + With lifted eyes, and took his aim above, + But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove; + Yet miss'd so narrow, that he cut the cord + Which fasten'd by the foot the flitting bird. + The captive thus releas'd, away she flies, + And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies. + His bow already bent, Eurytion stood; + And, having first invok'd his brother god, + His winged shaft with eager haste he sped. + The fatal message reach'd her as she fled: + She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground, + And renders back the weapon in the wound. + Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains, + Without a prize to gratify his pains. + Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show + An archer's art, and boast his twanging bow. + The feather'd arrow gave a dire portent, + And latter augurs judge from this event. + Chaf'd by the speed, it fir'd; and, as it flew, + A trail of following flames ascending drew: + Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way; + Across the skies as falling meteors play, + And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay. + The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare, + And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray'r. + The Dardan prince put on a smiling face, + And strain'd Acestes with a close embrace; + Then, hon'ring him with gifts above the rest, + Turn'd the bad omen, nor his fears confess'd. + "The gods," said he, "this miracle have wrought, + And order'd you the prize without the lot. + Accept this goblet, rough with figur'd gold, + Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old: + This pledge of ancient amity receive, + Which to my second sire I justly give." + He said, and, with the trumpets' cheerful sound, + Proclaim'd him victor, and with laurel-crown'd. + Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize, + Tho' he transfix'd the pigeon in the skies. + Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac'd; + The third was his whose arrow pierc'd the mast. + + The chief, before the games were wholly done, + Call'd Periphantes, tutor to his son, + And whisper'd thus: "With speed Ascanius find; + And, if his childish troop be ready join'd, + On horseback let him grace his grandsire's day, + And lead his equals arm'd in just array." + He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears. + The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears. + And now the noble youths, of form divine, + Advance before their fathers, in a line; + The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine. + + Thus marching on in military pride, + Shouts of applause resound from side to side. + Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear, + Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear. + Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; + Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before. + Three graceful troops they form'd upon the green; + Three graceful leaders at their head were seen; + Twelve follow'd ev'ry chief, and left a space between. + The first young Priam led; a lovely boy, + Whose grandsire was th' unhappy king of Troy; + His race in after times was known to fame, + New honors adding to the Latian name; + And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became. + White were the fetlocks of his feet before, + And on his front a snowy star he bore. + Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred, + Of equal age, the second squadron led. + The last in order, but the first in place, + First in the lovely features of his face, + Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed, + Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed. + Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains, + With golden bits adorn'd, and purple reins. + + The pleas'd spectators peals of shouts renew, + And all the parents in the children view; + Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace, + And hopes and fears alternate in their face. + + Th' unfledg'd commanders and their martial train + First make the circuit of the sandy plain + Around their sires, and, at th' appointed sign, + Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line. + The second signal sounds, the troop divides + In three distinguish'd parts, with three distinguish'd guides + Again they close, and once again disjoin; + In troop to troop oppos'd, and line to line. + They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar + With harmless rage and well-dissembled war. + Then in a round the mingled bodies run: + Flying they follow, and pursuing shun; + Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew + In other forms the military shew. + At last, in order, undiscern'd they join, + And march together in a friendly line. + And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old, + With wand'ring ways and many a winding fold, + Involv'd the weary feet, without redress, + In a round error, which denied recess; + So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play, + Turn'd and return'd, and still a diff'rent way. + Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase + In circles, when they swim around the wat'ry race. + This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught; + And, building Alba, to the Latins brought; + Shew'd what he learn'd: the Latin sires impart + To their succeeding sons the graceful art; + From these imperial Rome receiv'd the game, + Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name. + + Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate: + But Fortune soon resum'd her ancient hate; + For, while they pay the dead his annual dues, + Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views; + And sends the goddess of the various bow, + To try new methods of revenge below; + Supplies the winds to wing her airy way, + Where in the port secure the navy lay. + Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends, + And, undiscern'd, her fatal voyage ends. + She saw the gath'ring crowd; and, gliding thence, + The desart shore, and fleet without defense. + The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone, + With sighs and tears Anchises' death bemoan; + Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes, + Their pity to themselves renews their cries. + "Alas!" said one, "what oceans yet remain + For us to sail! what labors to sustain!" + All take the word, and, with a gen'ral groan, + Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own. + + The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains, + And in a woman's form her heav'nly limbs restrains. + In face and shape old Beroe she became, + Doryclus' wife, a venerable dame, + Once blest with riches, and a mother's name. + Thus chang'd, amidst the crying crowd she ran, + Mix'd with the matrons, and these words began: + "O wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow'r, + Nor flames, destroy'd, in Troy's unhappy hour! + O wretched we, reserv'd by cruel fate, + Beyond the ruins of the sinking state! + Now sev'n revolving years are wholly run, + Since this improsp'rous voyage we begun; + Since, toss'd from shores to shores, from lands to lands, + Inhospitable rocks and barren sands, + Wand'ring in exile thro' the stormy sea, + We search in vain for flying Italy. + Now cast by fortune on this kindred land, + What should our rest and rising walls withstand, + Or hinder here to fix our banish'd band? + O country lost, and gods redeem'd in vain, + If still in endless exile we remain! + Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew, + Or streams of some dissembled Simois view! + Haste, join with me, th' unhappy fleet consume! + Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom. + In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands + (For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands: + 'With these,' said she, 'these wand'ring ships destroy: + These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.' + Time calls you now; the precious hour employ: + Slack not the good presage, while Heav'n inspires + Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires. + See! Neptune's altars minister their brands: + The god is pleas'd; the god supplies our hands." + Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew, + And, toss'd in air, amidst the galleys threw. + + Wrapp'd in amaze, the matrons wildly stare: + Then Pyrgo, reverenc'd for her hoary hair, + Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam's num'rous race: + "No Beroe this, tho' she belies her face! + What terrors from her frowning front arise! + Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes! + What rays around her heav'nly face are seen! + Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien! + Beroe but now I left, whom, pin'd with pain, + Her age and anguish from these rites detain," + She said. The matrons, seiz'd with new amaze, + Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze. + They fear, and hope, and neither part obey: + They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way. + The goddess, having done her task below, + Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow. + Struck with the sight, and seiz'd with rage divine, + The matrons prosecute their mad design: + They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands, + The food of altars; fires and flaming brands. + Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste, + And smoking torches, on the ships they cast. + The flame, unstopp'd at first, more fury gains, + And Vulcan rides at large with loosen'd reins: + Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars, + And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars. + Eumelus was the first the news to bear, + While yet they crowd the rural theater. + Then, what they hear, is witness'd by their eyes: + A storm of sparkles and of flames arise. + Ascanius took th' alarm, while yet he led + His early warriors on his prancing steed, + And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpass'd; + Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste. + Soon as the royal youth appear'd in view, + He sent his voice before him as he flew: + "What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy + The last remainders of unhappy Troy! + Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn, + And on your friends your fatal fury turn. + Behold your own Ascanius!" While he said, + He drew his glitt'ring helmet from his head, + In which the youths to sportful arms he led. + By this, Aeneas and his train appear; + And now the women, seiz'd with shame and fear, + Dispers'd, to woods and caverns take their flight, + Abhor their actions, and avoid the light; + Their friends acknowledge, and their error find, + And shake the goddess from their alter'd mind. + + Not so the raging fires their fury cease, + But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace, + Work on their way amid the smold'ring tow, + Sure in destruction, but in motion slow. + The silent plague thro' the green timber eats, + And vomits out a tardy flame by fits. + Down to the keels, and upward to the sails, + The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails; + Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand, + Can the victorious element withstand. + + The pious hero rends his robe, and throws + To heav'n his hands, and with his hands his vows. + "O Jove," he cried, "if pray'rs can yet have place; + If thou abhorr'st not all the Dardan race; + If any spark of pity still remain; + If gods are gods, and not invok'd in vain; + Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train! + Yet from the flames our burning vessels free, + Or let thy fury fall alone on me! + At this devoted head thy thunder throw, + And send the willing sacrifice below!" + + Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise: + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; + Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain; + Heav'n bellies downward, and descends in rain. + Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent, + Which, hissing thro' the planks, the flames prevent, + And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone + Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone. + + But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide; + If he should still in Sicily reside, + Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main, + In hope the promis'd Italy to gain. + Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone + The will of Heav'n by Pallas was foreshown; + Vers'd in portents, experienc'd, and inspir'd + To tell events, and what the fates requir'd; + Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin'd, + With cheerful words reliev'd his lab'ring mind: + "O goddess-born, resign'd in ev'ry state, + With patience bear, with prudence push your fate. + By suff'ring well, our Fortune we subdue; + Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue. + Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind; + To him disclose the secrets of your mind: + Trust in his hands your old and useless train; + Too num'rous for the ships which yet remain: + The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease, + The dames who dread the dangers of the seas, + With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand + The shock of battle with your foes by land. + Here you may build a common town for all, + And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call." + The reasons, with his friend's experience join'd, + Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd his mind. + + 'T was dead of night; when to his slumb'ring eyes + His father's shade descended from the skies, + And thus he spoke: "O more than vital breath, + Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death; + O son, in various toils and troubles toss'd, + The King of Heav'n employs my careful ghost + On his commands: the god, who sav'd from fire + Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire. + The wholesome counsel of your friend receive, + And here the coward train and woman leave: + The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare, + Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war. + The stern Italians will their courage try; + Rough are their manners, and their minds are high. + But first to Pluto's palace you shall go, + And seek my shade among the blest below: + For not with impious ghosts my soul remains, + Nor suffers with the damn'd perpetual pains, + But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains. + The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey, + And blood of offer'd victims free the way. + There shall you know what realms the gods assign, + And learn the fates and fortunes of your line. + But now, farewell! I vanish with the night, + And feel the blast of heav'n's approaching light." + He said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy flight. + "Whither so fast?" the filial duty cried; + "And why, ah why, the wish'd embrace denied?" + + He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires, + He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires; + His country gods and Vesta then adores + With cakes and incense, and their aid implores. + Next, for his friends and royal host he sent, + Reveal'd his vision, and the gods' intent, + With his own purpose. All, without delay, + The will of Jove, and his desires obey. + They list with women each degenerate name, + Who dares not hazard life for future fame. + These they cashier: the brave remaining few, + Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew. + The prince designs a city with the plow; + The lots their sev'ral tenements allow. + This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy, + And the new king ascends the throne with joy; + A chosen senate from the people draws; + Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws. + Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin + A rising temple to the Paphian queen. + Anchises, last, is honor'd as a god; + A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd, + And groves are planted round his blest abode. + Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd; + And fumes of incense in the fanes abound. + Then from the south arose a gentle breeze + That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas; + The rising winds a ruffling gale afford, + And call the merry mariners aboard. + + Now loud laments along the shores resound, + Of parting friends in close embraces bound. + The trembling women, the degenerate train, + Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main, + Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share + Of the rough passage and the promis'd war: + Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends + To their new master's care his fearful friends. + On Eryx's altars three fat calves he lays; + A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas; + Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs. + High on the deck the godlike hero stands, + With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands; + Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine, + And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine. + Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie, + And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly. + + Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears, + To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears: + "The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage, + The malice which no suff'rings can assuage, + Compel me to these pray'rs; since neither fate, + Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate: + Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife; + Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife. + As if 't were little to consume the town + Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown, + She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains, + And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains. + Let her the causes of her hatred tell; + But you can witness its effects too well. + You saw the storm she rais'd on Libyan floods, + That mix'd the mounting billows with the clouds; + When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main, + And mov'd rebellion in your wat'ry reign. + With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames, + To burn their fleet with execrable flames, + And forc'd Aeneas, when his ships were lost, + To leave his foll'wers on a foreign coast. + For what remains, your godhead I implore, + And trust my son to your protecting pow'r. + If neither Jove's nor Fate's decree withstand, + Secure his passage to the Latian land." + + Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main: + "What may not Venus hope from Neptune's reign? + My kingdom claims your birth; my late defense + Of your indanger'd fleet may claim your confidence. + Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare + How much your lov'd Aeneas is my care. + Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest. + Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd, + And drove before him headlong on the plain, + And dash'd against the walls the trembling train; + When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain; + When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way, + Stood up on ridges to behold the sea; + (New heaps came tumbling in, and chok'd his way;) + When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds + Of force unequal, and unequal gods; + I spread a cloud before the victor's sight, + Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight; + Ev'n then secur'd him, when I sought with joy + The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy. + My will's the same: fair goddess, fear no more, + Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore; + Their lives are giv'n; one destin'd head alone + Shall perish, and for multitudes atone." + Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind, + His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd, + Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws, + And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws. + High on the waves his azure car he guides; + Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides, + And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides. + The tempests fly before their father's face, + Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace, + And monster whales before their master play, + And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat'ry way. + The marshal'd pow'rs in equal troops divide + To right and left; the gods his better side + Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride. + + Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude, + Within the hero's mind his joys renew'd. + He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display; + The cheerful crew with diligence obey; + They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea. + Ahead of all the master pilot steers; + And, as he leads, the following navy veers. + The steeds of Night had travel'd half the sky, + The drowsy rowers on their benches lie, + When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight, + Descends, and draws behind a trail of light. + Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey; + To thee alone he takes his fatal way. + Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears; + And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears. + Then thus the traitor god began his tale: + "The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale; + The ships, without thy care, securely sail. + Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I + Will take the rudder and thy room supply." + To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep: + "Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep, + The harlot smiles of her dissembling face, + And to her faith commit the Trojan race? + Shall I believe the Siren South again, + And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main?" + He said: his fasten'd hands the rudder keep, + And, fix'd on heav'n, his eyes repel invading sleep. + The god was wroth, and at his temples threw + A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian dew: + The pilot, vanquish'd by the pow'r divine, + Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine. + Scarce were his limbs extended at their length, + The god, insulting with superior strength, + Fell heavy on him, plung'd him in the sea, + And, with the stern, the rudder tore away. + Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main, + Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain. + The victor daemon mounts obscure in air, + While the ship sails without the pilot's care. + On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies; + But what the man forsook, the god supplies, + And o'er the dang'rous deep secure the navy flies; + Glides by the Sirens' cliffs, a shelfy coast, + Long infamous for ships and sailors lost, + And white with bones. Th' impetuous ocean roars, + And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores. + The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found + The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground. + Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself + The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf. + Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast, + Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd: + "For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flatt'ring sky, + Thy naked corpse is doom'd on shores unknown to lie." + + + + + BOOK VI + + He said, and wept; then spread his sails before + The winds, and reach'd at length the Cumaean shore: + Their anchors dropp'd, his crew the vessels moor. + They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land, + And greet with greedy joy th' Italian strand. + Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed; + Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed, + Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, + Or trace thro' valleys the discover'd floods. + Thus, while their sev'ral charges they fulfil, + The pious prince ascends the sacred hill + Where Phoebus is ador'd; and seeks the shade + Which hides from sight his venerable maid. + Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; + Thence full of fate returns, and of the god. + Thro' Trivia's grove they walk; and now behold, + And enter now, the temple roof'd with gold. + When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore, + His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, + (The first who sail'd in air,) 't is sung by Fame, + To the Cumaean coast at length he came, + And here alighting, built this costly frame. + Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high + The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: + Then o'er the lofty gate his art emboss'd + Androgeos' death, and off'rings to his ghost; + Sev'n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet + The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. + And next to those the dreadful urn was plac'd, + In which the destin'd names by lots were cast: + The mournful parents stand around in tears, + And rising Crete against their shore appears. + There too, in living sculpture, might be seen + The mad affection of the Cretan queen; + Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye; + The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, + The lower part a beast, a man above, + The monument of their polluted love. + Not far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze, + A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways: + Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, + Not to be found, but by the faithful clew; + Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief, + Lent to the loving maid this last relief, + And all those erring paths describ'd so well + That Theseus conquer'd and the monster fell. + Here hapless Icarus had found his part, + Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art. + He twice assay'd to cast his son in gold; + Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming mold. + + All this with wond'ring eyes Aeneas view'd; + Each varying object his delight renew'd: + Eager to read the rest- Achates came, + And by his side the mad divining dame, + The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name. + "Time suffers not," she said, "to feed your eyes + With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice. + Sev'n bullocks, yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose, + And for Diana sev'n unspotted ewes." + This said, the servants urge the sacred rites, + While to the temple she the prince invites. + A spacious cave, within its farmost part, + Was hew'd and fashion'd by laborious art + Thro' the hill's hollow sides: before the place, + A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; + As many voices issue, and the sound + Of Sybil's words as many times rebound. + Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: + "This is the time; enquire your destinies. + He comes; behold the god!" Thus while she said, + (And shiv'ring at the sacred entry stay'd,) + Her color chang'd; her face was not the same, + And hollow groans from her deep spirit came. + Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd + Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast. + Greater than humankind she seem'd to look, + And with an accent more than mortal spoke. + Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll; + When all the god came rushing on her soul. + Swiftly she turn'd, and, foaming as she spoke: + "Why this delay?" she cried- "the pow'rs invoke! + Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode; + Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god." + + She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, + O'erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear. + The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd, + His vows to great Apollo thus address'd: + "Indulgent god, propitious pow'r to Troy, + Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, + Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart + Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part: + Thus far, by fate's decrees and thy commands, + Thro' ambient seas and thro' devouring sands, + Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground; + And now, at length, the flying coast is found. + Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place, + With fury has pursued her wand'ring race. + Here cease, ye pow'rs, and let your vengeance end: + Troy is no more, and can no more offend. + And thou, O sacred maid, inspir'd to see + Th' event of things in dark futurity; + Give me what Heav'n has promis'd to my fate, + To conquer and command the Latian state; + To fix my wand'ring gods, and find a place + For the long exiles of the Trojan race. + Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear + To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray'r; + And annual rites, and festivals, and games, + Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names. + Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land; + For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, + Preserv'd in shrines; and ev'ry sacred lay, + Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: + All shall be treasur'd by a chosen train + Of holy priests, and ever shall remain. + But O! commit not thy prophetic mind + To flitting leaves, the sport of ev'ry wind, + Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; + Write not, but, what the pow'rs ordain, relate." + + Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, + And lab'ring underneath the pond'rous god, + The more she strove to shake him from her breast, + With more and far superior force he press'd; + Commands his entrance, and, without control, + Usurps her organs and inspires her soul. + Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors + Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars + Within the cave, and Sibyl's voice restores: + "Escap'd the dangers of the wat'ry reign, + Yet more and greater ills by land remain. + The coast, so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event), + Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach'd, repent. + Wars, horrid wars, I view- a field of blood, + And Tiber rolling with a purple flood. + Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there: + A new Achilles shall in arms appear, + And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno's hate, + Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate. + To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, + Driv'n to solicit aid at ev'ry court! + The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd; + A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest. + But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, + The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose. + The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown + From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town." + + Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, + And the resisting air the thunder broke; + The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook. + Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast, + In these mysterious words his mind express'd; + Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest. + At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd, + And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd. + Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view, + No frightful face of danger can be new. + Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare, + The Fates, without my pow'r, shall be without my care. + This let me crave, since near your grove the road + To hell lies open, and the dark abode + Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood; + Conduct me thro' the regions void of light, + And lead me longing to my father's sight. + For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, + And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, + Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought. + He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, + And wrath of Heav'n, my still auspicious guide, + And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. + Oft, since he breath'd his last, in dead of night + His reverend image stood before my sight; + Enjoin'd to seek, below, his holy shade; + Conducted there by your unerring aid. + But you, if pious minds by pray'rs are won, + Oblige the father, and protect the son. + Yours is the pow'r; nor Proserpine in vain + Has made you priestess of her nightly reign. + If Orpheus, arm'd with his enchanting lyre, + The ruthless king with pity could inspire, + And from the shades below redeem his wife; + If Pollux, off'ring his alternate life, + Could free his brother, and can daily go + By turns aloft, by turns descend below- + Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, + Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend? + Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came; + My mother greater, my descent the same." + So pray'd the Trojan prince, and, while he pray'd, + His hand upon the holy altar laid. + + Then thus replied the prophetess divine: + "O goddess-born of great Anchises' line, + The gates of hell are open night and day; + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: + But to return, and view the cheerful skies, + In this the task and mighty labor lies. + To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, + And those of shining worth and heav'nly race. + Betwixt those regions and our upper light, + Deep forests and impenetrable night + Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds + Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. + But if so dire a love your soul invades, + As twice below to view the trembling shades; + If you so hard a toil will undertake, + As twice to pass th' innavigable lake; + Receive my counsel. In the neighb'ring grove + There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove + Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night + Conceal the happy plant from human sight. + One bough it bears; but (wondrous to behold!) + The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold: + This from the vulgar branches must be torn, + And to fair Proserpine the present borne, + Ere leave be giv'n to tempt the nether skies. + The first thus rent a second will arise, + And the same metal the same room supplies. + Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see + The lurking gold upon the fatal tree: + Then rend it off, as holy rites command; + The willing metal will obey thy hand, + Following with ease, if favor'd by thy fate, + Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state: + If not, no labor can the tree constrain; + And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain. + Besides, you know not, while you here attend, + Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend: + Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, + Depriv'd of fun'ral rites, pollutes your host. + Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, + Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; + Then, living turfs upon his body lay: + This done, securely take the destin'd way, + To find the regions destitute of day." + + She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went + Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, + Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. + Achates, the companion of his breast, + Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress'd. + Walking, they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd + What friend the priestess by those words design'd. + But soon they found an object to deplore: + Misenus lay extended on the shore; + Son of the God of Winds: none so renown'd + The warrior trumpet in the field to sound; + With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, + And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms. + He serv'd great Hector, and was ever near, + Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. + But by Pelides' arms when Hector fell, + He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well. + Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, + He now provokes the sea gods from the shore; + With envy Triton heard the martial sound, + And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd; + Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand: + The gazing crowd around the body stand. + All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate, + And hastens to perform the funeral state. + In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; + The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air. + An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd, + (The shady covert of the salvage kind,) + The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied; + Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow'ring pride + Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, + And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. + Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown + Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. + Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears, + And by his pious labor urges theirs. + + Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind + The ways to compass what his wish design'd, + He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, + And then with vows implor'd the Queen of Love: + "O may thy pow'r, propitious still to me, + Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, + In this deep forest; since the Sibyl's breath + Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death." + Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight, + Two doves, descending from their airy flight, + Secure upon the grassy plain alight. + He knew his mother's birds; and thus he pray'd: + "Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, + And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, + Whose glitt'ring shadow gilds the sacred ground. + And thou, great parent, with celestial care, + In this distress be present to my pray'r!" + Thus having said, he stopp'd with watchful sight, + Observing still the motions of their flight, + What course they took, what happy signs they shew. + They fed, and, flutt'ring, by degrees withdrew + Still farther from the place, but still in view: + Hopping and flying, thus they led him on + To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun + They wing'd their flight aloft; then, stooping low, + Perch'd on the double tree that bears the golden bough. + Thro' the green leafs the glitt'ring shadows glow; + As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe, + Where the proud mother views her precious brood, + And happier branches, which she never sow'd. + Such was the glitt'ring; such the ruddy rind, + And dancing leaves, that wanton'd in the wind. + He seiz'd the shining bough with griping hold, + And rent away, with ease, the ling'ring gold; + Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize. + Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes, + To dead Misenus pay his obsequies. + First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear, + Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir: + The fabric's front with cypress twigs they strew, + And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew. + The topmost part his glitt'ring arms adorn; + Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne, + Are pour'd to wash his body, joint by joint, + And fragrant oils the stiffen'd limbs anoint. + With groans and cries Misenus they deplore: + Then on a bier, with purple cover'd o'er, + The breathless body, thus bewail'd, they lay, + And fire the pile, their faces turn'd away- + Such reverend rites their fathers us'd to pay. + Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw, + And fat of victims, which his friends bestow. + These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour; + Then on the living coals red wine they pour; + And, last, the relics by themselves dispose, + Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose. + Old Corynaeus compass'd thrice the crew, + And dipp'd an olive branch in holy dew; + Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud + Invok'd the dead, and then dismissed the crowd. + But good Aeneas order'd on the shore + A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore, + A soldier's fauchion, and a seaman's oar. + Thus was his friend interr'd; and deathless fame + Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. + These rites perform'd, the prince, without delay, + Hastes to the nether world his destin'd way. + Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went + From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent; + And here th' access a gloomy grove defends, + And there th' unnavigable lake extends, + O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light, + No bird presumes to steer his airy flight; + Such deadly stenches from the depths arise, + And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies. + From hence the Grecian bards their legends make, + And give the name Avernus to the lake. + Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught, + For sacrifice the pious hero brought. + The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns; + Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns, + Invoking Hecate hither to repair: + A pow'rful name in hell and upper air. + The sacred priests with ready knives bereave + The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive + The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night + (The sable wool without a streak of white) + Aeneas offers; and, by fate's decree, + A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee, + With holocausts he Pluto's altar fills; + Sev'n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills; + Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours; + Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours. + Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun, + Nor ended till the next returning sun. + Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance, + And howling dogs in glimm'ring light advance, + Ere Hecate came. "Far hence be souls profane!" + The Sibyl cried, "and from the grove abstain! + Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford; + Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword." + She said, and pass'd along the gloomy space; + The prince pursued her steps with equal pace. + + Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight, + Ye gods who rule the regions of the night, + Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate + The mystic wonders of your silent state! + + Obscure they went thro' dreary shades, that led + Along the waste dominions of the dead. + Thus wander travelers in woods by night, + By the moon's doubtful and malignant light, + When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, + And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes. + + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, + Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell, + And pale Diseases, and repining Age, + Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage; + Here Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep, + Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep; + With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind, + Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind; + The Furies' iron beds; and Strife, that shakes + Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes. + Full in the midst of this infernal road, + An elm displays her dusky arms abroad: + The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head, + And empty dreams on ev'ry leaf are spread. + Of various forms unnumber'd specters more, + Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door. + Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands, + And Briareus with all his hundred hands; + Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame; + And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame. + The chief unsheath'd his shining steel, prepar'd, + Tho' seiz'd with sudden fear, to force the guard, + Off'ring his brandish'd weapon at their face; + Had not the Sibyl stopp'd his eager pace, + And told him what those empty phantoms were: + Forms without bodies, and impassive air. + Hence to deep Acheron they take their way, + Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay, + Are whirl'd aloft, and in Cocytus lost. + There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast- + A sordid god: down from his hoary chin + A length of beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean; + His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; + A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. + He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers; + The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. + He look'd in years; yet in his years were seen + A youthful vigor and autumnal green. + An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, + Which fill'd the margin of the fatal flood: + Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids, + And mighty heroes' more majestic shades, + And youths, intomb'd before their fathers' eyes, + With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries. + Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods, + Or fowls, by winter forc'd, forsake the floods, + And wing their hasty flight to happier lands; + Such, and so thick, the shiv'ring army stands, + And press for passage with extended hands. + Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore: + The rest he drove to distance from the shore. + The hero, who beheld with wond'ring eyes + The tumult mix'd with shrieks, laments, and cries, + Ask'd of his guide, what the rude concourse meant; + Why to the shore the thronging people bent; + What forms of law among the ghosts were us'd; + Why some were ferried o'er, and some refus'd. + + "Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods," + The Sibyl said, "you see the Stygian floods, + The sacred stream which heav'n's imperial state + Attests in oaths, and fears to violate. + The ghosts rejected are th' unhappy crew + Depriv'd of sepulchers and fun'ral due: + The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host, + He ferries over to the farther coast; + Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves + With such whose bones are not compos'd in graves. + A hundred years they wander on the shore; + At length, their penance done, are wafted o'er." + The Trojan chief his forward pace repress'd, + Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast, + He saw his friends, who, whelm'd beneath the waves, + Their fun'ral honors claim'd, and ask'd their quiet graves. + The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, + And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, + Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; + The sailors master'd, and the ship o'erset. + + Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press'd, + Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest, + Who, while he steering view'd the stars, and bore + His course from Afric to the Latian shore, + Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix'd his view, + And scarcely thro' the gloom the sullen shadow knew. + Then thus the prince: "What envious pow'r, O friend, + Brought your lov'd life to this disastrous end? + For Phoebus, ever true in all he said, + Has in your fate alone my faith betray'd. + The god foretold you should not die, before + You reach'd, secure from seas, th' Italian shore. + Is this th' unerring pow'r?" The ghost replied; + "Nor Phoebus flatter'd, nor his answers lied; + Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep: + But, while the stars and course of heav'n I keep, + My wearied eyes were seiz'd with fatal sleep. + I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain'd + Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain'd. + Now by the winds and raging waves I swear, + Your safety, more than mine, was then my care; + Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost, + Your ship should run against the rocky coast. + Three blust'ring nights, borne by the southern blast, + I floated, and discover'd land at last: + High on a mounting wave my head I bore, + Forcing my strength, and gath'ring to the shore. + Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz'd + The craggy cliffs, and my tir'd members eas'd. + While, cumber'd with my dropping clothes, I lay, + The cruel nation, covetous of prey, + Stain'd with my blood th' unhospitable coast; + And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss'd: + Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, + Which I have lost for this eternal night! + Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, + By your dead sire, and by your living son, + Redeem from this reproach my wand'ring ghost; + Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, + And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; + Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, + Without whose aid you durst not undertake + This frightful passage o'er the Stygian lake, + Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o'er + To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore." + Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: + "What hopes delude thee, miserable man? + Think'st thou, thus unintomb'd, to cross the floods, + To view the Furies and infernal gods, + And visit, without leave, the dark abodes? + Attend the term of long revolving years; + Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears. + This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: + The wrath of Heav'n, inflicted for thy sake, + With vengeance shall pursue th' inhuman coast, + Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, + And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray'r; + And Palinurus' name the place shall bear." + This calm'd his cares; sooth'd with his future fame, + And pleas'd to hear his propagated name. + + Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: + Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw; + Observ'd their passage thro' the shady wood, + And mark'd their near approaches to the flood. + Then thus he call'd aloud, inflam'd with wrath: + "Mortal, whate'er, who this forbidden path + In arms presum'st to tread, I charge thee, stand, + And tell thy name, and bus'ness in the land. + Know this, the realm of night- the Stygian shore: + My boat conveys no living bodies o'er; + Nor was I pleas'd great Theseus once to bear, + Who forc'd a passage with his pointed spear, + Nor strong Alcides- men of mighty fame, + And from th' immortal gods their lineage came. + In fetters one the barking porter tied, + And took him trembling from his sov'reign's side: + Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride." + To whom the Sibyl thus: "Compose thy mind; + Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd. + Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain + Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, + And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain. + The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, + Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love, + Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove. + If neither piety, nor Heav'n's command, + Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, + This fatal present shall prevail at least." + Then shew'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest. + No more was needful: for the gloomy god + Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; + Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen- + A venerable gift, so rarely seen. + His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land; + The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: + He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; + The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight. + Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; + The pressing water pours within her sides. + His passengers at length are wafted o'er, + Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore. + + No sooner landed, in his den they found + The triple porter of the Stygian sound, + Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear + His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair. + The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd + A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard; + Which, mix'd with pow'rful drugs, she cast before + His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar. + With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, + With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait. + Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; + He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave. + The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay + Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way. + Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, + Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, + Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws + Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause. + Nor want they lots, nor judges to review + The wrongful sentence, and award a new. + Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; + And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears. + Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, + Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. + The next, in place and punishment, are they + Who prodigally throw their souls away; + Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, + And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate. + With late repentance now they would retrieve + The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; + Their pains and poverty desire to bear, + To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air: + But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, + And with circling streams the captive souls inclose. + + Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear + So call'd from lovers that inhabit there. + The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, + In secret solitude and myrtle shades + Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, + Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire. + Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, + Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound + Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there, + With Phaedra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair. + There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, + Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: + Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, + But ending in the sex she first began. + Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, + Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood; + Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, + Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, + (Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night, + Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,) + With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade; + And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said: + "Unhappy queen! then is the common breath + Of rumor true, in your reported death, + And I, alas! the cause? By Heav'n, I vow, + And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below, + Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, + Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by fate- + Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might + Have sent me to these regions void of light, + Thro' the vast empire of eternal night. + Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief, + My flight should urge you to this dire relief. + Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: + 'T is the last interview that fate allows!" + In vain he thus attempts her mind to move + With tears, and pray'rs, and late-repenting love. + Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round, + But fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground, + And what he says and swears, regards no more + Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; + But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight, + Hid in the forest and the shades of night; + Then sought Sichaeus thro' the shady grove, + Who answer'd all her cares, and equal'd all her love. + + Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, + And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade, + Then took the forward way, by fate ordain'd, + And, with his guide, the farther fields attain'd, + Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd. + Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race, + The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace; + And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face. + Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a num'rous train, + All much lamented, all in battle slain; + Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, + Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest. + And proud Idaeus, Priam's charioteer, + Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear. + The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend + And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; + Delight to hover near, and long to know + What bus'ness brought him to the realms below. + But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train, + When his refulgent arms flash'd thro' the shady plain, + Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, + As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear + Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear. + They rais'd a feeble cry, with trembling notes; + But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats. + + Here Priam's son, Deiphobus, he found, + Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: + Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears, + Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears. + He scarcely knew him, striving to disown + His blotted form, and blushing to be known; + And therefore first began: "O Teucer's race, + Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? + What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace? + 'Twas fam'd, that in our last and fatal night + Your single prowess long sustain'd the fight, + Till tir'd, not forc'd, a glorious fate you chose, + And fell upon a heap of slaughter'd foes. + But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, + A tomb and fun'ral honors I decreed; + Thrice call'd your manes on the Trojan plains: + The place your armor and your name retains. + Your body too I sought, and, had I found, + Design'd for burial in your native ground." + + The ghost replied: "Your piety has paid + All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade; + But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, + To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life. + These are the monuments of Helen's love: + The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. + You know in what deluding joys we pass'd + The night that was by Heav'n decreed our last: + For, when the fatal horse, descending down, + Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th' unhappy town + She feign'd nocturnal orgies; left my bed, + And, mix'd with Trojan dames, the dances led + Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, + Which rous'd the Grecians from their ambuscade. + With watching overworn, with cares oppress'd, + Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, + And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess'd. + Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, + And from beneath my head my sword convey'd; + The door unlatch'd, and, with repeated calls, + Invites her former lord within my walls. + Thus in her crime her confidence she plac'd, + And with new treasons would redeem the past. + What need I more? Into the room they ran, + And meanly murther'd a defenseless man. + Ulysses, basely born, first led the way. + Avenging pow'rs! with justice if I pray, + That fortune be their own another day! + But answer you; and in your turn relate, + What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: + Driv'n by the winds and errors of the sea, + Or did you Heav'n's superior doom obey? + Or tell what other chance conducts your way, + To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, + Tumults and torments of th' infernal seats." + + While thus in talk the flying hours they pass, + The sun had finish'd more than half his race: + And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent + The little time of stay which Heav'n had lent; + But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: + "Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: + 'T is here, in different paths, the way divides; + The right to Pluto's golden palace guides; + The left to that unhappy region tends, + Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; + The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends." + Then thus Deiphobus: "O sacred maid, + Forbear to chide, and be your will obey'd! + Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, + To pay my penance till my years expire. + Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown'd, + And born to better fates than I have found." + He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn'd + To secret shadows, and in silence mourn'd. + + The hero, looking on the left, espied + A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side + With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, + Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; + And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds + Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais'd on high + With adamantine columns, threats the sky. + Vain is the force of man, and Heav'n's as vain, + To crush the pillars which the pile sustain. + Sublime on these a tow'r of steel is rear'd; + And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, + Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, + Observant of the souls that pass the downward way. + From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains + Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains. + The Trojan stood astonish'd at their cries, + And ask'd his guide from whence those yells arise; + And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, + And loud laments that rent the liquid air. + + She thus replied: "The chaste and holy race + Are all forbidden this polluted place. + But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, + Then led me trembling thro' these dire abodes, + And taught the tortures of th' avenging gods. + These are the realms of unrelenting fate; + And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state. + He hears and judges each committed crime; + Enquires into the manner, place, and time. + The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, + (Loth to confess, unable to conceal), + From the first moment of his vital breath, + To his last hour of unrepenting death. + Straight, o'er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes + The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, + And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. + Then, of itself, unfolds th' eternal door; + With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar. + You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost + Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post. + More formidable Hydra stands within, + Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin. + The gaping gulf low to the center lies, + And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. + The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, + Here, sing'd with lightning, roll within th' unfathom'd space. + Here lie th' Alaean twins, (I saw them both,) + Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, + Who dar'd in fight the Thund'rer to defy, + Affect his heav'n, and force him from the sky. + Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel pains, I found, + For emulating Jove; the rattling sound + Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze + Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. + Thro' Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; + Th' audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: + He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain, + Sought godlike worship from a servile train. + Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass + O'er hollow arches of resounding brass, + To rival thunder in its rapid course, + And imitate inimitable force! + But he, the King of Heav'n, obscure on high, + Bar'd his red arm, and, launching from the sky + His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, + Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook. + There Tityus was to see, who took his birth + From heav'n, his nursing from the foodful earth. + Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, + Infold nine acres of infernal space. + A rav'nous vulture, in his open'd side, + Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried; + Still for the growing liver digg'd his breast; + The growing liver still supplied the feast; + Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains: + Th' immortal hunger lasts, th' immortal food remains. + Ixion and Perithous I could name, + And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame. + High o'er their heads a mold'ring rock is plac'd, + That promises a fall, and shakes at ev'ry blast. + They lie below, on golden beds display'd; + And genial feasts with regal pomp are made. + The Queen of Furies by their sides is set, + And snatches from their mouths th' untasted meat, + Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, + Tossing her torch, and thund'ring in their ears. + Then they, who brothers' better claim disown, + Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; + Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, + Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; + Who dare not give, and ev'n refuse to lend + To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend. + Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train + Of lustful youths, for foul adult'ry slain: + Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold, + And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold. + All these within the dungeon's depth remain, + Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. + Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know + Their process, or the forms of law below. + Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along, + And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung + Unhappy Theseus, doom'd for ever there, + Is fix'd by fate on his eternal chair; + And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries + (Could warning make the world more just or wise): + 'Learn righteousness, and dread th' avenging deities.' + To tyrants others have their country sold, + Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; + Some have old laws repeal'd, new statutes made, + Not as the people pleas'd, but as they paid; + With incest some their daughters' bed profan'd: + All dar'd the worst of ills, and, what they dar'd, attain'd. + Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, + And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs, + I could not half those horrid crimes repeat, + Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. + But let us haste our voyage to pursue: + The walls of Pluto's palace are in view; + The gate, and iron arch above it, stands + On anvils labor'd by the Cyclops' hands. + Before our farther way the Fates allow, + Here must we fix on high the golden bough." + + She said: and thro' the gloomy shades they pass'd, + And chose the middle path. Arriv'd at last, + The prince with living water sprinkled o'er + His limbs and body; then approach'd the door, + Possess'd the porch, and on the front above + He fix'd the fatal bough requir'd by Pluto's love. + These holy rites perform'd, they took their way + Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: + The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie, + With ether vested, and a purple sky; + The blissful seats of happy souls below. + Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; + Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, + And on the green contend the wrestler's prize. + Some in heroic verse divinely sing; + Others in artful measures led the ring. + The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, + There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; + His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, + Strikes sev'n distinguish'd notes, and sev'n at once they fill. + Here found they Teucer's old heroic race, + Born better times and happier years to grace. + Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy + Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. + The chief beheld their chariots from afar, + Their shining arms, and coursers train'd to war: + Their lances fix'd in earth, their steeds around, + Free from their harness, graze the flow'ry ground. + The love of horses which they had, alive, + And care of chariots, after death survive. + Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; + Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, + Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po + Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. + Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, + In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: + Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode, + And poets worthy their inspiring god; + And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, + Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts: + Those who to worth their bounty did extend, + And those who knew that bounty to commend. + The heads of these with holy fillets bound, + And all their temples were with garlands crown'd. + + To these the Sibyl thus her speech address'd, + And first to him surrounded by the rest + (Tow'ring his height, and ample was his breast): + "Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say, + Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way + To find the hero, for whose only sake + We sought the dark abodes, and cross'd the bitter lake?" + To this the sacred poet thus replied: + "In no fix'd place the happy souls reside. + In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, + By crystal streams, that murmur thro' the meads: + But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; + The path conducts you to your journey's end." + This said, he led them up the mountain's brow, + And shews them all the shining fields below. + They wind the hill, and thro' the blissful meadows go. + + But old Anchises, in a flow'ry vale, + Review'd his muster'd race, and took the tale: + Those happy spirits, which, ordain'd by fate, + For future beings and new bodies wait- + With studious thought observ'd th' illustrious throng, + In nature's order as they pass'd along: + Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care, + In peaceful senates and successful war. + He, when Aeneas on the plain appears, + Meets him with open arms, and falling tears. + "Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race! + O long expected to my dear embrace! + Once more 't is giv'n me to behold your face! + The love and pious duty which you pay + Have pass'd the perils of so hard a way. + 'T is true, computing times, I now believ'd + The happy day approach'd; nor are my hopes deceiv'd. + What length of lands, what oceans have you pass'd; + What storms sustain'd, and on what shores been cast? + How have I fear'd your fate! but fear'd it most, + When love assail'd you, on the Libyan coast." + To this, the filial duty thus replies: + "Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes + Appear'd, and often urg'd this painful enterprise. + After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea, + My navy rides at anchor in the bay. + But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun + The dear embraces of your longing son!" + He said; and falling tears his face bedew: + Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw; + And thrice the flitting shadow slipp'd away, + Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. + + Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees + A sep'rate grove, thro' which a gentle breeze + Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro' the trees; + And, just before the confines of the wood, + The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood. + About the boughs an airy nation flew, + Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; + In summer's heat on tops of lilies feed, + And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: + The winged army roams the fields around; + The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. + Aeneas wond'ring stood, then ask'd the cause + Which to the stream the crowding people draws. + Then thus the sire: "The souls that throng the flood + Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow'd: + In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste, + Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. + Long has my soul desir'd this time and place, + To set before your sight your glorious race, + That this presaging joy may fire your mind + To seek the shores by destiny design'd."- + "O father, can it be, that souls sublime + Return to visit our terrestrial clime, + And that the gen'rous mind, releas'd by death, + Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?" + + Anchises then, in order, thus begun + To clear those wonders to his godlike son: + "Know, first, that heav'n, and earth's compacted frame, + And flowing waters, and the starry flame, + And both the radiant lights, one common soul + Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole. + This active mind, infus'd thro' all the space, + Unites and mingles with the mighty mass. + Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain, + And birds of air, and monsters of the main. + Th' ethereal vigor is in all the same, + And every soul is fill'd with equal flame; + As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay + Of mortal members, subject to decay, + Blunt not the beams of heav'n and edge of day. + From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, + Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts, + And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind, + In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin'd, + Assert the native skies, or own its heav'nly kind: + Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains; + But long-contracted filth ev'n in the soul remains. + The relics of inveterate vice they wear, + And spots of sin obscene in ev'ry face appear. + For this are various penances enjoin'd; + And some are hung to bleach upon the wind, + Some plung'd in waters, others purg'd in fires, + Till all the dregs are drain'd, and all the rust expires. + All have their manes, and those manes bear: + The few, so cleans'd, to these abodes repair, + And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air. + Then are they happy, when by length of time + The scurf is worn away of each committed crime; + No speck is left of their habitual stains, + But the pure ether of the soul remains. + But, when a thousand rolling years are past, + (So long their punishments and penance last,) + Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god, + Compell'd to drink the deep Lethaean flood, + In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares + Of their past labors, and their irksome years, + That, unrememb'ring of its former pain, + The soul may suffer mortal flesh again." + + Thus having said, the father spirit leads + The priestess and his son thro' swarms of shades, + And takes a rising ground, from thence to see + The long procession of his progeny. + "Survey," pursued the sire, "this airy throng, + As, offer'd to thy view, they pass along. + These are th' Italian names, which fate will join + With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line. + Observe the youth who first appears in sight, + And holds the nearest station to the light, + Already seems to snuff the vital air, + And leans just forward, on a shining spear: + Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race, + But first in order sent, to fill thy place; + An Alban name, but mix'd with Dardan blood, + Born in the covert of a shady wood: + Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife, + Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life. + In Alba he shall fix his royal seat, + And, born a king, a race of kings beget. + Then Procas, honor of the Trojan name, + Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame. + A second Silvius after these appears; + Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears; + For arms and justice equally renown'd, + Who, late restor'd, in Alba shall be crown'd. + How great they look! how vig'rously they wield + Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield! + But they, who crown'd with oaken wreaths appear, + Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear; + Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found; + And raise Collatian tow'rs on rocky ground. + All these shall then be towns of mighty fame, + Tho' now they lie obscure, and lands without a name. + See Romulus the great, born to restore + The crown that once his injur'd grandsire wore. + This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear, + And like his sire in arms he shall appear. + Two rising crests, his royal head adorn; + Born from a god, himself to godhead born: + His sire already signs him for the skies, + And marks the seat amidst the deities. + Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come, + Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome- + Rome, whose ascending tow'rs shall heav'n invade, + Involving earth and ocean in her shade; + High as the Mother of the Gods in place, + And proud, like her, of an immortal race. + Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, + With golden turrets on her temples crown'd; + A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; + Her offspring all, and all command the sky. + + "Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see + Your Roman race, and Julian progeny. + The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour, + Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis'd pow'r. + But next behold the youth of form divine, + Ceasar himself, exalted in his line; + Augustus, promis'd oft, and long foretold, + Sent to the realm that Saturn rul'd of old; + Born to restore a better age of gold. + Afric and India shall his pow'r obey; + He shall extend his propagated sway + Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, + Where Atlas turns the rolling heav'ns around, + And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown'd. + At his foreseen approach, already quake + The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake: + Their seers behold the tempest from afar, + And threat'ning oracles denounce the war. + Nile hears him knocking at his sev'nfold gates, + And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates. + Nor Hercules more lands or labors knew, + Not tho' the brazen-footed hind he slew, + Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, + And dipp'd his arrows in Lernaean gore; + Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, + By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, + From Nisus' top descending on the plains, + With curling vines around his purple reins. + And doubt we yet thro' dangers to pursue + The paths of honor, and a crown in view? + But what's the man, who from afar appears? + His head with olive crown'd, his hand a censer bears, + His hoary beard and holy vestments bring + His lost idea back: I know the Roman king. + He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain, + Call'd from his mean abode a scepter to sustain. + Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds, + An active prince, and prone to martial deeds. + He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare, + Disus'd to toils, and triumphs of the war. + By dint of sword his crown he shall increase, + And scour his armor from the rust of peace. + Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air, + But vain within, and proudly popular. + Next view the Tarquin kings, th' avenging sword + Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor'd. + He first renews the rods and ax severe, + And gives the consuls royal robes to wear. + His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain, + And long for arbitrary lords again, + With ignominy scourg'd, in open sight, + He dooms to death deserv'd, asserting public right. + Unhappy man, to break the pious laws + Of nature, pleading in his children's cause! + Howeer the doubtful fact is understood, + 'T is love of honor, and his country's good: + The consul, not the father, sheds the blood. + Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; + And, next, the two devoted Decii view: + The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home + With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes o'ercome + The pair you see in equal armor shine, + Now, friends below, in close embraces join; + But, when they leave the shady realms of night, + And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light, + With mortal hate each other shall pursue: + What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue! + From Alpine heights the father first descends; + His daughter's husband in the plain attends: + His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends. + Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; + Nor stain your country with her children's gore! + And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, + Thou, of my blood, who bearist the Julian name! + Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, + And to the Capitol his chariot guide, + From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils. + And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils, + On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, + And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; + Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; + Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace, + And Pallas, for her violated place. + Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd, + And conqu'ring Cossus goes with laurels crown'd. + Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare + The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war, + The double bane of Carthage? Who can see + Without esteem for virtuous poverty, + Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire + The plowman consul in his coarse attire? + Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; + And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, + Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state, + And, by delays, to put a stop to fate! + Let others better mold the running mass + Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, + And soften into flesh a marble face; + Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, + And when the stars descend, and when they rise. + But, Rome, 't is thine alone, with awful sway, + To rule mankind, and make the world obey, + Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; + To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free: + These are imperial arts, and worthy thee." + + He paus'd; and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd + The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd: + "See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils, + He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils! + He, when his country, threaten'd with alarms, + Requires his courage and his conqu'ring arms, + Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; + Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; + Then to the Capitol in triumph move, + And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove." + Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, + A godlike youth in glitt'ring armor shine, + With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; + But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. + He saw, and, wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide, + What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side: + "His son, or one of his illustrious name? + How like the former, and almost the same! + Observe the crowds that compass him around; + All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: + But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread, + And night, with sable shades, involves his head." + "Seek not to know," the ghost replied with tears, + "The sorrows of thy sons in future years. + This youth (the blissful vision of a day) + Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch'd away. + The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state, + Were but their gifts as permanent as great. + What groans of men shall fill the Martian field! + How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield! + What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, + When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity! + No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, + No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; + The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast, + Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost! + Mirror of ancient faith in early youth! + Undaunted worth, inviolable truth! + No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field + Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; + Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, + When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse. + Ah! couldst thou break thro' fate's severe decree, + A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! + Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, + Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring; + Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow; + This gift which parents to their children owe, + This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!" + Thus having said, he led the hero round + The confines of the blest Elysian ground; + Which when Anchises to his son had shown, + And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne, + He tells the future wars, ordain'd by fate; + The strength and customs of the Latian state; + The prince, and people; and forearms his care + With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear. + + Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; + Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn: + True visions thro' transparent horn arise; + Thro' polish'd ivory pass deluding lies. + Of various things discoursing as he pass'd, + Anchises hither bends his steps at last. + Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd + His valiant offspring and divining guest. + Straight to the ships Aeneas his way, + Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea, + Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay. + At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; + Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore. + + + + + BOOK VII + + And thou, O matron of immortal fame, + Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name; + Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee, + The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy. + Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains; + Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have) remains. + + Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid, + He plow'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd. + From land a gentle breeze arose by night, + Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, + And the sea trembled with her silver light. + Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run, + (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,) + A dang'rous coast: the goddess wastes her days + In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: + In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, + And cedar brands supply her father's light. + From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, + The roars of lions that refuse the chain, + The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, + And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears. + These from their caverns, at the close of night, + Fill the sad isle with horror and affright. + Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r, + (That watch'd the moon and planetary hour,) + With words and wicked herbs from humankind + Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd. + Which monsters lest the Trojans' pious host + Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted coast, + Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night + With rising gales that sped their happy flight. + Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore, + And hear the swelling surges vainly roar. + Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, + And wav'd her saffron streamer thro' the skies; + When Thetis blush'd in purple not her own, + And from her face the breathing winds were blown, + A sudden silence sate upon the sea, + And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way. + The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, + Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: + Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, + With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, + That drove the sand along, he took his way, + And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea. + About him, and above, and round the wood, + The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, + That bath'd within, or basked upon his side, + To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied. + The captain gives command; the joyful train + Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main. + + Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire, + And fill his soul with thy celestial fire! + Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings; + Declare the past and state of things, + When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, + And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought. + These are my theme, and how the war began, + And how concluded by the godlike man: + For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, + Which princes and their people did engage; + And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate, + In fighting fields pursued and found their fate; + That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, + And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms. + A larger scene of action is display'd; + And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd. + + Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd + The Latin scepter, and his people blest: + His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame + His mother; fair Marica was her name. + But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew + His birth from Saturn, if records be true. + Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, + Had Saturn author of his family. + But this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed, + Was blest with no male issue to succeed: + His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate; + One only daughter heir'd the royal state. + Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led, + The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed. + Among the crowd, but far above the rest, + Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd. + Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, + Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen; + With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand, + But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand. + + Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood + A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood; + Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair + Was kept and cut with superstitious care. + This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd, + Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd; + And last, in honor of his new abode, + He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god. + It happen'd once (a boding prodigy!) + A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, + (Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,) + Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight; + There with their clasping feet together clung, + And a long cluster from the laurel hung. + An ancient augur prophesied from hence: + "Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince! + From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands, + To the same parts on earth; his army lands; + The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands." + + Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire + Before the gods, and stood beside her sire, + (Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd in smoke + Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, + Caught her dishevel'd hair and rich attire; + Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire: + From thence the fuming trail began to spread + And lambent glories danc'd about her head. + This new portent the seer with wonder views, + Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews: + "The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, + Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown'd; + But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate, + War shall the country waste, and change the state." + + Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, + For counsel to his father Faunus went, + And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy + Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie. + To these the Latian and the Sabine land + Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand. + The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease, + And nightly visions in his slumber sees; + A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears, + And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears: + These he consults, the future fates to know, + From pow'rs above, and from the fiends below. + Here, for the gods' advice, Latinus flies, + Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice: + Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd, + He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd. + No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound, + When, from above, a more than mortal sound + Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke: + "Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke + Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke. + A foreign son upon thy shore descends, + Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends. + His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd, + Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound: + 'T is theirs whate'er the sun surveys around." + These answers, in the silent night receiv'd, + The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd: + The fame thro' all the neighb'ring nations flew, + When now the Trojan navy was in view. + + Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread + His table on the turf, with cakes of bread; + And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed. + They sate; and, (not without the god's command,) + Their homely fare dispatch'd, the hungry band + Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour, + To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour. + Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said: + "See, we devour the plates on which we fed." + The speech had omen, that the Trojan race + Should find repose, and this the time and place. + Aeneas took the word, and thus replies, + Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes: + "All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods! + Behold the destin'd place of your abodes! + For thus Anchises prophesied of old, + And this our fatal place of rest foretold: + 'When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat, + By famine forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat, + Then ease your weary Trojans will attend, + And the long labors of your voyage end. + Remember on that happy coast to build, + And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.' + This was that famine, this the fatal place + Which ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race. + Then, on to-morrow's dawn, your care employ, + To search the land, and where the cities lie, + And what the men; but give this day to joy. + Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest, + Call great Anchises to the genial feast: + Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught; + Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought." + + Thus having said, the hero bound his brows + With leafy branches, then perform'd his vows; + Adoring first the genius of the place, + Then Earth, the mother of the heav'nly race, + The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown, + And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne, + And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove, + And last his sire below, and mother queen above. + Then heav'n's high monarch thunder'd thrice aloud, + And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud. + Soon thro' the joyful camp a rumor flew, + The time was come their city to renew. + Then ev'ry brow with cheerful green is crown'd, + The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round. + + When next the rosy morn disclos'd the day, + The scouts to sev'ral parts divide their way, + To learn the natives' names, their towns explore, + The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore: + Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands; + Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands. + The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways + To found his empire, and his town to raise, + A hundred youths from all his train selects, + And to the Latian court their course directs, + (The spacious palace where their prince resides,) + And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides. + They go commission'd to require a peace, + And carry presents to procure access. + Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs + His new-elected seat, and draws the lines. + The Trojans round the place a rampire cast, + And palisades about the trenches plac'd. + + Meantime the train, proceeding on their way, + From far the town and lofty tow'rs survey; + At length approach the walls. Without the gate, + They see the boys and Latian youth debate + The martial prizes on the dusty plain: + Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein; + Some bend the stubborn bow for victory, + And some with darts their active sinews try. + A posting messenger, dispatch'd from hence, + Of this fair troop advis'd their aged prince, + That foreign men of mighty stature came; + Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name. + The king ordains their entrance, and ascends + His regal seat, surrounded by his friends. + + The palace built by Picus, vast and proud, + Supported by a hundred pillars stood, + And round incompass'd with a rising wood. + The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight; + Surpris'd at once with reverence and delight. + There kings receiv'd the marks of sov'reign pow'r; + In state the monarchs march'd; the lictors bore + Their awful axes and the rods before. + Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray'r, + And here the sacred senators repair; + All at large tables, in long order set, + A ram their off'ring, and a ram their meat. + Above the portal, carv'd in cedar wood, + Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood; + Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high; + And Italus, that led the colony; + And ancient Janus, with his double face, + And bunch of keys, the porter of the place. + There good Sabinus, planter of the vines, + On a short pruning hook his head reclines, + And studiously surveys his gen'rous wines; + Then warlike kings, who for their country fought, + And honorable wounds from battle brought. + Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears, + And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars, + And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars. + Above the rest, as chief of all the band, + Was Picus plac'd, a buckler in his hand; + His other wav'd a long divining wand. + Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate, + Yet could not with his art avoid his fate: + For Circe long had lov'd the youth in vain, + Till love, refus'd, converted to disdain: + Then, mixing pow'rful herbs, with magic art, + She chang'd his form, who could not change his heart; + Constrain'd him in a bird, and made him fly, + With party-color'd plumes, a chatt'ring pie. + + In this high temple, on a chair of state, + The seat of audience, old Latinus sate; + Then gave admission to the Trojan train; + And thus with pleasing accents he began: + "Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own, + Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown- + Say what you seek, and whither were you bound: + Were you by stress of weather cast aground? + (Such dangers as on seas are often seen, + And oft befall to miserable men,) + Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay, + Spent and disabled in so long a way? + Say what you want: the Latians you shall find + Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd; + For, since the time of Saturn's holy reign, + His hospitable customs we retain. + I call to mind (but time the tale has worn) + Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho' born + On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore, + And Samothracia, Samos call'd before. + From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd his birth; + But after, when exempt from mortal earth, + From thence ascended to his kindred skies, + A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice," + + He said. Ilioneus made this reply: + "O king, of Faunus' royal family! + Nor wintry winds to Latium forc'd our way, + Nor did the stars our wand'ring course betray. + Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound, + The port, so long desir'd, at length we found; + From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell'd; + Great as the greatest that the sun beheld. + The god began our line, who rules above; + And, as our race, our king descends from Jove: + And hither are we come, by his command, + To crave admission in your happy land. + How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour'd, + Our plains, our temples, and our town devour'd; + What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms + Shook Asia's crown with European arms; + Ev'n such have heard, if any such there be, + Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea; + And such as, born beneath the burning sky + And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie. + From that dire deluge, thro' the wat'ry waste, + Such length of years, such various perils past, + At last escap'd, to Latium we repair, + To beg what you without your want may spare: + The common water, and the common air; + Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes, + Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods. + Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace, + Nor length of time our gratitude efface. + Besides, what endless honor you shall gain, + To save and shelter Troy's unhappy train! + Now, by my sov'reign, and his fate, I swear, + Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in war; + Oft our alliance other lands desir'd, + And, what we seek of you, of us requir'd. + Despite not then, that in our hands we bear + These holy boughs, sue with words of pray'r. + Fate and the gods, by their supreme command, + Have doom'd our ships to seek the Latian land. + To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends; + Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends; + Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force, + And where Numicus opes his holy source. + Besides, our prince presents, with his request, + Some small remains of what his sire possess'd. + This golden charger, snatch'd from burning Troy, + Anchises did in sacrifice employ; + This royal robe and this tiara wore + Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore + In full assemblies, and in solemn games; + These purple vests were weav'd by Dardan dames." + + Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around + His eyes, and fix'd a while upon the ground. + Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his breast; + Not by the scepter mov'd, or kingly vest, + But pond'ring future things of wondrous weight; + Succession, empire, and his daughter's fate. + On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind, + And then revolv'd what Faunus had divin'd. + This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed + To share his scepter, and Lavinia's bed; + This was the race that sure portents foreshew + To sway the world, and land and sea subdue. + At length he rais'd his cheerful head, and spoke: + "The pow'rs," said he, "the pow'rs we both invoke, + To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be, + And firm our purpose with their augury! + Have what you ask; your presents I receive; + Land, where and when you please, with ample leave; + Partake and use my kingdom as your own; + All shall be yours, while I command the crown: + And, if my wish'd alliance please your king, + Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring. + Then let him not a friend's embraces fear; + The peace is made when I behold him here. + Besides this answer, tell my royal guest, + I add to his commands my own request: + One only daughter heirs my crown and state, + Whom not our oracles, nor Heav'n, nor fate, + Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join + With any native of th' Ausonian line. + A foreign son-in-law shall come from far + (Such is our doom), a chief renown'd in war, + Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name, + And thro' the conquer'd world diffuse our fame. + Himself to be the man the fates require, + I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire." + + He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed. + Three hundred horses, in high stables fed, + Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress'd: + Of these he chose the fairest and the best, + To mount the Trojan troop. At his command + The steeds caparison'd with purple stand, + With golden trappings, glorious to behold, + And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold. + Then to his absent guest the king decreed + A pair of coursers born of heav'nly breed, + Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire; + Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, + By substituting mares produc'd on earth, + Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal birth. + These draw the chariot which Latinus sends, + And the rich present to the prince commends. + Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne, + To their expecting lord with peace return. + + But jealous Juno, from Pachynus' height, + As she from Argos took her airy flight, + Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight. + She saw the Trojan and his joyful train + Descend upon the shore, desert the main, + Design a town, and, with unhop'd success, + Th' embassadors return with promis'd peace. + Then, pierc'd with pain, she shook her haughty head, + Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus she said: + "O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes! + O fates of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose! + Could they not fall unpitied on the plain, + But slain revive, and, taken, scape again? + When execrable Troy in ashes lay, + Thro' fires and swords and seas they forc'd their way. + Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend, + Her rage disarm'd, her empire at an end. + Breathless and tir'd, is all my fury spent? + Or does my glutted spleen at length relent? + As if 't were little from their town to chase, + I thro' the seas pursued their exil'd race; + Ingag'd the heav'ns, oppos'd the stormy main; + But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain. + What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done, + When these they overpass, and those they shun? + On Tiber's shores they land, secure of fate, + Triumphant o'er the storms and Juno's hate. + Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe, + And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath, + Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon; + (What great offense had either people done?) + But I, the consort of the Thunderer, + Have wag'd a long and unsuccessful war, + With various arts and arms in vain have toil'd, + And by a mortal man at length am foil'd. + If native pow'r prevail not, shall I doubt + To seek for needful succor from without? + If Jove and Heav'n my just desires deny, + Hell shall the pow'r of Heav'n and Jove supply. + Grant that the Fates have firm'd, by their decree, + The Trojan race to reign in Italy; + At least I can defer the nuptial day, + And with protracted wars the peace delay: + With blood the dear alliance shall be bought, + And both the people near destruction brought; + So shall the son-in-law and father join, + With ruin, war, and waste of either line. + O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow'd + With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood! + Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand; + Another queen brings forth another brand, + To burn with foreign fires another land! + A second Paris, diff'ring but in name, + Shall fire his country with a second flame." + + Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground, + With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound, + To rouse Alecto from th' infernal seat + Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat. + This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose; + One who delights in wars and human woes. + Ev'n Pluto hates his own misshapen race; + Her sister Furies fly her hideous face; + So frightful are the forms the monster takes, + So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes. + Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite: + "O virgin daughter of eternal Night, + Give me this once thy labor, to sustain + My right, and execute my just disdain. + Let not the Trojans, with a feign'd pretense + Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian prince. + Expel from Italy that odious name, + And let not Juno suffer in her fame. + 'T is thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a state, + Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate, + And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate. + Thy hand o'er towns the fun'ral torch displays, + And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways. + Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds + Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds: + Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare + Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war." + + Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonian blood, + The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood; + And on her wicker wings, sublime thro' night, + She to the Latian palace took her flight: + There sought the queen's apartment, stood before + The peaceful threshold, and besieg'd the door. + Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast + Fir'd with disdain for Turnus dispossess'd, + And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest. + From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes + Her darling plague, the fav'rite of her snakes; + With her full force she threw the poisonous dart, + And fix'd it deep within Amata's heart, + That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage, + And sacrifice to strife her house husband's age. + Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims + Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs; + His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides, + Now like a chain around her neck he rides, + Now like a fillet to her head repairs, + And with his circling volumes folds her hairs. + At first the silent venom slid with ease, + And seiz'd her cooler senses by degrees; + Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far, + In plaintive accents she began the war, + And thus bespoke her husband: "Shall," she said, + "A wand'ring prince enjoy Lavinia's bed? + If nature plead not in a parent's heart, + Pity my tears, and pity her desert. + I know, my dearest lord, the time will come, + You in vain, reverse your cruel doom; + The faithless pirate soon will set to sea, + And bear the royal virgin far away! + A guest like him, a Trojan guest before, + In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore, + And ravish'd Helen from her husband bore. + Think on a king's inviolable word; + And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord: + To this false foreigner you give your throne, + And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son. + Resume your ancient care; and, if the god + Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood, + Know all are foreign, in a larger sense, + Not born your subjects, or deriv'd from hence. + Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace, + He springs from Inachus of Argive race." + + But when she saw her reasons idly spent, + And could not move him from his fix'd intent, + She flew to rage; for now the snake possess'd + Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast; + She raves, she runs with a distracted pace, + And fills with horrid howls the public place. + And, as young striplings whip the top for sport, + On the smooth pavement of an empty court; + The wooden engine flies and whirls about, + Admir'd, with clamors, of the beardless rout; + They lash aloud; each other they provoke, + And lend their little souls at ev'ry stroke: + Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows + Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes. + Nor yet content, she strains her malice more, + And adds new ills to those contriv'd before: + She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng + Of madding matrons, bears the bride along, + Wand'ring thro' woods and wilds, and devious ways, + And with these arts the Trojan match delays. + She feign'd the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud, + And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd. + "Evoe! O Bacchus!" thus began the song; + And "Evoe!" answer'd all the female throng. + "O virgin! worthy thee alone!" she cried; + "O worthy thee alone!" the crew replied. + "For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance, + And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance." + Like fury seiz'd the rest; the progress known, + All seek the mountains, and forsake the town: + All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav'lin bear, + Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair, + And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff'ring air. + The queen herself, inspir'd with rage divine, + Shook high above her head a flaming pine; + Then roll'd her haggard eyes around the throng, + And sung, in Turnus' name, the nuptial song: + "Io, ye Latian dames! if any here + Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear; + If there be here," she said, "who dare maintain + My right, nor think the name of mother vain; + Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair, + And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare." + + Amata's breast the Fury thus invades, + And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades; + Then, when she found her venom spread so far, + The royal house embroil'd in civil war, + Rais'd on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies, + And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies. + His town, as fame reports, was built of old + By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold, + Who fled her father's rage, and, with a train + Of following Argives, thro' the stormy main, + Driv'n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign. + 'T was Ardua once; now Ardea's name it bears; + Once a fair city, now consum'd with years. + Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay, + Betwixt the confines of the night and day, + Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside + Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried + The foulness of th' infernal form to hide. + Propp'd on a staff, she takes a trembling mien: + Her face is furrow'd, and her front obscene; + Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws; + Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws; + Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound, + Her temples with an olive wreath are crown'd. + Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane + Of Juno, now she seem'd, and thus began, + Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man: + "Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain + In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain? + Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize, + Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories? + The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought, + The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought. + Go now, deluded man, and seek again + New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain. + Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize; + Protect the Latians in luxurious ease. + This dream all-pow'rful Juno sends; I bear + Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear. + Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain; + With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train: + Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie + In Tiber's mouth, with fire and sword destroy. + The Latian king, unless he shall submit, + Own his old promise, and his new forget- + Let him, in arms, the pow'r of Turnus prove, + And learn to fear whom he disdains to love. + For such is Heav'n's command." The youthful prince + With scorn replied, and made this bold defense: + "You tell me, mother, what I knew before: + The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. + I neither fear nor will provoke the war; + My fate is Juno's most peculiar care. + But time has made you dote, and vainly tell + Of arms imagin'd in your lonely cell. + Go; be the temple and the gods your care; + Permit to men the thought of peace and war." + + These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke, + And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. + Her eyes grow stiffen'd, and with sulphur burn; + Her hideous looks and hellish form return; + Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, + And open all the furies of her face: + Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes, + She cast him backward as he strove to rise, + And, ling'ring, sought to frame some new replies. + High on her head she rears two twisted snakes, + Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes; + And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks: + "Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell + Of arms imagin'd in her lonely cell! + Behold the Fates' infernal minister! + War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear." + + Thus having said, her smold'ring torch, impress'd + With her full force, she plung'd into his breast. + Aghast he wak'd; and, starting from his bed, + Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o'erspread. + "Arms! arms!" he cries: "my sword and shield prepare!" + He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war. + So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, + The bubbling waters from the bottom rise: + Above the brims they force their fiery way; + Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day. + + The peace polluted thus, a chosen band + He first commissions to the Latian land, + In threat'ning embassy; then rais'd the rest, + To meet in arms th' intruding Trojan guest, + To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, + And Italy's indanger'd peace restore. + Himself alone an equal match he boasts, + To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts. + The gods invok'd, the Rutuli prepare + Their arms, and warn each other to the war. + His beauty these, and those his blooming age, + The rest his house and his own fame ingage. + + While Turnus urges thus his enterprise, + The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies; + New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand, + Which overlooks the vale with wide command; + Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train, + With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, + And pitch their toils around the shady plain. + The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent, + And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. + 'Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise + High o'er his front; his beams invade the skies. + From this light cause th' infernal maid prepares + The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars. + + The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred, + Snatch'd from his dams, and the tame youngling fed. + Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring, + Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king: + Their sister Silvia cherish'd with her care + The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare + To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied + His tender neck, and comb'd his silken hide, + And bathed his body. Patient of command + In time he grew, and, growing us'd to hand, + He waited at his master's board for food; + Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood, + Where grazing all the day, at night he came + To his known lodgings, and his country dame. + + This household beast, that us'd the woodland grounds, + Was view'd at first by the young hero's hounds, + As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat + In the cool waters, and to quench his heat. + Ascanius young, and eager of his game, + Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim; + But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides, + Which pierc'd his bowels thro' his panting sides. + The bleeding creature issues from the floods, + Possess'd with fear, and seeks his known abodes, + His old familiar hearth and household gods. + He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans, + Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans. + Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud + For succor from the clownish neighborhood: + The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay + In the close woody covert, urg'd their way. + One with a brand yet burning from the flame, + Arm'd with a knotty club another came: + Whate'er they catch or find, without their care, + Their fury makes an instrument of war. + Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast, + Then clench'd a hatchet in his horny fist, + But held his hand from the descending stroke, + And left his wedge within the cloven oak, + To whet their courage and their rage provoke. + And now the goddess, exercis'd in ill, + Who watch'd an hour to work her impious will, + Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn, + Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne, + Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around, + And mountains, tremble at th' infernal sound. + The sacred lake of Trivia from afar, + The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar, + Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war. + Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess'd, + And strain their helpless infants to their breast. + + The clowns, a boist'rous, rude, ungovern'd crew, + With furious haste to the loud summons flew. + The pow'rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain, + With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain: + Not theirs a raw and unexperienc'd train, + But a firm body of embattled men. + At first, while fortune favor'd neither side, + The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried; + But now, both parties reinforc'd, the fields + Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields. + A shining harvest either host displays, + And shoots against the sun with equal rays. + Thus, when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise, + White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries; + Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies; + Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, + The muddy bottom o'er the clouds is thrown. + First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus' eldest care, + Pierc'd with an arrow from the distant war: + Fix'd in his throat the flying weapon stood, + And stopp'd his breath, and drank his vital blood + Huge heaps of slain around the body rise: + Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies; + A good old man, while peace he preach'd in vain, + Amidst the madness of th' unruly train: + Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill'd; + His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till'd. + + Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood + The Fury bath'd them in each other's blood; + Then, having fix'd the fight, exulting flies, + And bears fulfill'd her promise to the skies. + To Juno thus she speaks: "Behold! It is done, + The blood already drawn, the war begun; + The discord is complete; nor can they cease + The dire debate, nor you command the peace. + Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood + Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood; + Speak, and my pow'r shall add this office more: + The neighb'ing nations of th' Ausonian shore + Shall hear the dreadful rumor, from afar, + Of arm'd invasion, and embrace the war." + Then Juno thus: "The grateful work is done, + The seeds of discord sow'd, the war begun; + Frauds, fears, and fury have possess'd the state, + And fix'd the causes of a lasting hate. + A bloody Hymen shall th' alliance join + Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line: + But thou with speed to night and hell repair; + For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear + Thy lawless wand'ring walks in upper air. + Leave what remains to me." Saturnia said: + The sullen fiend her sounding wings display'd, + Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade. + + In midst of Italy, well known to fame, + There lies a lake (Amsanctus is the name) + Below the lofty mounts: on either side + Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide. + Full in the center of the sacred wood + An arm arises of the Stygian flood, + Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, + Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around. + Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, + And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. + To this infernal lake the Fury flies; + Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab'ring skies. + + Saturnian Juno now, with double care, + Attends the fatal process of the war. + The clowns, return'd, from battle bear the slain, + Implore the gods, and to their king complain. + The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; + Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town. + Ambitious Turnus in the press appears, + And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears; + Proclaims his private injuries aloud, + A solemn promise made, and disavow'd; + A foreign son is sought, and a mix'd mungril brood. + Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, + In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, + And lead his dances with dishevel'd hair, + Increase the clamor, and the war demand, + (Such was Amata's interest in the land,) + Against the public sanctions of the peace, + Against all omens of their ill success. + With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, + To force their monarch, and insult the court. + But, like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves + The raging tempest and the rising waves- + Propp'd on himself he stands; his solid sides + Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides- + So stood the pious prince, unmov'd, and long + Sustain'd the madness of the noisy throng. + But, when he found that Juno's pow'r prevail'd, + And all the methods of cool counsel fail'd, + He calls the gods to witness their offense, + Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. + "Hurried by fate," he cries, "and borne before + A furious wind, we have the faithful shore. + O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear + The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war: + Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate, + And pray to Heav'n for peace, but pray too late. + For me, my stormy voyage at an end, + I to the port of death securely tend. + The fun'ral pomp which to your kings you pay, + Is all I want, and all you take away." + He said no more, but, in his walls confin'd, + Shut out the woes which he too well divin'd + Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, + But left the helm, and let the vessel drive. + + A solemn custom was observ'd of old, + Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold, + Their standard when in fighting fields they rear + Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare + The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war; + Or from the boasting Parthians would regain + Their eagles, lost in Carrhae's bloody plain. + Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear, + And still are worship'd with religious fear) + Before his temple stand: the dire abode, + And the fear'd issues of the furious god, + Are fenc'd with brazen bolts; without the gates, + The wary guardian Janus doubly waits. + Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, + The Roman consul their decree declares, + And in his robes the sounding gates unbars. + The youth in military shouts arise, + And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. + These rites, of old by sov'reign princes us'd, + Were the king's office; but the king refus'd, + Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar + Of sacred peace, or loose th' imprison'd war; + But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, + Abhorr'd the wicked ministry of arms. + Then heav'n's imperious queen shot down from high: + At her approach the brazen hinges fly; + The gates are forc'd, and ev'ry falling bar; + And, like a tempest, issues out the war. + + The peaceful cities of th' Ausonian shore, + Lull'd in their ease, and undisturb'd before, + Are all on fire; and some, with studious care, + Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare; + Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, + And war is all their wish, and arms the gen'ral cry. + Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part + New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart: + With joy they view the waving ensigns fly, + And hear the trumpet's clangor pierce the sky. + Five cities forge their arms: th' Atinian pow'rs, + Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow'rs, + Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town: + All these of old were places of renown. + Some hammer helmets for the fighting field; + Some twine young sallows to support the shield; + The croslet some, and some the cuishes mold, + With silver plated, and with ductile gold. + The rustic honors of the scythe and share + Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war. + Old fauchions are new temper'd in the fires; + The sounding trumpet ev'ry soul inspires. + The word is giv'n; with eager speed they lace + The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace. + The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied; + The trusty weapon sits on ev'ry side. + + And now the mighty labor is begun + Ye Muses, open all your Helicon. + Sing you the chiefs that sway'd th' Ausonian land, + Their arms, and armies under their command; + What warriors in our ancient clime were bred; + What soldiers follow'd, and what heroes led. + For well you know, and can record alone, + What fame to future times conveys but darkly down. + Mezentius first appear'd upon the plain: + Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain, + Defying earth and heav'n. Etruria lost, + He brings to Turnus' aid his baffled host. + The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire, + Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire; + To Turnus only second in the grace + Of manly mien, and features of the face. + A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred, + With fates averse a thousand men he led: + His sire unworthy of so brave a son; + Himself well worthy of a happier throne. + + Next Aventinus drives his chariot round + The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown'd. + Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field; + His father's hydra fills his ample shield: + A hundred serpents hiss about the brims; + The son of Hercules he justly seems + By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs; + Of heav'nly part, and part of earthly blood, + A mortal woman mixing with a god. + For strong Alcides, after he had slain + The triple Geryon, drove from conquer'd Spain + His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led, + On Tuscan Tiber's flow'ry banks they fed. + Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove + The priestess Rhea found, and forc'd to love. + For arms, his men long piles and jav'lins bore; + And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. + Like Hercules himself his son appears, + In salvage pomp; a lion's hide he wears; + About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; + The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. + Thus, like the god his father, homely dress'd, + He strides into the hall, a horrid guest. + + Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came, + (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,) + Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear: + Arm'd Argive horse they led, and in the front appear. + Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height + With rapid course descending to the fight; + They rush along; the rattling woods give way; + The branches bend before their sweepy sway. + + Nor was Praeneste's founder wanting there, + Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber: + Found in the fire, and foster'd in the plains, + A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, + And leads to Turnus' aid his country swains. + His own Praeneste sends a chosen band, + With those who plow Saturnia's Gabine land; + Besides the succor which cold Anien yields, + The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields, + Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene- + A num'rous rout, but all of naked men: + Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, + Nor drive the chariot thro' the dusty field, + But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead, + And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head; + The left foot naked, when they march to fight, + But in a bull's raw hide they sheathe the right. + Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) + Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, + In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms + A heartless train, unexercis'd in arms: + The just Faliscans he to battle brings, + And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs; + And where Feronia's grove and temple stands, + Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands. + All these in order march, and marching sing + The warlike actions of their sea-born king; + Like a long team of snowy swans on high, + Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky, + When, homeward from their wat'ry pastures borne, + They sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return. + Not one who heard their music from afar, + Would think these troops an army train'd to war, + But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, + With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore. + + Then Clausus came, who led a num'rous band + Of troops embodied from the Sabine land, + And, in himself alone, an army brought. + 'T was he, the noble Claudian race begot, + The Claudian race, ordain'd, in times to come, + To share the greatness of imperial Rome. + He led the Cures forth, of old renown, + Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, + And all th' Eretian pow'rs; besides a band + That follow'd from Velinum's dewy land, + And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame, + And mountaineers, that from Severus came, + And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica, + And those where yellow Tiber takes his way, + And where Himella's wanton waters play. + Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie + By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli: + The warlike aids of Horta next appear, + And the cold Nursians come to close the rear, + Mix'd with the natives born of Latine blood, + Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood. + Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main, + When pale Orion sets in wintry rain; + Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, + Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies, + Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around; + Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. + + High in his chariot then Halesus came, + A foe by birth to Troy's unhappy name: + From Agamemnon born- to Turnus' aid + A thousand men the youthful hero led, + Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown'd, + And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground, + And those who live by Sidicinian shores, + And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars, + Cales' and Osca's old inhabitants, + And rough Saticulans, inur'd to wants: + Light demi-lances from afar they throw, + Fasten'd with leathern thongs, to gall the foe. + Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear; + And on their warding arm light bucklers bear. + + Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung, + From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung, + Who then in Teleboan Capri reign'd; + But that short isle th' ambitious youth disdain'd, + And o'er Campania stretch'd his ample sway, + Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea; + O'er Batulum, and where Abella sees, + From her high tow'rs, the harvest of her trees. + And these (as was the Teuton use of old) + Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold; + Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight; + Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light. + + Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went, + And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent. + The rude Equicolae his rule obey'd; + Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade. + In arms they plow'd, to battle still prepar'd: + Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard. + + Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led, + By King Archippus sent to Turnus' aid, + And peaceful olives crown'd his hoary head. + His wand and holy words, the viper's rage, + And venom'd wounds of serpents could assuage. + He, when he pleas'd with powerful juice to steep + Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep. + But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art, + To cure the wound giv'n by the Dardan dart: + Yet his untimely fate th' Angitian woods + In sighs remurmur'd to the Fucine floods. + + The son of fam'd Hippolytus was there, + Fam'd as his sire, and, as his mother, fair; + Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore, + And nurs'd his youth along the marshy shore, + Where great Diana's peaceful altars flame, + In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name. + Hippolytus, as old records have said, + Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed; + But, when no female arts his mind could move, + She turn'd to furious hate her impious love. + Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore, + Another's crimes th' unhappy hunter bore, + Glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore. + But chaste Diana, who his death deplor'd, + With Aesculapian herbs his life restor'd. + Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain, + The dead inspir'd with vital breath again, + Struck to the center, with his flaming dart, + Th' unhappy founder of the godlike art. + But Trivia kept in secret shades alone + Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown; + And call'd him Virbius in th' Egerian grove, + Where then he liv'd obscure, but safe from Jove. + For this, from Trivia's temple and her wood + Are coursers driv'n, who shed their master's blood, + Affrighted by the monsters of the flood. + His son, the second Virbius, yet retain'd + His father's art, and warrior steeds he rein'd. + + Amid the troops, and like the leading god, + High o'er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode: + A triple of plumes his crest adorn'd, + On which with belching flames Chimaera burn'd: + The more the kindled combat rises high'r, + The more with fury burns the blazing fire. + Fair Io grac'd his shield; but Io now + With horns exalted stands, and seems to low- + A noble charge! Her keeper by her side, + To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied; + And on the brims her sire, the wat'ry god, + Roll'd from a silver urn his crystal flood. + A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields + With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt'ring shields; + Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands, + And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands; + Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields, + And the proud Labicans, with painted shields, + And those who near Numician streams reside, + And those whom Tiber's holy forests hide, + Or Circe's hills from the main land divide; + Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands, + Or the black water of Pomptina stands. + + Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came, + And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame; + Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd, + She chose the nobler Pallas of the field. + Mix'd with the first, the fierce virago fought, + Sustain'd the toils of arms, the danger sought, + Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain, + Flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain: + She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along, + Her flying feet unbath'd on billows hung. + Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise, + Where'er she passes, fix their wond'ring eyes: + Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight, + Devour her o'er and o'er with vast delight; + Her purple habit sits with such a grace + On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face; + Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown'd, + And in a golden caul the curls are bound. + She shakes her myrtle jav'lin; and, behind, + Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind. + + + + + BOOK VIII + + When Turnus had assembled all his pow'rs, + His standard planted on Laurentum's tow'rs; + When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar, + Had giv'n the signal of approaching war, + Had rous'd the neighing steeds to scour the fields, + While the fierce riders clatter'd on their shields; + Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare + To join th' allies, and headlong rush to war. + Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd, + With bold Mezentius, who blasphem'd aloud. + These thro' the country took their wasteful course, + The fields to forage, and to gather force. + Then Venulus to Diomede they send, + To beg his aid Ausonia to defend, + Declare the common danger, and inform + The Grecian leader of the growing storm: + Aeneas, landed on the Latian coast, + With banish'd gods, and with a baffled host, + Yet now aspir'd to conquest of the state, + And claim'd a title from the gods and fate; + What num'rous nations in his quarrel came, + And how they spread his formidable name. + What he design'd, what mischief might arise, + If fortune favor'd his first enterprise, + Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears, + And common interest, was involv'd in theirs. + + While Turnus and th' allies thus urge the war, + The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, + Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare. + This way and that he turns his anxious mind; + Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design'd; + Explores himself in vain, in ev'ry part, + And gives no rest to his distracted heart. + So, when the sun by day, or moon by night, + Strike on the polish'd brass their trembling light, + The glitt'ring species here and there divide, + And cast their dubious beams from side to side; + Now on the walls, now on the pavement play, + And to the ceiling flash the glaring day. + + 'T was night; and weary nature lull'd asleep + The birds of air, and fishes of the deep, + And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief + Was laid on Tiber's banks, oppress'd with grief, + And found in silent slumber late relief. + Then, thro' the shadows of the poplar wood, + Arose the father of the Roman flood; + An azure robe was o'er his body spread, + A wreath of shady reeds adorn'd his head: + Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear'd, + And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer'd: + "Undoubted offspring of ethereal race, + O long expected in this promis'd place! + Who thro' the foes hast borne thy banish'd gods, + Restor'd them to their hearths, and old abodes; + This is thy happy home, the clime where fate + Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state. + Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace, + And all the rage of haughty Juno cease. + And that this nightly vision may not seem + Th' effect of fancy, or an idle dream, + A sow beneath an oak shall lie along, + All white herself, and white her thirty young. + When thirty rolling years have run their race, + Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space, + Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame, + Which from this omen shall receive the name. + Time shall approve the truth. For what remains, + And how with sure success to crown thy pains, + With patience next attend. A banish'd band, + Driv'n with Evander from th' Arcadian land, + Have planted here, and plac'd on high their walls; + Their town the founder Pallanteum calls, + Deriv'd from Pallas, his great-grandsire's name: + But the fierce Latians old possession claim, + With war infesting the new colony. + These make thy friends, and on their aid rely. + To thy free passage I submit my streams. + Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams; + And, when the setting stars are lost in day, + To Juno's pow'r thy just devotion pay; + With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease: + Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease. + When thou return'st victorious from the war, + Perform thy vows to me with grateful care. + The god am I, whose yellow water flows + Around these fields, and fattens as it goes: + Tiber my name; among the rolling floods + Renown'd on earth, esteem'd among the gods. + This is my certain seat. In times to come, + My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome." + + He said, and plung'd below. While yet he spoke, + His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook. + He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies + With purple blushing, and the day arise. + Then water in his hollow palm he took + From Tiber's flood, and thus the pow'rs bespoke: + "Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed, + And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed + Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep. + Whatever fount, whatever holy deep, + Conceals thy wat'ry stores; where'er they rise, + And, bubbling from below, salute the skies; + Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn + Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn, + For this thy kind compassion of our woes, + Shalt share my morning song and ev'ning vows. + But, O be present to thy people's aid, + And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!" + Thus having said, two galleys from his stores, + With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars. + Now on the shore the fatal swine is found. + Wondrous to tell!- She lay along the ground: + Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung; + She white herself, and white her thirty young. + Aeneas takes the mother and her brood, + And all on Juno's altar are bestow'd. + + The foll'wing night, and the succeeding day, + Propitious Tiber smooth'd his wat'ry way: + He roll'd his river back, and pois'd he stood, + A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood. + The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore, + Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar. + Shouts from the land give omen to their course, + And the pitch'd vessels glide with easy force. + The woods and waters wonder at the gleam + Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream. + One summer's night and one whole day they pass + Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass. + The fiery sun had finish'd half his race, + Look'd back, and doubted in the middle space, + When they from far beheld the rising tow'rs, + The tops of sheds, and shepherds' lowly bow'rs, + Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay, + Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway. + These cots (Evander's kingdom, mean and poor) + The Trojan saw, and turn'd his ships to shore. + 'T was on a solemn day: th' Arcadian states, + The king and prince, without the city gates, + Then paid their off'rings in a sacred grove + To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove. + Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies, + And fat of entrails on his altar fries. + + But, when they saw the ships that stemm'd the flood, + And glitter'd thro' the covert of the wood, + They rose with fear, and left th' unfinish'd feast, + Till dauntless Pallas reassur'd the rest + To pay the rites. Himself without delay + A jav'lin seiz'd, and singly took his way; + Then gain'd a rising ground, and call'd from far: + "Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are; + Your bus'ness here; and bring you peace or war?" + High on the stern Aeneas his stand, + And held a branch of olive in his hand, + While thus he spoke: "The Phrygians' arms you see, + Expell'd from Troy, provok'd in Italy + By Latian foes, with war unjustly made; + At first affianc'd, and at last betray'd. + This message bear: 'The Trojans and their chief + Bring holy peace, and beg the king's relief.' + Struck with so great a name, and all on fire, + The youth replies: "Whatever you require, + Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend. + A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend." + He said, and, downward hasting to the strand, + Embrac'd the stranger prince, and join'd his hand. + + Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke + The silence first, and thus the king bespoke: + "Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate's command, + I bear these peaceful branches in my hand, + Undaunted I approach you, tho' I know + Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe; + From Atreus tho' your ancient lineage came, + And both the brother kings your kindred claim; + Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown, + Your virtue, thro' the neighb'ring nations blown, + Our fathers' mingled blood, Apollo's voice, + Have led me hither, less by need than choice. + Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung, + And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung: + Electra from the loins of Atlas came; + Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame. + Your sire is Mercury, whom long before + On cold Cyllene's top fair Maia bore. + Maia the fair, on fame if we rely, + Was Atlas' daughter, who sustains the sky. + Thus from one common source our streams divide; + Ours is the Trojan, yours th' Arcadian side. + Rais'd by these hopes, I sent no news before, + Nor ask'd your leave, nor did your faith implore; + But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador. + The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue + The Trojan race, are equal foes to you. + Our host expell'd, what farther force can stay + The victor troops from universal sway? + Then will they stretch their pow'r athwart the land, + And either sea from side to side command. + Receive our offer'd faith, and give us thine; + Ours is a gen'rous and experienc'd line: + We want not hearts nor bodies for the war; + In council cautious, and in fields we dare." + + He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes + Evander view'd the man with vast surprise, + Pleas'd with his action, ravish'd with his face: + Then answer'd briefly, with a royal grace: + "O valiant leader of the Trojan line, + In whom the features of thy father shine, + How I recall Anchises! how I see + His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee! + Long tho' it be, 't is fresh within my mind, + When Priam to his sister's court design'd + A welcome visit, with a friendly stay, + And thro' th' Arcadian kingdom took his way. + Then, past a boy, the callow down began + To shade my chin, and call me first a man. + I saw the shining train with vast delight, + And Priam's goodly person pleas'd my sight: + But great Anchises, far above the rest, + With awful wonder fir'd my youthful breast. + I long'd to join in friendship's holy bands + Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands. + I first accosted him: I sued, I sought, + And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought. + He gave me, when at length constrain'd to go, + A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow, + A vest embroider'd, glorious to behold, + And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold, + Which my son's coursers in obedience hold. + The league you ask, I offer, as your right; + And, when to-morrow's sun reveals the light, + With swift supplies you shall be sent away. + Now celebrate with us this solemn day, + Whose holy rites admit no long delay. + Honor our annual feast; and take your seat, + With friendly welcome, at a homely treat." + Thus having said, the bowls (remov'd for fear) + The youths replac'd, and soon restor'd the cheer. + On sods of turf he set the soldiers round: + A maple throne, rais'd higher from the ground, + Receiv'd the Trojan chief; and, o'er the bed, + A lion's shaggy hide for ornament they spread. + The loaves were serv'd in canisters; the wine + In bowls; the priest renew'd the rites divine: + Broil'd entrails are their food, and beef's continued chine. + + But when the rage of hunger was repress'd, + Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest: + "These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king, + From no vain fears or superstition spring, + Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance, + Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance; + But, sav'd from danger, with a grateful sense, + The labors of a god we recompense. + See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky, + About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie; + Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare, + How desart now it stands, expos'd in air! + 'T was once a robber's den, inclos'd around + With living stone, and deep beneath the ground. + The monster Cacus, more than half a beast, + This hold, impervious to the sun, possess'd. + The pavement ever foul with human gore; + Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door. + Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire, + Black clouds he belch'd, and flakes of livid fire. + Time, long expected, eas'd us of our load, + And brought the needful presence of a god. + Th' avenging force of Hercules, from Spain, + Arriv'd in triumph, from Geryon slain: + Thrice liv'd the giant, and thrice liv'd in vain. + His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove + Near Tiber's bank, to graze the shady grove. + Allur'd with hope of plunder, and intent + By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent, + The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray'd, + Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey'd; + And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen, + He dragg'd 'em backwards to his rocky den. + The tracks averse a lying notice gave, + And led the searcher backward from the cave. + + "Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place, + To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass. + The beasts, who miss'd their mates, fill'd all around + With bellowings, and the rocks restor'd the sound. + One heifer, who had heard her love complain, + Roar'd from the cave, and made the project vain. + Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook, + And toss'd about his head his knotted oak. + Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows' flight, + He clomb, with eager haste, th' aerial height. + Then first we saw the monster mend his pace; + Fear his eyes, and paleness in his face, + Confess'd the god's approach. Trembling he springs, + As terror had increas'd his feet with wings; + Nor stay'd for stairs; but down the depth he threw + His body, on his back the door he drew + (The door, a rib of living rock; with pains + His father hew'd it out, and bound with iron chains): + He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos'd, + And bars and levers to his foe oppos'd. + The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast; + The fierce avenger came with bounding haste; + Survey'd the mouth of the forbidden hold, + And here and there his raging eyes he roll'd. + He gnash'd his teeth; and thrice he compass'd round + With winged speed the circuit of the ground. + Thrice at the cavern's mouth he pull'd in vain, + And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain. + A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black, + Grew gibbous from behind the mountain's back; + Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night, + Here built their nests, and hither wing'd their flight. + The leaning head hung threat'ning o'er the flood, + And nodded to the left. The hero stood + Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right, + Tugg'd at the solid stone with all his might. + Thus heav'd, the fix'd foundations of the rock + Gave way; heav'n echo'd at the rattling shock. + Tumbling, it chok'd the flood: on either side + The banks leap backward, and the streams divide; + The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread, + And trembling Tiber div'd beneath his bed. + The court of Cacus stands reveal'd to sight; + The cavern glares with new-admitted light. + So the pent vapors, with a rumbling sound, + Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground; + A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high, + The gods with hate beheld the nether sky: + The ghosts repine at violated night, + And curse th' invading sun, and sicken at the sight. + The graceless monster, caught in open day, + Inclos'd, and in despair to fly away, + Howls horrible from underneath, and fills + His hollow palace with unmanly yells. + The hero stands above, and from afar + Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war. + He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires + Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father's fires, + Gath'ring, with each repeated blast, the night, + To make uncertain aim, and erring sight. + The wrathful god then plunges from above, + And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove, + There lights; and wades thro' fumes, and gropes his way, + Half sing'd, half stifled, till he grasps his prey. + The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found; + He squeez'd his throat; he writh'd his neck around, + And in a knot his crippled members bound; + Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes: + Roll'd on a heap, the breathless robber lies. + The doors, unbarr'd, receive the rushing day, + And thoro' lights disclose the ravish'd prey. + The bulls, redeem'd, breathe open air again. + Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den. + The wond'ring neighborhood, with glad surprise, + Behold his shagged breast, his giant size, + His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish'd eyes. + From that auspicious day, with rites divine, + We worship at the hero's holy shrine. + Potitius first ordain'd these annual vows: + As priests, were added the Pinarian house, + Who rais'd this altar in the sacred shade, + Where honors, ever due, for ever shall be paid. + For these deserts, and this high virtue shown, + Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown: + Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood, + And with deep draughts invoke our common god." + + This said, a double wreath Evander twin'd, + And poplars black and white his temples bind. + Then brims his ample bowl. With like design + The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine. + Meantime the sun descended from the skies, + And the bright evening star began to rise. + And now the priests, Potitius at their head, + In skins of beasts involv'd, the long procession led; + Held high the flaming tapers in their hands, + As custom had prescrib'd their holy bands; + Then with a second course the tables load, + And with full chargers offer to the god. + The Salii sing, and cense his altars round + With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound- + One choir of old, another of the young, + To dance, and bear the burthen of the song. + The lay records the labors, and the praise, + And all th' immortal acts of Hercules: + First, how the mighty babe, when swath'd in bands, + The serpents strangled with his infant hands; + Then, as in years and matchless force he grew, + Th' Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew. + Besides, a thousand hazards they relate, + Procur'd by Juno's and Eurystheus' hate: + "Thy hands, unconquer'd hero, could subdue + The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew: + Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood, + Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood. + The triple porter of the Stygian seat, + With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet, + And, seiz'd with fear, forgot his mangled meat. + Th' infernal waters trembled at thy sight; + Thee, god, no face of danger could affright; + Not huge Typhoeus, nor th' unnumber'd snake, + Increas'd with hissing heads, in Lerna's lake. + Hail, Jove's undoubted son! an added grace + To heav'n and the great author of thy race! + Receive the grateful off'rings which we pay, + And smile propitious on thy solemn day!" + In numbers thus they sung; above the rest, + The den and death of Cacus crown the feast. + The woods to hollow vales convey the sound, + The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound. + The rites perform'd, the cheerful train retire. + + Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire, + The Trojan pass'd, the city to survey, + And pleasing talk beguil'd the tedious way. + The stranger cast around his curious eyes, + New objects viewing still, with new surprise; + With greedy joy enquires of various things, + And acts and monuments of ancient kings. + Then thus the founder of the Roman tow'rs: + "These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow'rs, + Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took + Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak. + Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care + Of lab'ring oxen, or the shining share, + Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain'd to spare. + Their exercise the chase; the running flood + Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food. + Then Saturn came, who fled the pow'r of Jove, + Robb'd of his realms, and banish'd from above. + The men, dispers'd on hills, to towns he brought, + And laws ordain'd, and civil customs taught, + And Latium call'd the land where safe he lay + From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway. + With his mild empire, peace and plenty came; + And hence the golden times deriv'd their name. + A more degenerate and discolor'd age + Succeeded this, with avarice and rage. + Th' Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came; + And Saturn's empire often chang'd the name. + Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest, + With arbitrary sway the land oppress'd: + For Tiber's flood was Albula before, + Till, from the tyrant's fate, his name it bore. + I last arriv'd, driv'n from my native home + By fortune's pow'r, and fate's resistless doom. + Long toss'd on seas, I sought this happy land, + Warn'd by my mother nymph, and call'd by Heav'n's command." + + Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew'd the gate, + Since call'd Carmental by the Roman state; + Where stood an altar, sacred to the name + Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame, + Who to her son foretold th' Aenean race, + Sublime in fame, and Rome's imperial place: + Then shews the forest, which, in after times, + Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes + A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine + Where Pan below the rock had rites divine: + Then tells of Argus' death, his murder'd guest, + Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest. + Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads; + Now roof'd with gold, then thatch'd with homely reeds. + A reverent fear (such superstition reigns + Among the rude) ev'n then possess'd the swains. + Some god, they knew- what god, they could not tell- + Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell. + Th' Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw + The mighty Thund'rer with majestic awe, + Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around, + And scatter'd tempests on the teeming ground. + Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood + Two stately towns, on either side the flood,) + Saturnia's and Janicula's remains; + And either place the founder's name retains. + Discoursing thus together, they resort + Where poor Evander kept his country court. + They view'd the ground of Rome's litigious hall; + (Once oxen low'd, where now the lawyers bawl;) + Then, stooping, thro' the narrow gate they press'd, + When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest: + "Mean as it is, this palace, and this door, + Receiv'd Alcides, then a conqueror. + Dare to be poor; accept our homely food, + Which feasted him, and emulate a god." + Then underneath a lowly roof he led + The weary prince, and laid him on a bed; + The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o'erspread. + Now Night had shed her silver dews around, + And with her sable wings embrac'd the ground, + When love's fair goddess, anxious for her son, + (New tumults rising, and new wars begun,) + Couch'd with her husband in his golden bed, + With these alluring words invokes his aid; + And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move, + Inspires each accent with the charms of love: + "While cruel fate conspir'd with Grecian pow'rs, + To level with the ground the Trojan tow'rs, + I ask'd not aid th' unhappy to restore, + Nor did the succor of thy skill implore; + Nor urg'd the labors of my lord in vain, + A sinking empire longer to sustain, + Tho'much I ow'd to Priam's house, and more + The dangers of Aeneas did deplore. + But now, by Jove's command, and fate's decree, + His race is doom'd to reign in Italy: + With humble suit I beg thy needful art, + O still propitious pow'r, that rules my heart! + A mother kneels a suppliant for her son. + By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won + To forge impenetrable shields, and grace + With fated arms a less illustrious race. + Behold, what haughty nations are combin'd + Against the relics of the Phrygian kind, + With fire and sword my people to destroy, + And conquer Venus twice, in conqu'ring Troy." + She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue, + About her unresolving husband threw. + Her soft embraces soon infuse desire; + His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire; + And all the godhead feels the wonted fire. + Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies, + Or forky lightnings flash along the skies. + The goddess, proud of her successful wiles, + And conscious of her form, in secret smiles. + + Then thus the pow'r, obnoxious to her charms, + Panting, and half dissolving in her arms: + "Why seek you reasons for a cause so just, + Or your own beauties or my love distrust? + Long since, had you requir'd my helpful hand, + Th' artificer and art you might command, + To labor arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate, + Confin'd their empire to so short a date. + And, if you now desire new wars to wage, + My skill I promise, and my pains engage. + Whatever melting metals can conspire, + Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, + Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove, + And think no task is difficult to love." + Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms, + He snatch'd the willing goddess to his arms; + Till in her lap infus'd, he lay possess'd + Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest. + Now when the Night her middle race had rode, + And his first slumber had refresh'd the god- + The time when early housewives leave the bed; + When living embers on the hearth they spread, + Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise- + With yawning mouths, and with half-open'd eyes, + They ply the distaff by the winking light, + And to their daily labor add the night: + Thus frugally they earn their children's bread, + And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed- + Not less concern'd, nor at a later hour, + Rose from his downy couch the forging pow'r. + + Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay, + Betwixt Sicilia's coasts and Lipare, + Rais'd high on smoking rocks; and, deep below, + In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow. + The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; + Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, + Are heard around; the boiling waters roar, + And smoky flames thro' fuming tunnels soar. + Hether the Father of the Fire, by night, + Thro' the brown air precipitates his flight. + On their eternal anvils here he found + The brethren beating, and the blows go round. + A load of pointless thunder now there lies + Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: + These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast; + Consum'd on mortals with prodigious waste. + Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, + Of winged southern winds and cloudy store + As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame; + And fears are added, and avenging flame. + Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair + His broken axletrees and blunted war, + And send him forth again with furbish'd arms, + To wake the lazy war with trumpets' loud alarms. + The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold + The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold. + Full on the crest the Gorgon's head they place, + With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face. + + "My sons," said Vulcan, "set your tasks aside; + Your strength and master-skill must now be tried. + Arms for a hero forge; arms that require + Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire." + He said. They set their former work aside, + And their new toils with eager haste divide. + A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold, + And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll'd; + Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare, + Alone sufficient to sustain the war. + Sev'n orbs within a spacious round they close: + One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows. + The hissing steel is in the smithy drown'd; + The grot with beaten anvils groans around. + By turns their arms advance, in equal time; + By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime. + They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs; + The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs. + + While, at the Lemnian god's command, they urge + Their labors thus, and ply th' Aeolian forge, + The cheerful morn salutes Evander's eyes, + And songs of chirping birds invite to rise. + He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet + Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet: + He sets his trusty sword upon his side, + And o'er his shoulder throws a panther's hide. + Two menial dogs before their master press'd. + Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest. + Mindful of promis'd aid, he mends his pace, + But meets Aeneas in the middle space. + Young Pallas did his father's steps attend, + And true Achates waited on his friend. + They join their hands; a secret seat they choose; + Th' Arcadian first their former talk renews: + "Undaunted prince, I never can believe + The Trojan empire lost, while you survive. + Command th' assistance of a faithful friend; + But feeble are the succors I can send. + Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds; + That other side the Latian state surrounds, + Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds. + But mighty nations I prepare, to join + Their arms with yours, and aid your just design. + You come, as by your better genius sent, + And fortune seems to favor your intent. + Not far from hence there stands a hilly town, + Of ancient building, and of high renown, + Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race, + Who gave the name of Caere to the place, + Once Agyllina call'd. It flourish'd long, + In pride of wealth and warlike people strong, + Till curs'd Mezentius, in a fatal hour, + Assum'd the crown, with arbitrary pow'r. + What words can paint those execrable times, + The subjects' suff'rings, and the tyrant's crimes! + That blood, those murthers, O ye gods, replace + On his own head, and on his impious race! + The living and the dead at his command + Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, + Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied, + The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died. + Thus plung'd in ills, and meditating more- + The people's patience, tir'd, no longer bore + The raging monster; but with arms beset + His house, and vengeance and destruction threat. + They fire his palace: while the flame ascends, + They force his guards, and execute his friends. + He cleaves the crowd, and, favor'd by the night, + To Turnus' friendly court directs his flight. + By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire, + With arms, their king to punishment require: + Their num'rous troops, now muster'd on the strand, + My counsel shall submit to your command. + Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry + To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny. + An ancient augur, skill'd in future fate, + With these foreboding words restrains their hate: + 'Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow'r + Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow'r, + Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms, + To seek your tyrant's death by lawful arms; + Know this: no native of our land may lead + This pow'rful people; seek a foreign head.' + Aw'd with these words, in camps they still abide, + And wait with longing looks their promis'd guide. + Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent + Their crown, and ev'ry regal ornament: + The people join their own with his desire; + And all my conduct, as their king, require. + But the chill blood that creeps within my veins, + And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains, + And a soul conscious of its own decay, + Have forc'd me to refuse imperial sway. + My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne, + And should, but he's a Sabine mother's son, + And half a native; but, in you, combine + A manly vigor, and a foreign line. + Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way, + Pursue the ready path to sov'reign sway. + The staff of my declining days, my son, + Shall make your good or ill success his own; + In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare, + And serve the hard apprenticeship of war; + Your matchless courage and your conduct view, + And early shall begin t' admire and copy you. + Besides, two hundred horse he shall command; + Tho' few, a warlike and well-chosen band. + These in my name are listed; and my son + As many more has added in his own." + + Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest, + With downcast eyes, their silent grief express'd; + Who, short of succors, and in deep despair, + Shook at the dismal prospect of the war. + But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud, + To cheer her issue, thunder'd thrice aloud; + Thrice forky lightning flash'd along the sky, + And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high. + Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear; + And, in a heav'n serene, refulgent arms appear: + Redd'ning the skies, and glitt'ring all around, + The temper'd metals clash, and yield a silver sound. + The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine; + Aeneas only, conscious to the sign, + Presag'd th' event, and joyful view'd, above, + Th' accomplish'd promise of the Queen of Love. + Then, to th' Arcadian king: "This prodigy + (Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me. + Heav'n calls me to the war: th' expected sign + Is giv'n of promis'd aid, and arms divine. + My goddess mother, whose indulgent care + Foresaw the dangers of the growing war, + This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms, + Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms, + Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow'd + Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood. + Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn; + And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne, + Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms; + And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur'd arms." + + He said, and, rising from his homely throne, + The solemn rites of Hercules begun, + And on his altars wak'd the sleeping fires; + Then cheerful to his household gods retires; + There offers chosen sheep. Th' Arcadian king + And Trojan youth the same oblations bring. + Next, of his men and ships he makes review; + Draws out the best and ablest of the crew. + Down with the falling stream the refuse run, + To raise with joyful news his drooping son. + Steeds are prepar'd to mount the Trojan band, + Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land. + A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest, + The king himself presents his royal guest: + A lion's hide his back and limbs infold, + Precious with studded work, and paws of gold. + Fame thro' the little city spreads aloud + Th' intended march, amid the fearful crowd: + The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears, + And double their devotion in their fears. + The war at hand appears with more affright, + And rises ev'ry moment to the sight. + + Then old Evander, with a close embrace, + Strain'd his departing friend; and tears o'erflow his face. + "Would Heav'n," said he, "my strength and youth recall, + Such as I was beneath Praeneste's wall; + Then when I made the foremost foes retire, + And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire; + When Herilus in single fight I slew, + Whom with three lives Feronia did endue; + And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore, + Till the last ebbing soul return'd no more- + Such if I stood renew'd, not these alarms, + Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas' arms; + Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish'd, boast + His rapes and murthers on the Tuscan coast. + Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring + Relief, and hear a father and a king! + If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see + My son return with peace and victory; + If the lov'd boy shall bless his father's sight; + If we shall meet again with more delight; + Then draw my life in length; let me sustain, + In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain. + But if your hard decrees- which, O! I dread- + Have doom'd to death his undeserving head; + This, O this very moment, let me die! + While hopes and fears in equal balance lie; + While, yet possess'd of all his youthful charms, + I strain him close within these aged arms; + Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!" + He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground. + His servants bore him off, and softly laid + His languish'd limbs upon his homely bed. + + The horsemen march; the gates are open'd wide; + Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side. + Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along; + Last follows in the rear th' Arcadian throng. + Young Pallas shone conspicuous o'er the rest; + Gilded his arms, embroider'd was his vest. + So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head + The star by whom the lights of heav'n are led; + Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews, + Dispels the darkness, and the day renews. + The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd, + And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud, + Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far + The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war. + The troops, drawn up in beautiful array, + O'er heathy plains pursue the ready way. + Repeated peals of shouts are heard around; + The neighing coursers answer to the sound, + And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground. + + A greenwood shade, for long religion known, + Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town, + Incompass'd round with gloomy hills above, + Which add a holy horror to the grove. + The first inhabitants of Grecian blood, + That sacred forest to Silvanus vow'd, + The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay + Their due devotions on his annual day. + Not far from hence, along the river's side, + In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide, + By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground, + Aeneas cast his wond'ring eyes around, + And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight, + Stretch'd on the spacious plain from left to right. + Thether his warlike train the Trojan led, + Refresh'd his men, and wearied horses fed. + + Meantime the mother goddess, crown'd with charms, + Breaks thro' the clouds, and brings the fated arms. + Within a winding vale she finds her son, + On the cool river's banks, retir'd alone. + She shews her heav'nly form without disguise, + And gives herself to his desiring eyes. + "Behold," she said, "perform'd in ev'ry part, + My promise made, and Vulcan's labor'd art. + Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy, + And haughty Turnus to the field defy." + She said; and, having first her son embrac'd, + The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac'd, + Proud of the gift, he roll'd his greedy sight + Around the work, and gaz'd with vast delight. + He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires + The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires: + His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold, + One keen with temper'd steel, one stiff with gold: + Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright; + So shines a cloud, when edg'd with adverse light. + He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try + The plated cuishes on his manly thigh; + But most admires the shield's mysterious mold, + And Roman triumphs rising on the gold: + For these, emboss'd, the heav'nly smith had wrought + (Not in the rolls of future fate untaught) + The wars in order, and the race divine + Of warriors issuing from the Julian line. + The cave of Mars was dress'd with mossy greens: + There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins. + Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung; + The foster dam loll'd out her fawning tongue: + They suck'd secure, while, bending back her head, + She lick'd their tender limbs, and form'd them as they fed. + Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games + Projected for the rape of Sabine dames. + The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds, + For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds. + Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend; + The Romans there with arms the prey defend. + Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease; + And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace. + The friendly chiefs before Jove's altar stand, + Both arm'd, with each a charger in his hand: + A fatted sow for sacrifice is led, + With imprecations on the perjur'd head. + Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch'd between + Four fiery steeds, is dragg'd along the green, + By Tullus' doom: the brambles drink his blood, + And his torn limbs are left the vulture's food. + There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings, + And would by force restore the banish'd kings. + One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights; + The Roman youth assert their native rights. + Before the town the Tuscan army lies, + To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. + Their king, half-threat'ning, half-disdaining stood, + While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm'd the flood. + The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, + Scap'd from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide. + High on a rock heroic Manlius stood, + To guard the temple, and the temple's god. + Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold + The palace thatch'd with straw, now roof'd with gold. + The silver goose before the shining gate + There flew, and, by her cackle, sav'd the state. + She told the Gauls' approach; th' approaching Gauls, + Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls. + The gold dissembled well their yellow hair, + And golden chains on their white necks they wear. + Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield, + And their left arm sustains a length of shield. + Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; + And naked thro' the streets the mad Luperci dance, + In caps of wool; the targets dropp'd from heav'n. + Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv'n, + To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, + And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. + Far hence remov'd, the Stygian seats are seen; + Pains of the damn'd, and punish'd Catiline + Hung on a rock- the traitor; and, around, + The Furies hissing from the nether ground. + Apart from these, the happy souls he draws, + And Cato's holy ghost dispensing laws. + + Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea; + But foaming surges there in silver play. + The dancing dolphins with their tails divide + The glitt'ring waves, and cut the precious tide. + Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage + Their brazen beaks, oppos'd with equal rage. + Actium surveys the well-disputed prize; + Leucate's wat'ry plain with foamy billows fries. + Young Caesar, on the stern, in armor bright, + Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight: + His beamy temples shoot their flames afar, + And o'er his head is hung the Julian star. + Agrippa seconds him, with prosp'rous gales, + And, with propitious gods, his foes assails: + A naval crown, that binds his manly brows, + The happy fortune of the fight foreshows. + Rang'd on the line oppos'd, Antonius brings + Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings; + Th' Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar, + Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war: + And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife, + His ill fate follows him- th' Egyptian wife. + Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows + The froth is gather'd, and the water glows. + It seems, as if the Cyclades again + Were rooted up, and justled in the main; + Or floating mountains floating mountains meet; + Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet. + Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav'lins fly; + The fields of Neptune take a purple dye. + The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms, + With cymbals toss'd her fainting soldiers warms- + Fool as she was! who had not yet divin'd + Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind. + Her country gods, the monsters of the sky, + Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love's Queen defy: + The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain, + Nor longer dares oppose th' ethereal train. + Mars in the middle of the shining shield + Is grav'd, and strides along the liquid field. + The Dirae souse from heav'n with swift descent; + And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent, + Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads, + And shakes her iron rod above their heads. + This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height, + Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight + The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield, + And soft Sabaeans quit the wat'ry field. + The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails, + And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales. + Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath, + Panting, and pale with fear of future death. + The god had figur'd her as driv'n along + By winds and waves, and scudding thro' the throng. + Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide + His arms and ample bosom to the tide, + And spreads his mantle o'er the winding coast, + In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host. + The victor to the gods his thanks express'd, + And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless'd. + Three hundred temples in the town he plac'd; + With spoils and altars ev'ry temple grac'd. + Three shining nights, and three succeeding days, + The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise, + The domes with songs, the theaters with plays. + All altars flame: before each altar lies, + Drench'd in his gore, the destin'd sacrifice. + Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne, + Before Apollo's porch of Parian stone; + Accepts the presents vow'd for victory, + And hangs the monumental crowns on high. + Vast crowds of vanquish'd nations march along, + Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue. + Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place + For Carians, and th' ungirt Numidian race; + Then ranks the Thracians in the second row, + With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow. + And here the tam'd Euphrates humbly glides, + And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides, + And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind; + The Danes' unconquer'd offspring march behind, + And Morini, the last of humankind. + + These figures, on the shield divinely wrought, + By Vulcan labor'd, and by Venus brought, + With joy and wonder fill the hero's thought. + Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace, + And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. + + + + + BOOK IX + + While these affairs in distant places pass'd, + The various Iris Juno sends with haste, + To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought, + The secret shade of his great grandsire sought. + Retir'd alone she found the daring man, + And op'd her rosy lips, and thus began: + "What none of all the gods could grant thy vows, + That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows. + Aeneas, gone to seek th' Arcadian prince, + Has left the Trojan camp without defense; + And, short of succors there, employs his pains + In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains. + Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs; + Unite thy forces, and attack their lines." + This said, on equal wings she pois'd her weight, + And form'd a radiant rainbow in her flight. + + The Daunian hero lifts his hands eyes, + And thus invokes the goddess as she flies: + "Iris, the grace of heav'n, what pow'r divine + Has sent thee down, thro' dusky clouds to shine? + See, they divide; immortal day appears, + And glitt'ring planets dancing in their spheres! + With joy, these happy omens I obey, + And follow to the war the god that leads the way." + Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, + He scoop'd the water from the crystal flood; + Then with his hands the drops to heav'n he throws, + And loads the pow'rs above with offer'd vows. + + Now march the bold confed'rates thro' the plain, + Well hors'd, well clad; a rich and shining train. + Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear, + The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear. + In the main battle, with his flaming crest, + The mighty Turnus tow'rs above the rest. + Silent they move, majestically slow, + Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow. + The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far, + And the dark menace of the distant war. + Caicus from the rampire saw it rise, + Black'ning the fields, and thick'ning thro' the skies. + Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls: + "What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls? + Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears + And pointed darts! the Latian host appears." + + Thus warn'd, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend + The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend: + For their wise gen'ral, with foreseeing care, + Had charg'd them not to tempt the doubtful war, + Nor, tho' provok'd, in open fields advance, + But close within their lines attend their chance. + Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command, + And sourly wait in arms the hostile band. + The fiery Turnus flew before the rest: + A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press'd; + His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest. + With twenty horse to second his designs, + An unexpected foe, he fac'd the lines. + "Is there," he said, "in arms, who bravely dare + His leader's honor and his danger share?" + Then spurring on, his brandish'd dart he threw, + In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue. + + Amaz'd to find a dastard race, that run + Behind the rampires and the battle shun, + He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes, + And stops at ev'ry post, and ev'ry passage tries. + So roams the nightly wolf about the fold: + Wet with descending show'rs, and stiff with cold, + He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain, + (His gnashing teeth are exercis'd in vain,) + And, impotent of anger, finds no way + In his distended paws to grasp the prey. + The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs + Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams. + Thus ranges eager Turnus o'er the plain. + Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain; + Surveys each passage with a piercing sight, + To force his foes in equal field to fight. + Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies, + Where, fenc'd with strong redoubts, their navy lies, + Close underneath the walls; the washing tide + Secures from all approach this weaker side. + He takes the wish'd occasion, fills his hand + With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand. + Urg'd by his presence, ev'ry soul is warm'd, + And ev'ry hand with kindled firs is arm'd. + From the fir'd pines the scatt'ring sparkles fly; + Fat vapors, mix'd with flames, involve the sky. + What pow'r, O Muses, could avert the flame + Which threaten'd, in the fleet, the Trojan name? + Tell: for the fact, thro' length of time obscure, + Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure. + + 'T is said that, when the chief prepar'd his flight, + And fell'd his timber from Mount Ida's height, + The grandam goddess then approach'd her son, + And with a mother's majesty begun: + "Grant me," she said, "the sole request I bring, + Since conquer'd heav'n has own'd you for its king. + On Ida's brows, for ages past, there stood, + With firs and maples fill'd, a shady wood; + And on the summit rose a sacred grove, + Where I was worship'd with religious love. + Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight, + I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight. + Now, fill'd with fear, on their behalf I come; + Let neither winds o'erset, nor waves intomb + The floating forests of the sacred pine; + But let it be their safety to be mine." + Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls + The radiant stars, and heav'n and earth controls: + "How dare you, mother, endless date demand + For vessels molded by a mortal hand? + What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride, + Of safety certain, on th' uncertain tide? + Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o'er, + The chief is landed on the Latian shore, + Whatever ships escape the raging storms, + At my command shall change their fading forms + To nymphs divine, and plow the wat'ry way, + Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea." + To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore, + The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore, + And Phlegethon's innavigable flood, + And the black regions of his brother god. + He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod. + + And now at length the number'd hours were come, + Prefix'd by fate's irrevocable doom, + When the great Mother of the Gods was free + To save her ships, and finish Jove's decree. + First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung + A light that sign'd the heav'ns, and shot along; + Then from a cloud, fring'd round with golden fires, + Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs; + And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds, + Both hosts, in arms oppos'd, with equal horror wounds: + "O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear, + And know, my ships are my peculiar care. + With greater ease the bold Rutulian may, + With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea, + Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge, + Loos'd from your crooked anchors, launch at large, + Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand, + And swim the seas, at Cybele's command." + No sooner had the goddess ceas'd to speak, + When, lo! th' obedient ships their haulsers break; + And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main + They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again: + As many beauteous maids the billows sweep, + As rode before tall vessels on the deep. + + The foes, surpris'd with wonder, stood aghast; + Messapus curb'd his fiery courser's haste; + Old Tiber roar'd, and, raising up his head, + Call'd back his waters to their oozy bed. + Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock, + And with these words his trembling troops bespoke: + "These monsters for the Trojans' fate are meant, + And are by Jove for black presages sent. + He takes the cowards' last relief away; + For fly they cannot, and, constrain'd to stay, + Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey. + The liquid half of all the globe is lost; + Heav'n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast. + Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground + Which myriads of our martial men surround. + Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles. + 'T was giv'n to Venus they should cross the seas, + And land secure upon the Latian plains: + Their promis'd hour is pass'd, and mine remains. + 'T is in the fate of Turnus to destroy, + With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy. + Shall such affronts as these alone inflame + The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name? + My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife, + And final ruin, for a ravish'd wife. + Was 't not enough, that, punish'd for the crime, + They fell; but will they fall a second time? + One would have thought they paid enough before, + To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more. + Can they securely trust their feeble wall, + A slight partition, a thin interval, + Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho' built + By hands divine, yet perish'd by their guilt? + Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands, + To force from out their lines these dastard bands. + Less than a thousand ships will end this war, + Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare. + Let all the Tuscans, all th' Arcadians, join! + Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design. + Let them not fear the treasons of the night, + The robb'd Palladium, the pretended flight: + Our onset shall be made in open light. + No wooden engine shall their town betray; + Fires they shall have around, but fires by day. + No Grecian babes before their camp appear, + Whom Hector's arms detain'd to the tenth tardy year. + Now, since the sun is rolling to the west, + Give we the silent night to needful rest: + Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare; + The morn shall end the small remains of war." + + The post of honor to Messapus falls, + To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls, + To pitch the fires at distances around, + And close the Trojans in their scanty ground. + Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand, + And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command; + All clad in shining arms the works invest, + Each with a radiant helm and waving crest. + Stretch'd at their length, they press the grassy ground; + They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,) + With lights and cheerful fires renew the day, + And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play. + + The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld, + And with arm'd legions all the rampires fill'd. + Seiz'd with affright, their gates they first explore; + Join works to works with bridges, tow'r to tow'r: + Thus all things needful for defense abound. + Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round, + Commission'd by their absent prince to share + The common danger, and divide the care. + The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall, + By turns relieve each other on the wall. + + Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance, + To watch the gate was warlike Nisus' chance. + His father Hyrtacus of noble blood; + His mother was a huntress of the wood, + And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear + His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear, + But better skill'd unerring shafts to send. + Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend: + Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host + No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast- + Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun. + One was their care, and their delight was one: + One common hazard in the war they shar'd, + And now were both by choice upon the guard. + + Then Nisus thus: "Or do the gods inspire + This warmth, or make we gods of our desire? + A gen'rous ardor boils within my breast, + Eager of action, enemy to rest: + This urges me to fight, and fires my mind + To leave a memorable name behind. + Thou see'st the foe secure; how faintly shine + Their scatter'd fires! the most, in sleep supine + Along the ground, an easy conquest lie: + The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply; + All hush'd around. Now hear what I revolve- + A thought unripe- and scarcely yet resolve. + Our absent prince both camp and council mourn; + By message both would hasten his return: + If they confer what I demand on thee, + (For fame is recompense enough for me,) + Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied + A way that safely will my passage guide." + + Euryalus stood list'ning while he spoke, + With love of praise and noble envy struck; + Then to his ardent friend expos'd his mind: + "All this, alone, and leaving me behind! + Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join'd? + Thinkist thou I can my share of glory yield, + Or send thee unassisted to the field? + Not so my father taught my childhood arms; + Born in a siege, and bred among alarms! + Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend, + Nor of the heav'n-born hero I attend. + The thing call'd life, with ease I can disclaim, + And think it over-sold to purchase fame." + + Then Nisus thus: "Alas! thy tender years + Would minister new matter to my fears. + So may the gods, who view this friendly strife, + Restore me to thy lov'd embrace with life, + Condemn'd to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,) + This thy request is cruel and unjust. + But if some chance- as many chances are, + And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war- + If one should reach my head, there let it fall, + And spare thy life; I would not perish all. + Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date: + Live thou to mourn thy love's unhappy fate; + To bear my mangled body from the foe, + Or buy it back, and fun'ral rites bestow. + Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny, + Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply. + O let not me the widow's tears renew! + Nor let a mother's curse my name pursue: + Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee, + Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily, + Her age committing to the seas and wind, + When ev'ry weary matron stay'd behind." + To this, Euryalus: "You plead in vain, + And but protract the cause you cannot gain. + No more delays, but haste!" With that, he wakes + The nodding watch; each to his office takes. + The guard reliev'd, the gen'rous couple went + To find the council at the royal tent. + + All creatures else forgot their daily care, + And sleep, the common gift of nature, share; + Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate + In nightly council for th' indanger'd state. + They vote a message to their absent chief, + Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief. + Amid the camp a silent seat they chose, + Remote from clamor, and secure from foes. + On their left arms their ample shields they bear, + The right reclin'd upon the bending spear. + Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard, + And beg admission, eager to be heard: + Th' affair important, not to be deferr'd. + Ascanius bids 'em be conducted in, + Ord'ring the more experienc'd to begin. + Then Nisus thus: "Ye fathers, lend your ears; + Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years. + The foe, securely drench'd in sleep and wine, + Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine; + And where the smoke in cloudy vapors flies, + Cov'ring the plain, and curling to the skies, + Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide, + Close by the sea, a passage we have spied, + Which will our way to great Aeneas guide. + Expect each hour to see him safe again, + Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain. + Snatch we the lucky minute while we may; + Nor can we be mistaken in the way; + For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen + The rising turrets, and the stream between, + And know the winding course, with ev'ry ford." + + He ceas'd; and old Alethes took the word: + "Our country gods, in whom our trust we place, + Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race, + While we behold such dauntless worth appear + In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear." + Then into tears of joy the father broke; + Each in his longing arms by turns he took; + Panted and paus'd; and thus again he spoke: + "Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we, + In recompense of such desert, decree? + The greatest, sure, and best you can receive, + The gods and your own conscious worth will give. + The rest our grateful gen'ral will bestow, + And young Ascanius till his manhood owe." + + "And I, whose welfare in my father lies," + Ascanius adds, "by the great deities, + By my dear country, by my household gods, + By hoary Vesta's rites and dark abodes, + Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands; + That and my faith I plight into your hands,) + Make me but happy in his safe return, + Whose wanted presence I can only mourn; + Your common gift shall two large goblets be + Of silver, wrought with curious imagery, + And high emboss'd, which, when old Priam reign'd, + My conqu'ring sire at sack'd Arisba gain'd; + And more, two tripods cast in antic mold, + With two great talents of the finest gold; + Beside a costly bowl, ingrav'd with art, + Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart. + But, if in conquer'd Italy we reign, + When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain- + Thou saw'st the courser by proud Turnus press'd: + That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest, + And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share: + Twelve lab'ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair + All clad in rich attire, and train'd with care; + And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains, + And a large portion of the king's domains. + But thou, whose years are more to mine allied- + No fate my vow'd affection shall divide + From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine; + Take full possession; all my soul is thine. + One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend; + My life's companion, and my bosom friend: + My peace shall be committed to thy care, + And to thy conduct my concerns in war." + + Then thus the young Euryalus replied: + "Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide, + The same shall be my age, as now my youth; + No time shall find me wanting to my truth. + This only from your goodness let me gain + (And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain) + Of Priam's royal race my mother came- + And sure the best that ever bore the name- + Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold + From me departing, but, o'erspent and old, + My fate she follow'd. Ignorant of this + (Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss, + Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave, + And in this only act of all my life deceive. + By this right hand and conscious Night I swear, + My soul so sad a farewell could not bear. + Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place + (Permit me to presume so great a grace) + Support her age, forsaken and distress'd. + That hope alone will fortify my breast + Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears." + He said. The mov'd assistants melt in tears. + + Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see + That image of his filial piety: + "So great beginnings, in so green an age, + Exact the faith which I again ingage. + Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim, + Creusa had, and only want the name. + Whate'er event thy bold attempt shall have, + 'T is merit to have borne a son so brave. + Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear, + (My father us'd it,) what, returning here + Crown'd with success, I for thyself prepare, + That, if thou fail, shall thy lov'd mother share." + + He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word, + From his broad belt he drew a shining sword, + Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made, + And in an ivory scabbard sheath'd the blade. + This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend + A lion's hide, his body to defend; + And good Alethes furnish'd him, beside, + With his own trusty helm, of temper tried. + + Thus arm'd they went. The noble Trojans wait + Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate + With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears + Ascanius, manly far beyond his years, + And messages committed to their care, + Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air. + + The trenches first they pass'd; then took their way + Where their proud foes in pitch'd pavilions lay; + To many fatal, ere themselves were slain. + They found the careless host dispers'd upon the plain, + Who, gorg'd, and drunk with wine, supinely snore. + Unharness'd chariots stand along the shore: + Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by, + A medley of debauch and war, they lie. + Observing Nisus shew'd his friend the sight: + "Behold a conquest gain'd without a fight. + Occasion offers, and I stand prepar'd; + There lies our way; be thou upon the guard, + And look around, while I securely go, + And hew a passage thro' the sleeping foe." + Softly he spoke; then striding took his way, + With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay; + His head rais'd high on tapestry beneath, + And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath; + A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov'd: + But fate by prescience cannot be remov'd. + Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies + Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies. + His armor-bearer first, and next he kills + His charioteer, intrench'd betwixt the wheels + And his lov'd horses; last invades their lord; + Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword: + The gasping head flies off; a purple flood + Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood, + Which, by the spurning heels dispers'd around, + The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground. + Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong, + He slew, and then Serranus fair and young. + From dice and wine the youth retir'd to rest, + And puff'd the fumy god from out his breast: + Ev'n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play- + More lucky, had it lasted till the day. + The famish'd lion thus, with hunger bold, + O'erleaps the fences of the nightly fold, + And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe + Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw. + + Nor with less rage Euryalus employs + The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys; + But on th' ignoble crowd his fury flew; + He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew. + Oppress'd with heavy sleep the former fell, + But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all: + Behind a spacious jar he slink'd for fear; + The fatal iron found and reach'd him there; + For, as he rose, it pierc'd his naked side, + And, reeking, thence return'd in crimson dyed. + The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood; + The purple soul comes floating in the flood. + + Now, where Messapus quarter'd, they arrive. + The fires were fainting there, and just alive; + The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed. + Nisus observ'd the discipline, and said: + "Our eager thirst of blood may both betray; + And see the scatter'd streaks of dawning day, + Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend; + Here let our glutted execution end. + A lane thro' slaughter'd bodies we have made." + The bold Euryalus, tho' loth, obey'd. + Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find + A precious load; but these they leave behind. + Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay + To make the rich caparison his prey, + Which on the steed of conquer'd Rhamnes lay. + Nor did his eyes less longingly behold + The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish'd gold. + This present Caedicus the rich bestow'd + On Remulus, when friendship first they vow'd, + And, absent, join'd in hospitable ties: + He, dying, to his heir bequeath'd the prize; + Till, by the conqu'ring Ardean troops oppress'd, + He fell; and they the glorious gift possess'd. + These glitt'ring spoils (now made the victor's gain) + He to his body suits, but suits in vain: + Messapus' helm he finds among the rest, + And laces on, and wears the waving crest. + Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey, + They leave the camp, and take the ready way. + + But far they had not pass'd, before they spied + Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide. + The queen a legion to King Turnus sent; + But the swift horse the slower foot prevent, + And now, advancing, sought the leader's tent. + They saw the pair; for, thro' the doubtful shade, + His shining helm Euryalus betray'd, + On which the moon with full reflection play'd. + "'T is not for naught," cried Volscens from the crowd, + "These men go there;" then rais'd his voice aloud: + "Stand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent? + From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?" + Silent they scud away, and haste their flight + To neighb'ring woods, and trust themselves to night. + The speedy horse all passages belay, + And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way, + And watch each entrance of the winding wood. + Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood, + Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn; + Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn. + The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey, + And fear, misled the younger from his way. + But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste, + And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass'd, + And Alban plains, from Alba's name so call'd, + Where King Latinus then his oxen stall'd; + Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground, + And miss'd his friend, and cast his eyes around: + "Ah wretch!" he cried, "where have I left behind + Th' unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find? + Or what way take?" Again he ventures back, + And treads the mazes of his former track. + He winds the wood, and, list'ning, hears the noise + Of tramping coursers, and the riders' voice. + The sound approach'd; and suddenly he view'd + The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued, + Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain + The shelter of the friendly shades to gain. + What should he next attempt? what arms employ, + What fruitless force, to free the captive boy? + Or desperate should he rush and lose his life, + With odds oppress'd, in such unequal strife? + + Resolv'd at length, his pointed spear he shook; + And, casting on the moon a mournful look: + "Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night, + Fair queen," he said, "direct my dart aright. + If e'er my pious father, for my sake, + Did grateful off'rings on thy altars make, + Or I increas'd them with my sylvan toils, + And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils, + Give me to scatter these." Then from his ear + He pois'd, and aim'd, and launch'd the trembling spear. + The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove, + Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove; + Pierc'd his thin armor, drank his vital blood, + And in his body left the broken wood. + He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death, + And with short sobs he gasps away his breath. + All stand amaz'd- a second jav'lin flies + With equal strength, and quivers thro' the skies. + This thro' thy temples, Tagus, forc'd the way, + And in the brainpan warmly buried lay. + Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, + Descried not him who gave the fatal wound, + Nor knew to fix revenge: "But thou," he cries, + "Shalt pay for both," and at the pris'ner flies + With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair, + That cruel sight the lover could not bear; + But from his covert rush'd in open view, + And sent his voice before him as he flew: + "Me! me!" he cried- "turn all your swords alone + On me- the fact confess'd, the fault my own. + He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth: + Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth! + His only crime (if friendship can offend) + Is too much love to his unhappy friend." + Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides, + Driv'n with full force, had pierc'd his tender sides. + Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound + Gush'd out a purple stream, and stain'd the ground. + His snowy neck reclines upon his breast, + Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd; + Like a white poppy sinking on the plain, + Whose heavy head is overcharg'd with rain. + Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow'd, + Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd. + Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends: + Borne back and bor'd by his surrounding friends, + Onward he press'd, and kept him still in sight; + Then whirl'd aloft his sword with all his might: + Th' unerring steel descended while he spoke, + Piered his wide mouth, and thro' his weazon broke. + Dying, he slew; and, stagg'ring on the plain, + With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain; + Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell, + Content, in death, to be reveng'd so well. + + O happy friends! for, if my verse can give + Immortal life, your fame shall ever live, + Fix'd as the Capitol's foundation lies, + And spread, where'er the Roman eagle flies! + + The conqu'ring party first divide the prey, + Then their slain leader to the camp convey. + With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill'd, + To see such numbers whom so few had kill'd. + Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found: + Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround; + And the yet reeking blood o'erflows the ground. + All knew the helmet which Messapus lost, + But mourn'd a purchase that so dear had cost. + Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed, + And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread; + Nor long the sun his daily course withheld, + But added colors to the world reveal'd: + When early Turnus, wak'ning with the light, + All clad in armor, calls his troops to fight. + His martial men with fierce harangue he fir'd, + And his own ardor in their souls inspir'd. + This done- to give new terror to his foes, + The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows, + Rais'd high on pointed spears- a ghastly sight: + Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight. + + Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls; + They line their trenches, and they man their walls. + In front extended to the left they stood; + Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood. + But, casting from their tow'rs a frightful view, + They saw the faces, which too well they knew, + Tho' then disguis'd in death, and smear'd all o'er + With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore. + Soon hasty fame thro' the sad city bears + The mournful message to the mother's ears. + An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes; + Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes. + She runs the rampires round amidst the war, + Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair, + And fills with loud laments the liquid air. + "Thus, then, my lov'd Euryalus appears! + Thus looks the prop my declining years! + Was't on this face my famish'd eyes I fed? + Ah! how unlike the living is the dead! + And could'st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone? + Not one kind kiss from a departing son! + No look, no last adieu before he went, + In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent! + Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay, + To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey! + Nor was I near to close his dying eyes, + To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies, + To call about his corpse his crying friends, + Or spread the mantle (made for other ends) + On his dear body, which I wove with care, + Nor did my daily pains or nightly labor spare. + Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains + His trunk dismember'd, and his cold remains? + For this, alas! I left my needful ease, + Expos'd my life to winds and winter seas! + If any pity touch Rutulian hearts, + Here empty all your quivers, all your darts; + Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe, + And send me thunderstruck to shades below!" + Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans' ears, + Unman their courage, and augment their fears; + Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain, + Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain, + But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent, + To bear the madding mother to her tent. + + And now the trumpets terribly, from far, + With rattling clangor, rouse the sleepy war. + The soldiers' shouts succeed the brazen sounds; + And heav'n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds. + The Volscians bear their shields upon their head, + And, rushing forward, form a moving shed. + These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down: + Some raise the ladders; others scale the town. + But, where void spaces on the walls appear, + Or thin defense, they pour their forces there. + With poles and missive weapons, from afar, + The Trojans keep aloof the rising war. + Taught, by their ten years' siege, defensive fight, + They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight, + To break the penthouse with the pond'rous blow, + Which yet the patient Volscians undergo: + But could not bear th' unequal combat long; + For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng, + The ruin falls: their shatter'd shields give way, + And their crush'd heads become an easy prey. + They shrink for fear, abated of their rage, + Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage; + Contented now to gall them from below + With darts and slings, and with the distant bow. + + Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view, + A blazing pine within the trenches threw. + But brave Messapus, Neptune's warlike son, + Broke down the palisades, the trenches won, + And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town. + + Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine, + Inspire your poet in his high design, + To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made, + What souls he sent below the Stygian shade, + What fame the soldiers with their captain share, + And the vast circuit of the fatal war; + For you in singing martial facts excel; + You best remember, and alone can tell. + + There stood a tow'r, amazing to the sight, + Built up of beams, and of stupendous height: + Art, and the nature of the place, conspir'd + To furnish all the strength that war requir'd. + To level this, the bold Italians join; + The wary Trojans obviate their design; + With weighty stones o'erwhelm their troops below, + Shoot thro' the loopholes, and sharp jav'lins throw. + Turnus, the chief, toss'd from his thund'ring hand + Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand: + It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high; + The planks were season'd, and the timber dry. + Contagion caught the posts; it spread along, + Scorch'd, and to distance drove the scatter'd throng. + The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain, + Still gath'ring fast upon the trembling train; + Till, crowding to the corners of the wall, + Down the defense and the defenders fall. + The mighty flaw makes heav'n itself resound: + The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground. + The tow'r, that follow'd on the fallen crew, + Whelm'd o'er their heads, and buried whom it slew: + Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent; + All the same equal ruin underwent. + + Young Lycus and Helenor only scape; + Sav'd- how, they know not- from the steepy leap. + Helenor, elder of the two: by birth, + On one side royal, one a son of earth, + Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare, + And sent her boasted bastard to the war + (A privilege which none but freemen share). + Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield: + No marks of honor charg'd its empty field. + Light as he fell, so light the youth arose, + And rising, found himself amidst his foes; + Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way. + Embolden'd by despair, he stood at bay; + And- like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds + Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds- + Resolv'd on death, he dissipates his fears, + And bounds aloft against the pointed spears: + So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws + His dying body on his thickest foes. + But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far, + Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war; + Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind, + And snatches at the beam he first can find; + Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch, + In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach. + But Turnus follow'd hard his hunted prey + (His spear had almost reach'd him in the way, + Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind) + "Fool!" said the chief, "tho' fleeter than the wind, + Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?" + He said, and downward by the feet he drew + The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls; + Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls. + Thus on some silver swan, or tim'rous hare, + Jove's bird comes sousing down from upper air; + Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey: + Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way. + So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb, + In vain lamented by the bleating dam. + + Then rushing onward with a barb'rous cry, + The troops of Turnus to the combat fly. + The ditch with fagots fill'd, the daring foe + Toss'd firebrands to the steepy turrets throw. + + Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came + To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame, + Roll'd down the fragment of a rock so right, + It crush'd him double underneath the weight. + Two more young Liger and Asylas slew: + To bend the bow young Liger better knew; + Asylas best the pointed jav'lin threw. + Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain; + The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain. + By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall, + Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall. + From Capys' arms his fate Privernus found: + Hurt by Themilla first-but slight the wound- + His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart, + He clapp'd his hand upon the wounded part: + The second shaft came swift and unespied, + And pierc'd his hand, and nail'd it to his side, + Transfix'd his breathing lungs and beating heart: + The soul came issuing out, and hiss'd against the dart. + + The son of Arcens shone amid the rest, + In glitt'ring armor and a purple vest, + (Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,) + Bred by his father in the Martian grove, + Where the fat altars of Palicus flame, + And send in arms to purchase early fame. + Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king + Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling, + Thrice whirl'd the thong around his head, and threw: + The heated lead half melted as it flew; + It pierc'd his hollow temples and his brain; + The youth came tumbling down, and spurn'd the plain. + + Then young Ascanius, who, before this day, + Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey, + First bent in martial strife the twanging bow, + And exercis'd against a human foe- + With this bereft Numanus of his life, + Who Turnus' younger sister took to wife. + Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride, + Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen'd with a stride, + In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied: + + "Twice-conquer'd cowards, now your shame is shown- + Coop'd up a second time within your town! + Who dare not issue forth in open field, + But hold your walls before you for a shield. + Thus threat you war? thus our alliance force? + What gods, what madness, hether steer'd your course? + You shall not find the sons of Atreus here, + Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear. + Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood, + We bear our newborn infants to the flood; + There bath'd amid the stream, our boys we hold, + With winter harden'd, and inur'd to cold. + They wake before the day to range the wood, + Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer'd food. + No sports, but what belong to war, they know: + To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow. + Our youth, of labor patient, earn their bread; + Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed. + From plows and harrows sent to seek renown, + They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town. + No part of life from toils of war is free, + No change in age, or diff'rence in degree. + We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel, + Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel; + Th' inverted lance makes furrows in the plain. + Ev'n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain: + The body, not the mind; nor can control + Th' immortal vigor, or abate the soul. + Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray: + We live by plunder, and delight in prey. + Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine; + In sloth you glory, and in dances join. + Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride + Your turbants underneath your chins are tied. + Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again! + Go, less than women, in the shapes of men! + Go, mix'd with eunuchs, in the Mother's rites, + Where with unequal sound the flute invites; + Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida's shade: + Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!" + + This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear + With patience, or a vow'd revenge forbear. + At the full stretch of both his hands he drew, + And almost join'd the horns of the tough yew. + But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood, + And thus with lifted hands invok'd the god: + "My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed! + An annual off'ring in thy grove shall bleed; + A snow-white steer, before thy altar led, + Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head, + Butts with his threat'ning brows, and bellowing stands, + And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands." + + Jove bow'd the heav'ns, and lent a gracious ear, + And thunder'd on the left, amidst the clear. + Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies + The feather'd death, and hisses thro' the skies. + The steel thro' both his temples forc'd the way: + Extended on the ground, Numanus lay. + "Go now, vain boaster, and true valor scorn! + The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return." + Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake + The heav'ns with shouting, and new vigor take. + + Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud, + To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd; + And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud: + "Advance, illustrious youth, increase in fame, + And wide from east to west extend thy name; + Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe + To thee a race of demigods below. + This is the way to heav'n: the pow'rs divine + From this beginning date the Julian line. + To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs, + The conquer'd war is due, and the vast world is theirs. + Troy is too narrow for thy name." He said, + And plunging downward shot his radiant head; + Dispell'd the breathing air, that broke his flight: + Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight. + Old Butes' form he took, Anchises' squire, + Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire: + His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs, + His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears, + And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years: + "Suffice it thee, thy father's worthy son, + The warlike prize thou hast already won. + The god of archers gives thy youth a part + Of his own praise, nor envies equal art. + Now tempt the war no more." He said, and flew + Obscure in air, and vanish'd from their view. + The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know, + And hear the twanging of his heav'nly bow. + Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus' name, + To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame. + Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun; + From wall to wall the shouts and clamors run. + They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around; + Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground; + And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound. + The combat thickens, like the storm that flies + From westward, when the show'ry Kids arise; + Or patt'ring hail comes pouring on the main, + When Jupiter descends in harden'd rain, + Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound, + And with an armed winter strew the ground. + + Pand'rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war, + Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare + On Ida's top, two youths of height and size + Like firs that on their mother mountain rise, + Presuming on their force, the gates unbar, + And of their own accord invite the war. + With fates averse, against their king's command, + Arm'd, on the right and on the left they stand, + And flank the passage: shining steel they wear, + And waving crests above their heads appear. + Thus two tall oaks, that Padus' banks adorn, + Lift up to heav'n their leafy heads unshorn, + And, overpress'd with nature's heavy load, + Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod. + In flows a tide of Latians, when they see + The gate set open, and the passage free; + Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on, + Equicolus, that in bright armor shone, + And Haemon first; but soon repuls'd they fly, + Or in the well-defended pass they die. + These with success are fir'd, and those with rage, + And each on equal terms at length ingage. + Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain, + The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain. + + Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought, + When suddenly th' unhop'd-for news was brought, + The foes had left the fastness of their place, + Prevail'd in fight, and had his men in chase. + He quits th' attack, and, to prevent their fate, + Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate. + The first he met, Antiphates the brave, + But base-begotten on a Theban slave, + Sarpedon's son, he slew: the deadly dart + Found passage thro' his breast, and pierc'd his heart. + Fix'd in the wound th' Italian cornel stood, + Warm'd in his lungs, and in his vital blood. + Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies, + And Meropes, and the gigantic size + Of Bitias, threat'ning with his ardent eyes. + Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress'd + (A dart were lost within that roomy breast), + But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, + Which roar'd like thunder as it whirl'd along: + Not two bull hides th' impetuous force withhold, + Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold. + Down sunk the monster bulk and press'd the ground; + His arms and clatt'ring shield on the vast body sound, + Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole, + Rais'd on the seas, the surges to control- + At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall; + Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall + Of the vast pile; the scatter'd ocean flies; + Black sands, discolor'd froth, and mingled mud arise: + The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores; + Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars: + Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove's command, + Astonish'd at the flaw that shakes the land, + Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake, + With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back. + + The warrior god the Latian troops inspir'd, + New strung their sinews, and their courage fir'd, + But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright: + Then black despair precipitates their flight. + + When Pandarus beheld his brother kill'd, + The town with fear and wild confusion fill'd, + He turns the hinges of the heavy gate + With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight + Some happier friends within the walls inclos'd; + The rest shut out, to certain death expos'd: + Fool as he was, and frantic in his care, + T' admit young Turnus, and include the war! + He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold, + Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold. + Too late his blazing buckler they descry, + And sparkling fires that shot from either eye, + His mighty members, and his ample breast, + His rattling armor, and his crimson crest. + + Far from that hated face the Trojans fly, + All but the fool who sought his destiny. + Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow'd + For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud: + "These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town + Amata proffers with Lavinia's crown: + 'T is hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft, + No means of safe return by flight are left." + To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul sedate, + Thus Turnus: "Then begin, and try thy fate: + My message to the ghost of Priam bear; + Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there." + + A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw, + Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew: + With his full force he whirl'd it first around; + But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound: + Imperial Juno turn'd the course before, + And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door. + + "But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike, + To shun thy fate: our force is not alike, + Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god." + Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood, + And aim'd from high: the full descending blow + Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two. + Down sinks the giant with a thund'ring sound: + His pond'rous limbs oppress the trembling ground; + Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound: + Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides, + And the shar'd visage hangs on equal sides. + The Trojans fly from their approaching fate; + And, had the victor then secur'd the gate, + And to his troops without unclos'd the bars, + One lucky day had ended all his wars. + But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood, + Push'd on his fury, to pursue the crowd. + Hamstring'd behind, unhappy Gyges died; + Then Phalaris is added to his side. + The pointed jav'lins from the dead he drew, + And their friends' arms against their fellows threw. + Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies; + Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies. + Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall- + Ingag'd against the foes who scal'd the wall: + But, whom they fear'd without, they found within. + At last, tho' late, by Lynceus he was seen. + He calls new succors, and assaults the prince: + But weak his force, and vain is their defense. + Turn'd to the right, his sword the hero drew, + And at one blow the bold aggressor slew. + He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong, + The helm flies off, and bears the head along. + Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill'd, + In darts invenom'd and in poison skill'd. + Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear, + And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear: + He fought with courage, and he sung the fight; + Arms were his bus'ness, verses his delight. + + The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief, + Their slaughter'd friends, and hasten their relief. + Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train, + Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain. + To save the living, and revenge the dead, + Against one warrior's arms all Troy they led. + "O, void of sense and courage!" Mnestheus cried, + "Where can you hope your coward heads to hide? + Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run? + One man, and in your camp inclos'd, you shun! + Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast, + And pass unpunish'd from a num'rous host? + Forsaking honor, and renouncing fame, + Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!" + This just reproach their virtue does excite: + They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight. + + Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield, + But with slow paces measures back the field, + And inches to the walls, where Tiber's tide, + Washing the camp, defends the weaker side. + The more he loses, they advance the more, + And tread in ev'ry step he trod before. + They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might + They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight. + + As, compass'd with a wood of spears around, + The lordly lion still maintains his ground; + Grins horrible, retires, and turns again; + Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane; + He loses while in vain he presses on, + Nor will his courage let him dare to run: + So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight, + Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight. + Yet twice, inrag'd, the combat he renews, + Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues. + But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied, + Come rolling on, and rush from ev'ry side: + Nor Juno, who sustain'd his arms before, + Dares with new strength suffice th' exhausted store; + For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down, + To force th' invader from the frighted town. + + With labor spent, no longer can he wield + The heavy fanchion, or sustain the shield, + O'erwhelm'd with darts, which from afar they fling: + The weapons round his hollow temples ring; + His golden helm gives way, with stony blows + Batter'd, and flat, and beaten to his brows. + His crest is rash'd away; his ample shield + Is falsified, and round with jav'lins fill'd. + + The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm; + And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm. + Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev'ry pore; + With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o'er; + Shorter and shorter ev'ry gasp he takes; + And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes. + Plung'd in the flood, and made the waters fly. + The yellow god the welcome burthen bore, + And wip'd the sweat, and wash'd away the gore; + Then gently wafts him to the farther coast, + And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host. + + + + + BOOK X + + The gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons all + The gods to council in the common hall. + Sublimely seated, he surveys from far + The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war, + And all th' inferior world. From first to last, + The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd. + + Then thus th' almighty sire began: "Ye gods, + Natives or denizens of blest abodes, + From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, + This backward fate from what was first design'd? + Why this protracted war, when my commands + Pronounc'd a peace, and gave the Latian lands? + What fear or hope on either part divides + Our heav'ns, and arms our powers on diff'rent sides? + A lawful time of war at length will come, + (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom), + When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome, + Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, + And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains. + Then is your time for faction and debate, + For partial favor, and permitted hate. + Let now your immature dissension cease; + Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace." + + Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge; + But lovely Venus thus replies at large: + "O pow'r immense, eternal energy, + (For to what else protection can we fly?) + Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare + In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care? + How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, + In shining arms, triumphant on the plain? + Ev'n in their lines and trenches they contend, + And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: + The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats, + With a red deluge, their increasing moats. + Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence, + Has left a camp expos'd, without defense. + This endless outrage shall they still sustain? + Shall Troy renew'd be forc'd and fir'd again? + A second siege my banish'd issue fears, + And a new Diomede in arms appears. + One more audacious mortal will be found; + And I, thy daughter, wait another wound. + Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave, + The Latian lands my progeny receive, + Bear they the pains of violated law, + And thy protection from their aid withdraw. + But, if the gods their sure success foretell; + If those of heav'n consent with those of hell, + To promise Italy; who dare debate + The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate? + What should I tell of tempests on the main, + Of Aeolus usurping Neptune's reign? + Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat + T' inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet? + Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends, + Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends. + That new example wanted yet above: + An act that well became the wife of Jove! + Alecto, rais'd by her, with rage inflames + The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames. + Imperial sway no more exalts my mind; + (Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav'n was kind;) + Now let my happier foes possess my place, + Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race; + And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace. + Since you can spare, from all your wide command, + No spot of earth, no hospitable land, + Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive; + (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;) + Then, father, (if I still may use that name,) + By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame, + I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care, + Be freed from danger, and dismiss'd the war: + Inglorious let him live, without a crown. + The father may be cast on coasts unknown, + Struggling with fate; but let me save the son. + Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow'rs: + In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs, + Obscurely let him rest; his right resign + To promis'd empire, and his Julian line. + Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns destroy, + Nor fear the race of a rejected boy. + What profits it my son to scape the fire, + Arm'd with his gods, and loaded with his sire; + To pass the perils of the seas and wind; + Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind; + To reach th' Italian shores; if, after all, + Our second Pergamus is doom'd to fall? + Much better had he curb'd his high desires, + And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires. + To Simois' banks the fugitives restore, + And give them back to war, and all the woes before." + + Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's heart: + "And must I own," she said, "my secret smart- + What with more decence were in silence kept, + And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept? + Did god or man your fav'rite son advise, + With war unhop'd the Latians to surprise? + By fate, you boast, and by the gods' decree, + He left his native land for Italy! + Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more + Than Heav'n inspir'd, he sought a foreign shore! + Did I persuade to trust his second Troy + To the raw conduct of a beardless boy, + With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes, + And thro' the waves a wand'ring voyage takes? + When have I urg'd him meanly to demand + The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land? + Did I or Iris give this mad advice, + Or made the fool himself the fatal choice? + You think it hard, the Latians should destroy + With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy! + Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw + Their native air, nor take a foreign law! + That Turnus is permitted still to live, + To whom his birth a god and goddess give! + But yet is just and lawful for your line + To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join; + Realms, not your own, among your clans divide, + And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd bride; + Petition, while you public arms prepare; + Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war! + 'T was giv'n to you, your darling son to shroud, + To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd, + And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud. + From flaming fleets you turn'd the fire away, + And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea. + But is my crime- the Queen of Heav'n offends, + If she presume to save her suff'ring friends! + Your son, not knowing what his foes decree, + You say, is absent: absent let him be. + Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs, + The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs. + Why do you then these needless arms prepare, + And thus provoke a people prone to war? + Did I with fire the Trojan town deface, + Or hinder from return your exil'd race? + Was I the cause of mischief, or the man + Whose lawless lust the fatal war began? + Think on whose faith th' adult'rous youth relied; + Who promis'd, who procur'd, the Spartan bride? + When all th' united states of Greece combin'd, + To purge the world of the perfidious kind, + Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate: + Your quarrels and complaints are now too late." + + Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix'd applause, + Just as they favor or dislike the cause. + So winds, when yet unfledg'd in woods they lie, + In whispers first their tender voices try, + Then issue on the main with bellowing rage, + And storms to trembling mariners presage. + + Then thus to both replied th' imperial god, + Who shakes heav'n's axles with his awful nod. + (When he begins, the silent senate stand + With rev'rence, list'ning to the dread command: + The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain; + And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.) + "Celestials, your attentive ears incline! + Since," said the god, "the Trojans must not join + In wish'd alliance with the Latian line; + Since endless jarrings and immortal hate + Tend but to discompose our happy state; + The war henceforward be resign'd to fate: + Each to his proper fortune stand or fall; + Equal and unconcern'd I look on all. + Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me; + And both shall draw the lots their fates decree. + Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend; + And, if she favors those, let those defend: + The Fates will find their way." The Thund'rer said, + And shook the sacred honors of his head, + Attesting Styx, th' inviolable flood, + And the black regions of his brother god. + Trembled the poles of heav'n, and earth confess'd the nod. + This end the sessions had: the senate rise, + And to his palace wait their sov'reign thro' the skies. + + Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes + Within their walls the Trojan host inclose: + They wound, they kill, they watch at ev'ry gate; + Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate. + + Th' Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief, + Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief. + Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few + A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew. + Yet in the face of danger some there stood: + The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood, + Asius and Acmon; both th' Assaraci; + Young Haemon, and tho' young, resolv'd to die. + With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join'd; + Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind. + From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came, + So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name: + Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone; + His brother Mnestheus could not more have done, + Or the great father of th' intrepid son. + Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send; + And some with darts, and some with stones defend. + + Amid the press appears the beauteous boy, + The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy. + His lovely face unarm'd, his head was bare; + In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair. + His forehead circled with a diadem; + Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem, + Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set, + Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet. + + Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war, + Directing pointed arrows from afar, + And death with poison arm'd- in Lydia born, + Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn; + Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands, + And leaves a rich manure of golden sands. + There Capys, author of the Capuan name, + And there was Mnestheus too, increas'd in fame, + Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame. + + Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side. + Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide: + For, anxious, from Evander when he went, + He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's tent; + Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief; + His name and country told, and ask'd relief; + Propos'd the terms; his own small strength declar'd; + What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar'd: + What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd; + Then shew'd the slipp'ry state of humankind, + And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware, + And to his wholesome counsel added pray'r. + Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs, + And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins. + + They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand; + Their forces trusted with a foreign hand. + Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear + Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear- + Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear. + Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate, + Revolving war's events, and various fate. + His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side, + And oft of winds enquir'd, and of the tide; + Oft of the stars, and of their wat'ry way; + And what he suffer'd both by land and sea. + + Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring! + The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing, + Which follow'd great Aeneas to the war: + Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare. + + A thousand youths brave Massicus obey, + Borne in the Tiger thro' the foaming sea; + From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care: + For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear. + Fierce Abas next: his men bright armor wore; + His stern Apollo's golden statue bore. + Six hundred Populonia sent along, + All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong. + Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins, + An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted mines. + Asylas on his prow the third appears, + Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars; + From offer'd entrails prodigies expounds, + And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds. + A thousand spears in warlike order stand, + Sent by the Pisans under his command. + + Fair Astur follows in the wat'ry field, + Proud of his manag'd horse and painted shield. + Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen, + And his own Caere, sent three hundred men; + With those which Minio's fields and Pyrgi gave, + All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave. + + Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew, + And brave Cupavo follow'd but by few; + Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man, + And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan. + Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry, + Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly. + For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton, + And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone, + Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief. + Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'd his relief, + And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair, + And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air. + His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood: + Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood, + Who heav'd a rock, and, threat'ning still to throw, + With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below: + They seem'd to fear the formidable sight, + And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight. + + Ocnus was next, who led his native train + Of hardy warriors thro' the wat'ry plain: + The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream, + From whence the Mantuan town derives the name- + An ancient city, but of mix'd descent: + Three sev'ral tribes compose the government; + Four towns are under each; but all obey + The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway. + + Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more, + Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore: + Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er. + These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep + With stretching oars at once the glassy deep. + Him and his martial train the Triton bears; + High on his poop the sea-green god appears: + Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound, + And at the blast the billows dance around. + A hairy man above the waist he shows; + A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows; + And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides, + And froth and foam augment the murm'ring tides. + + Full thirty ships transport the chosen train + For Troy's relief, and scour the briny main. + + Now was the world forsaken by the sun, + And Phoebe half her nightly race had run. + The careful chief, who never clos'd his eyes, + Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. + A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood, + Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood; + But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep, + As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep. + They know him from afar; and in a ring + Inclose the ship that bore the Trojan king. + Cymodoce, whose voice excell'd the rest, + Above the waves advanc'd her snowy breast; + Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides + The curling ocean, and corrects the tides. + She spoke for all the choir, and thus began + With pleasing words to warn th' unknowing man: + "Sleeps our lov'd lord? O goddess-born, awake! + Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat'ry track, + And haste your course. Your navy once were we, + From Ida's height descending to the sea; + Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood, + Presum'd to violate our holy wood. + Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires profane + (Unwillingly we broke our master's chain), + And since have sought you thro' the Tuscan main. + The mighty Mother chang'd our forms to these, + And gave us life immortal in the seas. + But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd, + By your insulting foes is hardly press'd. + Th' Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, + Advance in order on the Latian coast: + To cut their way the Daunian chief designs, + Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines. + Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light, + First arm thy soldiers for th' ensuing fight: + Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield, + And bear aloft th' impenetrable shield. + To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain, + Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain." + Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force + Push'd on the vessel in her wat'ry course; + For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind, + The ship flew forward, and outstripp'd the wind. + The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause, + The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws. + + Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes: + "Hear thou, great Mother of the deities. + With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill + Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, obey thy will.) + Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight; + And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right." + + He said no more. And now renewing day + Had chas'd the shadows of the night away. + He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care, + Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; + Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade 'em hope the war. + Now, his lofty poop, he view'd below + His camp incompass'd, and th' inclosing foe. + His blazing shield, imbrac'd, he held on high; + The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply. + Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw + Their darts with double force, and drive the foe. + Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise + Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies. + + King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd, + Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd, + The seas with swelling canvas cover'd o'er, + And the swift ships descending on the shore. + The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes, + The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to rise, + And dart diffusive fires around the field, + And the keen glitt'ring of the golden shield. + Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise, + Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies: + So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights, + Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright: + + Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent + To man the shores, and hinder their descent, + And thus awakes the courage of his friends: + "What you so long have wish'd, kind Fortune sends; + In ardent arms to meet th' invading foe: + You find, and find him at advantage now. + Yours is the day: you need but only dare; + Your swords will make you masters of the war. + Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands, + And dearest wifes, are all within your hands. + Be mindful of the race from whence you came, + And emulate in arms your fathers' fame. + Now take the time, while stagg'ring yet they stand + With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand: + Fortune befriends the bold." Nor more he said, + But balanc'd whom to leave, and whom to lead; + Then these elects, the landing to prevent; + And those he leaves, to keep the city pent. + + Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore: + Some are by boats expos'd, by bridges more. + With lab'ring oars they bear along the strand, + Where the tide languishes, and leap aland. + Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes, + And, where no ford he finds, no water fries, + Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar, + But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore, + That course he steer'd, and thus he gave command: + "Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land: + Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound + This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground. + Let me securely land- I ask no more; + Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore." + + This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends: + They tug at ev'ry oar, and ev'ry stretcher bends; + They run their ships aground; the vessels knock, + (Thus forc'd ashore,) and tremble with the shock. + Tarchon's alone was lost, that stranded stood, + Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood: + She breaks her back; the loosen'd sides give way, + And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea. + Their broken oars and floating planks withstand + Their passage, while they labor to the land, + And ebbing tides bear back upon th' uncertain sand. + + Now Turnus leads his troops without delay, + Advancing to the margin of the sea. + The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail'd + The clowns new-rais'd and raw, and soon prevail'd. + Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight; + Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height. + He first in open field defied the prince: + But armor scal'd with gold was no defense + Against the fated sword, which open'd wide + His plated shield, and pierc'd his naked side. + Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born, + Was from his wretched mother ripp'd and torn; + Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee; + For his beginning life from biting steel was free. + Not far from him was Gyas laid along, + Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong: + Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail'd, + Nor valor nor Herculean arms avail'd, + Nor their fam'd father, wont in war to go + With great Alcides, while he toil'd below. + The noisy Pharos next receiv'd his death: + Aeneas writh'd his dart, and stopp'd his bawling breath. + Then wretched Cydon had receiv'd his doom, + Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom, + And sought with lust obscene polluted joys: + The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys, + Had not his sev'n bold brethren stopp'd the course + Of the fierce champions, with united force. + Sev'n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound + From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound: + The rest had reach'd him; but his mother's care + Prevented those, and turn'd aside in air. + + The prince then call'd Achates, to supply + The spears that knew the way to victory- + "Those fatal weapons, which, inur'd to blood, + In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood: + Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain + Against our foes, on this contended plain." + He said; then seiz'd a mighty spear, and threw; + Which, wing'd with fate, thro' Maeon's buckler flew, + Pierc'd all the brazen plates, and reach'd his heart: + He stagger'd with intolerable smart. + Alcanor saw; and reach'd, but reach'd in vain, + His helping hand, his brother to sustain. + A second spear, which kept the former course, + From the same hand, and sent with equal force, + His right arm pierc'd, and holding on, bereft + His use of both, and pinion'd down his left. + Then Numitor from his dead brother drew + Th' ill-omen'd spear, and at the Trojan threw: + Preventing fate directs the lance awry, + Which, glancing, only mark'd Achates' thigh. + + In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came, + And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim. + The spear flew hissing thro' the middle space, + And pierc'd his throat, directed at his face; + It stopp'd at once the passage of his wind, + And the free soul to flitting air resign'd: + His forehead was the first that struck the ground; + Lifeblood and life rush'd mingled thro' the wound. + He slew three brothers of the Borean race, + And three, whom Ismarus, their native place, + Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace. + Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads: + The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds, + Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand, + These fight to keep, and those to win, the land. + With mutual blood th' Ausonian soil is dyed, + While on its borders each their claim decide. + As wintry winds, contending in the sky, + With equal force of lungs their titles try: + They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav'n + Stands without motion, and the tide undriv'n: + Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield, + They long suspend the fortune of the field. + Both armies thus perform what courage can; + Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man. + + But, in another part, th' Arcadian horse + With ill success ingage the Latin force: + For, where th' impetuous torrent, rushing down, + Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown, + They left their coursers, and, unus'd to fight + On foot, were scatter'd in a shameful flight. + Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view'd + His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued, + Us'd threat'nings mix'd with pray'rs, his last resource, + With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force + "Which way, companions? whether would you run? + By you yourselves, and mighty battles won, + By my great sire, by his establish'd name, + And early promise of my future fame; + By my youth, emulous of equal right + To share his honors- shun ignoble flight! + Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way + Thro' yon black body, and that thick array: + 'T is thro' that forward path that we must come; + There lies our way, and that our passage home. + Nor pow'rs above, nor destinies below + Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go, + With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe. + See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore, + The sea behind, our enemies before; + No passage left, unless we swim the main; + Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain." + This said, he strode with eager haste along, + And bore amidst the thickest of the throng. + Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe, + Had heav'd a stone of mighty weight, to throw: + Stooping, the spear descended on his chine, + Just where the bone distinguished either loin: + It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay, + That scarce the victor forc'd the steel away. + Hisbon came on: but, while he mov'd too slow + To wish'd revenge, the prince prevents his blow; + For, warding his at once, at once he press'd, + And plung'd the fatal weapon in his breast. + Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust, + Who stain'd his stepdam's bed with impious lust. + And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain, + Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain; + So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size, + As caus'd an error in their parents' eyes- + Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides + The nice distinction, and their fate divides: + For Thymbrus' head was lopp'd; and Laris' hand, + Dismember'd, sought its owner on the strand: + The trembling fingers yet the fauchion strain, + And threaten still th' intended stroke in vain. + + Now, to renew the charge, th' Arcadians came: + Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame, + And grief, with anger mix'd, their minds inflame. + Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain, + Who chanc'd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain: + The flying spear was after Ilus sent; + But Rhoeteus happen'd on a death unmeant: + From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled, + The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead: + Roll'd from his chariot with a mortal wound, + And intercepted fate, he spurn'd the ground. + As when, in summer, welcome winds arise, + The watchful shepherd to the forest flies, + And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads, + And catching flames infect the neighb'ring heads; + Around the forest flies the furious blast, + And all the leafy nation sinks at last, + And Vulcan rides in triumph o'er the waste; + The pastor, pleas'd with his dire victory, + Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky: + So Pallas' troops their scatter'd strength unite, + And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight. + + Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood; + But first collected in his arms he stood: + Advancing then, he plied the spear so well, + Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell. + Around his head he toss'd his glitt'ring brand, + And from Strymonius hew'd his better hand, + Held up to guard his throat; then hurl'd a stone + At Thoas' ample front, and pierc'd the bone: + It struck beneath the space of either eye; + And blood, and mingled brains, together fly. + Deep skill'd in future fates, Halesus' sire + Did with the youth to lonely groves retire: + But, when the father's mortal race was run, + Dire destiny laid hold upon the son, + And haul'd him to the war, to find, beneath + Th' Evandrian spear, a memorable death. + Pallas th' encounter seeks, but, ere he throws, + To Tuscan Tiber thus address'd his vows: + "O sacred stream, direct my flying dart, + And give to pass the proud Halesus' heart! + His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear." + Pleas'd with the bribe, the god receiv'd his pray'r: + For, while his shield protects a friend distress'd, + The dart came driving on, and pierc'd his breast. + + But Lausus, no small portion of the war, + Permits not panic fear to reign too far, + Caus'd by the death of so renown'd a knight; + But by his own example cheers the fight. + Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay + Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day. + The Phrygian troops escap'd the Greeks in vain: + They, and their mix'd allies, now load the plain. + To the rude shock of war both armies came; + Their leaders equal, and their strength the same. + The rear so press'd the front, they could not wield + Their angry weapons, to dispute the field. + Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there: + Of equal youth and beauty both appear, + But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air. + Their congress in the field great Jove withstands: + Both doom'd to fall, but fall by greater hands. + + Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief + Of Lausus' danger, urging swift relief. + With his driv'n chariot he divides the crowd, + And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud: + "Let none presume his needless aid to join; + Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine: + To this right hand is Pallas only due; + O were his father here, my just revenge to view!" + From the forbidden space his men retir'd. + Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir'd; + Survey'd him o'er and o'er with wond'ring sight, + Struck with his haughty mien, and tow'ring height. + Then to the king: "Your empty vaunts forbear; + Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear; + Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name; + Jove is impartial, and to both the same." + He said, and to the void advanc'd his pace: + Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face. + Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light, + Address'd himself on foot to single fight. + And, as a lion- when he spies from far + A bull that seems to meditate the war, + Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand- + Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand: + Imagine eager Turnus not more slow, + To rush from high on his unequal foe. + + Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance + Within due distance of his flying lance, + Prepares to charge him first, resolv'd to try + If fortune would his want of force supply; + And thus to Heav'n and Hercules address'd: + "Alcides, once on earth Evander's guest, + His son adjures you by those holy rites, + That hospitable board, those genial nights; + Assist my great attempt to gain this prize, + And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes, + His ravish'd spoils." 'T was heard, the vain request; + Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast. + Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began: + "Short bounds of life are set to mortal man. + 'T is virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span. + So many sons of gods, in bloody fight, + Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light: + My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe; + Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow. + Ev'n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath, + And stands already on the verge of death." + This said, the god permits the fatal fight, + But from the Latian fields averts his sight. + + Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw, + And, having thrown, his shining fauchion drew + The steel just graz'd along the shoulder joint, + And mark'd it slightly with the glancing point, + Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew, + And pois'd his pointed spear, before he threw: + Then, as the winged weapon whizz'd along, + "See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung." + The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd + By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid: + Thro' folded brass and tough bull hides it pass'd, + His corslet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last. + In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood; + The soul comes issuing with the vital blood: + He falls; his arms upon his body sound; + And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground. + + Turnus bestrode the corpse: "Arcadians, hear," + Said he; "my message to your master bear: + Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send; + It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend. + The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow, + Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below." + He said, and trampled down with all the force + Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse; + Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid; + The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made, + Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight, + All in the compass of one mournful night, + Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light. + + In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore + Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore. + O mortals, blind in fate, who never know + To bear high fortune, or endure the low! + The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain, + Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain; + Shall wish the fatal belt were far away, + And curse the dire remembrance of the day. + + The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field, + Bear back the breathless body on a shield. + O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd, + With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd! + One day first sent thee to the fighting field, + Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd; + One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield. + This dismal news, not from uncertain fame, + But sad spectators, to the hero came: + His friends upon the brink of ruin stand, + Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand. + He whirls his sword around, without delay, + And hews thro' adverse foes an ample way, + To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud: + Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd + To large deserts, are present to his eyes; + His plighted hand, and hospitable ties. + + Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred, + He took in fight, and living victims led, + To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire, + In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire. + At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below + The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow; + Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd: + "By young Iulus, by thy father's shade, + O spare my life, and send me back to see + My longing sire, and tender progeny! + A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, + In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: + All these, and sums besides, which see no day, + The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. + If I survive, will Troy the less prevail? + A single soul's too light to turn the scale." + He said. The hero sternly thus replied: + "Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, + Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke + All rules of war by one relentless stroke, + When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone + My father's shadow, but my living son." + Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, + He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left; + Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd, + Up to the hilts his shining fauchion sheath'd. + + Apollo's priest, Emonides, was near; + His holy fillets on his front appear; + Glitt'ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd; + Much of his god, more of his purple, proud. + Him the fierce Trojan follow'd thro' the field: + The holy coward fell; and, forc'd to yield, + The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow, + Sent him an off'ring to the shades below. + His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears, + Design'd a trophy to the God of Wars. + + Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight, + And Umbro, born upon the mountains' height. + The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those, + And seeks revenge himself on other foes. + At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at the blow, + Both shield and arm to ground together go. + Anxur had boasted much of magic charms, + And thought he wore impenetrable arms, + So made by mutter'd spells; and, from the spheres, + Had life secur'd, in vain, for length of years. + Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod; + A nymph his mother, his sire a god. + Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince: + With his protended lance he makes defense; + Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on, + Arrests his better hand, and drags him down; + Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay, + Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray, + Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood, + Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood. + The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain: + "Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain; + Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb, + Far from thy mother and thy native home, + Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey, + Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea." + + On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran, + Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. + They fled for fear; with these, he chas'd along + Camers the yellow-lock'd, and Numa strong; + Both great in arms, and both were fair and young. + Camers was son to Volscens lately slain, + In wealth surpassing all the Latian train, + And in Amycla fix'd his silent easy reign. + And, as Aegaeon, when with heav'n he strove, + Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove; + Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war, + Defied the forky lightning from afar; + At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires, + And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires; + In his right hand as many swords he wields, + And takes the thunder on as many shields: + With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood; + And soon the fields with falling corps were strow'd, + When once his fauchion found the taste of blood. + With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew + Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew. + They, when they see the fiery chief advance, + And pushing at their chests his pointed lance, + Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear, + They threw their master headlong from the chair. + They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before + They bear the bounding chariot to the shore. + + Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains, + With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins, + And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains: + Bold brethren both. The former wav'd in air + His flaming sword: Aeneas couch'd his spear, + Unus'd to threats, and more unus'd to fear. + Then Liger thus: "Thy confidence is vain + To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain: + Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode, + Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode; + Nor Venus' veil is here, near Neptune's shield; + Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field." + Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer + Return'd his answer with his flying spear. + As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends, + Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends, + Prepar'd for fight; the fatal dart arrives, + And thro' the borders of his buckler drives; + Pass'd thro' and pierc'd his groin: the deadly wound, + Cast from his chariot, roll'd him on the ground. + Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite: + "Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight; + Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat; + But you yourself forsake your empty seat." + He said, and seiz'd at once the loosen'd rein; + For Liger lay already on the plain, + By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands, + The recreant thus his wretched life demands: + "Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man! + By her and him from whom thy breath began, + Who form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare + This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's pray'r." + Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said; + But the stern hero turn'd aside his head, + And cut him short: "I hear another man; + You talk'd not thus before the fight began. + Now take your turn; and, as a brother should, + Attend your brother to the Stygian flood." + Then thro' his breast his fatal sword he sent, + And the soul issued at the gaping vent. + + As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground, + Thus rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around. + At length Ascanius and the Trojan train + Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd in vain. + + Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man + Held conference with his queen, and thus began: + "My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife, + Still think you Venus' aid supports the strife- + Sustains her Trojans- or themselves, alone, + With inborn valor force their fortune on? + How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd! + Judge if such warriors want immortal aid." + To whom the goddess with the charming eyes, + Soft in her tone, submissively replies: + "Why, O my sov'reign lord, whose frown I fear, + And cannot, unconcern'd, your anger bear; + Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still + (As once I was) were mistress of your will, + From your almighty pow'r your pleasing wife + Might gain the grace of length'ning Turnus' life, + Securely snatch him from the fatal fight, + And give him to his aged father's sight. + Now let him perish, since you hold it good, + And glut the Trojans with his pious blood. + Yet from our lineage he derives his name, + And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came; + Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine, + And offers daily incense at your shrine." + + Then shortly thus the sov'reign god replied: + "Since in my pow'r and goodness you confide, + If for a little space, a lengthen'd span, + You beg reprieve for this expiring man, + I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence + From instant fate, and can so far dispense. + But, if some secret meaning lies beneath, + To save the short-liv'd youth from destin'd death, + Or if a farther thought you entertain, + To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain." + To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes: + "And what if that request, your tongue denies, + Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve, + But length of certain life, to Turnus give? + Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth, + If my presaging soul divines with truth; + Which, O! I wish, might err thro' causeless fears, + And you (for you have pow'r) prolong his years!" + + Thus having said, involv'd in clouds, she flies, + And drives a storm before her thro' the skies. + Swift she descends, alighting on the plain, + Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain. + Of air condens'd a specter soon she made; + And, what Aeneas was, such seem'd the shade. + Adorn'd with Dardan arms, the phantom bore + His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore; + This hand appear'd a shining sword to wield, + And that sustain'd an imitated shield. + With manly mien he stalk'd along the ground, + Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound. + (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight, + Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.) + The specter seems the Daunian chief to dare, + And flourishes his empty sword in air. + At this, advancing, Turnus hurl'd his spear: + The phantom wheel'd, and seem'd to fly for fear. + Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled, + And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. + "Whether, O coward?" (thus he calls aloud, + Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas'd a cloud,) + "Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me + The fated land you sought so long by sea." + He said, and, brandishing at once his blade, + With eager pace pursued the flying shade. + By chance a ship was fasten'd to the shore, + Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore: + The plank was ready laid for safe ascent; + For shelter there the trembling shadow bent, + And skipp't and skulk'd, and under hatches went. + Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste, + Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass'd. + Scarce had he reach'd the prow: Saturnia's hand + The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land. + With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea, + And measures back with speed her former way. + Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe, + And sends his slaughter'd troops to shades below. + + The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud, + And flew sublime, and vanish'd in a cloud. + Too late young Turnus the delusion found, + Far on the sea, still making from the ground. + Then, thankless for a life redeem'd by shame, + With sense of honor stung, and forfeit fame, + Fearful besides of what in fight had pass'd, + His hands and haggard eyes to heav'n he cast; + "O Jove!" he cried, "for what offense have + Deserv'd to bear this endless infamy? + Whence am I forc'd, and whether am I borne? + How, and with what reproach, shall I return? + Shall ever I behold the Latian plain, + Or see Laurentum's lofty tow'rs again? + What will they say of their deserting chief + The war was mine: I fly from their relief; + I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave; + And ev'n from hence their dying groans receive. + Here, overmatch'd in fight, in heaps they lie; + There, scatter'd o'er the fields, ignobly fly. + Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive! + Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve! + On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive; + Or set me shipwrack'd on some desart shore, + Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more, + Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame, + Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim." + + Thus Turnus rav'd, and various fates revolv'd: + The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv'd. + And now the sword, and now the sea took place, + That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace. + Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main, + By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain. + Thrice he the sword assay'd, and thrice the flood; + But Juno, mov'd with pity, both withstood. + And thrice repress'd his rage; strong gales supplied, + And push'd the vessel o'er the swelling tide. + At length she lands him on his native shores, + And to his father's longing arms restores. + + Meantime, by Jove's impulse, Mezentius arm'd, + Succeeding Turnus, with his ardor warm'd + His fainting friends, reproach'd their shameful flight, + Repell'd the victors, and renew'd the fight. + Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire; + Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire + Of wish'd revenge: on him, and him alone, + All hands employ'd, and all their darts are thrown. + He, like a solid rock by seas inclos'd, + To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd, + From his proud summit looking down, disdains + Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains. + + Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, + Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled. + At Latagus a weighty stone he flung: + His face was flatted, and his helmet rung. + But Palmus from behind receives his wound; + Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground: + His crest and armor, from his body torn, + Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. + Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew. + Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew, + Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, + The queen produc'd young Paris to his sire: + But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain, + Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain. + + And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred, + With forest mast and fatt'ning marshes fed, + When once he sees himself in toils inclos'd, + By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos'd- + He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; + Th' invaders dart their jav'lins from afar: + All keep aloof, and safely shout around; + But none presumes to give a nearer wound: + He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, + And shakes a grove of lances from his side: + Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir'd, + And just revenge against the tyrant fir'd, + Their darts with clamor at a distance drive, + And only keep the languish'd war alive. + + From Coritus came Acron to the fight, + Who left his spouse betroth'd, and unconsummate night. + Mezentius sees him thro' the squadrons ride, + Proud of the purple favors of his bride. + Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds + A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds, + Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain- + He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane, + He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws; + The prey lies panting underneath his paws: + He fills his famish'd maw; his mouth runs o'er + With unchew'd morsels, while he churns the gore: + So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes, + And first unhappy Acron overthrows: + Stretch'd at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground; + The lance, besmear'd with blood, lies broken in the wound. + Then with disdain the haughty victor view'd + Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued, + Nor thought the dastard's back deserv'd a wound, + But, running, gain'd th' advantage of the ground: + Then turning short, he met him face to face, + To give his victor the better grace. + Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress'd: + Mezentius fix'd his foot upon his breast, + And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries: + "Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!" + The fields around with Io Paean! ring; + And peals of shouts applaud the conqu'ring king. + At this the vanquish'd, with his dying breath, + Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death: + "Nor thou, proud man, unpunish'd shalt remain: + Like death attends thee on this fatal plain." + Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied: + "For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; + But die thou first, whatever chance ensue." + He said, and from the wound the weapon drew. + A hov'ring mist came swimming o'er his sight, + And seal'd his eyes in everlasting night. + + By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain; + Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain; + Orses the strong to greater strength must yield; + He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill'd. + Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, + Who from Lycaon's blood his lineage drew. + But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, + Who threw his master, as he made a bound: + The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground; + Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails: + The Trojan sinks, and Neptune's son prevails. + Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, + To single fight the boldest foe defied; + Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o'ercame, + And not belied his mighty father's fame. + Salius to death the great Antronius sent: + But the same fate the victor underwent, + Slain by Nealces' hand, well-skill'd to throw + The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. + + Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; + By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance: + Victors and vanquish'd, in the various field, + Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. + The gods from heav'n survey the fatal strife, + And mourn the miseries of human life. + Above the rest, two goddesses appear + Concern'd for each: here Venus, Juno there. + Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes + Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. + + Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, + Brandish'd his spear, and rush'd into the plain, + Where tow'ring in the midmost rank she stood, + Like tall Orion stalking o'er the flood. + (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, + His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), + Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, + Deep fix'd in earth; in clouds he hides his head. + + The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, + And dauntless undertook the doubtful war. + Collected in his strength, and like a rock, + Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock. + He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes + The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries: + "My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! + (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) + His armor, from the Trojan pirate torn, + By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn." + He said; and with his utmost force he threw + The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, + Reach'd the celestial shield, that stopp'd the course; + But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force + Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt + The side and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd. + Anthores had from Argos travel'd far, + Alcides' friend, and brother of the war; + Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose, + And in Evander's palace sought repose. + Now, falling by another's wound, his eyes + He cast to heav'n, on Argos thinks, and dies. + + The pious Trojan then his jav'lin sent; + The shield gave way; thro' treble plates it went + Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd, + And three bull hides which round the buckler fold. + All these it pass'd, resistless in the course, + Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force. + The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood. + The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, + His faunchion drew, to closer fight address'd, + And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd. + + His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief; + He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief. + And here, heroic youth, 't is here I must + To thy immortal memory be just, + And sing an act so noble and so new, + Posterity will scarce believe 't is true. + Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight, + The father sought to save himself by flight: + Incumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along, + Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung. + The pious youth, resolv'd on death, below + The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe; + Protects his parent, and prevents the blow. + Shouts of applause ran ringing thro' the field, + To see the son the vanquish'd father shield. + All, fir'd with gen'rous indignation, strive, + And with a storm of darts to distance drive + The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, + On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war. + + As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, + The plowman, passenger, and lab'ring hind + For shelter to the neighb'ring covert fly, + Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie; + But, that o'erblown, when heav'n above 'em smiles, + Return to travel, and renew their toils: + Aeneas thus, o'erwhelmed on ev'ry side, + The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; + And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat'ning cried: + "Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage + In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age, + Betray'd by pious love?" Nor, thus forborne, + The youth desists, but with insulting scorn + Provokes the ling'ring prince, whose patience, tir'd, + Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir'd. + For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd shears; + And lifted high the flaming sword appears, + Which, full descending with a frightful sway, + Thro' shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way, + And buried deep in his fair bosom lay. + The purple streams thro' the thin armor strove, + And drench'd th' imbroider'd coat his mother wove; + And life at length forsook his heaving heart, + Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart. + + But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread, + The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead, + He griev'd; he wept; the sight an image brought + Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought: + Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said: + "Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid + To love so great, to such transcendent store + Of early worth, and sure presage of more? + Accept whate'er Aeneas can afford; + Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword; + And all that pleas'd thee living, still remain + Inviolate, and sacred to the slain. + Thy body on thy parents I bestow, + To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know, + Or have a sense of human things below. + There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell: + ''T was by the great Aeneas hand I fell.'" + With this, his distant friends he beckons near, + Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear: + Himself assists to lift him from the ground, + With clotted locks, and blood that well'd from out the wound. + + Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, + And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood: + Oppress'd with anguish, panting, and o'erspent, + His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. + A bough his brazen helmet did sustain; + His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain: + A chosen train of youth around him stand; + His drooping head was rested on his hand: + His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought; + And all on Lausus ran his restless thought. + Careful, concern'd his danger to prevent, + He much enquir'd, and many a message sent + To warn him from the field- alas! in vain! + Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain! + O'er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning wound, + And drew a bloody trail along the ground. + Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd + The dire event, with a foreboding mind. + With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head; + Then both his lifted hands to heav'n he spread; + Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said: + "What joys, alas! could this frail being give, + That I have been so covetous to live? + To see my son, and such a son, resign + His life, a ransom for preserving mine! + And am I then preserv'd, and art thou lost? + How much too dear has that redemption cost! + 'T is now my bitter banishment I feel: + This is a wound too deep for time to heal. + My guilt thy growing virtues did defame; + My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name. + Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd + For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild: + I ow'd my people these, and, from their hate, + With less resentment could have borne my fate. + And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight + Of hated men, and of more hated light: + But will not long." With that he rais'd from ground + His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound; + Yet, with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd + With pains or perils, for his courser call'd + Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did dress + With daily care, and mounted with success; + His aid in arms, his ornament in peace. + + Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke, + The steed seem'd sensible, while thus he spoke: + "O Rhoebus, we have liv'd too long for me- + If life and long were terms that could agree! + This day thou either shalt bring back the head + And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead; + This day thou either shalt revenge my woe, + For murther'd Lausus, on his cruel foe; + Or, if inexorable fate deny + Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die: + For, after such a lord, I rest secure, + Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure." + He said; and straight th' officious courser kneels, + To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills + With pointed jav'lins; on his head he lac'd + His glitt'ring helm, which terribly was grac'd + With waving horsehair, nodding from afar; + Then spurr'd his thund'ring steed amidst the war. + Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought, + Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought + Of inborn worth, his lab'ring soul oppress'd, + Roll'd in his eyes, and rag'd within his breast. + Then loud he call'd Aeneas thrice by name: + The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came. + "Great Jove," he said, "and the far-shooting god, + Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!" + He spoke no more; but hasten'd, void of fear, + And threaten'd with his long protended spear. + + To whom Mezentius thus: "Thy vaunts are vain. + My Lausus lies extended on the plain: + He's lost! thy conquest is already won; + The wretched sire is murther'd in the son. + Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy. + Forbear thy threats: my bus'ness is to die; + But first receive this parting legacy." + He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent; + Another after, and another went. + Round in a spacious ring he rides the field, + And vainly plies th' impenetrable shield. + Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel'd, + Turn'd as he turn'd: the golden orb withstood + The strokes, and bore about an iron wood. + Impatient of delay, and weary grown, + Still to defend, and to defend alone, + To wrench the darts which in his buckler light, + Urg'd and o'er-labor'd in unequal fight; + At length resolv'd, he throws with all his force + Full at the temples of the warrior horse. + Just where the stroke was aim'd, th' unerring spear + Made way, and stood transfix'd thro' either ear. + Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd with fright, + The wounded steed curvets, and, rais'd upright, + Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind + Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind. + Down comes the rider headlong from his height: + His horse came after with unwieldy weight, + And, flound'ring forward, pitching on his head, + His lord's incumber'd shoulder overlaid. + + From either host, the mingled shouts and cries + Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies. + Aeneas, hast'ning, wav'd his fatal sword + High o'er his head, with this reproachful word: + "Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain + Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?" + + Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies, + With scarce recover'd sight he thus replies: + "Why these insulting words, this waste of breath, + To souls undaunted, and secure of death? + 'T is no dishonor for the brave to die, + Nor came I here with hope victory; + Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: + As I had us'd my fortune, use thou thine. + My dying son contracted no such band; + The gift is hateful from his murd'rer's hand. + For this, this only favor let me sue, + If pity can to conquer'd foes be due: + Refuse it not; but let my body have + The last retreat of humankind, a grave. + Too well I know th' insulting people's hate; + Protect me from their vengeance after fate: + This refuge for my poor remains provide, + And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side." + He said, and to the sword his throat applied. + The crimson stream distain'd his arms around, + And the disdainful soul came rushing thro' the wound. + + + + + BOOK XI + + Scarce had the rosy Morning rais'd her head + Above the waves, and left her wat'ry bed; + The pious chief, whom double cares attend + For his unburied soldiers and his friend, + Yet first to Heav'n perform'd a victor's vows: + He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs; + Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd, + Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd. + The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn, + Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, + Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar, + A trophy sacred to the God of War. + Above his arms, fix'd on the leafless wood, + Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood: + His brazen buckler on the left was seen; + Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between; + And on the right was placed his corslet, bor'd; + And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword. + + A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man, + Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: + "Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure success; + The greater part perform'd, achieve the less. + Now follow cheerful to the trembling town; + Press but an entrance, and presume it won. + Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, + As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice. + Turnus shall fall extended on the plain, + And, in this omen, is already slain. + Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance; + That none unwarn'd may plead his ignorance, + And I, at Heav'n's appointed hour, may find + Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind. + Meantime the rites and fun'ral pomps prepare, + Due to your dead companions of the war: + The last respect the living can bestow, + To shield their shadows from contempt below. + That conquer'd earth be theirs, for which they fought, + And which for us with their own blood they bought; + But first the corpse of our unhappy friend + To the sad city of Evander send, + Who, not inglorious, in his age's bloom, + Was hurried hence by too severe a doom." + + Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way, + Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay. + Acoetes watch'd the corpse; whose youth deserv'd + The father's trust; and now the son he serv'd + With equal faith, but less auspicious care. + Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share. + A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear, + And mourning matrons with dishevel'd hair. + Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry; + All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky. + They rear his drooping forehead from the ground; + But, when Aeneas view'd the grisly wound + Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore, + And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore; + First, melting into tears, the pious man + Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began: + "Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest + Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best! + She came; but brought not thee along, to bless + My longing eyes, and share in my success: + She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due + To prosp'rous valor, in the public view. + Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent + Thy needless succor with a sad consent; + Embrac'd me, parting for th' Etrurian land, + And sent me to possess a large command. + He warn'd, and from his own experience told, + Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold. + And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return, + Rich odors on his loaded altars burn, + While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare + To send him back his portion of the war, + A bloody breathless body, which can owe + No farther debt, but to the pow'rs below. + The wretched father, ere his race is run, + Shall view the fun'ral honors of his son. + These are my triumphs of the Latian war, + Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care! + And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see + A son whose death disgrac'd his ancestry; + Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd: + Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd. + He died no death to make thee wish, too late, + Thou hadst not liv'd to see his shameful fate: + But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast, + And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!" + + Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around, + To raise the breathless body from the ground; + And chose a thousand horse, the flow'r of all + His warlike troops, to wait the funeral, + To bear him back and share Evander's grief: + A well-becoming, but a weak relief. + Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier, + Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear. + The body on this rural hearse is borne: + Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn. + All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow'r, + New cropp'd by virgin hands, to dress the bow'r: + Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below, + No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe. + Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost, + Of purple woven, and with gold emboss'd, + For ornament the Trojan hero brought, + Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought. + One vest array'd the corpse; and one they spread + O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his head, + That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall, + The catching fire might burn the golden caul. + Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain, + When he descended on the Latian plain; + Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led + In long array- th' achievements of the dead. + Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear + Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear, + Appointed off'rings in the victor's name, + To sprinkle with their blood the fun'ral flame. + Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne; + Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn; + And fair inscriptions fix'd, and titles read + Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead. + + Acoetes on his pupil's corpse attends, + With feeble steps, supported by his friends. + Pausing at ev'ry pace, in sorrow drown'd, + Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground; + Where grov'ling while he lies in deep despair, + He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair. + The champion's chariot next is seen to roll, + Besmear'd with hostile blood, and honorably foul. + To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state, + Is led, the fun'rals of his lord to wait. + Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace + He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face. + The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest, + Are borne behind: the victor seiz'd the rest. + The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound; + The pikes and lances trail along the ground. + Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse + To Pallantean tow'rs direct their course, + In long procession rank'd, the pious chief + Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief: + "The public care," he said, "which war attends, + Diverts our present woes, at least suspends. + Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell! + Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!" + He said no more, but, inly thro' he mourn'd, + Restrained his tears, and to the camp return'd. + + Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand + A truce, with olive branches in their hand; + Obtest his clemency, and from the plain + Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain. + They plead, that none those common rites deny + To conquer'd foes that in fair battle die. + All cause of hate was ended in their death; + Nor could he war with bodies void of breath. + A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request, + Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest. + + Their suit, which was too just to be denied, + The hero grants, and farther thus replied: + "O Latian princes, how severe a fate + In causeless quarrels has involv'd your state, + And arm'd against an unoffending man, + Who sought your friendship ere the war began! + You beg a truce, which I would gladly give, + Not only for the slain, but those who live. + I came not hither but by Heav'n's command, + And sent by fate to share the Latian land. + Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied + My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride; + Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try + His cause in arms, to conquer or to die. + My right and his are in dispute: the slain + Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain. + In equal arms let us alone contend; + And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend. + This is the way (so tell him) to possess + The royal virgin, and restore the peace. + Bear this message back, with ample leave, + That your slain friends may fun'ral rites receive." + + Thus having said- th' embassadors, amaz'd, + Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd. + Drances, their chief, who harbor'd in his breast + Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess'd, + Broke silence first, and to the godlike man, + With graceful action bowing, thus began: + "Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name, + But yet whose actions far transcend your fame; + Would I your justice or your force express, + Thought can but equal; and all words are less. + Your answer we shall thankfully relate, + And favors granted to the Latian state. + If wish'd success our labor shall attend, + Think peace concluded, and the king your friend: + Let Turnus leave the realm to your command, + And seek alliance in some other land: + Build you the city which your fates assign; + We shall be proud in the great work to join." + + Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade + The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made. + Twelve days the term allow'd: and, during those, + Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes, + Mix'd in the woods, for fun'ral piles prepare + To fell the timber, and forget the war. + Loud axes thro' the groaning groves resound; + Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground; + First fall from high; and some the trunks receive + In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave. + + And now the fatal news by Fame is blown + Thro' the short circuit of th' Arcadian town, + Of Pallas slain- by Fame, which just before + His triumphs on distended pinions bore. + Rushing from out the gate, the people stand, + Each with a fun'ral flambeau in his hand. + Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze: + The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze, + That cast a sullen splendor on their friends, + The marching troop which their dead prince attends. + Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry; + The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply, + And their mix'd mourning rends the vaulted sky. + The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears, + Till the loud clamors reach Evander's ears: + Forgetful of his state, he runs along, + With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng; + Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies, + With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes. + Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks + A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks: + + "O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word, + To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword! + I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew + What perils youthful ardor would pursue, + That boiling blood would carry thee too far, + Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war! + O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom, + Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come! + Hard elements of unauspicious war, + Vain vows to Heav'n, and unavailing care! + Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed, + Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled, + Praescious of ills, and leaving me behind, + To drink the dregs of life by fate assign'd! + Beyond the goal of nature I have gone: + My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon. + If, for my league against th' Ausonian state, + Amidst their weapons I had found my fate, + (Deserv'd from them,) then I had been return'd + A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd. + Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid, + Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made. + 'T was not his fault, my Pallas fell so young, + But my own crime, for having liv'd too long. + Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die, + At least he led the way to victory: + First for his friends he won the fatal shore, + And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before; + A death too great, too glorious to deplore. + Nor will I add new honors to thy grave, + Content with those the Trojan hero gave: + That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd, + In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd. + Great spoils and trophies, gain'd by thee, they bear: + Then let thy own achievements be thy share. + Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood, + Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood, + If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length + Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength. + But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain + These troops, to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain? + Go, friends, this message to your lord relate: + Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate, + And, after Pallas' death, live ling'ring on, + 'T is to behold his vengeance for my son. + I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head + Is owing to the living and the dead. + My son and I expect it from his hand; + 'T is all that he can give, or we demand. + Joy is no more; but I would gladly go, + To greet my Pallas with such news below." + + The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night, + Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light. + The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command + To raise the piles along the winding strand. + Their friends convey the dead fun'ral fires; + Black smold'ring smoke from the green wood expires; + The light of heav'n is chok'd, and the new day retires. + Then thrice around the kindled piles they go + (For ancient custom had ordain'd it so) + Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led; + And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead. + Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground, + And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound. + Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw + The spoils, in battle taken from the foe: + Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel; + One casts a target, one a chariot wheel; + Some to their fellows their own arms restore: + The fauchions which in luckless fight they bore, + Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain, + And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain. + Whole herds of offer'd bulls, about the fire, + And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire. + Around the piles a careful troop attends, + To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends; + Ling'ring along the shore, till dewy night + New decks the face of heav'n with starry light. + + The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care, + Piles without number for their dead prepare. + Part in the places where they fell are laid; + And part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd. + The corps of kings, and captains of renown, + Borne off in state, are buried in the town; + The rest, unhonor'd, and without a name, + Are cast a common heap to feed the flame. + Trojans and Latians vie with like desires + To make the field of battle shine with fires, + And the promiscuous blaze to heav'n aspires. + + Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light, + And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night, + When those who round the wasted fires remain, + Perform the last sad office to the slain. + They rake the yet warm ashes from below; + These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow; + These relics with their country rites they grace, + And raise a mount of turf to mark the place. + + But, in the palace of the king, appears + A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears. + Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans; + Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons. + All in that universal sorrow share, + And curse the cause of this unhappy war: + A broken league, a bride unjustly sought, + A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought! + These are the crimes with which they load the name + Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim: + "Let him who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land + Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand: + His is the gain; our lot is but to serve; + 'T is just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve." + This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite: + "His foe expects, and dares him to the fight." + Nor Turnus wants a party, to support + His cause and credit in the Latian court. + His former acts secure his present fame, + And the queen shades him with her mighty name. + + While thus their factious minds with fury burn, + The legates from th' Aetolian prince return: + Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost + And care employ'd, their embassy is lost; + That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war, + Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r. + Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought, + Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought. + + Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late, + A foreign son is pointed out by fate; + And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed, + The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head. + The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side, + When late their titles in the field were tried: + Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried. + Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all + The Latian senate to the council hall. + The princes come, commanded by their head, + And crowd the paths that to the palace lead. + Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years, + He takes the throne, and in the midst appears. + Majestically sad, he sits in state, + And bids his envoys their success relate. + + When Venulus began, the murmuring sound + Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around. + "We have," said he, "perform'd your high command, + And pass'd with peril a long tract of land: + We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd, + The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld. + Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls + The city, which Argyripa he calls, + From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy, + The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy. + When introduc'd, our presents first we bring, + Then crave an instant audience from the king. + His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name, + And tell th' important cause for which we came. + Attentively he heard us, while we spoke; + Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look, + Made this return: 'Ausonian race, of old + Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold, + What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd, + To change for war hereditary rest, + Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword, + A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd? + We- for myself I speak, and all the name + Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came, + Omitting those who were in battle slain, + Or borne by rolling Simois to the main- + Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought + The prize of honor which in arms he sought; + Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driv'n. + Outcasts, abandon'd by the care of Heav'n; + So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew, + As ev'n old Priam might with pity view. + Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd + In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast; + Th' Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led + Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed, + In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men + Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops' den. + Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain + Restor'd to scepters, and expell'd again? + Or young Achilles, by his rival slain? + Ev'n he, the King of Men, the foremost name + Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame, + The proud revenger of another's wife, + Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life; + Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy + The foul polluters of his bed enjoy. + The gods have envied me the sweets of life, + My much lov'd country, and my more lov'd wife: + Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky, + Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly: + Hov'ring about the coasts, they make their moan, + And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own. + What squalid specters, in the dead of night, + Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight! + I might have promis'd to myself those harms, + Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms, + Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move, + And violate with wounds the Queen of Love. + Such arms this hand shall never more employ; + No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy. + I war not with its dust; nor am I glad + To think of past events, or good or bad. + Your presents I return: whate'er you bring + To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king. + We met in fight; I know him, to my cost: + With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd! + Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw! + How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow! + Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might, + They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight: + Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd, + Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd. + The long defense the Trojan people made, + The war protracted, and the siege delay'd, + Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand: + Both brave alike, and equal in command; + Aeneas, not inferior in the field, + In pious reverence to the gods excell'd. + Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care + Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.' + He said no more; but, with this cold excuse, + Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce." + + Thus Venulus concluded his report. + A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court: + As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force, + And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course, + The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space, + Roars horrible along th' uneasy race; + White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around; + The rocky shores rebellow to the sound. + + The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne + The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun: + "I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate + Had been resolv'd before it was too late. + Much better had it been for you and me, + Unforc'd by this our last necessity, + To have been earlier wise, than now to call + A council, when the foe surrounds the wall. + O citizens, we wage unequal war, + With men not only Heav'n's peculiar care, + But Heav'n's own race; unconquer'd in the field, + Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield. + What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down: + Our hopes must center on ourselves alone. + Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain, + You see too well; nor need my words explain. + Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate; + Factions within, a foe without the gate! + Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts + With manly force, and with undaunted hearts: + With our united strength the war we wag'd; + With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd. + You see th' event.- Now hear what I propose, + To save our friends, and satisfy our foes. + A tract of land the Latins have possess'd + Along the Tiber, stretching to the west, + Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, + And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill. + Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land, + If you consent, the Trojan shall command, + Call'd into part of what is ours; and there, + On terms agreed, the common country share. + There let'em build and settle, if they please; + Unless they choose once more to cross the seas, + In search of seats remote from Italy, + And from unwelcome inmates set us free. + Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed, + Or twice as many more, if more they need. + Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood + Runs equal with the margin of the flood: + Let them the number and the form assign; + The care and cost of all the stores be mine. + To treat the peace, a hundred senators + Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs, + With olive the presents they shall bear, + A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair, + And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear, + And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate + This great affair, and save the sinking state." + + Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since, + The rising glories of the Daunian prince. + Factious and rich, bold at the council board, + But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword; + A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord. + Noble his mother was, and near the throne; + But, what his father's parentage, unknown. + He rose, and took th' advantage of the times, + To load young Turnus with invidious crimes. + "Such truths, O king," said he, "your words contain, + As strike the sense, and all replies are vain; + Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek + What common needs require, but fear to speak. + Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man, + Whose pride this unauspicious war began; + For whose ambition (let me dare to say, + Fear set apart, tho' death is in my way) + The plains of Latium run with blood around. + So many valiant heroes bite the ground; + Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears; + A town in mourning, and a land in tears; + While he, th' undoubted author of our harms, + The man who menaces the gods with arms, + Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight, + And sought his safety in ignoble flight. + Now, best of kings, since you propose to send + Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend; + Add yet a greater at our joint request, + One which he values more than all the rest: + Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride; + With that alliance let the league be tied, + And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide. + Let insolence no longer awe the throne; + But, with a father's right, bestow your own. + For this maligner of the general good, + If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd; + His haughty godhead we with pray'rs implore, + Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore. + O cursed cause of all our ills, must we + Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee! + What right hast thou to rule the Latian state, + And send us out to meet our certain fate? + 'T is a destructive war: from Turnus' hand + Our peace and public safety we demand. + Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain; + If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain. + Turnus, I know you think me not your friend, + Nor will I much with your belief contend: + I beg your greatness not to give the law + In others' realms, but, beaten, to withdraw. + Pity your own, or pity our estate; + Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate. + Your interest is, the war should never cease; + But we have felt enough to wish the peace: + A land exhausted to the last remains, + Depopulated towns, and driven plains. + Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r, + A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r, + So fire your mind, in arms assert your right, + And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight. + Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone; + We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne: + A base ignoble crowd, without a name, + Unwept, unworthy, of the fun'ral flame, + By duty bound to forfeit each his life, + That Turnus may possess a royal wife. + Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew + Should share such triumphs, and detain from you + The post of honor, your undoubted due. + Rather alone your matchless force employ, + To merit what alone you must enjoy." + + These words, so full of malice mix'd with art, + Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart. + Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast, + He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd: + "You, Drances, never want a stream of words, + Then, when the public need requires our swords. + First in the council hall to steer the state, + And ever foremost in a tongue-debate, + While our strong walls secure us from the foe, + Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow: + But let the potent orator declaim, + And with the brand of coward blot my name; + Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand + Has cover'd with more corps the sanguine strand, + And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand. + If any doubt remains, who dares the most, + Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost, + And issue both abreast, where honor calls- + Foes are not far to seek without the walls- + Unless his noisy tongue can only fight, + And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight. + I beaten from the field? I forc'd away? + Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say? + Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes + Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies: + What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain, + And how the bloody Tiber swell'd the main. + All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire + In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire. + The giant brothers, in their camp, have found, + I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground. + Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd, + I singly their united arms oppos'd: + First forc'd an entrance thro' their thick array; + Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way. + 'T is a destructive war? So let it be, + But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee! + Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears + With false reports, their minds with panic fears: + Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race; + Our foes encourage, and our friends debase. + Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town + Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown; + Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies, + And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies. + Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread + Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head, + When the great Trojan on his bank appears; + For that's as true as thy dissembled fears + Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity: + Thou, Drances, art below a death from me. + Let that vile soul in that vile body rest; + The lodging is well worthy of the guest. + + "Now, royal father, to the present state + Of our affairs, and of this high debate: + If in your arms thus early you diffide, + And think your fortune is already tried; + If one defeat has brought us down so low, + As never more in fields to meet the foe; + Then I conclude for peace: 't is time to treat, + And lie like vassals at the victor's feet. + But, O! if any ancient blood remains, + One drop of all our fathers', in our veins, + That man would I prefer before the rest, + Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast; + Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound, + To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground. + But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, + If our confederates can afford us more; + If the contended field we bravely fought, + And not a bloodless victory was bought; + Their losses equal'd ours; and, for their slain, + With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain; + Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield, + And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field? + Good unexpected, evils unforeseen, + Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene: + Some, rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain; + Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again. + If Diomede refuse his aid to lend, + The great Messapus yet remains our friend: + Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours; + Th' Italian chiefs and princes join their pow'rs: + Nor least in number, nor in name the last, + Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac'd + Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon + Contains an army in herself alone, + And heads a squadron, terrible to sight, + With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright. + Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, + And I alone the public peace withstand; + If you consent, he shall not be refus'd, + Nor find a hand to victory unus'd. + This new Achilles, let him take the field, + With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield! + For you, my royal father, and my fame, + I, Turnus, not the least of all my name, + Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand, + And I alone will answer his demand. + Drances shall rest secure, and neither share + The danger, nor divide the prize of war." + + While they debate, nor these nor those will yield, + Aeneas draws his forces to the field, + And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed + Return, and thro' the frighted city spread + Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried, + In battle marching by the river side, + And bending to the town. They take th' alarm: + Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm. + Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field; + They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield: + The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry; + Old feeble men with fainter groans reply; + A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky, + Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods, + Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods. + + Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud: + "Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: + Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls, + And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls." + He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace, + Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place: + "Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command + To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band. + Messapus and Catillus, post your force + Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse. + Some guard the passes, others man the wall; + Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call." + + They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town, + And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown. + Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late, + The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state, + Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time, + And own'd his easy temper as his crime, + Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied + To break the treaty for the promis'd bride. + + Some help to sink new trenches; others aid + To ram the stones, or raise the palisade. + Hoarse trumpets sound th' alarm; around the walls + Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls. + A sad procession in the streets is seen, + Of matrons, that attend the mother queen: + High in her chair she sits, and, at her side, + With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride. + They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands; + Pray'rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands, + With censers first they fume the sacred shrine, + Then in this common supplication join: + "O patroness of arms, unspotted maid, + Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid! + Break short the pirate's lance; pronounce his fate, + And lay the Phrygian low before the gate." + + Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast + Well-temper'd steel and scaly brass invest: + The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold + Are mingled metal damask'd o'er with gold. + His faithful fauchion sits upon his side; + Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide: + But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends, + With godlike grace, he from the tow'r descends. + Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare + His absent rival, and to promise war. + Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins, + The wanton courser prances o'er the plains, + Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the mounds, + And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds. + Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood, + To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood: + He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain, + And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane: + He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high; + Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly. + + Soon as the prince appears without the gate, + The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait + His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien, + Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen: + Her squadron imitates, and each descends; + Whose common suit Camilla thus commends: + "If sense of honor, if a soul secure + Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure, + Can promise aught, or on itself rely + Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die; + Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet + The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat. + Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown: + You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town:" + + Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise, + And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes; + Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy, + With what becoming thanks can I reply? + Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast, + But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd. + Yet rob me not of all; but let me join + My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine. + The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd, + Sends his light horse before to scour the field: + Himself, thro' steep ascents and thorny brakes, + A larger compass to the city takes. + This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare + To foil his cunning, and his force to dare; + With chosen foot his passage to forelay, + And place an ambush in the winding way. + Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse; + The brave Messapus shall thy troops inforce + With those of Tibur, and the Latian band, + Subjected all to thy supreme command." + This said, he warns Messapus to the war, + Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care. + All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins, + And hastes to prosecute his deep designs. + + Inclos'd with hills, a winding valley lies, + By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise. + A narrow track, by human steps untrode, + Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode. + High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands, + Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands. + The top is level, an offensive seat + Of war; and from the war a safe retreat: + For, on the right and left, is room to press + The foes at hand, or from afar distress; + To drive 'em headlong downward, and to pour + On their descending backs a stony show'r. + Thither young Turnus took the well-known way, + Possess'd the pass, and in blind ambush lay. + + Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies, + Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes, + And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid, + Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid; + Then with a sigh began: "Camilla goes + To meet her death amidst her fatal foes: + The nymphs I lov'd of all my mortal train, + Invested with Diana's arms, in vain. + Nor is my kindness for the virgin new: + 'T was born with her; and with her years it grew. + Her father Metabus, when forc'd away + From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway, + Snatch'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes, + This tender babe, companion of his woes. + Casmilla was her mother; but he drown'd + One hissing letter in a softer sound, + And call'd Camilla. Thro' the woods he flies; + Wrapp'd in his robe the royal infant lies. + His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace; + With shout and clamors they pursue the chase. + The banks of Amasene at length he gains: + + The raging flood his farther flight restrains, + Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains. + Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears, + Not for himself, but for the charge he bears. + Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste; + Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last. + A knotty lance of well-boil'd oak he bore; + The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er: + He clos'd the child within the hollow space; + With twigs of bending osier bound the case; + Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight, + And thus invok'd my favor for the freight: + 'Accept, great goddess of the woods,' he said, + 'Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid! + Thro' air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine; + And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.' + He said; and with full force the spear he threw: + Above the sounding waves Camilla flew. + Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide, + And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side. + His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground, + And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound; + Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose, + Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes; + But, rough, in open air he chose to lie; + Earth was his couch, his cov'ring was the sky. + On hills unshorn, or in a desart den, + He shunn'd the dire society of men. + A shepherd's solitary life he led; + His daughter with the milk of mares he fed. + The dugs of bears, and ev'ry salvage beast, + He drew, and thro' her lips the liquor press'd. + The little Amazon could scarcely go: + He loads her with a quiver and a bow; + And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command, + He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand. + Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound; + Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground. + Instead of these, a tiger's hide o'erspread + Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head. + The flying dart she first attempts to fling, + And round her tender temples toss'd the sling; + Then, as her strength with years increas'd, began + To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan, + And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane. + The Tuscan matrons with each other vied, + To bless their rival sons with such a bride; + But she disdains their love, to share with me + The sylvan shades and vow'd virginity. + And, O! I wish, contented with my cares + Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars! + Then had she been of my celestial train, + And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain. + But since, opposing Heav'n's decree, she goes + To find her death among forbidden foes, + Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight. + Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight. + This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath, + This chosen arrow, to revenge her death: + By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain, + Or of the Trojan or Italian train, + Let him not pass unpunish'd from the plain. + Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid + To bear the breathless body of my maid: + Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd + Her holy limbs with any human hand, + And in a marble tomb laid in her native land." + + She said. The faithful nymph descends from high + With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky: + Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly. + + By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse, + Drawn up in squadrons, with united force, + Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound, + Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground. + Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far; + And the fields glitter with a waving war. + Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force + Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse; + These in the body plac'd, on either hand + Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band. + Advancing in a line, they couch their spears; + And less and less the middle space appears. + Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen + The neighing coursers, and the shouting men. + In distance of their darts they stop their course; + Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse. + The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide, + And deaths unseen are dealt on either side. + Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear, + By mettled coursers borne in full career, + Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock, + Their horses' heads against each other knock. + Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast, + As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast: + He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last. + The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright, + And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight + Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew; + Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue, + And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase; + Till, seiz'd, with shame, they wheel about and face, + Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry. + The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly. + So swelling surges, with a thund'ring roar, + Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the shore, + Bound o'er the rocks, incroach upon the land, + And far upon the beach eject the sand; + Then backward, with a swing, they take their way, + Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea; + With equal hurry quit th' invaded shore, + And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before. + + Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field, + Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell'd. + Asham'd at length, to the third charge they ran; + Both hosts resolv'd, and mingled man to man. + Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow'd + With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood. + Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie: + Confus'd the fight, and more confus'd the cry. + Orsilochus, who durst not press too near + Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear, + And stuck the steel beneath his horse's ear. + The fiery steed, impatient of the wound, + Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound, + His helpless lord cast backward on the ground. + Catillus pierc'd Iolas first; then drew + His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw, + The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew. + His neck and throat unarm'd, his head was bare, + But shaded with a length of yellow hair: + Secure, he fought, expos'd on ev'ry part, + A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart. + Across the shoulders came the feather'd wound; + Transfix'd he fell, and doubled to the ground. + The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed, + And death with honor sought on either side. + + Resistless thro' the war Camilla rode, + In danger unappall'd, and pleas'd with blood. + One side was bare for her exerted breast; + One shoulder with her painted quiver press'd. + Now from afar her fatal jav'lins play; + Now with her ax's edge she hews her way: + Diana's arms upon her shoulder sound; + And when, too closely press'd, she quits the ground, + From her bent bow she sends a backward wound. + Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side, + Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride: + Italians all; in peace, their queen's delight; + In war, the bold companions of the fight. + So march'd the Tracian Amazons of old, + When Thermodon with bloody billows roll'd: + Such troops as these in shining arms were seen, + When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen: + Such to the field Penthisilea led, + From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled; + With such, return'd triumphant from the war, + Her maids with cries attend the lofty car; + They clash with manly force their moony shields; + With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields. + + Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid, + On the cold earth were by thy courage laid? + Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first, + With fury driv'n, from side to side transpierc'd: + A purple stream came spouting from the wound; + Bath'd in his blood he lies, and bites the ground. + Liris and Pegasus at once she slew: + The former, as the slacken'd reins he drew + Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch'd + His arm to prop his friend, the jav'lin reach'd. + By the same weapon, sent from the same hand, + Both fall together, and both spurn the sand. + Amastrus next is added to the slain: + The rest in rout she follows o'er the plain: + Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon, + And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun. + Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost; + Each was attended with a Trojan ghost. + Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed, + Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed. + Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown: + O'er his broad back an ox's hide was thrown; + His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread + A cov'ring for his cheeks, and grinn'd around his head, + He clench'd within his hand an iron prong, + And tower'd above the rest, conspicuous in the throng. + Him soon she singled from the flying train, + And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain: + "Vain hunter, didst thou think thro' woods to chase + The savage herd, a vile and trembling race? + Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory: + A woman warrior was too strong for thee. + Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu'ror's name, + Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame." + Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew, + The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew; + But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends + Above the gorget, where his helmet ends, + And o'er the shield which his left side defends. + Orsilochus and she their courses ply: + He seems to follow, and she seems to fly; + But in a narrower ring she makes the race; + And then he flies, and she pursues the chase. + Gath'ring at length on her deluded foe, + She swings her ax, and rises to the blow + Full on the helm behind, with such a sway + The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way: + He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace; + Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face. + + Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by chance, + To see his fall; nor farther dares advance; + But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye, + He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly; + Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat, + (At least while fortune favor'd his deceit,) + Cries out aloud: "What courage have you shown, + Who trust your courser's strength, and not your own? + Forego the vantage of your horse, alight, + And then on equal terms begin the fight: + It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can, + When, foot to foot, you combat with a man," + He said. She glows with anger and disdain, + Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain, + And leaves her horse at large among her train; + With her drawn sword defies him to the field, + And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield. + The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed, + Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed; + Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides + The goring rowels in his bleeding sides. + "Vain fool, and coward!" cries the lofty maid, + "Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid! + On others practice thy Ligurian arts; + Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts + Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire, + With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire." + At this, so fast her flying feet she sped, + That soon she strain'd beyond his horse's head: + Then turning short, at once she seiz'd the rein, + And laid the boaster grov'ling on the plain. + Not with more ease the falcon, from above, + Trusses in middle air the trembling dove, + Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound: + The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground. + + Now mighty Jove, from his superior height, + With his broad eye surveys th' unequal fight. + He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain, + And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd plain. + Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides, + And these encourages, and those he chides; + Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight; + Renews their ardor, and restores the fight. + "What panic fear has seiz'd your souls? O shame, + O brand perpetual of th' Etrurian name! + Cowards incurable, a woman's hand + Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band! + Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield! + What use of weapons which you dare not wield? + Not thus you fly your female foes by night, + Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite; + When to fat off'rings the glad augur calls, + And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals. + These are your studied cares, your lewd delight: + Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight." + Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes, + Not managing the life he meant to lose. + The first he found he seiz'd with headlong haste, + In his strong gripe, and clasp'd around the waist; + 'T was Venulus, whom from his horse he tore, + And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore. + Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes, + And view th' unusual sight with vast surprise. + The fiery Tarchon, flying o'er the plains, + Press'd in his arms the pond'rous prey sustains; + Then, with his shorten'd spear, explores around + His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound. + Nor less the captive struggles for his life: + He writhes his body to prolong the strife, + And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts + His utmost vigor, and the point averts. + So stoops the yellow eagle from on high, + And bears a speckled serpent thro' the sky, + Fast'ning his crooked talons on the prey: + The pris'ner hisses thro' the liquid way; + Resists the royal hawk; and, tho' oppress'd, + She fights in volumes, and erects her crest: + Turn'd to her foe, she stiffens ev'ry scale, + And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat'ning tail. + Against the victor, all defense is weak: + Th' imperial bird still plies her with his beak; + He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores; + Then claps his pinions, and securely soars. + Thus, thro' the midst of circling enemies, + Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his prize. + The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press + The Latins, and presume the like success. + + Then Aruns, doom'd to death, his arts assay'd, + To murther, unespied, the Volscian maid: + This way and that his winding course he bends, + And, whereso'er she turns, her steps attends. + When she retires victorious from the chase, + He wheels about with care, and shifts his place; + When, rushing on, she seeks her foes flight, + He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight: + He threats, and trembles, trying ev'ry way, + Unseen to kill, and safely to betray. + Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far, + Glitt'ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war, + Was by the virgin view'd. The steed he press'd + Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest + With scales of gilded brass was cover'd o'er; + A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore. + With deadly wounds he gall'd the distant foe; + Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow: + A golden helm his front and head surrounds + A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds. + Gold, weav'd with linen, on his thighs he wore, + With flowers of needlework distinguish'd o'er, + With golden buckles bound, and gather'd up before. + Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes, + Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize, + Or that the temple might his trophies hold, + Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold. + Blind in her haste, she chases him alone. + And seeks his life, regardless of her own. + + This lucky moment the sly traitor chose: + Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose, + And threw, but first to Heav'n address'd his vows: + "O patron of Socrates' high abodes, + Phoebus, the ruling pow'r among the gods, + Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine + Are fell'd for thee, and to thy glory shine; + By thee protected with our naked soles, + Thro' flames unsing'd we march, and tread the kindled coals + Give me, propitious pow'r, to wash away + The stains of this dishonorable day: + Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim, + But with my future actions trust my fame. + Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome, + And from the field return inglorious home." + Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r, + Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air. + He gives the death desir'd; his safe return + By southern tempests to the seas is borne. + + Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies, + Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes, + Directed by the sound. Of either host, + Th' unhappy virgin, tho' concern'd the most, + Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent + On golden spoils, and on her prey intent; + Till in her pap the winged weapon stood + Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood. + Her sad attendants hasten to sustain + Their dying lady, drooping on the plain. + Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies, + With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys; + Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow, + Or ev'n to bear the sight of his expiring foe. + As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide + At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side, + Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies, + And claps his quiv'ring tail between his thighs: + So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends, + But, spurring forward, herds among his friends. + + She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands, + But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands; + The wood she draws, the steely point remains; + She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains: + (A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes, + And from her cheeks the rosy color flies:) + Then turns to her, whom of her female train + She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain: + "Acca, 't is past! he swims before my sight, + Inexorable Death; and claims his right. + Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed, + And bid him timely to my charge succeed, + Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve: + Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive." + She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain: + Dying, her open'd hand forsakes the rein; + Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees + Her mind the passage from her body frees. + She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest, + Her drooping head declining on her breast: + In the last sigh her struggling soul expires, + And, murm'ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires. + + A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued; + Despair and rage the languish'd fight renew'd. + The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line, + Advance to charge; the mix'd Arcadians join. + + But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar + Surveys the field, and fortune of the war, + Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain, + Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain, + And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train. + Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew + A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue: + "Too dear a fine, ah much lamented maid, + For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid! + Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife, + Diana's sacred arms, to save thy life. + Yet unreveng'd thy goddess will not leave + Her vot'ry's death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve. + Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd; + But after ages shall thy praise record. + Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain: + Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain." + + High o'er the field there stood a hilly mound, + Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around, + Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay, + A king that once in Latium bore the sway. + The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight, + To mark the traitor Aruns from the height. + Him in refulgent arms she soon espied, + Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried: + "Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late; + Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate. + Charg'd with my message, to Camilla go, + And say I sent thee to the shades below, + An honor undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow." + + She said, and from her quiver chose with speed + The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed; + Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied, + Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side. + The bowstring touch'd her breast, so strong she drew; + Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew. + At once the twanging bow and sounding dart + The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart. + Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death, + His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath. + The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings, + The welcome message to her mistress brings. + + Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field, + And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield. + The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly, + More on their speed than on their strength rely. + Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down, + And spur their horses headlong to the town. + Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd, + Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind. + These drop the shield, and those the lance forego, + Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow. + The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound, + Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground. + Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky, + And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly. + The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands, + Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands. + All pressing on, pursuers and pursued, + Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude. + Some happy few escape: the throng too late + Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate. + Ev'n in the sight of home, the wretched sire + Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire. + Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close, + But leave their friends excluded with their foes. + The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout; + 'T is terror all within, and slaughter all without. + Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall, + Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall. + + The Latian virgins, valiant with despair, + Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share: + So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd; + So much Camilla's great example fir'd. + Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw, + With imitated darts, to gall the foe. + Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath, + And crowd each other to be first in death. + Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade, + With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid: + "The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill'd; + The foes, entirely masters of the field, + Like a resistless flood, come rolling on: + The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town." + + Inflam'd with rage, (for so the Furies fire + The Daunian's breast, and so the Fates require,) + He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain + Possess'd, and downward issues on the plain. + Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed + From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed. + Thro' the black forest and the ferny brake, + Unknowingly secure, their way they take; + From the rough mountains to the plain descend, + And there, in order drawn, their line extend. + Both armies now in open fields are seen; + Nor far the distance of the space between. + Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees, + Thro' smoking fields, his hast'ning enemies; + And Turnus views the Trojans in array, + And hears th' approaching horses proudly neigh. + Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd; + But westward to the sea the sun declin'd. + Intrench'd before the town both armies lie, + While Night with sable wings involves the sky. + + + + + BOOK XII + + When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field, + Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd, + Himself become the mark of public spite, + His honor question'd for the promis'd fight; + The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd, + The more his fury boil'd within his breast: + He rous'd his vigor for the last debate, + And rais'd his haughty soul to meet his fate. + + As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase, + He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; + But, if the pointed jav'lin pierce his side, + The lordly beast returns with double pride: + He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain; + His sides he lashes, and erects his mane: + So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, + Thro' his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire. + + Trembling with rage, around the court he ran, + At length approach'd the king, and thus began: + "No more excuses or delays: I stand + In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand, + This base deserter of his native land. + The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take + The same conditions which himself did make. + Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare, + And to my single virtue trust the war. + The Latians unconcern'd shall see the fight; + This arm unaided shall assert your right: + Then, if my prostrate body press the plain, + To him the crown and beauteous bride remain." + + To whom the king sedately thus replied: + "Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried, + The more becomes it us, with due respect, + To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect. + You want not wealth, or a successive throne, + Or cities which your arms have made your own: + My towns and treasures are at your command, + And stor'd with blooming beauties is my land; + Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees, + Unmarried, fair, of noble families. + Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, + Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear, + But sound advice, proceeding from a heart + Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art. + The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown, + No prince Italian born should heir my throne: + Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd, + And oft our priests, foreign son reveal'd. + Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood, + Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood, + Urg'd by my wife, who would not be denied, + I promis'd my Lavinia for your bride: + Her from her plighted lord by force I took; + All ties of treaties, and of honor, broke: + On your account I wag'd an impious war- + With what success, 't is needless to declare; + I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share. + Twice vanquish'd while in bloody fields we strive, + Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive: + The rolling flood runs warm with human gore; + The bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring shore. + Why put I not an end to this debate, + Still unresolv'd, and still a slave to fate? + If Turnus' death a lasting peace can give, + Why should I not procure it whilst you live? + Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray, + What would my kinsmen the Rutulians say? + And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav'n defend!) + How curse the cause which hasten'd to his end + The daughter's lover and the father's friend? + Weigh in your mind the various chance of war; + Pity your parent's age, and ease his care." + + Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain: + The proffer'd med'cine but provok'd the pain. + The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief, + With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief: + "The care, O best of fathers, which you take + For my concerns, at my desire forsake. + Permit me not to languish out my days, + But make the best exchange of life for praise. + This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize; + And the blood follows, where the weapon flies. + His goddess mother is not near, to shroud + The flying coward with an empty cloud." + + But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life, + And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife, + Held him by force; and, dying in his death, + In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath: + "O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears, + And whate'er price Amata's honor bears + Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope, + My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's prop; + Since on the safety of thy life alone + Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne: + Refuse me not this one, this only pray'r, + To waive the combat, and pursue the war. + Whatever chance attends this fatal strife, + Think it includes, in thine, Amata's life. + I cannot live a slave, or see my throne + Usurp'd by strangers or a Trojan son." + + At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed; + A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread, + Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red. + The driving colors, never at a stay, + Run here and there, and flush, and fade away. + Delightful change! Thus Indian iv'ry shows, + Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows; + Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rose. + + The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire, + The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire: + Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite, + Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight. + Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes, + Firm to his first intent, he thus replies: + "O mother, do not by your tears prepare + Such boding omens, and prejudge the war. + Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free + To shun my death, if Heav'n my death decree." + Then turning to the herald, thus pursues: + "Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news; + Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light + Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight; + The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more + Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore: + Our single swords the quarrel shall decide, + And to the victor be the beauteous bride." + + He said, and striding on, with speedy pace, + He sought his coursers of the Thracian race. + At his approach they toss their heads on high, + And, proudly neighing, promise victory. + The sires of these Orythia sent from far, + To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war. + The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white, + Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight. + Officious grooms stand ready by his side; + And some with combs their flowing manes divide, + And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride. + + He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass + Of golden metal those, and mountain brass. + Then to his head his glitt'ring helm he tied, + And girt his faithful fauchion to his side. + In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire + That fauchion labor'd for the hero's sire; + Immortal keenness on the blade bestow'd, + And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood. + Propp'd on a pillar, which the ceiling bore, + Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore; + Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand, + The tough ash trembled like an osier wand: + Then cried: "O pond'rous spoil of Actor slain, + And never yet by Turnus toss'd in vain, + Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go, + Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe! + Give me to tear his corslet from his breast, + And from that eunuch head to rend the crest; + Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil, + Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil!" + + Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies + A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes. + So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight: + Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight; + He tries his goring horns against a tree, + And meditates his absent enemy; + He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand + With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand. + + Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms, + To future fight his manly courage warms: + He whets his fury, and with joy prepares + To terminate at once the ling'ring wars; + To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates + What Heav'n had promis'd, and expounds the fates. + Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease + The rage of arms, and ratify the peace. + + The morn ensuing, from the mountain's height, + Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light; + Th' ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea, + From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day; + When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard, + In friendly labor join'd, the list prepar'd. + Beneath the walls they measure out the space; + Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass, + Where, with religious their common gods they place. + In purest white the priests their heads attire; + And living waters bear, and holy fire; + And, o'er their linen hoods and shaded hair, + Long twisted wreaths of sacred veryain wear. + + In order issuing from the town appears + The Latin legion, arm'd with pointed spears; + And from the fields, advancing on a line, + The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join: + Their various arms afford a pleasing sight; + A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for fight. + Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride, + Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed; + Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, + And there Messapus, born of seed divine. + The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space, + Each man in order fills his proper place. + Reclining on their ample shields, they stand, + And fix their pointed lances in the sand. + Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng + Of either sex promiscuous, old and young, + Swarm the town: by those who rest behind, + The gates and walls and houses' tops are lin'd. + Meantime the Queen of Heav'n beheld the sight, + With eyes unpleas'd, from Mount Albano's height + (Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame, + But then an empty hill, without a name). + She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs, + The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs. + Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke, + With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake, + King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid, + Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'd: + Compress'd by force, but, by the grateful god, + Now made the Nais of the neighb'ring flood. + "O nymph, the pride of living lakes," said she, + "O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me, + Long hast thou known, nor need I to record, + The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord. + Of ev'ry Latian fair whom Jove misled + To mount by stealth my violated bed, + To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace, + But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place. + Now learn from me thy near approaching grief, + Nor think my wishes want to thy relief. + While fortune favor'd, nor Heav'n's King denied + To lend my succor to the Latian side, + I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state: + But now he struggles with unequal fate, + And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in might, + To meet inevitable death in fight; + Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight. + Thou, if thou dar'st thy present aid supply; + It well becomes a sister's care to try." + + At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress'd, + Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast. + To whom Saturnia thus: "Thy tears are late: + Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch'd from fate: + New tumults kindle; violate the truce: + Who knows what changeful fortune may produce? + 'T is not a crime t' attempt what I decree; + Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me." + She said, and, sailing on the winged wind, + Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind. + + And now pomp the peaceful kings appear: + Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear; + Twelve golden beams around his temples play, + To mark his lineage from the God of Day. + Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke, + And in his hand two massy spears he shook: + Then issued from the camp, in arms divine, + Aeneas, author of the Roman line; + And by his side Ascanius took his place, + The second hope of Rome's immortal race. + Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears, + And off'rings to the flaming altars bears; + A porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears. + Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes, + And strews the beasts, design'd for sacrifice, + With salt and meal: with like officious care + He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair. + Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds; + With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds. + + Aeneas then unsheath'd his shining sword, + And thus with pious pray'rs the gods ador'd: + "All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil, + For which I have sustain'd so long a toil, + Thou, King of Heav'n, and thou, the Queen of Air, + Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r; + Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway + The labors and events of arms obey; + Ye living fountains, and ye running floods, + All pow'rs of ocean, all ethereal gods, + Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field, + Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield, + My Trojans shall encrease Evander's town; + Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown: + All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease; + Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace. + But, if my juster arms prevail in fight, + (As sure they shall, if I divine aright,) + My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign: + Both equal, both unconquer'd shall remain, + Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes; + I ask but altars for my weary gods. + The care of those religious rites be mine; + The crown to King Latinus I resign: + His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share + His pow'r in peace, or his command in war. + For me, my friends another town shall frame, + And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's name." + + Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands, + The Latian king before his altar stands. + "By the same heav'n," said he, "and earth, and main, + And all the pow'rs that all the three contain; + By hell below, and by that upper god + Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod; + So let Latona's double offspring hear, + And double-fronted Janus, what I swear: + I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames, + And all those pow'rs attest, and all their names; + Whatever chance befall on either side, + No term of time this union shall divide: + No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind, + Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind; + Not tho' the circling seas should break their bound, + O'erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground; + Not tho' the lamps of heav'n their spheres forsake, + Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake: + Ev'n as this royal scepter" (for he bore + A scepter in his hand) "shall never more + Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth: + An orphan now, cut from the mother earth + By the keen ax, dishonor'd of its hair, + And cas'd in brass, for Latian kings to bear." + + When thus in public view the peace was tied + With solemn vows, and sworn on either side, + All dues perform'd which holy rites require; + The victim beasts are slain before the fire, + The trembling entrails from their bodies torn, + And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne. + + Already the Rutulians deem their man + O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began. + First rising fears are whisper'd thro' the crowd; + Then, gath'ring sound, they murmur more aloud. + Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes + The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size: + The nearer they approach, the more is known + Th' apparent disadvantage of their own. + Turnus himself appears in public sight + Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight. + Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands + With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands; + And, while he mutters undistinguish'd pray'rs, + A livid deadness in his cheeks appears. + + With anxious pleasure when Juturna view'd + Th' increasing fright of the mad multitude, + When their short sighs and thick'ning sobs she heard, + And found their ready minds for change prepar'd; + Dissembling her immortal form, she took + Camertus' mien, his habit, and his look; + A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known + Was his great sire, and he his greater son. + His shape assum'd, amid the ranks she ran, + And humoring their first motions, thus began: + "For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight + Of one expos'd for all, in single fight? + Can we, before the face of heav'n, confess + Our courage colder, or our numbers less? + View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band, + And Tuscan army; count 'em as they stand: + Undaunted to the battle if we go, + Scarce ev'ry second man will share a foe. + Turnus, 't is true, in this unequal strife, + Shall lose, with honor, his devoted life, + Or change it rather for immortal fame, + Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came: + But you, a servile and inglorious band, + For foreign lords shall sow your native land, + Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain'd, + Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd." + With words like these, she carried her design: + A rising murmur runs along the line. + Then ev'n the city troops, and Latians, tir'd + With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd: + Their champion's fate with pity they lament, + And of the league, so lately sworn, repent. + + Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage + With lying wonders, and a false presage; + But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes, + Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise. + For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, + Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove: + A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, + And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; + Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, + In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan. + Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight; + But, while he lags, and labors in his flight, + Behold, the dastard fowl return anew, + And with united force the foe pursue: + Clam'rous around the royal hawk they fly, + And, thick'ning in a cloud, o'ershade the sky. + They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course; + Nor can th' incumber'd bird sustain their force; + But vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the pond'rous prey, + And, lighten'd of his burthen, wings his way. + + Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight, + Eager of action, and demand the fight. + Then King Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts, + Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts: + "At length 't is granted, what I long desir'd! + This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd. + Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey. + Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way. + These are the foreign foes, whose impious band, + Like that rapacious bird, infest our land: + But soon, like him, they shall be forc'd to sea + By strength united, and forego the prey. + Your timely succor to your country bring, + Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king." + + He said; and, pressing onward thro' the crew, + Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw. + The winged weapon, whistling in the wind, + Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd. + At once the cornel rattled in the skies; + At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise. + Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood, + Born of Arcadian mix'd with Tuscan blood, + Gylippus' sons: the fatal jav'lin flew, + Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew. + A passage thro' the jointed arms it found, + Just where the belt was to the body bound, + And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground. + Then, fir'd with pious rage, the gen'rous train + Run madly forward to revenge the slain. + And some with eager haste their jav'lins throw; + And some with sword in hand assault the foe. + + The wish'd insult the Latine troops embrace, + And meet their ardor in the middle space. + The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line, + With equal courage obviate their design. + Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate + Both armies urges to their mutual fate. + With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd, + The sacrifice half-broil'd, and half-unburn'd. + Thick storms of steel from either army fly, + And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky; + Brands from the fire are missive weapons made, + With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade. + Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray, + And bears his unregarded gods away. + These on their horses vault; those yoke the car; + The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war. + + Messapus, eager to confound the peace, + Spurr'd his hot courser thro' the fighting prease, + At King Aulestes, by his purple known + A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown; + And, with a shock encount'ring, bore him down. + Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd, + The ruins of an altar were behind: + There, pitching on his shoulders and his head, + Amid the scatt'ring fires he lay supinely spread. + The beamy spear, descending from above, + His cuirass pierc'd, and thro' his body drove. + Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries: + "The gods have found a fitter sacrifice." + Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead + Of his rich armor, and uncrown his head. + + Priest Corynaeus, arm'd his better hand, + From his own altar, with a blazing brand; + And, as Ebusus with a thund'ring pace + Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face: + His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires; + The crackling crop a noisome scent expires. + Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown + With his left hand; his other cast him down. + The prostrate body with his knees he press'd, + And plung'd his holy poniard in his breast. + + While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued + The shepherd Alsus thro' the flying crowd, + Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow + Full on the front of his unwary foe. + The broad ax enters with a crashing sound, + And cleaves the chin with one continued wound; + Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around + An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd, + And seal'd their heavy lids in endless rest. + + But good Aeneas rush'd amid the bands; + Bare was his head, and naked were his hands, + In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud: + "What sudden rage, what new desire of blood, + Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans, cease + From impious arms, nor violate the peace! + By human sanctions, and by laws divine, + The terms are all agreed; the war is mine. + Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue; + This hand alone shall right the gods and you: + Our injur'd altars, and their broken vow, + To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe." + + Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defense, + A winged arrow struck the pious prince. + But, whether from some human hand it came, + Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame: + No human hand or hostile god was found, + To boast the triumph of so base a wound. + + When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain, + His chiefs dismay'd, his troops a fainting train, + Th' unhop'd event his heighten'd soul inspires: + At once his arms and coursers he requires; + Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains, + And with a ready hand assumes the reins. + He drives impetuous, and, where'er he goes, + He leaves behind a lane of slaughter'd foes. + These his lance reaches; over those he rolls + His rapid car, and crushes out their souls: + In vain the vanquish'd fly; the victor sends + The dead men's weapons at their living friends. + Thus, on the banks of Hebrus' freezing flood, + The God of Battles, in his angry mood, + Clashing his sword against his brazen shield, + Let loose the reins, and scours along the field: + Before the wind his fiery coursers fly; + Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky. + Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair + (Dire faces, and deform'd) surround the car; + Friends of the god, and followers of the war. + With fury not unlike, nor less disdain, + Exulting Turnus flies along the plain: + His smoking horses, at their utmost speed, + He lashes on, and urges o'er the dead. + Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound, + The gore and gath'ring dust are dash'd around. + Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war, + He kill'd at hand, but Sthenelus afar: + From far the sons of Imbracus he slew, + Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew; + Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join'd, + Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind. + + Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field, + New fir'd the Trojans, and their foes repell'd. + This son of Dolon bore his grandsire's name, + But emulated more his father's fame; + His guileful father, sent a nightly spy, + The Grecian camp and order to descry: + Hard enterprise! and well he might require + Achilles' car and horses, for his hire: + But, met upon the scout, th' Aetolian prince + In death bestow'd a juster recompense. + Fierce Turnus view'd the Trojan from afar, + And launch'd his jav'lin from his lofty car; + Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow, + And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe, + Wrench'd from his feeble hold the shining sword, + And plung'd it in the bosom of its lord. + "Possess," said he, "the fruit of all thy pains, + And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains. + Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand; + Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!" + + Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew, + Whom o'er his neck his flound'ring courser threw. + As when loud Boreas, with his blust'ring train, + Stoops from above, incumbent on the main; + Where'er he flies, he drives the rack before, + And rolls the billows on th' Aegaean shore: + So, where resistless Turnus takes his course, + The scatter'd squadrons bend before his force; + His crest of horses' hair is blown behind + By adverse air, and rustles in the wind. + + This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain, + And, as the chariot roll'd along the plain, + Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz'd the rein. + Thus hung in air, he still retain'd his hold, + The coursers frighted, and their course controll'd. + The lance of Turnus reach'd him as he hung, + And pierc'd his plated arms, but pass'd along, + And only raz'd the skin. He turn'd, and held + Against his threat'ning foe his ample shield; + Then call'd for aid: but, while he cried in vain, + The chariot bore him backward on the plain. + He lies revers'd; the victor king descends, + And strikes so justly where his helmet ends, + He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk + With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk. + + While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield, + The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field: + Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried, + And young Ascanius, weeping by his side, + Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear + His limbs from earth, supported on his spear. + Resolv'd in mind, regardless of the smart, + He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart. + The steel remains. No readier way he found + To draw the weapon, than t' inlarge the wound. + Eager of fight, impatient of delay, + He begs; and his unwilling friends obey. + + Iapis was at hand to prove his art, + Whose blooming youth so fir'd Apollo's heart, + That, for his love, he proffer'd to bestow + His tuneful harp and his unerring bow. + The pious youth, more studious how to save + His aged sire, now sinking to the grave, + Preferr'd the pow'r of plants, and silent praise + Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays. + + Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood, + And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd. + The fam'd physician tucks his robes around + With ready hands, and hastens to the wound. + With gentle touches he performs his part, + This way and that, soliciting the dart, + And exercises all his heav'nly art. + All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use, + He presses out, and pours their noble juice. + These first infus'd, to lenify the pain, + He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain. + Then to the patron of his art he pray'd: + The patron of his art refus'd his aid. + + Meantime the war approaches to the tents; + Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments: + The driving dust proclaims the danger near; + And first their friends, and then their foes appear: + Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear. + The camp is fill'd with terror and affright: + The hissing shafts within the trench alight; + An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky, + The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die. + + But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief, + And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief. + A branch of healing dittany she brought, + Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought: + Rough is the stern, which woolly leafs surround; + The leafs with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd, + Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief + To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief. + This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews + Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews, + And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands, + Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands, + And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd + With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound. + The leech, unknowing of superior art + Which aids the cure, with this foments the part; + And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart. + Stanch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands: + The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands, + Moves up, and follows of its own accord, + And health and vigor are at once restor'd. + Iapis first perceiv'd the closing wound, + And first the footsteps of a god he found. + "Arms! arms!" he cries; "the sword and shield prepare, + And send the willing chief, renew'd, to war. + This is no mortal work, no cure of mine, + Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine. + Some god our general to the battle sends; + Some god preserves his life for greater ends." + + The hero arms in haste; his hands infold + His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold: + Inflam'd to fight, and rushing to the field, + That hand sustaining the celestial shield, + This gripes the lance, and with such vigor shakes, + That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes. + Then with a close embrace he strain'd his son, + And, kissing thro' his helmet, thus begun: + "My son, from my example learn the war, + In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare; + But happier chance than mine attend thy care! + This day my hand thy tender age shall shield, + And crown with honors of the conquer'd field: + Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth + To toils of war, be mindful of my worth; + Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known, + For Hector's nephew, and Aeneas' son." + He said; and, striding, issued on the plain. + Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num'rous train, + Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take, + And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake. + A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around, + Labors beneath their feet the trembling ground. + + Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far + Beheld the progress of the moving war: + With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains, + And the chill blood ran backward in their veins. + Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear, + And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear. + Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train, + Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain. + As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore + From the mid ocean, drives the waves before; + The painful hind with heavy heart foresees + The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees; + With like impetuous rage the prince appears + Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears. + And now both armies shock in open field; + Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill'd. + Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain + (All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train) + By Gyas', Mnestheus', and Achates' hand. + The fatal augur falls, by whose command + The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued + With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd. + Loud shouts and clamors rend the liquid sky, + And o'er the field the frighted Latins fly. + The prince disdains the dastards to pursue, + Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few; + Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain, + He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain. + Juturna heard, and, seiz'd with mortal fear, + Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer; + Assumes his shape, his armor, and his mien, + And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen. + + As the black swallow near the palace plies; + O'er empty courts, and under arches, flies; + Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood, + To furnish her loquacious nest with food: + So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains; + The smoking horses run with loosen'd reins. + She steers a various course among the foes; + Now here, now there, her conqu'ring brother shows; + Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight, + She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight. + Aeneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd, + And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud: + He runs within a narrower ring, and tries + To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies. + If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears, + And far away the Daunian hero bears. + + What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail; + And various cares in vain his mind assail. + The great Messapus, thund'ring thro' the field, + In his left hand two pointed jav'lins held: + Encount'ring on the prince, one dart he drew, + And with unerring aim and utmost vigor threw. + Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low + Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threat'ning blow. + The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore + The waving plume which on his helm he wore. + Forced by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite, + That flying Turnus still declin'd the fight, + The Prince, whose piety had long repell'd + His inborn ardor, now invades the field; + Invokes the pow'rs of violated peace, + Their rites and injur'd altars to redress; + Then, to his rage abandoning the rein, + With blood and slaughter'd bodies fills the plain. + + What god can tell, what numbers can display, + The various labors of that fatal day; + What chiefs and champions fell on either side, + In combat slain, or by what deaths they died; + Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd; + Who shar'd the fame and fortune of the field! + Jove, could'st thou view, and not avert thy sight, + Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight, + Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite! + + Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found, + Whose valor made the Trojans quit their ground; + Betwixt his ribs the jav'lin drove so just, + It reach'd his heart, nor needs a second thrust. + Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew; + First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw: + Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail'd + Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd. + Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place; + Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace. + + Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw, + Whom without respite at one charge he slew: + Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress'd, + And sad Onythes, added to the rest, + Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore. + + Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore, + And from Apollo's fane to battle sent, + O'erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent. + Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill'd, + Who long had shunn'd the dangers of the field: + On Lerna's lake a silent life he led, + And with his nets and angle earn'd his bread; + Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew, + But wisely from th' infectious world withdrew: + Poor was his house; his father's painful hand + Discharg'd his rent, and plow'd another's land. + + As flames among the lofty woods are thrown + On diff'rent sides, and both by winds are blown; + The laurels crackle in the sputt'ring fire; + The frighted sylvans from their shades retire: + Or as two neighb'ring torrents fall from high; + Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry; + They roll to sea with unresisted force, + And down the rocks precipitate their course: + Not with less rage the rival heroes take + Their diff'rent ways, nor less destruction make. + With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike; + And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike. + Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field; + And hearts are pierc'd, unknowing how to yield: + They blow for blow return, and wound for wound; + And heaps of bodies raise the level ground. + + Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs + From a long royal race of Latian kings, + Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown, + Crush'd with the weight of an unwieldy stone: + Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore + His living load, his dying body tore. + His starting steeds, to shun the glitt'ring sword, + Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord. + + Fierce Hyllus threaten'd high, and, face to face, + Affronted Turnus in the middle space: + The prince encounter'd him in full career, + And at his temples aim'd the deadly spear; + So fatally the flying weapon sped, + That thro' his helm it pierc'd his head. + Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus' hand, + In vain the strongest of th' Arcadian band: + Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford + Availing aid against th' Aenean sword, + Which to his naked heart pursued the course; + Nor could his plated shield sustain the force. + + Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow'rs, + Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow'rs, + Were doom'd to kill, while Heav'n prolong'd his date; + But who can pass the bounds, prefix'd by fate? + In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held + Two palaces, and was from each expell'd: + Of all the mighty man, the last remains + A little spot of foreign earth contains. + + And now both hosts their broken troops unite + In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight. + Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join + The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line: + Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads + The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads. + They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space, + Resolv'd on death, impatient of disgrace; + And, where one falls, another fills his place. + + The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son + To leave th' unfinish'd fight, and storm the town: + For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain + In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain, + He views th' unguarded city from afar, + In careless quiet, and secure of war. + Occasion offers, and excites his mind + To dare beyond the task he first design'd. + Resolv'd, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight: + Attended thus, he takes a neighb'ring height; + The crowding troops about their gen'ral stand, + All under arms, and wait his high command. + Then thus the lofty prince: "Hear and obey, + Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay + Jove is with us; and what I have decreed + Requires our utmost vigor, and our speed. + Your instant arms against the town prepare, + The source of mischief, and the seat of war. + This day the Latian tow'rs, that mate the sky, + Shall level with the plain in ashes lie: + The people shall be slaves, unless in time + They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime. + Twice have our foes been vanquish'd on the plain: + Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain? + Your force against the perjur'd city bend. + There it began, and there the war shall end. + The peace profan'd our rightful arms requires; + Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires." + + He finish'd; and, one soul inspiring all, + Form'd in a wedge, the foot approach the wall. + Without the town, an unprovided train + Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain. + Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear, + And those they toss aloft, and these they rear: + The flames now launch'd, the feather'd arrows fly, + And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky. + Advancing to the front, the hero stands, + And, stretching out to heav'n his pious hands, + Attests the gods, asserts his innocence, + Upbraids with breach of faith th' Ausonian prince; + Declares the royal honor doubly stain'd, + And twice the rites of holy peace profan'd. + + Dissenting clamors in the town arise; + Each will be heard, and all at once advise. + One part for peace, and one for war contends; + Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends. + The helpless king is hurried in the throng, + And, whate'er tide prevails, is borne along. + Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock, + Invades the bees with suffocating smoke, + They run around, or labor on their wings, + Disus'd to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings; + To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try; + Black vapors, issuing from the vent, involve the sky. + + But fate and envious fortune now prepare + To plunge the Latins in the last despair. + The queen, who saw the foes invade the town, + And brands on tops of burning houses thrown, + Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear- + No troops of Turnus in the field appear. + Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain, + And then concludes the royal youth is slain. + Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear + The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air. + She calls herself the cause of all this ill, + And owns the dire effects of her ungovern'd will; + She raves against the gods; she beats her breast; + She tears with both her hands her purple vest: + Then round a beam a running noose she tied, + And, fasten'd by the neck, obscenely died. + + Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown, + And to her dames and to her daughter known, + The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair + And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share: + With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair. + The spreading rumor fills the public place: + Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace, + And silent shame, are seen in ev'ry face. + Latinus tears his garments as he goes, + Both for his public and his private woes; + With filth his venerable beard besmears, + And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs. + And much he blames the softness of his mind, + Obnoxious to the charms of womankind, + And soon seduc'd to change what he so well design'd; + To break the solemn league so long desir'd, + Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir'd. + + Now Turnus rolls aloof o'er empty plains, + And here and there some straggling foes he gleans. + His flying coursers please him less and less, + Asham'd of easy fight and cheap success. + Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind, + The distant cries come driving in the wind, + Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown'd; + A jarring mixture, and a boding sound. + "Alas!" said he, "what mean these dismal cries? + What doleful clamors from the town arise?" + Confus'd, he stops, and backward pulls the reins. + She who the driver's office now sustains, + Replies: "Neglect, my lord, these new alarms; + Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms: + There want not others to defend the wall. + If by your rival's hand th' Italians fall, + So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress, + In honor equal, equal in success." + + To this, the prince: "O sister- for I knew + The peace infring'd proceeded first from you; + I knew you, when you mingled first in fight; + And now in vain you would deceive my sight- + Why, goddess, this unprofitable care? + Who sent you down from heav'n, involv'd in air, + Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain, + And see your brother bleeding on the plain? + For to what pow'r can Turnus have recourse, + Or how resist his fate's prevailing force? + These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground: + Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound. + I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath, + My name invoking to revenge his death. + Brave Ufens fell with honor on the place, + To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace. + On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies; + His vest and armor are the victor's prize. + Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame, + Which only wanted, to complete my shame? + How will the Latins hoot their champion's flight! + How Drances will insult and point them to the sight! + Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below, + (Since those above so small compassion show,) + Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame, + Which not belies my great forefather's name!" + + He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed + Came Sages urging on his foamy steed: + Fix'd on his wounded face a shaft he bore, + And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before: + "Turnus, on you, on you alone, depends + Our last relief: compassionate your friends! + Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on, + With arms invests, with flames invades the town: + The brands are toss'd on high; the winds conspire + To drive along the deluge of the fire. + All eyes are fix'd on you: your foes rejoice; + Ev'n the king staggers, and suspends his choice; + Doubts to deliver or defend the town, + Whom to reject, or whom to call his son. + The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac'd, + Herself suborning death, has breath'd her last. + 'T is true, Messapus, fearless of his fate, + With fierce Atinas' aid, defends the gate: + On ev'ry side surrounded by the foe, + The more they kill, the greater numbers grow; + An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow. + You, far aloof from your forsaken bands, + Your rolling chariot drive o'er empty sands. + + Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin'd, + And various cares revolving in his mind: + Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast, + And sorrow mix'd with shame, his soul oppress'd; + And conscious worth lay lab'ring in his thought, + And love by jealousy to madness wrought. + By slow degrees his reason drove away + The mists of passion, and resum'd her sway. + Then, rising on his car, he turn'd his look, + And saw the town involv'd in fire and smoke. + A wooden tow'r with flames already blaz'd, + Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais'd; + And bridges laid above to join the space, + And wheels below to roll from place to place. + "Sister, the Fates have vanquish'd: let us go + The way which Heav'n and my hard fortune show. + The fight is fix'd; nor shall the branded name + Of a base coward blot your brother's fame. + Death is my choice; but suffer me to try + My force, and vent my rage before I die." + He said; and, leaping down without delay, + Thro' crowds of scatter'd foes he freed his way. + Striding he pass'd, impetuous as the wind, + And left the grieving goddess far behind. + As when a fragment, from a mountain torn + By raging tempests, or by torrents borne, + Or sapp'd by time, or loosen'd from the roots- + Prone thro' the void the rocky ruin shoots, + Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep; + Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep: + Involv'd alike, they rush to nether ground; + Stunn'd with the shock they fall, and stunn'd from earth rebound: + So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town, + Should'ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down. + Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew, + Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew, + And sanguine streams the slipp'ry ground embrue. + First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace, + He cries aloud, to make the combat cease: + "Rutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire! + The fight is mine; and me the gods require. + 'T is just that I should vindicate alone + The broken truce, or for the breach atone. + This day shall free from wars th' Ausonian state, + Or finish my misfortunes in my fate." + + Both armies from their bloody work desist, + And, bearing backward, form a spacious list. + The Trojan hero, who receiv'd from fame + The welcome sound, and heard the champion's name, + Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls, + Greedy of war where greater glory calls. + He springs to fight, exulting in his force + His jointed armor rattles in the course. + Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows, + Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows, + His head divine obscure in clouds he hides, + And shakes the sounding forest on his sides. + The nations, overaw'd, surcease the fight; + Immovable their bodies, fix'd their sight. + Ev'n death stands still; nor from above they throw + Their darts, nor drive their batt'ring-rams below. + In silent order either army stands, + And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands. + Th' Ausonian king beholds, with wond'ring sight, + Two mighty champions match'd in single fight, + Born under climes remote, and brought by fate, + With swords to try their titles to the state. + + Now, in clos'd field, each other from afar + They view; and, rushing on, begin the war. + They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet; + The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet: + Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high, + And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly. + Courage conspires with chance, and both ingage + With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage. + As when two bulls for their fair female fight + In Sila's shades, or on Taburnus' height; + With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies; + Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes, + And wait th' event; which victor they shall bear, + And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year: + With rage of love the jealous rivals burn, + And push for push, and wound for wound return; + Their dewlaps gor'd, their sides are lav'd in blood; + Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro' the wood: + Such was the combat in the listed ground; + So clash their swords, and so their shields resound. + + Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays + The champions' fate, and each exactly weighs. + On this side, life and lucky chance ascends; + Loaded with death, that other scale descends. + Rais'd on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow + Full on the helm of his unguarded foe: + Shrill shouts and clamors ring on either side, + As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide. + But all in pieces flies the traitor sword, + And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord. + Now is but death, or flight; disarm'd he flies, + When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies. + Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join'd, + Hurrying to war, disorder'd in his mind, + Snatch'd the first weapon which his haste could find. + 'T was not the fated sword his father bore, + But that his charioteer Metiscus wore. + This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held; + But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield, + The mortal-temper'd steel deceiv'd his hand: + The shiver'd fragments shone amid the sand. + + Surpris'd with fear, he fled along the field, + And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel'd; + For here the Trojan troops the list surround, + And there the pass is clos'd with pools and marshy ground. + Aeneas hastens, tho' with heavier pace- + His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase, + And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse- + Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues. + + Thus, when a fearful stag is clos'd around + With crimson toils, or in a river found, + High on the bank the deep-mouth'd hound appears, + Still opening, following still, where'er he steers; + The persecuted creature, to and fro, + Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe: + Steep is th' ascent, and, if he gains the land, + The purple death is pitch'd along the strand. + His eager foe, determin'd to the chase, + Stretch'd at his length, gains ground at ev'ry pace; + Now to his beamy head he makes his way, + And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey: + Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear; + He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air: + The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries; + The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies. + Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames + His tardy troops, and, calling by their names, + Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats + The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats + To lay in ashes, if they dare supply + With arms or aid his vanquish'd enemy: + Thus menacing, he still pursues the course, + With vigor, tho' diminish'd of his force. + Ten times already round the listed place + One chief had fled, and t' other giv'n the chase: + No trivial prize is play'd; for on the life + Or death of Turnus now depends the strife. + + Within the space, an olive tree had stood, + A sacred shade, a venerable wood, + For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins' guardian god. + Here hung the vests, and tablets were ingrav'd, + Of sinking mariners from shipwrack sav'd. + With heedless hands the Trojans fell'd the tree, + To make the ground inclos'd for combat free. + Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance, + Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance; + Then stoop'd, and tugg'd with force immense, to free + Th' incumber'd spear from the tenacious tree; + That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain, + His flying weapon might from far attain. + + Confus'd with fear, bereft of human aid, + Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray'd: + "O Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth, + Where I thy foster son receiv'd my birth, + Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand + Your plant has honor'd, which your foes profan'd, + Propitious hear my pious pray'r!" He said, + Nor with successless vows invok'd their aid. + Th' incumbent hero wrench'd, and pull'd, and strain'd; + But still the stubborn earth the steel detain'd. + Juturna took her time; and, while in vain + He strove, assum'd Meticus' form again, + And, in that imitated shape, restor'd + To the despairing prince his Daunian sword. + The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief, + Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief, + T' assert her offspring with a greater deed, + From the tough root the ling'ring weapon freed. + + Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance: + One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance; + And both resolv'd alike to try their fatal chance. + + Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke, + Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock: + "What new arrest, O Queen of Heav'n, is sent + To stop the Fates now lab'ring in th' event? + What farther hopes are left thee to pursue? + Divine Aeneas, (and thou know'st it too,) + Foredoom'd, to these celestial seats are due. + What more attempts for Turnus can be made, + That thus thou ling'rest in this lonely shade? + Is it becoming of the due respect + And awful honor of a god elect, + A wound unworthy of our state to feel, + Patient of human hands and earthly steel? + Or seems it just, the sister should restore + A second sword, when one was lost before, + And arm a conquer'd wretch against his conqueror? + For what, without thy knowledge and avow, + Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do? + At last, in deference to my love, forbear + To lodge within thy soul this anxious care; + Reclin'd upon my breast, thy grief unload: + Who should relieve the goddess, but the god? + Now all things to their utmost issue tend, + Push'd by the Fates to their appointed + While leave was giv'n thee, and a lawful hour + For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow'r, + Toss'd on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress, + And, driv'n ashore, with hostile arms oppress; + Deform the royal house; and, from the side + Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride: + Now cease at my command." The Thund'rer said; + And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made: + "Because your dread decree too well I knew, + From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew. + Else should you not behold me here, alone, + Involv'd in empty clouds, my friends bemoan, + But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight + Engag'd against my foes in mortal fight. + 'T is true, Juturna mingled in the strife + By my command, to save her brother's life- + At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake, + (The most religious oath the gods can take,) + With this restriction, not to bend the bow, + Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw. + And now, resign'd to your superior might, + And tir'd with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight. + This let me beg (and this no fates withstand) + Both for myself and for your father's land, + That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace, + (Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,) + The laws of either nation be the same; + But let the Latins still retain their name, + Speak the same language which they spoke before, + Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore. + Call them not Trojans: perish the renown + And name of Troy, with that detested town. + Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign + And Rome's immortal majesty remain." + + Then thus the founder of mankind replies + (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes) + "Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir, + Such endless anger in her bosom bear? + Be mistress, and your full desires obtain; + But quench the choler you foment in vain. + From ancient blood th' Ausonian people sprung, + Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue. + The Trojans to their customs shall be tied: + I will, myself, their common rites provide; + The natives shall command, the foreigners subside. + All shall be Latium; Troy without a name; + And her lost sons forget from whence they came. + From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow, + Equal to gods, excelling all below. + No nation more respect to you shall pay, + Or greater off'rings on your altars lay." + Juno consents, well pleas'd that her desires + Had found success, and from the cloud retires. + + The peace thus made, the Thund'rer next prepares + To force the wat'ry goddess from the wars. + Deep in the dismal regions void of light, + Three daughters at a birth were born to Night: + These their brown mother, brooding on her care, + Indued with windy wings to flit in air, + With serpents girt alike, and crown'd with hissing hair. + In heav'n the Dirae call'd, and still at hand, + Before the throne of angry Jove they stand, + His ministers of wrath, and ready still + The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, + Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate + On realms or towns deserving of their fate, + Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care, + And terrifies the guilty world with war. + One sister plague if these from heav'n he sent, + To fright Juturna with a dire portent. + The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow + Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, + Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, + And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies. + With such a sudden and unseen a flight + Shot thro' the clouds the daughter of the night. + Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view, + And from afar her destin'd quarry knew, + Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, + Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns, + And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, + Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings. + Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries + The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, + Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes. + + A lazy chillness crept along his blood; + Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood. + Juturna from afar beheld her fly, + And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry + And stridor of her wings. Amaz'd with fear, + Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair. + + "Ah me!" she cries, "in this unequal strife + What can thy sister more to save thy life? + Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend + In arms with that inexorable fiend? + Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright + My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night; + The lashing of your wings I know too well, + The sounding flight, and fun'ral screams of hell! + These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove, + The worthy recompense of ravish'd love! + Did he for this exempt my life from fate? + O hard conditions of immortal state, + Tho' born to death, not privileg'd to die, + But forc'd to bear impos'd eternity! + Take back your envious bribes, and let me go + Companion to my brother's ghost below! + The joys are vanish'd: nothing now remains, + Of life immortal, but immortal pains. + What earth will open her devouring womb, + To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!" + She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said, + But in her azure mantle wrapp'd her head, + Then plung'd into her stream, with deep despair, + And her last sobs came bubbling up in air. + + Now stern Aeneas his weighty spear + Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear: + "What farther subterfuge can Turnus find? + What empty hopes are harbor'd in his mind? + 'T is not thy swiftness can secure thy flight; + Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight. + Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare + What skill and courage can attempt in war; + Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky; + Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!" + The champion shook his head, and made this short reply: + "No threats of thine my manly mind can move; + 'T is hostile heav'n I dread, and partial Jove." + He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress'd + The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast. + + Then, as he roll'd his troubled eyes around, + An antique stone he saw, the common bound + Of neighb'ring fields, and barrier of the ground; + So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days + Th' enormous weight from earth could hardly raise. + He heav'd it at a lift, and, pois'd on high, + Ran stagg'ring on against his enemy, + But so disorder'd, that he scarcely knew + His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw. + His knocking knees are bent beneath the load, + And shiv'ring cold congeals his vital blood. + The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short + For want of vigor, mocks his vain effort. + And as, when heavy sleep has clos'd the sight, + The sickly fancy labors in the night; + We seem to run; and, destitute of force, + Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course: + In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry; + The nerves, unbrac'd, their usual strength deny; + And on the tongue the falt'ring accents die: + So Turnus far'd; whatever means he tried, + All force of arms and points of art employ'd, + The Fury flew athwart, and made th' endeavor void. + + A thousand various thoughts his soul confound; + He star'd about, nor aid nor issue found; + His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround. + Once more he pauses, and looks out again, + And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain. + Trembling he views the thund'ring chief advance, + And brandishing aloft the deadly lance: + Amaz'd he cow'rs beneath his conqu'ring foe, + Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow. + Astonish'd while he stands, and fix'd with fear, + Aim'd at his shield he sees th' impending spear. + + The hero measur'd first, with narrow view, + The destin'd mark; and, rising as he threw, + With its full swing the fatal weapon flew. + Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls, + Or stones from batt'ring-engines break the walls: + Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong, + The lance drove on, and bore the death along. + Naught could his sev'nfold shield the prince avail, + Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail: + It pierc'd thro' all, and with a grisly wound + Transfix'd his thigh, and doubled him to ground. + With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky: + Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply. + + Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid, + With eyes cast upward, and with arms display'd, + And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray'd: + "I know my death deserv'd, nor hope to live: + Use what the gods and thy good fortune give. + Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown- + Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son- + Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave; + And for Anchises' sake old Daunus save! + Or, if thy vow'd revenge pursue my death, + Give to my friends my body void of breath! + The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life; + Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife: + Against a yielded man, 't is mean ignoble strife." + + In deep suspense the Trojan seem'd to stand, + And, just prepar'd to strike, repress'd his hand. + He roll'd his eyes, and ev'ry moment felt + His manly soul with more compassion melt; + When, casting down a casual glance, he spied + The golden belt that glitter'd on his side, + The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore + From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore. + Then, rous'd anew to wrath, he loudly cries + (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes) + "Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, + Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend? + To his sad soul a grateful off'ring go! + 'T is Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow." + He rais'd his arm aloft, and, at the word, + Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword. + The streaming blood distain'd his arms around, + And the disdainful soul came rushing thro' the wound. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Aeneid, by Virgil + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + +***** This file should be named 228.txt or 228.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/228/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + +19 BC +THE AENEID +by Virgil + + +BOOK I + +Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate, +And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate, +Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore. +Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore, +And in the doubtful war, before he won +The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town; +His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine, +And settled sure succession in his line, +From whence the race of Alban fathers come, +And the long glories of majestic Rome. + +O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate; +What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate; +For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began +To persecute so brave, so just a man; +Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares, +Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars! +Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show, +Or exercise their spite in human woe? + +Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away, +An ancient town was seated on the sea; +A Tyrian colony; the people made +Stout for the war, and studious of their trade: +Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more +Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore. +Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind, +The seat of awful empire she design'd. +Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly, +(Long cited by the people of the sky,) +That times to come should see the Trojan race +Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface; +Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway +Should on the necks of all the nations lay. +She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate; +Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late +For conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state. +Besides, long causes working in her mind, +And secret seeds of envy, lay behind; +Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd +Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd; +The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed, +Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed. +Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd +To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind. +For this, far distant from the Latian coast +She drove the remnants of the Trojan host; +And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train +Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main. +Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name, +Such length of labor for so vast a frame. + +Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars, +Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores, +Ent'ring with cheerful shouts the wat'ry reign, +And plowing frothy furrows in the main; +When, lab'ring still with endless discontent, +The Queen of Heav'n did thus her fury vent: + +"Then am I vanquish'd? must I yield?" said she, +"And must the Trojans reign in Italy? +So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force; +Nor can my pow'r divert their happy course. +Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen, +The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men? +She, for the fault of one offending foe, +The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw: +With whirlwinds from beneath she toss'd the ship, +And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep; +Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game, +The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame, +She strongly seiz'd, and with a burning wound +Transfix'd, and naked, on a rock she bound. +But I, who walk in awful state above, +The majesty of heav'n, the sister wife of Jove, +For length of years my fruitless force employ +Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy! +What nations now to Juno's pow'r will pray, +Or off'rings on my slighted altars lay?" + +Thus rag'd the goddess; and, with fury fraught. +The restless regions of the storms she sought, +Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, +The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne, +With pow'r imperial curbs the struggling winds, +And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds. +This way and that th' impatient captives tend, +And, pressing for release, the mountains rend. +High in his hall th' undaunted monarch stands, +And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands; +Which did he not, their unresisted sway +Would sweep the world before them in their way; +Earth, air, and seas thro' empty space would roll, +And heav'n would fly before the driving soul. +In fear of this, the Father of the Gods +Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes, +And lock'd 'em safe within, oppress'd with mountain loads; +Impos'd a king, with arbitrary sway, +To loose their fetters, or their force allay. +To whom the suppliant queen her pray'rs address'd, +And thus the tenor of her suit express'd: + +"O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav'n +The pow'r of tempests and of winds has giv'n; +Thy force alone their fury can restrain, +And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main- +A race of wand'ring slaves, abhorr'd by me, +With prosp'rous passage cut the Tuscan sea; +To fruitful Italy their course they steer, +And for their vanquish'd gods design new temples there. +Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies; +Sink or disperse my fatal enemies. +Twice sev'n, the charming daughters of the main, +Around my person wait, and bear my train: +Succeed my wish, and second my design; +The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine, +And make thee father of a happy line." + +To this the god: "'T is yours, O queen, to will +The work which duty binds me to fulfil. +These airy kingdoms, and this wide command, +Are all the presents of your bounteous hand: +Yours is my sov'reign's grace; and, as your guest, +I sit with gods at their celestial feast; +Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue; +Dispose of empire, which I hold from you." + +He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side +His quiv'ring spear, and all the god applied. +The raging winds rush thro' the hollow wound, +And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground; +Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep, +Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep. +South, East, and West with mix'd confusion roar, +And roll the foaming billows to the shore. +The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries +Ascend; and sable night involves the skies; +And heav'n itself is ravish'd from their eyes. +Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue; +Then flashing fires the transient light renew; +The face of things a frightful image bears, +And present death in various forms appears. +Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief, +With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief; +And, "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried, +"That under Ilian walls before their parents died! +Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train! +Why could not I by that strong arm be slain, +And lie by noble Hector on the plain, +Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields +Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields +Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear +The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!" + +Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails, +Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails, +And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise, +And mount the tossing vessels to the skies: +Nor can the shiv'ring oars sustain the blow; +The galley gives her side, and turns her prow; +While those astern, descending down the steep, +Thro' gaping waves behold the boiling deep. +Three ships were hurried by the southern blast, +And on the secret shelves with fury cast. +Those hidden rocks th' Ausonian sailors knew: +They call'd them Altars, when they rose in view, +And show'd their spacious backs above the flood. +Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood, +Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand, +And in mid ocean left them moor'd aland. +Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew, +(A horrid sight!) ev'n in the hero's view, +From stem to stern by waves was overborne: +The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn, +Was headlong hurl'd; thrice round the ship was toss'd, +Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost; +And here and there above the waves were seen +Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men. +The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way, +And suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea. +Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old, +Achates faithful, Abas young and bold, +Endur'd not less; their ships, with gaping seams, +Admit the deluge of the briny streams. + +Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound +Of raging billows breaking on the ground. +Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign, +He rear'd his awful head above the main, +Serene in majesty; then roll'd his eyes +Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies. +He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd, +By stormy winds and wintry heav'n oppress'd. +Full well the god his sister's envy knew, +And what her aims and what her arts pursue. +He summon'd Eurus and the western blast, +And first an angry glance on both he cast; +Then thus rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from whence +This bold attempt, this rebel insolence? +Is it for you to ravage seas and land, +Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command? +To raise such mountains on the troubled main? +Whom I- but first 't is fit the billows to restrain; +And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign. +Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear- +The realms of ocean and the fields of air +Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me +The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea. +His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd: +There let him reign, the jailer of the wind, +With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, +And boast and bluster in his empty hall." +He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea, +Dispell'd the darkness, and restor'd the day. +Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train +Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main, +Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands: +The god himself with ready trident stands, +And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands; +Then heaves them off the shoals. Where'er he guides +His finny coursers and in triumph rides, +The waves unruffle and the sea subsides. +As, when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd, +Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; +And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly, +And all the rustic arms that fury can supply: +If then some grave and pious man appear, +They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear; +He soothes with sober words their angry mood, +And quenches their innate desire of blood: +So, when the Father of the Flood appears, +And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears, +Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains, +High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins, +Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains. +The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars +To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores. + +Within a long recess there lies a bay: +An island shades it from the rolling sea, +And forms a port secure for ships to ride; +Broke by the jutting land, on either side, +In double streams the briny waters glide. +Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene +Appears above, and groves for ever green: +A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats, +To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats. +Down thro' the crannies of the living walls +The crystal streams descend in murm'ring falls: +No haulsers need to bind the vessels here, +Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear. +Sev'n ships within this happy harbor meet, +The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet. +The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes, +Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish'd repose. + +First, good Achates, with repeated strokes +Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes: +Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither'd leaves +The dying sparkles in their fall receives: +Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise, +And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies. +The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around +The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground: +Some dry their corn, infected with the brine, +Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine. +Aeneas climbs the mountain's airy brow, +And takes a prospect of the seas below, +If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy, +Or see the streamers of Caicus fly. +No vessels were in view; but, on the plain, +Three beamy stags command a lordly train +Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng +Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along. +He stood; and, while secure they fed below, +He took the quiver and the trusty bow +Achates us'd to bear: the leaders first +He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd; +Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain +Sev'n mighty bodies with their blood distain. +For the sev'n ships he made an equal share, +And to the port return'd, triumphant from the war. +The jars of gen'rous wine (Acestes' gift, +When his Trinacrian shores the navy left) +He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd, +In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd. +Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief +With cheerful words allay'd the common grief: +"Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose +To future good our past and present woes. +With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried; +Th' inhuman Cyclops and his den defied. +What greater ills hereafter can you bear? +Resume your courage and dismiss your care, +An hour will come, with pleasure to relate +Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate. +Thro' various hazards and events, we move +To Latium and the realms foredoom'd by Jove. +Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies) +Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise, +Endure the hardships of your present state; +Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate." + +These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart; +His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart. +The jolly crew, unmindful of the past, +The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste. +Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil; +The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil; +Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil. +Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine, +Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with +wine. +Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends +The doubtful fortune of their absent friends: +Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess, +Whether to deem 'em dead, or in distress. +Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate +Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state +Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus. +The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus. + +When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys +Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas, +At length on Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes- +Whom, pond'ring thus on human miseries, +When Venus saw, she with a lowly look, +Not free from tears, her heav'nly sire bespoke: + +"O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand +Disperses thunder on the seas and land, +Disposing all with absolute command; +How could my pious son thy pow'r incense? +Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offense? +Our hope of Italy not only lost, +On various seas by various tempests toss'd, +But shut from ev'ry shore, and barr'd from ev'ry coast. +You promis'd once, a progeny divine +Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line, +In after times should hold the world in awe, +And to the land and ocean give the law. +How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care +When Troy was ruin'd in that cruel war? +Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now, +When Fortune still pursues her former blow, +What can I hope? What worse can still succeed? +What end of labors has your will decreed? +Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts, +Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts, +Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves +And thro' nine channels disembogues his waves. +At length he founded Padua's happy seat, +And gave his Trojans a secure retreat; +There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their name, +And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame. +But we, descended from your sacred line, +Entitled to your heav'n and rites divine, +Are banish'd earth; and, for the wrath of one, +Remov'd from Latium and the promis'd throne. +Are these our scepters? these our due rewards? +And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?" + +To whom the Father of th' immortal race, +Smiling with that serene indulgent face, +With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies, +First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies: + +"Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire +The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire. +Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls; +And, ripe for heav'n, when fate Aeneas calls, +Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me: +No councils have revers'd my firm decree. +And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state, +Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of Fate: +Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far) +In Italy shall wage successful war, +Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field, +And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build, +Till, after ev'ry foe subdued, the sun +Thrice thro' the signs his annual race shall run: +This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then, +Now call'd Iulus, shall begin his reign. +He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear, +Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer, +And, with hard labor, Alba Longa build. +The throne with his succession shall be fill'd +Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen +Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen, +Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes, +Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose. +The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain: +Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain, +Of martial tow'rs the founder shall become, +The people Romans call, the city Rome. +To them no bounds of empire I assign, +Nor term of years to their immortal line. +Ev'n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils, +Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself turmoils; +At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join, +To cherish and advance the Trojan line. +The subject world shall Rome's dominion own, +And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown. +An age is ripening in revolving fate +When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state, +And sweet revenge her conqu'ring sons shall call, +To crush the people that conspir'd her fall. +Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise, +Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies +Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils, +Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils, +Securely shall repay with rites divine; +And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine. +Then dire debate and impious war shall cease, +And the stern age be soften'd into peace: +Then banish'd Faith shall once again return, +And Vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn; +And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain +The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain. +Janus himself before his fane shall wait, +And keep the dreadful issues of his gate, +With bolts and iron bars: within remains +Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains; +High on a trophy rais'd, of useless arms, +He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms." + +He said, and sent Cyllenius with command +To free the ports, and ope the Punic land +To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate, +The queen might force them from her town and state. +Down from the steep of heav'n Cyllenius flies, +And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies. +Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god, +Performs his message, and displays his rod: +The surly murmurs of the people cease; +And, as the fates requir'd, they give the peace: +The queen herself suspends the rigid laws, +The Trojans pities, and protects their cause. + +Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies: +Care seiz'd his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes. +But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day, +He rose, the coast and country to survey, +Anxious and eager to discover more. +It look'd a wild uncultivated shore; +But, whether humankind, or beasts alone +Possess'd the new-found region, was unknown. +Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides: +Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides; +The bending brow above a safe retreat provides. +Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends, +And true Achates on his steps attends. +Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood, +Before his eyes his goddess mother stood: +A huntress in her habit and her mien; +Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen. +Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind; +Loose was her hair, and wanton'd in the wind; +Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver hung behind. +She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood: +With such array Harpalyce bestrode +Her Thracian courser and outstripp'd the rapid flood. +"Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said, +"One of my sisters, like myself array'd, +Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest stray'd? +A painted quiver at her back she bore; +Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore; +And at full cry pursued the tusky boar." + +Thus Venus: thus her son replied again: +"None of your sisters have we heard or seen, +O virgin! or what other name you bear +Above that style- O more than mortal fair! +Your voice and mien celestial birth betray! +If, as you seem, the sister of the day, +Or one at least of chaste Diana's train, +Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain; +But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss'd, +What earth we tread, and who commands the coast? +Then on your name shall wretched mortals call, +And offer'd victims at your altars fall." +"I dare not," she replied, "assume the name +Of goddess, or celestial honors claim: +For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear, +And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear. +Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are- +A people rude in peace, and rough in war. +The rising city, which from far you see, +Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony. +Phoenician Dido rules the growing state, +Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother's hate. +Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate; +Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known +For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne, +Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart +At once was wounded with an equal dart. +Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid; +Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway'd: +One who condemn'd divine and human laws. +Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause. +The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth, +With steel invades his brother's life by stealth; +Before the sacred altar made him bleed, +And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed. +Some tale, some new pretense, he daily coin'd, +To soothe his sister, and delude her mind. +At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears +Of her unhappy lord: the specter stares, +And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares. +The cruel altars and his fate he tells, +And the dire secret of his house reveals, +Then warns the widow, with her household gods, +To seek a refuge in remote abodes. +Last, to support her in so long a way, +He shows her where his hidden treasure lay. +Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright, +The queen provides companions of her flight: +They meet, and all combine to leave the state, +Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate. +They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find; +Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind. +The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea +With prosp'rous winds; a woman leads the way. +I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n, +Or was their fatal course dispos'd by Heav'n; +At last they landed, where from far your eyes +May view the turrets of new Carthage rise; +There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd, +From the bull's hide) they first inclos'd, and wall'd. +But whence are you? what country claims your birth? +What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?" + +To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes, +And deeply sighing, thus her son replies: +"Could you with patience hear, or I relate, +O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate! +Thro' such a train of woes if I should run, +The day would sooner than the tale be done! +From ancient Troy, by force expell'd, we came- +If you by chance have heard the Trojan name. +On various seas by various tempests toss'd, +At length we landed on your Libyan coast. +The good Aeneas am I call'd- a name, +While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame. +My household gods, companions of my woes, +With pious care I rescued from our foes. +To fruitful Italy my course was bent; +And from the King of Heav'n is my descent. +With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea; +Fate and my mother goddess led my way. +Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet, +From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet. +Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown, +Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown, +In Libyan desarts wander thus alone." + +His tender parent could no longer bear; +But, interposing, sought to soothe his care. +"Whoe'er you are- not unbelov'd by Heav'n, +Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n- +Have courage: to the gods permit the rest, +And to the queen expose your just request. +Now take this earnest of success, for more: +Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore; +The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free; +Or I renounce my skill in augury. +Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move, +And stoop with closing pinions from above; +Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along, +And thro' the clouds pursued the scatt'ring throng: +Now, all united in a goodly team, +They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream. +As they, with joy returning, clap their wings, +And ride the circuit of the skies in rings; +Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend, +Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend. +No more advice is needful; but pursue +The path before you, and the town in view." + +Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear +Her neck refulgent, and dishevel'd hair, +Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground. +And widely spread ambrosial scents around: +In length of train descends her sweeping gown; +And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known. +The prince pursued the parting deity +With words like these: "Ah! whither do you fly? +Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son +In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun; +Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown; +And still to speak in accents not your own." +Against the goddess these complaints he made, +But took the path, and her commands obey'd. +They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds +With mists their persons, and involves in clouds, +That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay, +Or force to tell the causes of their way. +This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime +To visit Paphos and her native clime; +Where garlands, ever green and ever fair, +With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r: +A hundred altars in her temple smoke; +A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke. + +They climb the next ascent, and, looking down, +Now at a nearer distance view the town. +The prince with wonder sees the stately tow'rs, +Which late were huts and shepherds' homely bow'rs, +The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part, +The noise and busy concourse of the mart. +The toiling Tyrians on each other call +To ply their labor: some extend the wall; +Some build the citadel; the brawny throng +Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along. +Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground, +Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround. +Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice +Of holy senates, and elect by voice. +Here some design a mole, while others there +Lay deep foundations for a theater; +From marble quarries mighty columns hew, +For ornaments of scenes, and future view. +Such is their toil, and such their busy pains, +As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains, +When winter past, and summer scarce begun, +Invites them forth to labor in the sun; +Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense +Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense; +Some at the gate stand ready to receive +The golden burthen, and their friends relieve; +All with united force, combine to drive +The lazy drones from the laborious hive: +With envy stung, they view each other's deeds; +The fragrant work with diligence proceeds. +"Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!" +Aeneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes, +Their lofty tow'rs; then, entiring at the gate, +Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate) +He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng, +Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along. + +Full in the center of the town there stood, +Thick set with trees, a venerable wood. +The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground, +And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found: +From under earth a courser's head they drew, +Their growth and future fortune to foreshew. +This fated sign their foundress Juno gave, +Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave. +Sidonian Dido here with solemn state +Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate, +Enrich'd with gifts, and with a golden shrine; +But more the goddess made the place divine. +On brazen steps the marble threshold rose, +And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose: +The rafters are with brazen cov'rings crown'd; +The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound. +What first Aeneas this place beheld, +Reviv'd his courage, and his fear expell'd. +For while, expecting there the queen, he rais'd +His wond'ring eyes, and round the temple gaz'd, +Admir'd the fortune of the rising town, +The striving artists, and their arts' renown; +He saw, in order painted on the wall, +Whatever did unhappy Troy befall: +The wars that fame around the world had blown, +All to the life, and ev'ry leader known. +There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies, +And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies. +He stopp'd, and weeping said: "O friend! ev'n here +The monuments of Trojan woes appear! +Our known disasters fill ev'n foreign lands: +See there, where old unhappy Priam stands! +Ev'n the mute walls relate the warrior's fame, +And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim." +He said (his tears a ready passage find), +Devouring what he saw so well design'd, +And with an empty picture fed his mind: +For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield, +And here the trembling Trojans quit the field, +Pursued by fierce Achilles thro' the plain, +On his high chariot driving o'er the slain. +The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew, +By their white sails betray'd to nightly view; +And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword +The sentries slew, nor spar'd their slumb'ring lord, +Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food +Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood. +Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied +Achilles, and unequal combat tried; +Then, where the boy disarm'd, with loosen'd reins, +Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains, +Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg'd around: +The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound, +With tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground. +Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe, +To Pallas' fane in long procession go, +In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe. +They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair, +And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear; +But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r. +Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew +The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew. +Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold, +The lifeless body of his son is sold. +So sad an object, and so well express'd, +Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast, +To see the figure of his lifeless friend, +And his old sire his helpless hand extend. +Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train, +Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain; +And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew, +His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew. +Penthisilea there, with haughty grace, +Leads to the wars an Amazonian race: +In their right hands a pointed dart they wield; +The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield. +Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws, +Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes, +And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose. + +Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes, +Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise, +The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train +And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane. +Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height, +Diana seems; and so she charms the sight, +When in the dance the graceful goddess leads +The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads: +Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien, +She walks majestic, and she looks their queen; +Latona sees her shine above the rest, +And feeds with secret joy her silent breast. +Such Dido was; with such becoming state, +Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great. +Their labor to her future sway she speeds, +And passing with a gracious glance proceeds; +Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine: +In crowds around, the swarming people join. +She takes petitions, and dispenses laws, +Hears and determines ev'ry private cause; +Their tasks in equal portions she divides, +And, where unequal, there by lots decides. +Another way by chance Aeneas bends +His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends, +Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong, +And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng, +Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd, +And widely scatter'd on another coast. +The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands, +And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands; +But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays, +And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys, +Impatient till they told their present state, +And where they left their ships, and what their fate, +And why they came, and what was their request; +For these were sent, commission'd by the rest, +To sue for leave to land their sickly men, +And gain admission to the gracious queen. +Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane; +Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began: + +"O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods +To found an empire in these new abodes, +To build a town, with statutes to restrain +The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign, +We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore, +From sea to sea, thy clemency implore. +Forbid the fires our shipping to deface! +Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace, +And spare the remnant of a pious race! +We come not with design of wasteful prey, +To drive the country, force the swains away: +Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire; +The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire. +A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old; +The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold- +Th' Oenotrians held it once- by common fame +Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. +To that sweet region was our voyage bent, +When winds and ev'ry warring element +Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land, +Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand: +The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar, +Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore. +Those few you see escap'd the Storm, and fear, +Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here. +What men, what monsters, what inhuman race, +What laws, what barb'rous customs of the place, +Shut up a desart shore to drowning men, +And drive us to the cruel seas again? +If our hard fortune no compassion draws, +Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws, +The gods are just, and will revenge our cause. +Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord, +Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword; +Observant of the right, religious of his word. +If yet he lives, and draws this vital air, +Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair; +Nor you, great queen, these offices repent, +Which he will equal, and perhaps augment. +We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts, +Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts. +Permit our ships a shelter on your shores, +Refitted from your woods with planks and oars, +That, if our prince be safe, we may renew +Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue. +But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain +That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main, +And if our young Iulus be no more, +Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore, +That we to good Acestes may return, +And with our friends our common losses mourn." +Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew +With cries and clamors his request renew. + +The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes, +Ponder'd the speech; then briefly thus replies: +"Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate, +And doubts attending an unsettled state, +Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes. +Who has not heard the story of your woes, +The name and fortune of your native place, +The fame and valor of the Phrygian race? +We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense, +Nor so remote from Phoebus' influence. +Whether to Latian shores your course is bent, +Or, driv'n by tempests from your first intent, +You seek the good Acestes' government, +Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd, +And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard: +Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs +To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs, +My wealth, my city, and myself are yours. +And would to Heav'n, the Storm, you felt, would bring +On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king. +My people shall, by my command, explore +The ports and creeks of ev'ry winding shore, +And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest +Of so renown'd and so desir'd a guest." + +Rais'd in his mind the Trojan hero stood, +And long'd to break from out his ambient cloud: +Achates found it, and thus urg'd his way: +"From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay? +What more can you desire, your welcome sure, +Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure? +One only wants; and him we saw in vain +Oppose the Storm, and swallow'd in the main. +Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid; +The rest agrees with what your mother said." +Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way, +The mists flew upward and dissolv'd in day. + +The Trojan chief appear'd in open sight, +August in visage, and serenely bright. +His mother goddess, with her hands divine, +Had form'd his curling locks, and made his temples shine, +And giv'n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace, +And breath'd a youthful vigor on his face; +Like polish'd ivory, beauteous to behold, +Or Parian marble, when enchas'd in gold: +Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke, +And thus with manly modesty he spoke: + +"He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss'd, +And sav'd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast; +Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne, +A prince that owes his life to you alone. +Fair majesty, the refuge and redress +Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress, +You, who your pious offices employ +To save the relics of abandon'd Troy; +Receive the shipwreck'd on your friendly shore, +With hospitable rites relieve the poor; +Associate in your town a wand'ring train, +And strangers in your palace entertain: +What thanks can wretched fugitives return, +Who, scatter'd thro' the world, in exile mourn? +The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin'd; +If acts of mercy touch their heav'nly mind, +And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart. +Conscious of worth, requite its own desert! +In you this age is happy, and this earth, +And parents more than mortal gave you birth. +While rolling rivers into seas shall run, +And round the space of heav'n the radiant sun; +While trees the mountain tops with shades supply, +Your honor, name, and praise shall never die. +Whate'er abode my fortune has assign'd, +Your image shall be present in my mind." +Thus having said, he turn'd with pious haste, +And joyful his expecting friends embrac'd: +With his right hand Ilioneus was grac'd, +Serestus with his left; then to his breast +Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press'd; +And so by turns descended to the rest. + +The Tyrian queen stood fix'd upon his face, +Pleas'd with his motions, ravish'd with his grace; +Admir'd his fortunes, more admir'd the man; +Then recollected stood, and thus began: +"What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow'rs +Have cast you shipwrack'd on our barren shores? +Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame, +Who from celestial seed your lineage claim? + +The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore +To fam'd Anchises on th' Idaean shore? +It calls into my mind, tho' then a child, +When Teucer came, from Salamis exil'd, +And sought my father's aid, to be restor'd: +My father Belus then with fire and sword +Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare, +And, conqu'ring, finish'd the successful war. +From him the Trojan siege I understood, +The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood. +Your foe himself the Dardan valor prais'd, +And his own ancestry from Trojans rais'd. +Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find, +If not a costly welcome, yet a kind: +For I myself, like you, have been distress'd, +Till Heav'n afforded me this place of rest; +Like you, an alien in a land unknown, +I learn to pity woes so like my own." +She said, and to the palace led her guest; +Then offer'd incense, and proclaim'd a feast. +Nor yet less careful for her absent friends, +Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends; +Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs, +With bleating cries, attend their milky dams; +And jars of gen'rous wine and spacious bowls +She gives, to cheer the sailors' drooping souls. +Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls, +And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls: +On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine; +With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine, +And antique vases, all of gold emboss'd +(The gold itself inferior to the cost), +Of curious work, where on the sides were seen +The fights and figures of illustrious men, +From their first founder to the present queen. + +The good Aeneas, paternal care +Iulus' absence could no longer bear, +Dispatch'd Achates to the ships in haste, +To give a glad relation of the past, +And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy, +Snatch'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy: +A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire; +An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire, +From Argos by the fam'd adultress brought, +With golden flow'rs and winding foliage wrought, +Her mother Leda's present, when she came +To ruin Troy and set the world on flame; +The scepter Priam's eldest daughter bore, +Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore +Of double texture, glorious to behold, +One order set with gems, and one with gold. +Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes, +And in his diligence his duty shows. + +But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs, +New counsels tries, and new designs prepares: +That Cupid should assume the shape and face +Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace; +Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead, +And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed: +For much she fear'd the Tyrians, double-tongued, +And knew the town to Juno's care belong'd. +These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke, +And thus alarm'd, to winged Love she spoke: +"My son, my strength, whose mighty pow'r alone +Controls the Thund'rer on his awful throne, +To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies, +And on thy succor and thy faith relies. +Thou know'st, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife, +By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life; +And often hast thou mourn'd with me his pains. +Him Dido now with blandishment detains; +But I suspect the town where Juno reigns. +For this 't is needful to prevent her art, +And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart: +A love so violent, so strong, so sure, +As neither age can change, nor art can cure. +How this may be perform'd, now take my mind: +Ascanius by his father is design'd +To come, with presents laden, from the port, +To gratify the queen, and gain the court. +I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep, +And, ravish'd, in Idalian bow'rs to keep, +Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit +May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat. +Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace +But only for a night's revolving space: +Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face; +That when, amidst the fervor of the feast, +The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast, +And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains, +Thou may'st infuse thy venom in her veins." +The God of Love obeys, and sets aside +His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride; +He walks Iulus in his mother's sight, +And in the sweet resemblance takes delight. + +The goddess then to young Ascanius flies, +And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes: +Lull'd in her lap, amidst a train of Loves, +She gently bears him to her blissful groves, +Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head, +And softly lays him on a flow'ry bed. +Cupid meantime assum'd his form and face, +Foll'wing Achates with a shorter pace, +And brought the gifts. The queen already sate +Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state, +High on a golden bed: her princely guest +Was next her side; in order sate the rest. +Then canisters with bread are heap'd on high; +Th' attendants water for their hands supply, +And, having wash'd, with silken towels dry. +Next fifty handmaids in long order bore +The censers, and with fumes the gods adore: +Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join +To place the dishes, and to serve the wine. +The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast, +Approach, and on the painted couches rest. +All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze, +But view the beauteous boy with more amaze, +His rosy-color'd cheeks, his radiant eyes, +His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's disguise; +Nor pass unprais'd the vest and veil divine, +Which wand'ring foliage and rich flow'rs entwine. +But, far above the rest, the royal dame, +(Already doom'd to love's disastrous flame,) +With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy, +Beholds the presents, and admires the boy. +The guileful god about the hero long, +With children's play, and false embraces, hung; +Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms +With greedy pleasure, and devour'd his charms. +Unhappy Dido little thought what guest, +How dire a god, she drew so near her breast; +But he, not mindless of his mother's pray'r, +Works in the pliant bosom of the fair, +And molds her heart anew, and blots her former care. +The dead is to the living love resign'd; +And all Aeneas enters in her mind. + +Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas'd, +The meat remov'd, and ev'ry guest was pleas'd, +The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown'd, +And thro' the palace cheerful cries resound. +From gilded roofs depending lamps display +Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day. +A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine, +The queen commanded to be crown'd with wine: +The bowl that Belus us'd, and all the Tyrian line. +Then, silence thro' the hall proclaim'd, she spoke: +"O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke, +With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow'r; +Bless to both nations this auspicious hour! +So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line +In lasting concord from this day combine. +Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer, +And gracious Juno, both be present here! +And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address +To Heav'n with mine, to ratify the peace." +The goblet then she took, with nectar crown'd +(Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,) +And rais'd it to her mouth with sober grace; +Then, sipping, offer'd to the next in place. +'T was Bitias whom she call'd, a thirsty soul; +He took challenge, and embrac'd the bowl, +With pleasure swill'd the gold, nor ceas'd to draw, +Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw. +The goblet goes around: Iopas brought +His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught: +The various labors of the wand'ring moon, +And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun; +Th' original of men and beasts; and whence +The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense, +And fix'd and erring stars dispose their influence; +What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays +The summer nights and shortens winter days. +With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song: +Those peals are echo'd by the Trojan throng. +Th' unhappy queen with talk prolong'd the night, +And drank large draughts of love with vast delight; +Of Priam much enquir'd, of Hector more; +Then ask'd what arms the swarthy Memnon wore, +What troops he landed on the Trojan shore; +The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse, +And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force; +At length, as fate and her ill stars requir'd, +To hear the series of the war desir'd. +"Relate at large, my godlike guest," she said, +"The Grecian stratagems, the town betray'd: +The fatal issue of so long a war, +Your flight, your wand'rings, and your woes, declare; +For, since on ev'ry sea, on ev'ry coast, +Your men have been distress'd, your navy toss'd, +Sev'n times the sun has either tropic view'd, +The winter banish'd, and the spring renew'd." +BOOK II + +All were attentive to the godlike man, +When from his lofty couch he thus began: +"Great queen, what you command me to relate +Renews the sad remembrance of our fate: +An empire from its old foundations rent, +And ev'ry woe the Trojans underwent; +A peopled city made a desart place; +All that I saw, and part of which I was: +Not ev'n the hardest of our foes could hear, +Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. +And now the latter watch of wasting night, +And setting stars, to kindly rest invite; +But, since you take such int'rest in our woe, +And Troy's disastrous end desire to know, +I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell +What in our last and fatal night befell. + +"By destiny compell'd, and in despair, +The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, +And by Minerva's aid a fabric rear'd, +Which like a steed of monstrous height appear'd: +The sides were plank'd with pine; they feign'd it made +For their return, and this the vow they paid. +Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side +Selected numbers of their soldiers hide: +With inward arms the dire machine they load, +And iron bowels stuff the dark abode. +In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle +(While Fortune did on Priam's empire smile) +Renown'd for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay, +Where ships expos'd to wind and weather lay. +There was their fleet conceal'd. We thought, for Greece +Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release. +The Trojans, coop'd within their walls so long, +Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng, +Like swarming bees, and with delight survey +The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay: +The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they show'd; +Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode; +Here join'd the battles; there the navy rode. +Part on the pile their wond'ring eyes employ: +The pile by Pallas rais'd to ruin Troy. +Thymoetes first ('t is doubtful whether hir'd, +Or so the Trojan destiny requir'd) +Mov'd that the ramparts might be broken down, +To lodge the monster fabric in the town. +But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind, +The fatal present to the flames designed, +Or to the wat'ry deep; at least to bore +The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore. +The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, +With noise say nothing, and in parts divide. +Laocoon, follow'd by a num'rous crowd, +Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud: +'O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns? +What more than madness has possess'd your brains? +Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone? +And are Ulysses' arts no better known? +This hollow fabric either must inclose, +Within its blind recess, our secret foes; +Or 't is an engine rais'd above the town, +T' o'erlook the walls, and then to batter down. +Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force: +Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.' +Thus having said, against the steed he threw +His forceful spear, which, hissing as flew, +Pierc'd thro' the yielding planks of jointed wood, +And trembling in the hollow belly stood. +The sides, transpierc'd, return a rattling sound, +And groans of Greeks inclos'd come issuing thro' the wound +And, had not Heav'n the fall of Troy design'd, +Or had not men been fated to be blind, +Enough was said and done t'inspire a better mind. +Then had our lances pierc'd the treach'rous wood, +And Ilian tow'rs and Priam's empire stood. +Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring +A captive Greek, in bands, before the king; +Taken to take; who made himself their prey, +T' impose on their belief, and Troy betray; +Fix'd on his aim, and obstinately bent +To die undaunted, or to circumvent. +About the captive, tides of Trojans flow; +All press to see, and some insult the foe. +Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd; +Behold a nation in a man compris'd. +Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm'd and bound; +He star'd, and roll'd his haggard eyes around, +Then said: 'Alas! what earth remains, what sea +Is open to receive unhappy me? +What fate a wretched fugitive attends, +Scorn'd by my foes, abandon'd by my friends?' +He said, and sigh'd, and cast a rueful eye: +Our pity kindles, and our passions die. +We cheer youth to make his own defense, +And freely tell us what he was, and whence: +What news he could impart, we long to know, +And what to credit from a captive foe. + +"His fear at length dismiss'd, he said: 'Whate'er +My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere: +I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim; +Greece is my country, Sinon is my name. +Tho' plung'd by Fortune's pow'r in misery, +'T is not in Fortune's pow'r to make me lie. +If any chance has hither brought the name +Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame, +Who suffer'd from the malice of the times, +Accus'd and sentenc'd for pretended crimes, +Because these fatal wars he would prevent; +Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament- +Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare +Of other means, committed to his care, +His kinsman and companion in the war. +While Fortune favor'd, while his arms support +The cause, and rul'd the counsels, of the court, +I made some figure there; nor was my name +Obscure, nor I without my share of fame. +But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts, +Had made impression in the people's hearts, +And forg'd a treason in my patron's name +(I speak of things too far divulg'd by fame), +My kinsman fell. Then I, without support, +In private mourn'd his loss, and left the court. +Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate +With silent grief, but loudly blam'd the state, +And curs'd the direful author of my woes. +'T was told again; and hence my ruin rose. +I threaten'd, if indulgent Heav'n once more +Would land me safely on my native shore, +His death with double vengeance to restore. +This mov'd the murderer's hate; and soon ensued +Th' effects of malice from a man so proud. +Ambiguous rumors thro' the camp he spread, +And sought, by treason, my devoted head; +New crimes invented; left unturn'd no stone, +To make my guilt appear, and hide his own; +Till Calchas was by force and threat'ning wrought- +But why- why dwell I on that anxious thought? +If on my nation just revenge you seek, +And 't is t' appear a foe, t' appear a Greek; +Already you my name and country know; +Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow: +My death will both the kingly brothers please, +And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.' +This fair unfinish'd tale, these broken starts, +Rais'd expectations in our longing hearts: +Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts. +His former trembling once again renew'd, +With acted fear, the villain thus pursued: + +"'Long had the Grecians (tir'd with fruitless care, +And wearied with an unsuccessful war) +Resolv'd to raise the siege, and leave the town; +And, had the gods permitted, they had gone; +But oft the wintry seas and southern winds +Withstood their passage home, and chang'd their minds. +Portents and prodigies their souls amaz'd; +But most, when this stupendous pile was rais'd: +Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen, +And thunders rattled thro' a sky serene. +Dismay'd, and fearful of some dire event, +Eurypylus t' enquire their fate was sent. +He from the gods this dreadful answer brought: + +"O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought, +Your passage with a virgin's blood was bought: +So must your safe return be bought again, +And Grecian blood once more atone the main." +The spreading rumor round the people ran; +All fear'd, and each believ'd himself the man. +Ulysses took th' advantage of their fright; +Call'd Calchas, and produc'd in open sight: +Then bade him name the wretch, ordain'd by fate +The public victim, to redeem the state. +Already some presag'd the dire event, +And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant. +For twice five days the good old seer withstood +Th' intended treason, and was dumb to blood, +Till, tir'd, with endless clamors and pursuit +Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; +But, as it was agreed, pronounc'd that I +Was destin'd by the wrathful gods to die. +All prais'd the sentence, pleas'd the storm should fall +On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all. +The dismal day was come; the priests prepare +Their leaven'd cakes, and fillets for my hair. +I follow'd nature's laws, and must avow +I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow. +Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay, +Secure of safety when they sail'd away. +But now what further hopes for me remain, +To see my friends, or native soil, again; +My tender infants, or my careful sire, +Whom they returning will to death require; +Will perpetrate on them their first design, +And take the forfeit of their heads for mine? +Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move, +If there be faith below, or gods above, +If innocence and truth can claim desert, +Ye Trojans, from an injur'd wretch avert.' + +"False tears true pity move; the king commands +To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands: +Then adds these friendly words: 'Dismiss thy fears; +Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs. +But truly tell, was it for force or guile, +Or some religious end, you rais'd the pile?' +Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts, +This well-invented tale for truth imparts: +'Ye lamps of heav'n!' he said, and lifted high +His hands now free, 'thou venerable sky! +Inviolable pow'rs, ador'd with dread! +Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head! +Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled! +Be all of you adjur'd; and grant I may, +Without a crime, th' ungrateful Greeks betray, +Reveal the secrets of the guilty state, +And justly punish whom I justly hate! +But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave, +If I, to save myself, your empire save. +The Grecian hopes, and all th' attempts they made, +Were only founded on Minerva's aid. +But from the time when impious Diomede, +And false Ulysses, that inventive head, +Her fatal image from the temple drew, +The sleeping guardians of the castle slew, +Her virgin statue with their bloody hands +Polluted, and profan'd her holy bands; +From thence the tide of fortune left their shore, +And ebb'd much faster than it flow'd before: +Their courage languish'd, as their hopes decay'd; +And Pallas, now averse, refus'd her aid. +Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare +Her alter'd mind and alienated care. +When first her fatal image touch'd the ground, +She sternly cast her glaring eyes around, +That sparkled as they roll'd, and seem'd to threat: +Her heav'nly limbs distill'd a briny sweat. +Thrice from the ground she leap'd, was seen to wield +Her brandish'd lance, and shake her horrid shield. +Then Calchas bade our host for flight +And hope no conquest from the tedious war, +Till first they sail'd for Greece; with pray'rs besought +Her injur'd pow'r, and better omens brought. +And now their navy plows the wat'ry main, +Yet soon expect it on your shores again, +With Pallas pleas'd; as Calchas did ordain. +But first, to reconcile the blue-ey'd maid +For her stol'n statue and her tow'r betray'd, +Warn'd by the seer, to her offended name +We rais'd and dedicate this wondrous frame, +So lofty, lest thro' your forbidden gates +It pass, and intercept our better fates: +For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost; +And Troy may then a new Palladium boast; +For so religion and the gods ordain, +That, if you violate with hands profane +Minerva's gift, your town in flames shall burn, +(Which omen, O ye gods, on Graecia turn!) +But if it climb, with your assisting hands, +The Trojan walls, and in the city stands; +Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn, +And the reverse of fate on us return.' + +"With such deceits he gain'd their easy hearts, +Too prone to credit his perfidious arts. +What Diomede, nor Thetis' greater son, +A thousand ships, nor ten years' siege, had done- +False tears and fawning words the city won. + +"A greater omen, and of worse portent, +Did our unwary minds with fear torment, +Concurring to produce the dire event. +Laocoon, Neptune's priest by lot that year, +With solemn pomp then sacrific'd a steer; +When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied +Two serpents, rank'd abreast, the seas divide, +And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide. +Their flaming crests above the waves they show; +Their bellies seem to burn the seas below; +Their speckled tails advance to steer their course, +And on the sounding shore the flying billows force. +And now the strand, and now the plain they held; +Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill'd; +Their nimble tongues they brandish'd as they came, +And lick'd their hissing jaws, that sputter'd flame. +We fled amaz'd; their destin'd way they take, +And to Laocoon and his children make; +And first around the tender boys they wind, +Then with their sharpen'd fangs their limbs and bodies grind. +The wretched father, running to their aid +With pious haste, but vain, they next invade; +Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll'd; +And twice about his gasping throat they fold. +The priest thus doubly chok'd, their crests divide, +And tow'ring o'er his head in triumph ride. +With both his hands he labors at the knots; +His holy fillets the blue venom blots; +His roaring fills the flitting air around. +Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound, +He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies, +And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies. +Their tasks perform'd, the serpents quit their prey, +And to the tow'r of Pallas make their way: +Couch'd at her feet, they lie protected there +By her large buckler and protended spear. +Amazement seizes all; the gen'ral cry +Proclaims Laocoon justly doom'd to die, +Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood, +And dared to violate the sacred wood. +All vote t' admit the steed, that vows be paid +And incense offer'd to th' offended maid. +A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare; +Some hoisting-levers, some the wheels prepare +And fasten to the horse's feet; the rest +With cables haul along th' unwieldly beast. +Each on his fellow for assistance calls; +At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls, +Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown'd, +And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around. +Thus rais'd aloft, and then descending down, +It enters o'er our heads, and threats the town. +O sacred city, built by hands divine! +O valiant heroes of the Trojan line! +Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound +Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound. +Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate, +We haul along the horse in solemn state; +Then place the dire portent within the tow'r. +Cassandra cried, and curs'd th' unhappy hour; +Foretold our fate; but, by the god's decree, +All heard, and none believ'd the prophecy. +With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste, +In jollity, the day ordain'd to be the last. +Meantime the rapid heav'ns roll'd down the light, +And on the shaded ocean rush'd the night; +Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held, +But easy sleep their weary limbs compell'd. +The Grecians had embark'd their naval pow'rs +From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores, +Safe under covert of the silent night, +And guided by th' imperial galley's light; +When Sinon, favor'd by the partial gods, +Unlock'd the horse, and op'd his dark abodes; +Restor'd to vital air our hidden foes, +Who joyful from their long confinement rose. +Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide, +And dire Ulysses down the cable slide: +Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste; +Nor was the Podalirian hero last, +Nor injur'd Menelaus, nor the fam'd +Epeus, who the fatal engine fram'd. +A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join +T' invade the town, oppress'd with sleep and wine. +Those few they find awake first meet their fate; +Then to their fellows they unbar the gate. + +"'T was in the dead of night, when sleep repairs +Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares, +When Hector's ghost before my sight appears: +A bloody shroud he seem'd, and bath'd in tears; +Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain, +Thessalian coursers dragg'd him o'er the plain. +Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust +Thro' the bor'd holes; his body black with dust; +Unlike that Hector who return'd from toils +Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils, +Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire, +And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire. +His hair and beard stood stiffen'd with his gore; +And all the wounds he for his country bore +Now stream'd afresh, and with new purple ran. +I wept to see the visionary man, +And, while my trance continued, thus began: +'O light of Trojans, and support of Troy, +Thy father's champion, and thy country's joy! +O, long expected by thy friends! from whence +Art thou so late return'd for our defense? +Do we behold thee, wearied as we are +With length of labors, and with toils of war? +After so many fun'rals of thy own +Art thou restor'd to thy declining town? +But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace +Deforms the manly features of thy face?' + +"To this the specter no reply did frame, +But answer'd to the cause for which he came, +And, groaning from the bottom of his breast, +This warning in these mournful words express'd: +'O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight, +The flames and horrors of this fatal night. +The foes already have possess'd the wall; +Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall. +Enough is paid to Priam's royal name, +More than enough to duty and to fame. +If by a mortal hand my father's throne +Could be defended, 't was by mine alone. +Now Troy to thee commends her future state, +And gives her gods companions of thy fate: +From their assistance walls expect, +Which, wand'ring long, at last thou shalt erect.' +He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes, +The venerable statues of the gods, +With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir, +The wreaths and relics of th' immortal fire. + +"Now peals of shouts come thund'ring from afar, +Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war: +The noise approaches, tho' our palace stood +Aloof from streets, encompass'd with a wood. +Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th' alarms +Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms. +Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay, +But mount the terrace, thence the town survey, +And hearken what the frightful sounds convey. +Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne, +Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn; +Or deluges, descending on the plains, +Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains +Of lab'ring oxen and the peasant's gains; +Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away +Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish'd prey: +The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far +The wasteful ravage of the wat'ry war. +Then Hector's faith was manifestly clear'd, +And Grecian frauds in open light appear'd. +The palace of Deiphobus ascends +In smoky flames, and catches on his friends. +Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright +With splendor not their own, and shine with Trojan light. +New clamors and new clangors now arise, +The sound of trumpets mix'd with fighting cries. +With frenzy seiz'd, I run to meet th' alarms, +Resolv'd on death, resolv'd to die in arms, +But first to gather friends, with them t' oppose +(If fortune favor'd) and repel the foes; +Spurr'd by my courage, by my country fir'd, +With sense of honor and revenge inspir'd. + +"Pantheus, Apollo's priest, a sacred name, +Had scap'd the Grecian swords, and pass'd the flame: +With relics loaden. to my doors he fled, +And by the hand his tender grandson led. +'What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run? +Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?' +Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan: +'Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town! +The fatal day, th' appointed hour, is come, +When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom +Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands. +The fire consumes the town, the foe commands; +And armed hosts, an unexpected force, +Break from the bowels of the fatal horse. +Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about +The flames; and foes for entrance press without, +With thousand others, whom I fear to name, +More than from Argos or Mycenae came. +To sev'ral posts their parties they divide; +Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide: +The bold they kill, th' unwary they surprise; +Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies. +The warders of the gate but scarce maintain +Th' unequal combat, and resist in vain.' + +"I heard; and Heav'n, that well-born souls inspires, +Prompts me thro' lifted swords and rising fires +To run where clashing arms and clamor calls, +And rush undaunted to defend the walls. +Ripheus and Iph'itus by my side engage, +For valor one renown'd, and one for age. +Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew +My motions and my mien, and to my party drew; +With young Coroebus, who by love was led +To win renown and fair Cassandra's bed, +And lately brought his troops to Priam's aid, +Forewarn'd in vain by the prophetic maid. +Whom when I saw resolv'd in arms to fall, +And that one spirit animated all: +'Brave souls!' said I,- 'but brave, alas! in vain- +Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain. +You see the desp'rate state of our affairs, +And heav'n's protecting pow'rs are deaf to pray'rs. +The passive gods behold the Greeks defile +Their temples, and abandon to the spoil +Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire +To save a sinking town, involv'd in fire. +Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes: +Despair of life the means of living shows.' +So bold a speech incourag'd their desire +Of death, and added fuel to their fire. + +"As hungry wolves, with raging appetite, +Scour thro' the fields, nor fear the stormy night- +Their whelps at home expect the promis'd food, +And long to temper their dry chaps in blood- +So rush'd we forth at once; resolv'd to die, +Resolv'd, in death, the last extremes to try. +We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare +Th' unequal combat in the public square: +Night was our friend; our leader was despair. +What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night? +What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright? +An ancient and imperial city falls: +The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals; +Houses and holy temples float in blood, +And hostile nations make a common flood. +Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn, +The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors mourn. +Ours take new courage from despair and night: +Confus'd the fortune is, confus'd the fight. +All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears; +And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears. +Androgeos fell among us, with his band, +Who thought us Grecians newly come to land. +'From whence,' said he, 'my friends, this long delay? +You loiter, while the spoils are borne away: +Our ships are laden with the Trojan store; +And you, like truants, come too late ashore.' +He said, but soon corrected his mistake, +Found, by the doubtful answers which we make: +Amaz'd, he would have shunn'd th' unequal fight; +But we, more num'rous, intercept his flight. +As when some peasant, in a bushy brake, +Has with unwary footing press'd a snake; +He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies +His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes; +So from our arms surpris'd Androgeos flies. +In vain; for him and his we compass'd round, +Possess'd with fear, unknowing of the ground, +And of their lives an easy conquest found. +Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil'd. +Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil'd, +Swoln with success, and a daring mind, +This new invention fatally design'd. +'My friends,' said he, 'since Fortune shows the way, +'T is fit we should th' auspicious guide obey. +For what has she these Grecian arms bestow'd, +But their destruction, and the Trojans' good? +Then change we shields, and their devices bear: +Let fraud supply the want of force in war. +They find us arms.' This said, himself he dress'd +In dead Androgeos' spoils, his upper vest, +His painted buckler, and his plumy crest. +Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train, +Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain. +Mix'd with the Greeks, we go with ill presage, +Flatter'd with hopes to glut our greedy rage; +Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet, +And strew with Grecian carcasses the street. +Thus while their straggling parties we defeat, +Some to the shore and safer ships retreat; +And some, oppress'd with more ignoble fear, +Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there. + +"But, ah! what use of valor can be made, +When heav'n's propitious pow'rs refuse their aid! +Behold the royal prophetess, the fair +Cassandra, dragg'd by her dishevel'd hair, +Whom not Minerva's shrine, nor sacred bands, +In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands: +On heav'n she cast her eyes, she sigh'd, she cried- +'T was all she could- her tender arms were tied. +So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear; +But, fir'd with rage, distracted with despair, +Amid the barb'rous ravishers he flew: +Our leader's rash example we pursue. +But storms of stones, from the proud temple's height, +Pour down, and on our batter'd helms alight: +We from our friends receiv'd this fatal blow, +Who thought us Grecians, as we seem'd in show. +They aim at the mistaken crests, from high; +And ours beneath the pond'rous ruin lie. +Then, mov'd with anger and disdain, to see +Their troops dispers'd, the royal virgin free, +The Grecians rally, and their pow'rs unite, +With fury charge us, and renew the fight. +The brother kings with Ajax join their force, +And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse. + +"Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try, +Contending for the kingdom of the sky, +South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne; +The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn: +Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise, +And, mix'd with ooze and sand, pollute the skies. +The troops we squander'd first again appear +From several quarters, and enclose the rear. +They first observe, and to the rest betray, +Our diff'rent speech; our borrow'd arms survey. +Oppress'd with odds, we fall; Coroebus first, +At Pallas' altar, by Peneleus pierc'd. +Then Ripheus follow'd, in th' unequal fight; +Just of his word, observant of the right: +Heav'n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends, +With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends. +Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy miter, nor the bands +Of awful Phoebus, sav'd from impious hands. +Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear, +What I perform'd, and what I suffer'd there; +No sword avoiding in the fatal strife, +Expos'd to death, and prodigal of life; +Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault: +I strove to have deserv'd the death I sought. +But, when I could not fight, and would have died, +Borne off to distance by the growing tide, +Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence, +With Pelias wounded, and without defense. +New clamors from th' invested palace ring: +We run to die, or disengage the king. +So hot th' assault, so high the tumult rose, +While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose +As all the Dardan and Argolic race +Had been contracted in that narrow space; +Or as all Ilium else were void of fear, +And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there. +Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes, +Secure advancing, to the turrets rose: +Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold, +Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold; +Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th' ascent, +While with their right they seize the battlement. +From their demolish'd tow'rs the Trojans throw +Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe; +And heavy beams and rafters from the sides +(Such arms their last necessity provides) +And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high, +The marks of state and ancient royalty. +The guards below, fix'd in the pass, attend +The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. +Renew'd in courage with recover'd breath, +A second time we ran to tempt our death, +To clear the palace from the foe, succeed +The weary living, and revenge the dead. + +"A postern door, yet unobserv'd and free, +Join'd by the length of a blind gallery, +To the king's closet led: a way well known +To Hector's wife, while Priam held the throne, +Thro' which she brought Astyanax, unseen, +To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire's queen. +Thro' this we pass, and mount the tow'r, from whence +With unavailing arms the Trojans make defense. +From this the trembling king had oft descried +The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride. +Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew, +Then, wrenching with our hands, th' assault renew; +And, where the rafters on the columns meet, +We push them headlong with our arms and feet. +The lightning flies not swifter than the fall, +Nor thunder louder than the ruin'd wall: +Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath +Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death. +Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent; +We cease not from above, nor they below relent. +Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat'ning loud, +With glitt'ring arms conspicuous in the crowd. +So shines, renew'd in youth, the crested snake, +Who slept the winter in a thorny brake, +And, casting off his slough when spring returns, +Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns; +Restor'd with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides +Reflect the sun; and rais'd on spires he rides; +High o'er the grass, hissing he rolls along, +And brandishes by fits his forky tongue. +Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon, +His father's charioteer, together run +To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry +Rush on in crowds, and the barr'd passage free. +Ent'ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend; +And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend. +Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows, +And with his ax repeated strokes bestows +On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply, +Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly. +He hews apace; the double bars at length +Yield to his ax and unresisted strength. +A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal'd +Appear, and all the palace is reveal'd; +The halls of audience, and of public state, +And where the lonely queen in secret sate. +Arm'd soldiers now by trembling maids are seen, +With not a door, and scarce a space, between. +The house is fill'd with loud laments and cries, +And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies; +The fearful matrons run from place to place, +And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace. +The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies, +And all his father sparkles in his eyes; +Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain: +The bars are broken, and the guards are slain. +In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill; +Those few defendants whom they find, they kill. +Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood +Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood; +Bears down the dams with unresisted sway, +And sweeps the cattle and the cots away. +These eyes beheld him when he march'd between +The brother kings: I saw th' unhappy queen, +The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood, +To stain his hallow'd altar with his brood. +The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he, +So large a promise, of a progeny), +The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils, +Fell the reward of the proud victor's toils. +Where'er the raging fire had left a space, +The Grecians enter and possess the place. + +"Perhaps you may of Priam's fate enquire. +He, when he saw his regal town on fire, +His ruin'd palace, and his ent'ring foes, +On ev'ry side inevitable woes, +In arms, disus'd, invests his limbs, decay'd, +Like them, with age; a late and useless aid. +His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain; +Loaded, not arm'd, he creeps along with pain, +Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain! +Uncover'd but by heav'n, there stood in view +An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew, +Dodder'd with age, whose boughs encompass round +The household gods, and shade the holy ground. +Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train +Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain. +Driv'n like a flock of doves along the sky, +Their images they hug, and to their altars fly. +The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord, +And hanging by his side a heavy sword, +'What rage,' she cried, 'has seiz'd my husband's mind? +What arms are these, and to what use design'd? +These times want other aids! Were Hector here, +Ev'n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear. +With us, one common shelter thou shalt find, +Or in one common fate with us be join'd.' +She said, and with a last salute embrac'd +The poor old man, and by the laurel plac'd. +Behold! Polites, one of Priam's sons, +Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs. +Thro' swords and foes, amaz'd and hurt, he flies +Thro' empty courts and open galleries. +Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues, +And often reaches, and his thrusts renews. +The youth, transfix'd, with lamentable cries, +Expires before his wretched parent's eyes: +Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw, +The fear of death gave place to nature's law; +And, shaking more with anger than with age, +'The gods,' said he, 'requite thy brutal rage! +As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must, +If there be gods in heav'n, and gods be just- +Who tak'st in wrongs an insolent delight; +With a son's death t' infect a father's sight. +Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire +To call thee his- not he, thy vaunted sire, +Thus us'd my wretched age: the gods he fear'd, +The laws of nature and of nations heard. +He cheer'd my sorrows, and, for sums of gold, +The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold; +Pitied the woes a parent underwent, +And sent me back in safety from his tent.' + +"This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw, +Which, flutt'ring, seem'd to loiter as it flew: +Just, and but barely, to the mark it held, +And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield. + +"Then Pyrrhus thus: 'Go thou from me to fate, +And to my father my foul deeds relate. +Now die!' With that he dragg'd the trembling sire, +Slidd'ring thro' clotter'd blood and holy mire, +(The mingled paste his murder'd son had made,) +Haul'd from beneath the violated shade, +And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid. +His right hand held his bloody falchion bare, +His left he twisted in his hoary hair; +Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found: +The lukewarm blood came rushing thro' the wound, +And sanguine streams distain'd the sacred ground. +Thus Priam fell, and shar'd one common fate +With Troy in ashes, and his ruin'd state: +He, who the scepter of all Asia sway'd, +Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey'd. +On the bleak shore now lies th' abandon'd king, +A headless carcass, and a nameless thing. + +"Then, not before, I felt my cruddled blood +Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood: +My father's image fill'd my pious mind, +Lest equal years might equal fortune find. +Again I thought on my forsaken wife, +And trembled for my son's abandon'd life. +I look'd about, but found myself alone, +Deserted at my need! My friends were gone. +Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress'd, +Leap'd headlong from the heights; the flames consum'd the rest. +Thus, wand'ring in my way, without a guide, +The graceless Helen in the porch I spied +Of Vesta's temple; there she lurk'd alone; +Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown: +But, by the flames that cast their blaze around, +That common bane of Greece and Troy I found. +For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword; +More dreads the vengeance of her injur'd lord; +Ev'n by those gods who refug'd her abhorr'd. +Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard, +Resolv'd to give her guilt the due reward: +'Shall she triumphant sail before the wind, +And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind? +Shall she her kingdom and her friends review, +In state attended with a captive crew, +While unreveng'd the good old Priam falls, +And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls? +For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood +Were swell'd with bodies, and were drunk with blood? +'T is true, a soldier can small honor gain, +And boast no conquest, from a woman slain: +Yet shall the fact not pass without applause, +Of vengeance taken in so just a cause; +The punish'd crime shall set my soul at ease, +And murm'ring manes of my friends appease.' +Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light +Spread o'er the place; and, shining heav'nly bright, +My mother stood reveal'd before my sight +Never so radiant did her eyes appear; +Not her own star confess'd a light so clear: +Great in her charms, as when on gods above +She looks, and breathes herself into their love. +She held my hand, the destin'd blow to break; +Then from her rosy lips began to speak: +'My son, from whence this madness, this neglect +Of my commands, and those whom I protect? +Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind +Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind. +Look if your helpless father yet survive, +Or if Ascanius or Creusa live. +Around your house the greedy Grecians err; +And these had perish'd in the nightly war, +But for my presence and protecting care. +Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault; +But by the gods was this destruction brought. +Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve +The mists and films that mortal eyes involve, +Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see +The shape of each avenging deity. +Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil, +Nor fear obedience to your mother's will. +Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, +Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise- +Amid that smother Neptune holds his place, +Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, +And heaves the building from the solid base. +Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands +Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands, +Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands. +See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud, +Bestrides the tow'r, refulgent thro' the cloud: +See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies, +And arms against the town the partial deities. +Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labor end: +Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend: +Haste; and a mother's care your passage shall befriend.' +She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight, +Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night. +I look'd, I listen'd; dreadful sounds I hear; +And the dire forms of hostile gods appear. +Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent), +And Ilium from its old foundations rent; +Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds, +And stood the sturdy strokes of lab'ring hinds. +About the roots the cruel ax resounds; +The stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated wounds: +The war is felt on high; the nodding crown +Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honors down. +To their united force it yields, tho' late, +And mourns with mortal groans th' approaching fate: +The roots no more their upper load sustain; +But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro' the plain. + +"Descending thence, I scape thro' foes and fire: +Before the goddess, foes and flames retire. +Arriv'd at home, he, for whose only sake, +Or most for his, such toils I undertake, +The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight, +I purpos'd to secure on Ida's height, +Refus'd the journey, resolute to die +And add his fun'rals to the fate of Troy, +Rather than exile and old age sustain. +'Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev'ry vein. +Had Heav'n decreed that I should life enjoy, +Heav'n had decreed to save unhappy Troy. +'T is, sure, enough, if not too much, for one, +Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown. +Make haste to save the poor remaining crew, +And give this useless corpse a long adieu. +These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath; +At least the pitying foes will aid my death, +To take my spoils, and leave my body bare: +As for my sepulcher, let Heav'n take care. +'T is long since I, for my celestial wife +Loath'd by the gods, have dragg'd a ling'ring life; +Since ev'ry hour and moment I expire, +Blasted from heav'n by Jove's avenging fire.' +This oft repeated, he stood fix'd to die: +Myself, my wife, my son, my family, +Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry- +'What, will he still persist, on death resolve, +And in his ruin all his house involve!' +He still persists his reasons to maintain; +Our pray'rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain. + +"Urg'd by despair, again I go to try +The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die: +'What hope remains, but what my death must give? +Can I, without so dear a father, live? +You term it prudence, what I baseness call: +Could such a word from such a parent fall? +If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain, +That nothing should of ruin'd Troy remain, +And you conspire with Fortune to be slain, +The way to death is wide, th' approaches near: +For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear, +Reeking with Priam's blood- the wretch who slew +The son (inhuman) in the father's view, +And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew. +O goddess mother, give me back to Fate; +Your gift was undesir'd, and came too late! +Did you, for this, unhappy me convey +Thro' foes and fires, to see my house a prey? +Shall I my father, wife, and son behold, +Welt'ring in blood, each other's arms infold? +Haste! gird my sword, tho' spent and overcome: +'T is the last summons to receive our doom. +I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call! +Not unreveng'd the foe shall see my fall. +Restore me to the yet unfinish'd fight: +My death is wanting to conclude the night.' +Arm'd once again, my glitt'ring sword I wield, +While th' other hand sustains my weighty shield, +And forth I rush to seek th' abandon'd field. +I went; but sad Creusa stopp'd my way, +And cross the threshold in my passage lay, +Embrac'd my knees, and, when I would have gone, +Shew'd me my feeble sire and tender son: +'If death be your design, at least,' said she, +'Take us along to share your destiny. +If any farther hopes in arms remain, +This place, these pledges of your love, maintain. +To whom do you expose your father's life, +Your son's, and mine, your now forgotten wife!' +While thus she fills the house with clam'rous cries, +Our hearing is diverted by our eyes: +For, while I held my son, in the short space +Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace; +Strange to relate, from young Iulus' head +A lambent flame arose, which gently spread +Around his brows, and on his temples fed. +Amaz'd, with running water we prepare +To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair; +But old Anchises, vers'd in omens, rear'd +His hands to heav'n, and this request preferr'd: +'If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend +Thy will; if piety can pray'rs commend, +Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas'd to send.' +Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear +A peal of rattling thunder roll in air: +There shot a streaming lamp along the sky, +Which on the winged lightning seem'd to fly; +From o'er the roof the blaze began to move, +And, trailing, vanish'd in th' Idaean grove. +It swept a path in heav'n, and shone a guide, +Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died. + +"The good old man with suppliant hands implor'd +The gods' protection, and their star ador'd. +'Now, now,' said he, 'my son, no more delay! +I yield, I follow where Heav'n shews the way. +Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place, +And guard this relic of the Trojan race, +This tender child! These omens are your own, +And you can yet restore the ruin'd town. +At least accomplish what your signs foreshow: +I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go.' + +"He said. The crackling flames appear on high. +And driving sparkles dance along the sky. +With Vulcan's rage the rising winds conspire, +And near our palace roll the flood of fire. +'Haste, my dear father, ('t is no time to wait,) +And load my shoulders with a willing freight. +Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care; +One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share. +My hand shall lead our little son; and you, +My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue. +Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands: +Without the walls a ruin'd temple stands, +To Ceres hallow'd once; a cypress nigh +Shoots up her venerable head on high, +By long religion kept; there bend your feet, +And in divided parties let us meet. +Our country gods, the relics, and the bands, +Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands: +In me 't is impious holy things to bear, +Red as I am with slaughter, new from war, +Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt +Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.' +Thus, ord'ring all that prudence could provide, +I clothe my shoulders with a lion's hide +And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back, +The welcome load of my dear father take; +While on my better hand Ascanius hung, +And with unequal paces tripp'd along. +Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray +Thro' ev'ry dark and ev'ry devious way. +I, who so bold and dauntless, just before, +The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore, +At ev'ry shadow now am seiz'd with fear, +Not for myself, but for the charge I bear; +Till, near the ruin'd gate arriv'd at last, +Secure, and deeming all the danger past, +A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear. +My father, looking thro' the shades, with fear, +Cried out: 'Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh; +Their swords and shining armor I descry.' +Some hostile god, for some unknown offense, +Had sure bereft my mind of better sense; +For, while thro' winding ways I took my flight, +And sought the shelter of the gloomy night, +Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell +If by her fatal destiny she fell, +Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright; +But she was lost for ever to my sight. +I knew not, or reflected, till I meet +My friends, at Ceres' now deserted seat. +We met: not one was wanting; only she +Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me. + +"What mad expressions did my tongue refuse! +Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse! +This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more +Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before. +Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, +Abandoning my now forgotten care, +Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, +My sire, my son, my country gods I left. +In shining armor once again I sheathe +My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death. +Then headlong to the burning walls I run, +And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun. +I tread my former tracks; thro' night explore +Each passage, ev'ry street I cross'd before. +All things were full of horror and affright, +And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night. +Then to my father's house I make repair, +With some small glimpse of hope to find her there. +Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met; +The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset. +Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire, +Thro' air transported, to the roofs aspire. +From thence to Priam's palace I resort, +And search the citadel and desart court. +Then, unobserv'd, I pass by Juno's church: +A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch; +There Phoenix and Ulysses watch prey, +And thither all the wealth of Troy convey: +The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought, +And golden bowls from burning altars caught, +The tables of the gods, the purple vests, +The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests. +A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands, +And captive matrons, in long order stands. +Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim, +Thro' all the silent street, Creusa's name: +Creusa still I call; at length she hears, +And sudden thro' the shades of night appears- +Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife, +But a pale specter, larger than the life. +Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear, +I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair. +Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief +'Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief. +Desist, my much-lov'd lord,'t indulge your pain; +You bear no more than what the gods ordain. +My fates permit me not from hence to fly; +Nor he, the great controller of the sky. +Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree; +On land hard labors, and a length of sea. +Then, after many painful years are past, +On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast, +Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds +The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds. +There end your toils; and there your fates provide +A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: +There fortune shall the Trojan line restore, +And you for lost Creusa weep no more. +Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame, +Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame; +Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace +My goddess mother, or my royal race. +And now, farewell! The parent of the gods +Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes: +I trust our common issue to your care.' +She said, and gliding pass'd unseen in air. +I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue; +And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, +And, thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung. +Light as an empty dream at break of day, +Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away. + +"Thus having pass'd the night in fruitless pain, +I to my longing friends return again, +Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold, +Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old; +A wretched exil'd crew together brought, +With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught, +Resolv'd, and willing, under my command, +To run all hazards both of sea and land. +The Morn began, from Ida, to display +Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day: +Before the gates the Grecians took their post, +And all pretense of late relief was lost. +I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire, +And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire." +BOOK III + +"When Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state +And Priam's throne, by too severe a fate; +When ruin'd Troy became the Grecians' prey, +And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay; +Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat, +To seek in foreign lands a happier seat. +Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot, +The timber of the sacred groves we cut, +And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find +What place the gods for our repose assign'd. +Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring +Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing, +When old Anchises summon'd all to sea: +The crew my father and the Fates obey. +With sighs and tears I leave my native shore, +And empty fields, where Ilium stood before. +My sire, my son, our less and greater gods, +All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods. + +"Against our coast appears a spacious land, +Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command, +(Thracia the name- the people bold in war; +Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,) +A hospitable realm while Fate was kind, +With Troy in friendship and religion join'd. +I land; with luckless omens then adore +Their gods, and draw a line along the shore; +I lay the deep foundations of a wall, +And Aenos, nam'd from me, the city call. +To Dionaean Venus vows are paid, +And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid; +A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid. +Not far, a rising hillock stood in view; +Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew. +There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes, +And shade our altar with their leafy greens, +I pull'd a plant- with horror I relate +A prodigy so strange and full of fate. +The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound +Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground. +Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood; +Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal'd my blood. +Mann'd once again, another plant I try: +That other gush'd with the same sanguine dye. +Then, fearing guilt for some offense unknown, +With pray'rs and vows the Dryads I atone, +With all the sisters of the woods, and most +The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast, +That they, or he, these omens would avert, +Release our fears, and better signs impart. +Clear'd, as I thought, and fully fix'd at length +To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength: +I bent my knees against the ground; once more +The violated myrtle ran with gore. +Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb +Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb, +A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew'd +My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued: +'Why dost thou thus my buried body rend? +O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend! +Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood: +The tears distil not from the wounded wood; +But ev'ry drop this living tree contains +Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins. +O fly from this unhospitable shore, +Warn'd by my fate; for I am Polydore! +Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued, +Again shoot upward, by my blood renew'd.' + +"My falt'ring tongue and shiv'ring limbs declare +My horror, and in bristles rose my hair. +When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent, +Old Priam, fearful of the war's event, +This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent: +Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far +From noise and tumults, and destructive war, +Committed to the faithless tyrant's care; +Who, when he saw the pow'r of Troy decline, +Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join; +Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth, +And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth. +O sacred hunger of pernicious gold! +What bands of faith can impious lucre hold? +Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears, +I call my father and the Trojan peers; +Relate the prodigies of Heav'n, require +What he commands, and their advice desire. +All vote to leave that execrable shore, +Polluted with the blood of Polydore; +But, ere we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare, +Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear. +In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round, +With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd, +With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound. +Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour, +And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore. + +"Now, when the raging storms no longer reign, +But southern gales invite us to the main, +We launch our vessels, with a prosp'rous wind, +And leave the cities and the shores behind. + +"An island in th' Aegaean main appears; +Neptune and wat'ry Doris claim it theirs. +It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the sides +To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides. +Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore, +With needful ease our weary limbs restore, +And the Sun's temple and his town adore. + +"Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd, +His hoary locks with purple fillets bound, +Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend, +Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend; +Invites him to his palace; and, in sign +Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join. +Then to the temple of the god I went, +And thus, before the shrine, my vows present: +'Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place +To the sad relics of the Trojan race; +A seat secure, a region of their own, +A lasting empire, and a happier town. +Where shall we fix? where shall our labors end? +Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend? +Let not my pray'rs a doubtful answer find; +But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.' +Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground, +The laurels, and the lofty hills around; +And from the tripos rush'd a bellowing sound. +Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god, +Who gave this answer from his dark abode: +'Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth +From which your ancestors derive their birth. +The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race +In her old bosom shall again embrace. +Thro' the wide world th' Aeneian house shall reign, +And children's children shall the crown sustain.' +Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose: +A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose. + +"All are concern'd to know what place the god +Assign'd, and where determin'd our abode. +My father, long revolving in his mind +The race and lineage of the Trojan kind, +Thus answer'd their demands: 'Ye princes, hear +Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear. +The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame, +Sacred of old to Jove's imperial name, +In the mid ocean lies, with large command, +And on its plains a hundred cities stand. +Another Ida rises there, and we +From thence derive our Trojan ancestry. +From thence, as 't is divulg'd by certain fame, +To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came; +There fix'd, and there the seat of empire chose, +Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose. +In humble vales they built their soft abodes, +Till Cybele, the mother of the gods, +With tinkling cymbals charm'd th' Idaean woods, +She secret rites and ceremonies taught, +And to the yoke the savage lions brought. +Let us the land which Heav'n appoints, explore; +Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore. +If Jove assists the passage of our fleet, +The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.' +Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid +On smoking altars, to the gods he paid: +A bull, to Neptune an oblation due, +Another bull to bright Apollo slew; +A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please, +And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas. +Ere this, a flying rumor had been spread +That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled, +Expell'd and exil'd; that the coast was free +From foreign or domestic enemy. + +"We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea; +By Naxos, fam'd for vintage, make our way; +Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight +Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white. +We pass the scatter'd isles of Cyclades, +That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the seas. +The shouts of sailors double near the shores; +They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars. +'All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!' they cry, +And swiftly thro' the foamy billows fly. +Full on the promis'd land at length we bore, +With joy descending on the Cretan shore. +With eager haste a rising town I frame, +Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name: +The name itself was grateful; I exhort +To found their houses, and erect a fort. +Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand; +The youth begin to till the labor'd land; +And I myself new marriages promote, +Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot; +When rising vapors choke the wholesome air, +And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year; +The trees devouring caterpillars burn; +Parch'd was the grass, and blighted was the corn: +Nor 'scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high, +With pestilential heat infects the sky: +My men- some fall, the rest in fevers fry. +Again my father bids me seek the shore +Of sacred Delos, and the god implore, +To learn what end of woes we might expect, +And to what clime our weary course direct. + +"'T was night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares, +The common gift of balmy slumber shares: +The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd), +Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd, +Before me stood, majestically bright, +Full in the beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light. +Then thus they spoke, and eas'd my troubled mind: +'What from the Delian god thou go'st to find, +He tells thee here, and sends us to relate. +Those pow'rs are we, companions of thy fate, +Who from the burning town by thee were brought, +Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought. +Thro' seas and lands as we thy steps attend, +So shall our care thy glorious race befriend. +An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain, +A town that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign. +Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build; +Nor let thy weary mind to labors yield: +But change thy seat; for not the Delian god, +Nor we, have giv'n thee Crete for our abode. +A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old, +(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold- +Th' Oenotrians held it once,) by later fame +Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name. +lasius there and Dardanus were born; +From thence we came, and thither must return. +Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet. +Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.' + +"Astonish'd at their voices and their sight, +(Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night; +I saw, I knew their faces, and descried, +In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;) +I started from my couch; a clammy sweat +On all my limbs and shiv'ring body sate. +To heav'n I lift my hands with pious haste, +And sacred incense in the flames I cast. +Thus to the gods their perfect honors done, +More cheerful, to my good old sire I run, +And tell the pleasing news. In little space +He found his error of the double race; +Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from Crete; +No more deluded by the doubtful seat: +Then said: 'O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate! +Such things as these Cassandra did relate. +This day revives within my mind what she +Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy, +And Latian lands; but who could then have thought +That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought, +Or who believ'd what mad Cassandra taught? +Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.' + +"He said; and we with glad consent obey, +Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind, +We spread our sails before the willing wind. +Now from the sight of land our galleys move, +With only seas around and skies above; +When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain, +And night with sable clouds involves the main; +The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise; +The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways; +The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes, +And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies. +Cast from our course, we wander in the dark. +No stars to guide, no point of land to mark. +Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found +Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around. +Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays, +Without distinction, and three sunless days; +The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds, +We view a rising land, like distant clouds; +The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight, +And curling smoke ascending from their height. +The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply; +From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly. +At length I land upon the Strophades, +Safe from the danger of the stormy seas. +Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main, +The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign, +Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair +To their old homes, and leave their costly fare. +Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent +From hell's abyss, for human punishment: +With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene, +Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; +With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean. + +"We landed at the port, and soon beheld +Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field, +And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd. +With weapons we the welcome prey invade, +Then call the gods for partners of our feast, +And Jove himself, the chief invited guest. +We spread the tables on the greensward ground; +We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round; +When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry, +And clatt'ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly; +They snatch the meat, defiling all they find, +And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind. +Close by a hollow rock, again we sit, +New dress the dinner, and the beds refit, +Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade, +Where tufted trees a native arbor made. +Again the holy fires on altars burn; +And once again the rav'nous birds return, +Or from the dark recesses where they lie, +Or from another quarter of the sky; +With filthy claws their odious meal repeat, +And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat. +I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare, +And with the hellish nation wage the war. +They, as commanded, for the fight provide, +And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide; +Then, when along the crooked shore we hear +Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear, +Misenus sounds a charge: we take th' alarm, +And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm. +In this new kind of combat all employ +Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy. +In vain- the fated skin is proof to wounds; +And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds. +At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey, +And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display. +Yet one remain'd- the messenger of Fate: +High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate, +And thus her dismal errand did relate: +'What! not contented with our oxen slain, +Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain, +And drive the Harpies from their native reign? +Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind +What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd, +And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate- +You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate: +Th' Italian shores are granted you to find, +And a safe passage to the port assign'd. +But know, that ere your promis'd walls you build, +My curses shall severely be fulfill'd. +Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed, +Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.' +She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew. +Our courage fails us, and our fears renew. +Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall, +And on th' offended Harpies humbly call, +And whether gods or birds obscene they were, +Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer. +But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice, +And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes, +Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said he, +'These omens; render vain this prophecy, +And from th' impending curse a pious people free!' + +"Thus having said, he bids us put to sea; +We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey, +And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat'ry way. +Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear; +And next by rocky Neritos we steer: +We fly from Ithaca's detested shore, +And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore. +At length Leucate's cloudy top appears, +And the Sun's temple, which the sailor fears. +Resolv'd to breathe a while from labor past, +Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast, +And joyful to the little city haste. +Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay +To Jove, the guide and patron of our way. +The customs of our country we pursue, +And Trojan games on Actian shores renew. +Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil, +And exercise the wrastlers' noble toil; +Pleas'd to have sail'd so long before the wind, +And left so many Grecian towns behind. +The sun had now fulfill'd his annual course, +And Boreas on the seas display'd his force: +I fix'd upon the temple's lofty door +The brazen shield which vanquish'd Abas bore; +The verse beneath my name and action speaks: +'These arms Aeneas took from conqu'ring Greeks.' +Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply +Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly. +The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost, +And skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast. + +"Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend, +And, landed, to Buthrotus' heights ascend. +Here wondrous things were loudly blaz'd fame: +How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name, +And reign'd in Greece; that Priam's captive son +Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne; +And fair Andromache, restor'd by fate, +Once more was happy in a Trojan mate. +I leave my galleys riding in the port, +And long to see the new Dardanian court. +By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate, +Then solemniz'd her former husband's fate. +Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she crown'd, +And sacred priests in order stand around, +And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound. +The grove itself resembles Ida's wood; +And Simois seem'd the well-dissembled flood. +But when at nearer distance she beheld +My shining armor and my Trojan shield, +Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat +Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat: +She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring strength, +Thus, with a falt'ring tongue, she speaks at length: + +"'Are you alive, O goddess-born ?' she said, +'Or if a ghost, then where is Hector's shade?' +At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry. +With broken words I made this brief reply: +'All of me that remains appears in sight; +I live, if living be to loathe the light. +No phantom; but I drag a wretched life, +My fate resembling that of Hector's wife. +What have you suffer'd since you lost your lord? +By what strange blessing are you now restor'd? +Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled, +And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?' +With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone, +After a modest pause she thus begun: + +"'O only happy maid of Priam's race, +Whom death deliver'd from the foes' embrace! +Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die, +Not forc'd, like us, to hard captivity, +Or in a haughty master's arms to lie. +In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne, +Endur'd the victor's lust, sustain'd the scorn: +Thus I submitted to the lawless pride +Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride. +Cloy'd with possession, he forsook my bed, +And Helen's lovely daughter sought to wed; +Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd, +And his two slaves in equal marriage join'd; +Till young Orestes, pierc'd with deep despair, +And longing to redeem the promis'd fair, +Before Apollo's altar slew the ravisher. +By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we regain'd: +At least one half with Helenus remain'd. +Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls, +And names from Pergamus his rising walls. +But you, what fates have landed on our coast? +What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss'd? +Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy, +Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy? +O tell me how his mother's loss he bears, +What hopes are promis'd from his blooming years, +How much of Hector in his face appears?' +She spoke; and mix'd her speech with mournful cries, +And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes. + +"At length her lord descends upon the plain, +In pomp, attended with a num'rous train; +Receives his friends, and to the city leads, +And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds. +Proceeding on, another Troy I see, +Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome. +A riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran, +And I embrace the Scaean gate again. +My friends in porticoes were entertain'd, +And feasts and pleasures thro' the city reign'd. +The tables fill'd the spacious hall around, +And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown'd. +Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales, +Blown from the supplied our swelling sails. +Then to the royal seer I thus began: +'O thou, who know'st, beyond the reach of man, +The laws of heav'n, and what the stars decree; +Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy, +From his own tripod, and his holy tree; +Skill'd in the wing'd inhabitants of air, +What auspices their notes and flights declare: +O say- for all religious rites portend +A happy voyage, and a prosp'rous end; +And ev'ry power and omen of the sky +Direct my course for destin'd Italy; +But only dire Celaeno, from the gods, +A dismal famine fatally forebodes- +O say what dangers I am first to shun, +What toils vanquish, and what course to run.' + +"The prophet first with sacrifice adores +The greater gods; their pardon then implores; +Unbinds the fillet from his holy head; +To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led, +Full of religious doubts and awful dread. +Then, with his god possess'd, before the shrine, +These words proceeded from his mouth divine: +'O goddess-born, (for Heav'n's appointed will, +With greater auspices of good than ill, +Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs; +Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,) +Of many things some few I shall explain, +Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main, +And how at length the promis'd shore to gain. +The rest the fates from Helenus conceal, +And Juno's angry pow'r forbids to tell. +First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh, +Will far from your deluded wishes fly; +Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy: +For you must cruise along Sicilian shores, +And stem the currents with your struggling oars; +Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer; +And, after this, to Circe's island veer; +And, last, before your new foundations rise, +Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies. +Now mark the signs of future ease and rest, +And bear them safely treasur'd in thy breast. +When, in the shady shelter of a wood, +And near the margin of a gentle flood, +Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground, +With thirty sucking young encompass'd round; +The dam and offspring white as falling snow- +These on thy city shall their name bestow, +And there shall end thy labors and thy woe. +Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind, +For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find. +Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent, +Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent: +Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd; +The salvage Locrians here the shores infest; +There fierce Idomeneus his city builds, +And guards with arms the Salentinian fields; +And on the mountain's brow Petilia stands, +Which Philoctetes with his troops commands. +Ev'n when thy fleet is landed on the shore, +And priests with holy vows the gods adore, +Then with a purple veil involve your eyes, +Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice. +These rites and customs to the rest commend, +That to your pious race they may descend. + + "'When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits +For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits +Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way, +Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea: +Veer starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore +And fair Sicilia's coast were one, before +An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring tides +The passage broke that land from land divides; +And where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides. +Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand, +Now rising cities in long order stand, +And fruitful fields: so much can time invade +The mold'ring work that beauteous Nature made. +Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides: +Charybdis roaring on the left presides, +And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides; +Then spouts them from below: with fury driv'n, +The waves mount up and wash the face of heav'n. +But Scylla from her den, with open jaws, +The sinking vessel in her eddy draws, +Then dashes on the rocks. A human face, +And virgin bosom, hides her tail's disgrace: +Her parts obscene below the waves descend, +With dogs inclos'd, and in a dolphin end. +'T is safer, then, to bear aloof to sea, +And coast Pachynus, tho' with more delay, +Than once to view misshapen Scylla near, +And the loud yell of wat'ry wolves to hear. + +"'Besides, if faith to Helenus be due, +And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true, +Do not this precept of your friend forget, +Which therefore more than once I must repeat: +Above the rest, great Juno's name adore; +Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore. +Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd, +And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind. +Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free, +And you shall safe descend on Italy. +Arriv'd at Cumae, when you view the flood +Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood, +The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find, +Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin'd. +She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits, +The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leafs commits. +What she commits to leafs, in order laid, +Before the cavern's entrance are display'd: +Unmov'd they lie; but, if a blast of wind +Without, or vapors issue from behind, +The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air, +And she resumes no more her museful care, +Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse, +Nor sets in order what the winds disperse. +Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid +The madness of the visionary maid, +And with loud curses leave the mystic shade. + +"'Think it not loss of time a while to stay, +Tho' thy companions chide thy long delay; +Tho' summon'd to the seas, tho' pleasing gales +Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails: +But beg the sacred priestess to relate +With willing words, and not to write thy fate. +The fierce Italian people she will show, +And all thy wars, and all thy future woe, +And what thou may'st avoid, and what must undergo. +She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind, +And teach thee how the happy shores to find. +This is what Heav'n allows me to relate: +Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate, +And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.' + +"This when the priest with friendly voice declar'd, +He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd: +Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want +With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant; +Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board, +And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor'd. +A trusty coat of mail to me he sent, +Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament; +The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest, +That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest. +Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends; +And large recruits he to my navy sends: +Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores; +Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars. +Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails, +Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales. + +"The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last, +With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd: +'Old happy man, the care of gods above, +Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love, +And twice preserv'd thy life, when Troy was lost, +Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast: +There land; but take a larger compass round, +For that before is all forbidden ground. +The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you, +At farther distance lies, conceal'd from view. +Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes, +Blest in a son, and favor'd by the gods: +For I with useless words prolong your stay, +When southern gales have summon'd you away.' + +"Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd, +Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord. +A noble present to my son she brought, +A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought, +A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside +Of precious texture, and of Asian pride. +'Accept,' she said, 'these monuments of love, +Which in my youth with happier hands I wove: +Regard these trifles for the giver's sake; +'T is the last present Hector's wife can make. +Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind; +In thee his features and his form I find: +His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame; +Such were his motions; such was all his frame; +And ah! had Heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the same.' + +"With tears I took my last adieu, and said: +'Your fortune, happy pair, already made, +Leaves you no farther wish. My diff'rent state, +Avoiding one, incurs another fate. +To you a quiet seat the gods allow: +You have no shores to search, no seas to plow, +Nor fields of flying Italy to chase: +(Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!) +You see another Simois, and enjoy +The labor of your hands, another Troy, +With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs, +And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs. +If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore, +Conduct my steps to Tiber's happy shore; +If ever I ascend the Latian throne, +And build a city I may call my own; +As both of us our birth from Troy derive, +So let our kindred lines in concord live, +And both in acts of equal friendship strive. +Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same: +The double Troy shall differ but in name; +That what we now begin may never end, +But long to late posterity descend.' + +"Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore; +The shortest passage to th' Italian shore. +Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, +And hills were hid in dusky shades of night: +We land, and, on the bosom Of the ground, +A safe retreat and a bare lodging found. +Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep +Their watches, and the rest securely sleep. +The night, proceeding on with silent pace, +Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face +Her steepy rise and her declining race. +Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy +The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky; +And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try; +Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course, +The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat'ry force; +And both the Bears is careful to behold, +And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold. +Then, when he saw no threat'ning tempest nigh, +But a sure promise of a settled sky, +He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep, +Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep. + +"And now the rising morn with rosy light +Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight; +When we from far, like bluish mists, descry +The hills, and then the plains, of Italy. +Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound; +Then, 'Italy!' the cheerful crew rebound. +My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine, +And, off'ring, thus implor'd the pow'rs divine: +'Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas, +And you who raging winds and waves appease, +Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind, +And smooth our passage to the port assign'd!' +The gentle gales their flagging force renew, +And now the happy harbor is in view. +Minerva's temple then salutes our sight, +Plac'd, as a landmark, on the mountain's height. +We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore; +The curling waters round the galleys roar. +The land lies open to the raging east, +Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress'd, +Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain, +And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain. +The port lies hid within; on either side +Two tow'ring rocks the narrow mouth divide. +The temple, which aloft we view'd before, +To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore. +Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld +Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry field. +'War, war is threaten'd from this foreign ground,' +My father cried, 'where warlike steeds are found. +Yet, since reclaim'd to chariots they submit, +And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit, +Peace may succeed to war.' Our way we bend +To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend; +There prostrate to the fierce virago pray, +Whose temple was the landmark of our way. +Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head, +And all commands of Helenus obey'd, +And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid. +These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails, and stand +To sea, forsaking that suspected land. + +"From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view, +For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true. +Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands; +Caulonian tow'rs, and Scylacaean strands, +For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Aetna thence we spy, +Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky. +Far off we hear the waves with surly sound +Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound. +The billows break upon the sounding strand, +And roll the rising tide, impure with sand. +Then thus Anchises, in experience old: +''T is that Charybdis which the seer foretold, +And those the promis'd rocks! Bear off to sea!' +With haste the frighted mariners obey. +First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd; +Then all the fleet by his example steer'd. +To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride, +Then down to hell descend, when they divide; +And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground, +And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound, +And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around. +The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun; +And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run. +The port capacious, and secure from wind, +Is to the foot of thund'ring Aetna join'd. +By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high; +By turns hot embers from her entrails fly, +And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky. +Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown, +And, shiver'd by the force, come piecemeal down. +Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow, +Fed from the fiery springs that boil below. +Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove, +With blasted limbs came tumbling from above; +And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew +This flaming hill, and on his body threw. +As often as he turns his weary sides, +He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides. +In shady woods we pass the tedious night, +Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright, +Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight; +For not one star was kindled in the sky, +Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply; +For misty clouds involv'd the firmament, +The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent. + +"Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd, +Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell'd, +When from the woods there bolts, before our sight, +Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite, +So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan, +So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man. +This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' implore +Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore. +We look behind, then view his shaggy beard; +His clothes were tagg'd with thorns, and filth his limbs +besmear'd; +The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face, +Appear'd a Greek, and such indeed he was. +He cast on us, from far, a frightful view, +Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew; +Stood still, and paus'd; then all at once began +To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran. +Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls, +And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: +'Now, by the pow'rs above, and what we share +From Nature's common gift, this vital air, +O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more; +But bear me far from this unhappy shore. +'T is true, I am a Greek, and farther own, +Among your foes besieg'd th' imperial town. +For such demerits if my death be due, +No more for this abandon'd life I sue; +This only favor let my tears obtain, +To throw me headlong in the rapid main: +Since nothing more than death my crime demands, +I die content, to die by human hands.' +He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd: +I bade him boldly tell his fortune past, +His present state, his lineage, and his name, +Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he came. +The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand; +Who, thus encourag'd, answer'd our demand: +'From Ithaca, my native soil, I came +To Troy; and Achaemenides my name. +Me my poor father with Ulysses sent; +(O had I stay'd, with poverty content!) +But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen +Left me forsaken in the Cyclops' den. +The cave, tho' large, was dark; the dismal floor +Was pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore. +Our monstrous host, of more than human size, +Erects his head, and stares within the skies; +Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue. +Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view! +The joints of slaughter'd wretches are his food; +And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood. +These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand +He seiz'd two captives of our Grecian band; +Stretch'd on his back, he dash'd against the stones +Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones: +With spouting blood the purple pavement swims, +While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs. + +"'Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate, +Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state; +For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human wine +While fast asleep the giant lay supine, +Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw +His indigested foam, and morsels raw; +We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround +The monstrous body, stretch'd along the ground: +Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand +To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand. +Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye; +For only one did the vast frame supply- +But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd, +Like the sun's disk or like a Grecian shield. +The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends: +This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd friends. +But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly! +Your cables cut, and on your oars rely! +Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears, +A hundred more this hated island bears: +Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep; +Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep; +Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep +And now three moons their sharpen'd horns renew, +Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view, +I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright, +And in deserted caverns lodge by night; +Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see +Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree: +From far I hear his thund'ring voice resound, +And trampling feet that shake the solid ground. +Cornels and salvage berries of the wood, +And roots and herbs, have been my meager food. +While all around my longing eyes I cast, +I saw your happy ships appear at last. +On those I fix'd my hopes, to these I run; +'T is all I ask, this cruel race to shun; +What other death you please, yourselves bestow.' + +"Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's brow +We saw the giant shepherd stalk before +His following flock, and leading to the shore: +A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight; +His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright. +His pond'rous whistle from his neck descends; +His woolly care their pensive lord attends: +This only solace his hard fortune sends. +Soon as he reach'd the shore and touch'd the waves, +From his bor'd eye the gutt'ring blood he laves: +He gnash'd his teeth, and groan'd; thro' seas he strides, +And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his sides. + +"Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea, +The cables cut, and silent haste away; +The well-deserving stranger entertain; +Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main. +The giant harken'd to the dashing sound: +But, when our vessels out of reach he found, +He strided onward, and in vain essay'd +Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade. +With that he roar'd aloud: the dreadful cry +Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly +Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy. +The neigh'ring Aetna trembling all around, +The winding caverns echo to the sound. +His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar, +And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore. +We saw their stern distorted looks, from far, +And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten'd war: +A dreadful council, with their heads on high; +(The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;) +Not yielding to the tow'ring tree of Jove, +Or tallest cypress of Diana's grove. +New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail; +We tug at ev'ry oar, and hoist up ev'ry sail, +And take th' advantage of the friendly gale. +Forewarn'd by Helenus, we strive to shun +Charybdis' gulf, nor dare to Scylla run. +An equal fate on either side appears: +We, tacking to the left, are free from fears; +For, from Pelorus' point, the North arose, +And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows. +His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way +By Thapsus and Megara's winding bay. +This passage Achaemenides had shown, +Tracing the course which he before had run. + +"Right o'er against Plemmyrium's wat'ry strand, +There lies an isle once call'd th' Ortygian land. +Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found +From Greece a secret passage under ground, +By love to beauteous Arethusa led; +And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed. +As Helenus enjoin'd, we next adore +Diana's name, protectress of the shore. +With prosp'rous gales we pass the quiet sounds +Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds. +Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey +The rocky shore extended to the sea. +The town of Camarine from far we see, +And fenny lake, undrain'd by fate's decree. +In sight of the Geloan fields we pass, +And the large walls, where mighty Gela was; +Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown'd, +Long for the race of warlike steeds renown'd. +We pass'd Selinus, and the palmy land, +And widely shun the Lilybaean strand, +Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand. +At length on shore the weary fleet arriv'd, +Which Drepanum's unhappy port receiv'd. +Here, after endless labors, often toss'd +By raging storms, and driv'n on ev'ry coast, +My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost: +Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain, +Sav'd thro' a thousand toils, but sav'd in vain +The prophet, who my future woes reveal'd, +Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal'd; +And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill +Denounc'd all else, was silent of the ill. +This my last labor was. Some friendly god +From thence convey'd us to your blest abode." + +Thus, to the list'ning queen, the royal guest +His wand'ring course and all his toils express'd; +And here concluding, he retir'd to rest. +BOOK IV + +But anxious cares already seiz'd the queen: +She fed within her veins a flame unseen; +The hero's valor, acts, and birth inspire +Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire. +His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart, +Improve the passion, and increase the smart. +Now, when the purple morn had chas'd away +The dewy shadows, and restor'd the day, +Her sister first with early care she sought, +And thus in mournful accents eas'd her thought: + +"My dearest Anna, what new dreams affright +My lab'ring soul! what visions of the night +Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast +With strange ideas of our Trojan guest! +His worth, his actions, and majestic air, +A man descended from the gods declare. +Fear ever argues a degenerate kind; +His birth is well asserted by his mind. +Then, what he suffer'd, when by Fate betray'd! +What brave attempts for falling Troy he made! +Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke, +That, were I not resolv'd against the yoke +Of hapless marriage, never to be curst +With second love, so fatal was my first, +To this one error I might yield again; +For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain, +This only man is able to subvert +The fix'd foundations of my stubborn heart. +And, to confess my frailty, to my shame, +Somewhat I find within, if not the same, +Too like the sparkles of my former flame. +But first let yawning earth a passage rend, +And let me thro' the dark abyss descend; +First let avenging Jove, with flames from high, +Drive down this body to the nether sky, +Condemn'd with ghosts in endless night to lie, +Before I break the plighted faith I gave! +No! he who had my vows shall ever have; +For, whom I lov'd on earth, I worship in the grave." + +She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes, +And stopp'd her speech. Her sister thus replies: +"O dearer than the vital air I breathe, +Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath, +Condemn'd to waste in woes your lonely life, +Without the joys of mother or of wife? +Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe, +Are known or valued by the ghosts below? +I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green, +It well became a woman, and a queen, +The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect, +To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject, +With all the Libyan lords of mighty name; +But will you fight against a pleasing flame! +This little spot of land, which Heav'n bestows, +On ev'ry side is hemm'd with warlike foes; +Gaetulian cities here are spread around, +And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound; +Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land, +And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand; +Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore, +And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more. +Propitious Heav'n, and gracious Juno, lead +This wand'ring navy to your needful aid: +How will your empire spread, your city rise, +From such a union, and with such allies? +Implore the favor of the pow'rs above, +And leave the conduct of the rest to love. +Continue still your hospitable way, +And still invent occasions of their stay, +Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat, +And planks and oars repair their shatter'd fleet." + +These words, which from a friend and sister came, +With ease resolv'd the scruples of her fame, +And added fury to the kindled flame. +Inspir'd with hope, the project they pursue; +On ev'ry altar sacrifice renew: +A chosen ewe of two years old they pay +To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day; +Preferring Juno's pow'r, for Juno ties +The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys. +The beauteous queen before her altar stands, +And holds the golden goblet in her hands. +A milk-white heifer she with flow'rs adorns, +And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns; +And, while the priests with pray'r the gods invoke, +She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke, +With hourly care the sacrifice renews, +And anxiously the panting entrails views. +What priestly rites, alas! what pious art, +What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart! +A gentle fire she feeds within her veins, +Where the soft god secure in silence reigns. + +Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves, +From street to street the raving Dido roves. +So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind, +Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind, +Distracted with her pain she flies the woods, +Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods, +With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart +Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart. +And now she leads the Trojan chief along +The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng; +Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town, +Which love, without his labor, makes his own. +This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand'ring guest; +Her falt'ring tongue forbids to speak the rest. +When day declines, and feasts renew the night, +Still on his face she feeds her famish'd sight; +She longs again to hear the prince relate +His own adventures and the Trojan fate. +He tells it o'er and o'er; but still in vain, +For still she begs to hear it once again. +The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends, +And thus the tragic story never ends. + +Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light +Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite, +She last remains, when ev'ry guest is gone, +Sits on the bed he press'd, and sighs alone; +Absent, her absent hero sees and hears; +Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears, +And seeks the father's image in the child, +If love by likeness might be so beguil'd. + +Meantime the rising tow'rs are at a stand; +No labors exercise the youthful band, +Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know; +The mole is left unfinish'd to the foe; +The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie, +Short of their promis'd heighth, that seem'd to threat the sky, + +But when imperial Juno, from above, +Saw Dido fetter'd in the chains of love, +Hot with the venom which her veins inflam'd, +And by no sense of shame to be reclaim'd, +With soothing words to Venus she begun: +"High praises, endless honors, you have won, +And mighty trophies, with your worthy son! +Two gods a silly woman have undone! +Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect +This rising city, which my hands erect: +But shall celestial discord never cease? +'T is better ended in a lasting peace. +You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd: +Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd. +Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join; +So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine: +One common kingdom, one united line. +Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey, +And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey." +Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried, +Which would the scepter of the world misguide +To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied: +"Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose, +And such alliance and such gifts refuse, +If Fortune with our joint desires comply? +The doubt is all from Jove and destiny; +Lest he forbid, with absolute command, +To mix the people in one common land- +Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line +In lasting leagues and sure succession join? +But you, the partner of his bed and throne, +May move his mind; my wishes are your own." + +"Mine," said imperial Juno, "be the care; +Time urges, now, to perfect this affair: +Attend my counsel, and the secret share. +When next the Sun his rising light displays, +And gilds the world below with purple rays, +The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court +Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort. +There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around, +And cheerful horns from side to side resound, +A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain +With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain; +The fearful train shall take their speedy flight, +Dispers'd, and all involv'd in gloomy night; +One cave a grateful shelter shall afford +To the fair princess and the Trojan lord. +I will myself the bridal bed prepare, +If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there: +So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights, +And Hymen shall be present at the rites." +The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles +At her vain project, and discover'd wiles. + +The rosy morn was risen from the main, +And horns and hounds awake the princely train: +They issue early thro' the city gate, +Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait, +With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force +Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse. +The Tyrian peers and officers of state +For the slow queen in antechambers wait; +Her lofty courser, in the court below, +Who his majestic rider seems to know, +Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground, +And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around. +The queen at length appears; on either hand +The brawny guards in martial order stand. +A flow'r'd simar with golden fringe she wore, +And at her back a golden quiver bore; +Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains, +A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains. +Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, +Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase. +But far above the rest in beauty shines +The great Aeneas, the troop he joins; +Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost +Of wint'ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast, +When to his native Delos he resorts, +Ordains the dances, and renews the sports; +Where painted Scythians, mix'd with Cretan bands, +Before the joyful altars join their hands: +Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below +The merry madness of the sacred show. +Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose; +A golden fillet binds his awful brows; +His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen +In manly presence, or in lofty mien. + +Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat +Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat. +The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound +From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground; +Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train, +In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain, +And a long chase in open view maintain. +The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides, +Spurs thro' the vale, and these and those outrides. +His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel +The clanking lash, and goring of the steel. +Impatiently he views the feeble prey, +Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way, +And rather would the tusky boar attend, +Or see the tawny lion downward bend. + +Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the skies: +From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; +The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours +A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs. +The company, dispers'd, to converts ride, +And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side. +The rapid rains, descending from the hills, +To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills. +The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides, +One common cavern in her bosom hides. +Then first the trembling earth the signal gave, +And flashing fires enlighten all the cave; +Hell from below, and Juno from above, +And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love. +From this ill-omen'd hour in time arose +Debate and death, and all succeeding woes. + +The queen, whom sense of honor could not move, +No longer made a secret of her love, +But call'd it marriage, by that specious name +To veil the crime and sanctify the shame. + +The loud report thro' Libyan cities goes. +Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows: +Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings +New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings. +Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size; +Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies. +Inrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth +Produc'd her last of the Titanian birth. +Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste: +A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast. +As many plumes as raise her lofty flight, +So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight; +Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong, +And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue, +And round with list'ning ears the flying plague is hung. +She fills the peaceful universe with cries; +No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes; +By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shews, +And spreads thro' trembling crowds disastrous news; +With court informers haunts, and royal spies; +Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with + +lies. +Talk is her business, and her chief delight +To tell of prodigies and cause affright. +She fills the people's ears with Dido's name, +Who, lost to honor and the sense of shame, +Admits into her throne and nuptial bed +A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled: +Whole days with him she passes in delights, +And wastes in luxury long winter nights, +Forgetful of her fame and royal trust, +Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust. + +The goddess widely spreads the loud report, +And flies at length to King Hyarba's court. +When first possess'd with this unwelcome news +Whom did he not of men and gods accuse? +This prince, from ravish'd Garamantis born, +A hundred temples did with spoils adorn, +In Ammon's honor, his celestial sire; +A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire; +And, thro' his vast dominions, priests ordain'd, +Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain'd. +The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd, +And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground. + +He, when he heard a fugitive could move +The Tyrian princess, who disdain'd his love, +His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire, +Mad with despair, impatient with desire; +Then on the sacred altars pouring wine, +He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine: +"Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race, +Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace +Thy temples, and adore thy pow'r divine +With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine, +Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain +Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign? +Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance? +Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance? +A wand'ring woman builds, within our state, +A little town, bought at an easy rate; +She pays me homage, and my grants allow +A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow; +Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led, +Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed! +And now this other Paris, with his train +Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign! +(Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess, +Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian dress.) +He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame; +And I, rejected I, adore an empty name." + +His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd, +And held his altar's horns. The mighty Thund'rer heard; +Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found +The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd, +Lost in their loves, insensible of shame, +And both forgetful of their better fame. +He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends, +By whom his menacing command he sends: +"Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky; +Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly: +There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days +In slothful not and inglorious ease, +Nor minds the future city, giv'n by fate. +To him this message from my mouth relate: +'Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won +Thy life with pray'rs, nor promis'd such a son. +Hers was a hero, destin'd to command +A martial race, and rule the Latian land, +Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw, +And on the conquer'd world impose the law.' +If glory cannot move a mind so mean, +Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean, +Yet why should he defraud his son of fame, +And grudge the Romans their immortal name! +What are his vain designs! what hopes he more +From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore, +Regardless to redeem his honor lost, +And for his race to gain th' Ausonian coast! +Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake; +With this command the slumb'ring warrior wake." + +Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds +His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: +And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, +With rapid force they bear him down the skies. +But first he grasps within his awful hand +The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand; +With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves; +With this he drives them down the Stygian waves; +With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, +And eyes, tho' clos'd in death, restores to light. +Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, +And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space; +Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies, +Whose brawny back supports the starry skies; +Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd, +Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound. +Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin +The founts of rolling streams their race begin; +A beard of ice on his large breast depends. +Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends: +Then, rested thus, he from the tow'ring height +Plung'd downward, with precipitated flight, +Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood. +As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food, +Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show; +By turns they dance aloft, and dive below: +Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies, +And near the surface of the water flies, +Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands, +He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands: +Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds, +Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads. +Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince +New ramparts raising for the town's defense. +A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er, +(Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore; +A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified, +For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side. + +Then thus, with winged words, the god began, +Resuming his own shape: "Degenerate man, +Thou woman's property, what mak'st thou here, +These foreign walls and Tyrian tow'rs to rear, +Forgetful of thy own? All-pow'rful Jove, +Who sways the world below and heav'n above, +Has sent me down with this severe command: +What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land? +If glory cannot move a mind so mean, +Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean, +Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir: +The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear, +To whom th' Ausonian scepter, and the state +Of Rome's imperial name is ow'd by fate." +So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight, +Involv'd in clouds, and vanish'd out of sight. + +The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden fear; +Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair. +Revolving in his mind the stern command, +He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land. +What should he say? or how should he begin? +What course, alas! remains to steer between +Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen? +This way and that he turns his anxious mind, +And all expedients tries, and none can find. +Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means, +After long thought, to this advice he leans: +Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair +The fleet, and ship their men with silent care; +Some plausible pretense he bids them find, +To color what in secret he design'd. +Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose, +Before the love-sick lady heard the news; +And move her tender mind, by slow degrees, +To suffer what the sov'reign pow'r decrees: +Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say. +They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey. + +But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise: +(What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes!) +She was the first to find the secret fraud, +Before the fatal news was blaz'd abroad. +Love the first motions of the lover hears, +Quick to presage, and ev'n in safety fears. +Nor impious Fame was wanting to report +The ships repair'd, the Trojans' thick resort, +And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court. +Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound, +And impotent of mind, she roves the city round. +Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear, +When, from afar, their nightly god they hear, +And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear. +At length she finds the dear perfidious man; +Prevents his form'd excuse, and thus began: +"Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly, +And undiscover'd scape a lover's eye? +Nor could my kindness your compassion move. +Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love? +Or is the death of a despairing queen +Not worth preventing, tho' too well foreseen? +Ev'n when the wintry winds command your stay, +You dare the tempests, and defy the sea. +False as you are, suppose you were not bound +To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound; +Were Troy restor'd, and Priam's happy reign, +Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main? +See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun? +Now, by those holy vows, so late begun, +By this right hand, (since I have nothing more +To challenge, but the faith you gave before;) +I beg you by these tears too truly shed, +By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed; +If ever Dido, when you most were kind, +Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your mind; +By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have place, +Pity the fortunes of a falling race. +For you I have provok'd a tyrant's hate, +Incens'd the Libyan and the Tyrian state; +For you alone I suffer in my fame, +Bereft of honor, and expos'd to shame. +Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest? +(That only name remains of all the rest!) +What have I left? or whither can I fly? +Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty, +Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead +A queen that proudly scorn'd his proffer'd bed? +Had you deferr'd, at least, your hasty flight, +And left behind some pledge of our delight, +Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight, +Some young Aeneas, to supply your place, +Whose features might express his father's face; +I should not then complain to live bereft +Of all my husband, or be wholly left." + +Here paus'd the queen. Unmov'd he holds his eyes, +By Jove's command; nor suffer'd love to rise, +Tho' heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies: +"Fair queen, you never can enough repeat +Your boundless favors, or I own my debt; +Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name, +While vital breath inspires this mortal frame. +This only let me speak in my defense: +I never hop'd a secret flight from hence, +Much less pretended to the lawful claim +Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name. +For, if indulgent Heav'n would leave me free, +And not submit my life to fate's decree, +My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore, +Those relics to review, their dust adore, +And Priam's ruin'd palace to restore. +But now the Delphian oracle commands, +And fate invites me to the Latian lands. +That is the promis'd place to which I steer, +And all my vows are terminated there. +If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born, +With walls and tow'rs a Libyan town adorn, +Why may not we- like you, a foreign race- +Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place? +As often as the night obscures the skies +With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise, +Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears, +Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears; +And young Ascanius justly may complain +Of his defrauded and destin'd reign. +Ev'n now the herald of the gods appear'd: +Waking I saw him, and his message heard. +From Jove he came commission'd, heav'nly bright +With radiant beams, and manifest to sight +(The sender and the sent I both attest) +These walls he enter'd, and those words express'd. +Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command; +Forc'd by my fate, I leave your happy land." + +Thus while he spoke, already she began, +With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man; +From head to foot survey'd his person o'er, +Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore: +"False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn! +Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born, +But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock! +And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck! +Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear? +Did he once look, or lent a list'ning ear, +Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?- +All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind, +So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find. +Of man's injustice why should I complain? +The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain +Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies, +Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes; +Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies! +Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more! +I sav'd the shipwrack'd exile on my shore; +With needful food his hungry Trojans fed; +I took the traitor to my throne and bed: +Fool that I was- 't is little to repeat +The rest- I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet. +I rave, I rave! A god's command he pleads, +And makes Heav'n accessary to his deeds. +Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god, +Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode, +To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state +Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human fate! +But go! thy flight no longer I detain- +Go seek thy promis'd kingdom thro' the main! +Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow, +The faithless waves, not half so false as thou, +Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford +To thy proud vessels, and their perjur'd lord. +Then shalt thou call on injur'd Dido's name: +Dido shall come in a black sulph'ry flame, +When death has once dissolv'd her mortal frame; +Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep: +Her angry ghost, arising from the deep, +Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep. +At least my shade thy punishment shall know, +And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below." + +Abruptly here she stops; then turns away +Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day. +Amaz'd he stood, revolving in his mind +What speech to frame, and what excuse to find. +Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led, +And softly laid her on her ivory bed. + +But good Aeneas, tho' he much desir'd +To give that pity which her grief requir'd; +Tho' much he mourn'd, and labor'd with his love, +Resolv'd at length, obeys the will of Jove; +Reviews his forces: they with early care +Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare. +The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride, +And well-calk'd galleys in the harbor ride. +Then oaks for oars they fell'd; or, as they stood, +Of its green arms despoil'd the growing wood, +Studious of flight. The beach is cover'd o'er +With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore: +On ev'ry side are seen, descending down, +Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town. +Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants, +Fearful of winter, and of future wants, +T' invade the corn, and to their cells convey +The plunder'd forage of their yellow prey. +The sable troops, along the narrow tracks, +Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs: +Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain; +Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train; +All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain. + +What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore, +When, from the tow'r, she saw the cover'd shore, +And heard the shouts of sailors from afar, +Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war! +All-pow'rful Love! what changes canst thou cause +In human hearts, subjected to thy laws! +Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends: +To pray'rs and mean submissions she descends. +No female arts or aids she left untried, +Nor counsels unexplor'd, before she died. +"Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea; +They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh. +The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind, +Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind. +Could I have thought this threat'ning blow so near, +My tender soul had been forewarn'd to bear. +But do not you my last request deny; +With yon perfidious man your int'rest try, +And bring me news, if I must live or die. +You are his fav'rite; you alone can find +The dark recesses of his inmost mind: +In all his trusted secrets you have part, +And know the soft approaches to his heart. +Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe; +Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go, +Nor did my fleet against his friends employ, +Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy, +Nor mov'd with hands profane his father's dust: +Why should he then reject a just! +Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly! +Can he this last, this only pray'r deny! +Let him at least his dang'rous flight delay, +Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea. +The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more: +Let him pursue the promis'd Latian shore. +A short delay is all I ask him now; +A pause of grief, an interval from woe, +Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain +Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain. +If you in pity grant this one request, +My death shall glut the hatred of his breast." +This mournful message pious Anna bears, +And seconds with her own her sister's tears: +But all her arts are still employ'd in vain; +Again she comes, and is refus'd again. +His harden'd heart nor pray'rs nor threat'nings move; +Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love. + +As, when the winds their airy quarrel try, +Justling from ev'ry quarter of the sky, +This way and that the mountain oak they bend, +His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend; +With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground; +The hollow valleys echo to the sound: +Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks, +Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks; +Far as he shoots his tow'ring head on high, +So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie. +No less a storm the Trojan hero bears; +Thick messages and loud complaints he hears, +And bandied words, still beating on his ears. +Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains; +But the firm purpose of his heart remains. + +The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate, +Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate, +And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees, +To hasten on the death her soul decrees: +Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine, +She pours in sacrifice the purple wine, +The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood, +And the white offer'd milk converts to mud. +This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd, +From all, and ev'n her sister, she conceal'd. +A marble temple stood within the grove, +Sacred to death, and to her murther'd love; +That honor'd chapel she had hung around +With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd: +Oft, when she visited this lonely dome, +Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb; +She thought she heard him summon her away, +Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay. +Hourly 't is heard, when with a boding note +The solitary screech owl strains her throat, +And, on a chimney's top, or turret's height, +With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night. +Besides, old prophecies augment her fears; +And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears, +Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone, +To wander in her sleep, thro' ways unknown, +Guideless and dark; or, in a desart plain, +To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain: +Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, +He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear; +Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost +Full in his face infernal torches toss'd, +And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight, +Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright; +The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight. + +Now, sinking underneath a load of grief, +From death alone she seeks her last relief; +The time and means resolv'd within her breast, +She to her mournful sister thus address'd +(Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears, +And a false vigor in her eyes appears): +"Rejoice!" she said. "Instructed from above, +My lover I shall gain, or lose my love. +Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun, +Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run: +There a Massylian priestess I have found, +Honor'd for age, for magic arts renown'd: +Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care; +'T was she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare. +She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep, +Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep. +She watch'd the golden fruit; her charms unbind +The chains of love, or fix them on the mind: +She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry, +Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky. +The yawning earth rebellows to her call, +Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall. +Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part, +How loth I am to try this impious art! +Within the secret court, with silent care, +Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air: +Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest, +Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest. +Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd, +Where I my ruin in his arms embrac'd: +All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire; +For so the priestess and her charms require." + +Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears; +A mortal paleness in her face appears: +Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find +The secret fun'ral in these rites design'd; +Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind. +Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well, +She fear'd no worse than when Sichaeus fell; +Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear, +Within the secret court, expos'd in air. +The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high, +And garlands on the hollow spaces lie. +Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath, +And ev'ry baleful green denoting death. +The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed, +The spoils and sword he left, in order spread, +And the man's image on the nuptial bed. + +And now (the sacred altars plac'd around) +The priestess enters, with her hair unbound, +And thrice invokes the pow'rs below the ground. +Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims, +And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names, +And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round +With feign'd Avernian drops the hallow'd ground; +Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light, +With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night; +Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl, +And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal, +Robbing the mother's love. The destin'd queen +Observes, assisting at the rites obscene; +A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands +She holds, and next the highest altar stands: +One tender foot was shod, her other bare; +Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair. +Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying breath, +The heav'ns and planets conscious of her death, +And ev'ry pow'r, if any rules above, +Who minds, or who revenges, injur'd love. + +"'T was dead of night, when weary bodies close +Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose: +The winds no longer whisper thro' the woods, +Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods. +The stars in silent order mov'd around; +And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground +The flocks and herds, and party-color'd fowl, +Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool, +Stretch'd on the quiet earth, securely lay, +Forgetting the past labors of the day. +All else of nature's common gift partake: +Unhappy Dido was alone awake. +Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find; +Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind. +Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart; +Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part. + +Then thus she said within her secret mind: +"What shall I do? what succor can I find? +Become a suppliant to Hyarba's pride, +And take my turn, to court and be denied? +Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go, +Forsake an empire, and attend a foe? +Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd- +'T is true- but am I sure to be receiv'd? +Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place! +Laomedon still lives in all his race! +Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew, +Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue? +What force have I but those whom scarce before +I drew reluctant from their native shore? +Will they again embark at my desire, +Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre? +Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, +And take the fortune thou thyself hast made. +Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind, +Or seconded too well what I design'd. +These dear-bought pleasures had I never known, +Had I continued free, and still my own; +Avoiding love, I had not found despair, +But shar'd with salvage beasts the common air. +Like them, a lonely life I might have led, +Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead." +These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast. +On board, the Trojan found more easy rest. +Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night; +And order'd all things for his early flight. + +To whom once more the winged god appears; +His former youthful mien and shape he wears, +And with this new alarm invades his ears: +"Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown +Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town, +Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales +Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails? +She harbors in her heart a furious hate, +And thou shalt find the dire effects too late; +Fix'd on revenge, and obstinate to die. +Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow'r to fly. +The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er, +And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore. +Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies, +And sail before the purple morn arise. +Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring? +Woman's a various and a changeful thing." +Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight +Aloft in air unseen, and mix'd with night. + +Twice warn'd by the celestial messenger, +The pious prince arose with hasty fear; +Then rous'd his drowsy train without delay: +"Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh, +And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea. +A god commands: he stood before my sight, +And urg'd us once again to speedy flight. +O sacred pow'r, what pow'r soe'er thou art, +To thy blest orders I resign my heart. +Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands, +And prosper the design thy will commands." +He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword, +His thund'ring arm divides the many-twisted cord. +An emulating zeal inspires his train: +They run; they snatch; they rush into the main. +With headlong haste they leave the desert shores, +And brush the liquid seas with lab'ring oars. + +Aurora now had left her saffron bed, +And beams of early light the heav'ns o'erspread, +When, from a tow'r, the queen, with wakeful eyes, +Saw day point upward from the rosy skies. +She look'd to seaward; but the sea was void, +And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried. +Stung with despite, and furious with despair, +She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair. +"And shall th' ungrateful traitor go," she said, +"My land forsaken, and my love betray'd? +Shall we not arm? not rush from ev'ry street, +To follow, sink, and burn his perjur'd fleet? +Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe! +Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row! +What have I said? where am I? Fury turns +My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns. +Then, when I gave my person and my throne, +This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. +See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name, +The pious man, who, rushing thro' the flame, +Preserv'd his gods, and to the Phrygian shore +The burthen of his feeble father bore! +I should have torn him piecemeal; strow'd in floods +His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods; +Destroy'd his friends and son; and, from the fire, +Have set the reeking boy before the sire. +Events are doubtful, which on battles wait: +Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate? +My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command, +Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band; +At once extinguish'd all the faithless name; +And I myself, in vengeance of my shame, +Had fall'n upon the pile, to mend the fun'ral flame. +Thou Sun, who view'st at once the world below; +Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow; +Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes! +Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods, +All pow'rs invok'd with Dido's dying breath, +Attend her curses and avenge her death! +If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands, +Th' ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands, +Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes, +His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose: +Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field, +His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd, +Let him for succor sue from place to place, +Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace. +First, let him see his friends in battle slain, +And their untimely fate lament in vain; +And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease, +On hard conditions may he buy his peace: +Nor let him then enjoy supreme command; +But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand, +And lie unburied on the barren sand! +These are my pray'rs, and this my dying will; +And you, my Tyrians, ev'ry curse fulfil. +Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim, +Against the prince, the people, and the name. +These grateful off'rings on my grave bestow; +Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know! +Now, and from hence, in ev'ry future age, +When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage +Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood, +With fire and sword pursue the perjur'd brood; +Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos'd to theirs; +And the same hate descend on all our heirs!" + +This said, within her anxious mind she weighs +The means of cutting short her odious days. +Then to Sichaeus' nurse she briefly said +(For, when she left her country, hers was dead): +"Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care +The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare; +The sheep, and all th' atoning off'rings bring, +Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring +With living drops; then let her come, and thou +With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow. +Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove, +And end the cares of my disastrous love; +Then cast the Trojan image on the fire, +And, as that burns, my passions shall expire." + +The nurse moves onward, with officious care, +And all the speed her aged limbs can bear. +But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd, +Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd. +With livid spots distinguish'd was her face; +Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace; +Ghastly she gaz'd, with pain she drew her breath, +And nature shiver'd at approaching death. + +Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd, +And mounts the fun'ral pile with furious haste; +Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind +(Not for so dire an enterprise design'd). +But when she view'd the garments loosely spread, +Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed, +She paus'd, and with a sigh the robes embrac'd; +Then on the couch her trembling body cast, +Repress'd the ready tears, and spoke her last: +"Dear pledges of my love, while Heav'n so pleas'd, +Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas'd: +My fatal course is finish'd; and I go, +A glorious name, among the ghosts below. +A lofty city by my hands is rais'd, +Pygmalion punish'd, and my lord appeas'd. +What could my fortune have afforded more, +Had the false Trojan never touch'd my shore!" +Then kiss'd the couch; and, "Must I die," she said, +"And unreveng'd? 'T is doubly to be dead! +Yet ev'n this death with pleasure I receive: +On any terms, 't is better than to live. +These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view; +These boding omens his base flight pursue!" + +She said, and struck; deep enter'd in her side +The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed: +Clogg'd in the wound the cruel weapon stands; +The spouting blood came streaming on her hands. +Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke, +And with loud cries the sounding palace shook. +Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled, +And thro' the town the dismal rumor spread. +First from the frighted court the yell began; +Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran: +The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries +Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies. +Not less the clamor, than if- ancient Tyre, +Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire- +The rolling ruin, with their lov'd abodes, +Involv'd the blazing temples of their gods. + +Her sister hears; and, furious with despair, +She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair, +And, calling on Eliza's name aloud, +Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd. +"Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar'd; +These fires, this fun'ral pile, these altars rear'd? +Was all this train of plots contriv'd," said she, +"All only to deceive unhappy me? +Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend +To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend? +Thy summon'd sister, and thy friend, had come; +One sword had serv'd us both, one common tomb: +Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke, +Not to be present at the fatal stroke? +At once thou hast destroy'd thyself and me, +Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony! +Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death +Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath." +This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste, +And in her arms the gasping queen embrac'd; +Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore, +To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore. +Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head, +And, fainting thrice, fell grov'ling on the bed; +Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and sought the light, +But, having found it, sicken'd at the sight, +And clos'd her lids at last in endless night. + +Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain +A death so ling'ring, and so full of pain, +Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife +Of lab'ring nature, and dissolve her life. +For since she died, not doom'd by Heav'n's decree, +Or her own crime, but human casualty, +And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair, +The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair, +Which Proserpine and they can only know; +Nor made her sacred to the shades below. +Downward the various goddess took her flight, +And drew a thousand colors from the light; +Then stood above the dying lover's head, +And said: "I thus devote thee to the dead. +This off'ring to th' infernal gods I bear." +Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair: +The struggling soul was loos'd, and life dissolv'd in air. +BOOK V + +Meantime the Trojan cuts his wat'ry way, +Fix'd on his voyage, thro' the curling sea; +Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze, +Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze. +The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind +The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd; +He knew the stormy souls of womankind, +What secret springs their eager passions move, +How capable of death for injur'd love. +Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw; +Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw. +Now seas and skies their prospect only bound; +An empty space above, a floating field around. +But soon the heav'ns with shadows were o'erspread; +A swelling cloud hung hov'ring o'er their head: +Livid it look'd, the threat'ning of a storm: +Then night and horror ocean's face deform. +The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud: +"What gusts of weather from that gath'ring cloud +My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars, +Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars; +Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind." +The frighted crew perform the task assign'd. +Then, to his fearless chief: "Not Heav'n," said he, +"Tho' Jove himself should promise Italy, +Can stem the torrent of this raging sea. +Mark how the shifting winds from west arise, +And what collected night involves the skies! +Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea, +Much less against the tempest force their way. +'T is fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey. +Not far from hence, if I observ'd aright +The southing of the stars, and polar light, +Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores +In safety we may reach with struggling oars." +Aeneas then replied: "Too sure I find +We strive in vain against the seas and wind: +Now shift your sails; what place can please me more +Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore, +Whose hallow'd earth Anchises' bones contains, +And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?" +The course resolv'd, before the western wind +They scud amain, and make the port assign'd. +Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand, +Beheld the fleet descending on the land; +And, not unmindful of his ancient race, +Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace, +And held the hero in a strict embrace. +Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore, +And either hand a pointed jav'lin bore. +His mother was a dame of Dardan blood; +His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood. +He welcomes his returning friends ashore +With plenteous country cates and homely store. + +Now, when the following morn had chas'd away +The flying stars, and light restor'd the day, +Aeneas call'd the Trojan troops around, +And thus bespoke them from a rising ground: +"Offspring of heav'n, divine Dardanian race! +The sun, revolving thro' th' ethereal space, +The shining circle of the year has fill'd, +Since first this isle my father's ashes held: +And now the rising day renews the year; +A day for ever sad, for ever dear. +This would I celebrate with annual games, +With gifts on altars pil'd, and holy flames, +Tho' banish'd to Gaetulia's barren sands, +Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands: +But since this happy storm our fleet has driv'n +(Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav'n) +Upon these friendly shores and flow'ry plains, +Which hide Anchises and his blest remains, +Let us with joy perform his honors due, +And pray for prosp'rous winds, our voyage to renew; +Pray, that in towns and temples of our own, +The name of great Anchises may be known, +And yearly games may spread the gods' renown. +Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race, +With royal gifts ordain'd, is pleas'd to grace: +Two steers on ev'ry ship the king bestows; +His gods and ours shall share your equal vows. +Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn +Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn, +That day with solemn sports I mean to grace: +Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat'ry race; +Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend, +And others try the twanging bow to bend; +The strong, with iron gauntlets arm'd, shall stand +Oppos'd in combat on the yellow sand. +Let all be present at the games prepar'd, +And joyful victors wait the just reward. +But now assist the rites, with garlands crown'd." +He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound. +Then Helymus, by his example led, +And old Acestes, each adorn'd his head; +Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, +His temples tied, and all the Trojan race. + Aeneas then advanc'd amidst the train, +By thousands follow'd thro' the flow'ry plain, +To great Anchises' tomb; which when he found, +He pour'd to Bacchus, on the hallow'd ground, +Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more, +And two (from offer'd bulls) of purple gore, +With roses then the sepulcher he strow'd +And thus his father's ghost bespoke aloud: +"Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again, +Paternal ashes, now review'd in vain! +The gods permitted not, that you, with me, +Should reach the promis'd shores of Italy, +Or Tiber's flood, what flood soe'er it be." +Scarce had he finish'd, when, with speckled pride, +A serpent from the tomb began to glide; +His hugy bulk on sev'n high volumes roll'd; +Blue was his breadth of back, but streak'd with scaly gold: +Thus riding on his curls, he seem'd to pass +A rolling fire along, and singe the grass. +More various colors thro' his body run, +Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun. +Betwixt the rising altars, and around, +The sacred monster shot along the ground; +With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass'd, +And with his lolling tongue assay'd the taste: +Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest +Within the hollow tomb retir'd to rest. +The pious prince, surpris'd at what he view'd, +The fun'ral honors with more zeal renew'd, +Doubtful if this place's genius were, +Or guardian of his father's sepulcher. +Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew; +As many swine, and steers of sable hue; +New gen'rous wine he from the goblets pour'd. +And call'd his father's ghost, from hell restor'd. +The glad attendants in long order come, +Off'ring their gifts at great Anchises' tomb: +Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil; +Some place the chargers on the grassy soil; +Some blow the fires, and off entrails broil. + +Now came the day desir'd. The skies were bright +With rosy luster of the rising light: +The bord'ring people, rous'd by sounding fame +Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes' name, +The crowded shore with acclamations fill, +Part to behold, and part to prove their skill. +And first the gifts in public view they place, +Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors' grace: +Within the circle, arms and tripods lie, +Ingots of gold and silver, heap'd on high, +And vests embroider'd, of the Tyrian dye. +The trumpet's clangor then the feast proclaims, +And all prepare for their appointed games. +Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear, +Advancing, in the wat'ry lists appear. +The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind, +Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind: +Gyas the vast Chimaera's bulk commands, +Which rising, like a tow'ring city stands; +Three Trojans tug at ev'ry lab'ring oar; +Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore; +Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar. +Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race, +In the great Centaur took the leading place; +Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood, +From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood. + +Far in the sea, against the foaming shore, +There stands a rock: the raging billows roar +Above his head in storms; but, when 't is clear, +Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear. +In peace below the gentle waters run; +The cormorants above lie basking in the sun. +On this the hero fix'd an oak in sight, +The mark to guide the mariners aright. +To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars; +Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores. +The lots decide their place. Above the rest, +Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest; +The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs +Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows: +Besmear'd with oil, their naked shoulders shine. +All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign: +They gripe their oars; and ev'ry panting breast +Is rais'd by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress'd. +The clangor of the trumpet gives the sign; +At once they start, advancing in a line: +With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies; +Lash'd with their oars, the smoky billows rise; +Sparkles the briny main, and the vex'd ocean fries. +Exact in time, with equal strokes they row: +At once the brushing oars and brazen prow +Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below. +Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race, +Invade the field with half so swift a pace; +Not the fierce driver with more fury lends +The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends, +Low to the wheels his pliant body bends. +The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide, +And aid with eager shouts the favor'd side. +Cries, murmurs, clamors, with a mixing sound, +From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound. + +Amidst the loud applauses of the shore, +Gyas outstripp'd the rest, and sprung before: +Cloanthus, better mann'd, pursued him fast, +But his o'er-masted galley check'd his haste. +The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine +With equal oars, advancing in a line; +And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead, +And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead; +Now board to board the rival vessels row, +The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below. +They reach'd the mark. Proud Gyas and his train +In triumph rode, the victors of the main; +But, steering round, he charg'd his pilot stand +More close to shore, and skim along the sand- +"Let others bear to sea!" Menoetes heard; +But secret shelves too cautiously he fear'd, +And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer'd. +With louder cries the captain call'd again: +"Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main." +He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw +The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw. +Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood, +And in a closer compass plow'd the flood. +He pass'd the mark; and, wheeling, got before: +Gyas blasphem'd the gods, devoutly swore, +Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore. +Mindless of others' lives (so high was grown +His rising rage) and careless of his own, +The trembling dotard to the deck he drew; +Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw: +This done, he seiz'd the helm; his fellows cheer'd, +Turn'd short upon the shelfs, and madly steer'd. + +Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears, +Clogg'd with his clothes, and cumber'd with his years: +Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain. +The crowd, that saw him fall and float again, +Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh'd, +To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught. +The following Centaur, and the Dolphin's crew, +Their vanish'd hopes of victory renew; +While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race, +To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place; +Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind, +Comes up, not half his galley's length behind; +Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear'd, +And thus their drooping courage he cheer'd: +"My friends, and Hector's followers heretofore, +Exert your vigor; tug the lab'ring oar; +Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer'd crew, +Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew. +In this, our common int'rest, let me find +That strength of hand, that courage of the mind, +As when you stemm'd the strong Malean flood, +And o'er the Syrtes' broken billows row'd. +I seek not now the foremost palm to gain; +Tho' yet- but, ah! that haughty wish is vain! +Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain. +But to be last, the lags of all the race!- +Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace." +Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row +At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow. +The sea beneath 'em sinks; their lab'ring sides +Are swell'd, and sweat runs gutt'ring down in tides. +Chance aids their daring with unhop'd success; +Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press +Betwixt the rival galley and the rock, +Shuts up th' unwieldly Centaur in the lock. +The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock, +Her oars she shiver'd, and her head she broke. +The trembling rowers from their banks arise, +And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize. +With iron poles they heave her off the shores, +And gather from the sea their floating oars. +The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds, +Urge their success, and call the willing winds; +Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way +In larger compass on the roomy sea. +As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes, +Rous'd in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes; +The cavern rings with clatt'ring; out she flies, +And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies: +At first she flutters; but at length she springs +To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings: +So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea; +And, flying with a force, that force assists his way. +Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass'd, +Wedg'd in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast. +In vain the victor he with cries implores, +And practices to row with shatter'd oars. +Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies: +The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize. +Unvanquish'd Scylla now alone remains; +Her he pursues, and all his vigor strains. +Shouts from the fav'ring multitude arise; +Applauding Echo to the shouts replies; +Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro' the skies. +These clamors with disdain the Scylla heard, +Much grudg'd the praise, but more the robb'd reward: +Resolv'd to hold their own, they mend their pace, +All obstinate to die, or gain the race. +Rais'd with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran; +For they can conquer, who believe they can. +Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies, +And both perhaps had shar'd an equal prize; +When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands, +And succor from the wat'ry pow'rs demands: +"Gods of the liquid realms, on which I row! +If, giv'n by you, the laurel bind my brow, +Assist to make me guilty of my vow! +A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain; +His offer'd entrails cast into the main, +And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown, +Your grateful gift and my return shall own." +The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below, +With virgin Panopea, heard his vow; +And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand, +Push'd on, and sped the galley to the land. +Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies, +And, darting to the port, obtains the prize. + +The herald summons all, and then proclaims +Cloanthus conqu'ror of the naval games. +The prince with laurel crowns the victor's head, +And three fat steers are to his vessel led, +The ship's reward; with gen'rous wine beside, +And sums of silver, which the crew divide. +The leaders are distinguish'd from the rest; +The victor honor'd with a nobler vest, +Where gold and purple strive in equal rows, +And needlework its happy cost bestows. +There Ganymede is wrought with living art, +Chasing thro' Ida's groves the trembling hart: +Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue; +When from aloft descends, in open view, +The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey, +With crooked talons bears the boy away. +In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes, +His guards behold him soaring thro' the skies, +And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries. + +Mnestheus the second victor was declar'd; +And, summon'd there, the second prize he shard. +A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore, +More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore, +In single combat on the Trojan shore: +This was ordain'd for Mnestheus to possess; +In war for his defense, for ornament in peace. +Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold, +But yet so pond'rous with its plates of gold, +That scarce two servants could the weight sustain; +Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o'er the plain +Pursued and lightly seiz'd the Trojan train. +The third, succeeding to the last reward, +Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar'd, +With figures prominent, and richly wrought, +And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought. + +Thus all, rewarded by the hero's hands, +Their conqu'ring temples bound with purple bands; +And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock, +Brought back his galley shatter'd with the shock. +Forlorn she look'd, without an aiding oar, +And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore. +As when a snake, surpris'd upon the road, +Is crush'd athwart her body by the load +Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound +Her belly bruis'd, and trodden to the ground: +In vain, with loosen'd curls, she crawls along; +Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue; +Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales; +But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails: +So slowly to the port the Centaur tends, +But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends. +Yet, for his galley sav'd, the grateful prince +Is pleas'd th' unhappy chief to recompense. +Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care, +Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair. + +From thence his way the Trojan hero bent +Into the neighb'ring plain, with mountains pent, +Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood. +Full in the midst of this fair valley stood +A native theater, which, rising slow +By just degrees, o'erlook'd the ground below. +High on a sylvan throne the leader sate; +A num'rous train attend in solemn state. +Here those that in the rapid course delight, +Desire of honor and the prize invite. +The rival runners without order stand; +The Trojans mix'd with the Sicilian band. +First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears; +Euryalus a boy of blooming years, +With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown'd; +Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown'd. +Diores next, of Priam's royal race, +Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place; +(But Patron in Arcadia had his birth, +And Salius his from Arcananian earth;) +Then two Sicilian youths- the names of these, +Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes: +Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred, +And owning old Acestes for their head; +With sev'ral others of ignobler name, +Whom time has not deliver'd o'er to fame. + +To these the hero thus his thoughts explain'd, +In words which gen'ral approbation gain'd: +"One common largess is for all design'd, +(The vanquish'd and the victor shall be join'd,) +Two darts of polish'd steel and Gnosian wood, +A silver-studded ax, alike bestow'd. +The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed: +The first of these obtains a stately steed, +Adorn'd with trappings; and the next in fame, +The quiver of an Amazonian dame, +With feather'd Thracian arrows well supplied: +A golden belt shall gird his manly side, +Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied. +The third this Grecian helmet shall content." +He said. To their appointed base they went; +With beating hearts th' expected sign receive, +And, starting all at once, the barrier leave. +Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew, +And seiz'd the distant goal with greedy view. +Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o'erpass'd; +Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste. +The next, but tho' the next, yet far disjoin'd, +Came Salius, and Euryalus behind; +Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied, +Step after step, and almost side by side, +His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space, +Had won, or left at least a dubious race. + +Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last, +When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste, +Slipp'd first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain, +Soak'd with the blood of oxen newly slain. +The careless victor had not mark'd his way; +But, treading where the treach'rous puddle lay, +His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor +He fell, besmear'd with filth and holy gore. +Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee, +Nor of the sacred bonds of amity, +He strove th' immediate rival's hope to cross, +And caught the foot of Salius as he rose. +So Salius lay extended on the plain; +Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain, +And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend +The victor to the goal, who vanquish'd by his friend. +Next Helymus; and then Diores came, +By two misfortunes made the third in fame. + +But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud +For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd; +Urges his cause may in the court be heard; +And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr'd. +But favor for Euryalus appears; +His blooming beauty, with his tender tears, +Had brib'd the judges for the promis'd prize. +Besides, Diores fills the court with cries, +Who vainly reaches at the last reward, +If the first palm on Salius be conferr'd. +Then thus the prince: "Let no disputes arise: +Where fortune plac'd it, I award the prize. +But fortune's errors give me leave to mend, +At least to pity my deserving friend." +He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws +(Pond'rous with shaggy mane and golden paws) +A lion's hide: to Salius this he gives. +Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves. +"If such rewards to vanquish'd men are due." +He said, "and falling is to rise by you, +What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim, +Who merited the first rewards and fame? +In falling, both an equal fortune tried; +Would fortune for my fall so well provide!" +With this he pointed to his face, and show'd +His hand and all his habit smear'd with blood. +Th' indulgent father of the people smil'd, +And caus'd to be produc'd an ample shield, +Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought, +Long since from Neptune's bars in triumph brought. +This giv'n to Nisus, he divides the rest, +And equal justice in his gifts express'd. + +The race thus ended, and rewards bestow'd, +Once more the princes bespeaks th' attentive crowd: +"If there he here whose dauntless courage dare +In gauntlet-fight, with limbs and body bare, +His opposite sustain in open view, +Stand forth the champion, and the games renew. +Two prizes I propose, and thus divide: +A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied, +Shall be the portion of the conqu'ring chief; +A sword and helm shall cheer the loser's grief." + +Then haughty Dares in the lists appears; +Stalking he strides, his head erected bears: +His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, +And loud applauses echo thro' the field. +Dares alone in combat us'd to stand +The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand; +The same, at Hector's fun'rals, undertook +Gigantic Butes, of th' Amycian stock, +And, by the stroke of his resistless hand, +Stretch'd the vast bulk upon the yellow sand. +Such Dares was; and such he strode along, +And drew the wonder of the gazing throng. +His brawny back and ample breast he shows, +His lifted arms around his head he throws, +And deals in whistling air his empty blows. +His match is sought; but, thro' the trembling band, +Not one dares answer to the proud demand. +Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes +Already he devours the promis'd prize. +He claims the bull with awless insolence, +And having seiz'd his horns, accosts the prince: +"If none my matchless valor dares oppose, +How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes? +Permit me, chief, permit without delay, +To lead this uncontended gift away." +The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries +For the proud challenger demands the prize. + +Acestes, fir'd with just disdain, to see +The palm usurp'd without a victory, +Reproach'd Entellus thus, who sate beside, +And heard and saw, unmov'd, the Trojan's pride: +"Once, but in vain, a champion of renown, +So tamely can you bear the ravish'd crown, +A prize in triumph borne before your sight, +And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight? +Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name, +The god who taught your thund'ring arm the game? +Where now your baffled honor? Where the spoil +That fill'd your house, and fame that fill'd our isle?" +Entellus, thus: "My soul is still the same, +Unmov'd with fear, and mov'd with martial fame; +But my chill blood is curdled in my veins, +And scarce the shadow of a man remains. +O could I turn to that fair prime again, +That prime of which this boaster is so vain, +The brave, who this decrepid age defies, +Should feel my force, without the promis'd prize." + +He said; and, rising at the word, he threw +Two pond'rous gauntlets down in open view; +Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield, +And sheathe his hands with in the listed field. +With fear and wonder seiz'd, the crowd beholds +The gloves of death, with sev'n distinguish'd folds +Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread +With iron, or with loads of heavy lead: +Dares himself was daunted at the sight, +Renounc'd his challenge, and refus'd to fight. +Astonish'd at their weight, the hero stands, +And pois'd the pond'rous engines in his hands. +"What had your wonder," said Entellus, "been, +Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen, +Or view'd the stern debate on this unhappy green! +These which I bear your brother Eryx bore, +Still mark'd with batter'd brains and mingled gore. +With these he long sustain'd th' Herculean arm; +And these I wielded while my blood was warm, +This languish'd frame while better spirits fed, +Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o'ersnow'd my head. +But if the challenger these arms refuse, +And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use; +If great Aeneas and Acestes join +In his request, these gauntlets I resign; +Let us with equal arms perform the fight, +And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right." + +This said, Entellus for the strife prepares; +Stripp'd of his quilted coat, his body bares; +Compos'd of mighty bones and brawn he stands, +A goodly tow'ring object on the sands. +Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied, +Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied. +Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent, +Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent; +Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar; +With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war. +One on his youth and pliant limbs relies; +One on his sinews and his giant size. +The last is stiff with age, his motion slow; +He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro, +And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow. +Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike; +Their ways are diff'rent, but their art alike. +Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around +Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound. +A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies, +And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes. +Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws +A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws. +Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground, +But with his warping body wards the wound. +His hand and watchful eye keep even pace; +While Dares traverses and shifts his place, +And, like a captain who beleaguers round +Some strong-built castle on a rising ground, +Views all th' approaches with observing eyes: +This and that other part in vain he tries, +And more on industry than force relies. +With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe; +But Dares watch'd the motion from below, +And slipp'd aside, and shunn'd the long descending blow. +Entellus wastes his forces on the wind, +And, thus deluded of the stroke design'd, +Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast +And weighty limbs his ancient mother press'd. +So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood +On Ida's height, or Erymanthus' wood, +Torn from the roots. The diff'ring nations rise, +And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies, +Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise +The fall'n companion of his youthful days. +Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return'd; +With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn'd. +Disdain and conscious virtue fir'd his breast, +And with redoubled force his foe he press'd. +He lays on load with either hand, amain, +And headlong drives the Trojan o'er the plain; +Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows; +But storms of strokes descend about his brows, +A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows. +But now the prince, who saw the wild increase +Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, +And bounds Entellus' wrath, and bids the peace. +First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, +And sooth'd his sorrow for the suffer'd shame. +"What fury seiz'd my friend? The gods," said he, +"To him propitious, and averse to thee, +Have giv'n his arm superior force to thine. +'T is madness to contend with strength divine." +The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore +His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore: +His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood, +And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood. +Faintly he stagger'd thro' the hissing throng, +And hung his head, and trail'd his legs along. +The sword and casque are carried by his train; +But with his foe the palm and ox remain. + +The champion, then, before Aeneas came, +Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame: +"O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host, +Mark with attention, and forgive my boast; +Learn what I was, by what remains; and know +From what impending fate you sav'd my foe." +Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull; +And, on his ample forehead aiming full, +The deadly stroke, descending, pierc'd the skull. +Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound, +But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground. +Then, thus: "In Dares' stead I offer this. +Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice; +Take the last gift my wither'd arms can yield: +Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field." + +This done, Aeneas orders, for the close, +The strife of archers with contending bows. +The mast Sergesthus' shatter'd galley bore +With his own hands he raises on the shore. +A flutt'ring dove upon the top they tie, +The living mark at which their arrows fly. +The rival archers in a line advance, +Their turn of shooting to receive from chance. +A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn: +On the first scroll was read Hippocoon. +The people shout. Upon the next was found +Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd. +The third contain'd Eurytion's noble name, +Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame, +Whom Pallas urg'd the treaty to confound, +And send among the Greeks a feather'd wound. +Acestes in the bottom last remain'd, +Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain'd. +Soon all with vigor bend their trusty bows, +And from the quiver each his arrow chose. +Hippocoon's was the first: with forceful sway +It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way. +Fix'd in the mast the feather'd weapon stands: +The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands, +And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries +Of the pleas'd people rend the vaulted skies. +Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove, +With lifted eyes, and took his aim above, +But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove; +Yet miss'd so narrow, that he cut the cord +Which fasten'd by the foot the flitting bird. +The captive thus releas'd, away she flies, +And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies. +His bow already bent, Eurytion stood; +And, having first invok'd his brother god, +His winged shaft with eager haste he sped. +The fatal message reach'd her as she fled: +She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground, +And renders back the weapon in the wound. +Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains, +Without a prize to gratify his pains. +Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show +An archer's art, and boast his twanging bow. +The feather'd arrow gave a dire portent, +And latter augurs judge from this event. +Chaf'd by the speed, it fir'd; and, as it flew, +A trail of following flames ascending drew: +Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way; +Across the skies as falling meteors play, +And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay. +The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare, +And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray'r. +The Dardan prince put on a smiling face, +And strain'd Acestes with a close embrace; +Then, hon'ring him with gifts above the rest, +Turn'd the bad omen, nor his fears confess'd. +"The gods," said he, "this miracle have wrought, +And order'd you the prize without the lot. +Accept this goblet, rough with figur'd gold, +Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old: +This pledge of ancient amity receive, +Which to my second sire I justly give." +He said, and, with the trumpets' cheerful sound, +Proclaim'd him victor, and with laurel-crown'd. +Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize, +Tho' he transfix'd the pigeon in the skies. +Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac'd; +The third was his whose arrow pierc'd the mast. + +The chief, before the games were wholly done, +Call'd Periphantes, tutor to his son, +And whisper'd thus: "With speed Ascanius find; +And, if his childish troop be ready join'd, +On horseback let him grace his grandsire's day, +And lead his equals arm'd in just array." +He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears. +The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears. +And now the noble youths, of form divine, +Advance before their fathers, in a line; +The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine. + +Thus marching on in military pride, +Shouts of applause resound from side to side. +Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear, +Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear. +Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; +Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before. +Three graceful troops they form'd upon the green; +Three graceful leaders at their head were seen; +Twelve follow'd ev'ry chief, and left a space between. +The first young Priam led; a lovely boy, +Whose grandsire was th' unhappy king of Troy; +His race in after times was known to fame, +New honors adding to the Latian name; +And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became. +White were the fetlocks of his feet before, +And on his front a snowy star he bore. +Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred, +Of equal age, the second squadron led. +The last in order, but the first in place, +First in the lovely features of his face, +Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed, +Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed. +Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains, +With golden bits adorn'd, and purple reins. + +The pleas'd spectators peals of shouts renew, +And all the parents in the children view; +Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace, +And hopes and fears alternate in their face. + +Th' unfledg'd commanders and their martial train +First make the circuit of the sandy plain +Around their sires, and, at th' appointed sign, +Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line. +The second signal sounds, the troop divides +In three distinguish'd parts, with three distinguish'd guides +Again they close, and once again disjoin; +In troop to troop oppos'd, and line to line. +They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar +With harmless rage and well-dissembled war. +Then in a round the mingled bodies run: +Flying they follow, and pursuing shun; +Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew +In other forms the military shew. +At last, in order, undiscern'd they join, +And march together in a friendly line. +And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old, +With wand'ring ways and many a winding fold, +Involv'd the weary feet, without redress, +In a round error, which denied recess; +So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play, +Turn'd and return'd, and still a diff'rent way. +Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase +In circles, when they swim around the wat'ry race. +This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught; +And, building Alba, to the Latins brought; +Shew'd what he learn'd: the Latin sires impart +To their succeeding sons the graceful art; +From these imperial Rome receiv'd the game, +Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name. + +Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate: +But Fortune soon resum'd her ancient hate; +For, while they pay the dead his annual dues, +Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views; +And sends the goddess of the various bow, +To try new methods of revenge below; +Supplies the winds to wing her airy way, +Where in the port secure the navy lay. +Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends, +And, undiscern'd, her fatal voyage ends. +She saw the gath'ring crowd; and, gliding thence, +The desart shore, and fleet without defense. +The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone, +With sighs and tears Anchises' death bemoan; +Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes, +Their pity to themselves renews their cries. +"Alas!" said one, "what oceans yet remain +For us to sail! what labors to sustain!" +All take the word, and, with a gen'ral groan, +Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own. + +The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains, +And in a woman's form her heav'nly limbs restrains. +In face and shape old Beroe she became, +Doryclus' wife, a venerable dame, +Once blest with riches, and a mother's name. +Thus chang'd, amidst the crying crowd she ran, +Mix'd with the matrons, and these words began: +"O wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow'r, +Nor flames, destroy'd, in Troy's unhappy hour! +O wretched we, reserv'd by cruel fate, +Beyond the ruins of the sinking state! +Now sev'n revolving years are wholly run, +Since this improsp'rous voyage we begun; +Since, toss'd from shores to shores, from lands to lands, +Inhospitable rocks and barren sands, +Wand'ring in exile thro' the stormy sea, +We search in vain for flying Italy. +Now cast by fortune on this kindred land, +What should our rest and rising walls withstand, +Or hinder here to fix our banish'd band? +O country lost, and gods redeem'd in vain, +If still in endless exile we remain! +Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew, +Or streams of some dissembled Simois view! +Haste, join with me, th' unhappy fleet consume! +Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom. +In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands +(For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands: +'With these,' said she, 'these wand'ring ships destroy: +These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.' +Time calls you now; the precious hour employ: +Slack not the good presage, while Heav'n inspires +Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires. +See! Neptune's altars minister their brands: +The god is pleas'd; the god supplies our hands." +Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew, +And, toss'd in air, amidst the galleys threw. + +Wrapp'd in amaze, the matrons wildly stare: +Then Pyrgo, reverenc'd for her hoary hair, +Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam's num'rous race: +"No Beroe this, tho' she belies her face! +What terrors from her frowning front arise! +Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes! +What rays around her heav'nly face are seen! +Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien! +Beroe but now I left, whom, pin'd with pain, +Her age and anguish from these rites detain," +She said. The matrons, seiz'd with new amaze, +Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze. +They fear, and hope, and neither part obey: +They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way. +The goddess, having done her task below, +Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow. +Struck with the sight, and seiz'd with rage divine, +The matrons prosecute their mad design: +They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands, +The food of altars; fires and flaming brands. +Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste, +And smoking torches, on the ships they cast. +The flame, unstopp'd at first, more fury gains, +And Vulcan rides at large with loosen'd reins: +Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars, +And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars. +Eumelus was the first the news to bear, +While yet they crowd the rural theater. +Then, what they hear, is witness'd by their eyes: +A storm of sparkles and of flames arise. +Ascanius took th' alarm, while yet he led +His early warriors on his prancing steed, +And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpass'd; +Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste. +Soon as the royal youth appear'd in view, +He sent his voice before him as he flew: +"What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy +The last remainders of unhappy Troy! +Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn, +And on your friends your fatal fury turn. +Behold your own Ascanius!" While he said, +He drew his glitt'ring helmet from his head, +In which the youths to sportful arms he led. +By this, Aeneas and his train appear; +And now the women, seiz'd with shame and fear, +Dispers'd, to woods and caverns take their flight, +Abhor their actions, and avoid the light; +Their friends acknowledge, and their error find, +And shake the goddess from their alter'd mind. + +Not so the raging fires their fury cease, +But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace, +Work on their way amid the smold'ring tow, +Sure in destruction, but in motion slow. +The silent plague thro' the green timber eats, +And vomits out a tardy flame by fits. +Down to the keels, and upward to the sails, +The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails; +Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand, +Can the victorious element withstand. + +The pious hero rends his robe, and throws +To heav'n his hands, and with his hands his vows. +"O Jove," he cried, "if pray'rs can yet have place; +If thou abhorr'st not all the Dardan race; +If any spark of pity still remain; +If gods are gods, and not invok'd in vain; +Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train! +Yet from the flames our burning vessels free, +Or let thy fury fall alone on me! +At this devoted head thy thunder throw, +And send the willing sacrifice below!" + +Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise: +From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; +Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain; +Heav'n bellies downward, and descends in rain. +Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent, +Which, hissing thro' the planks, the flames prevent, +And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone +Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone. + +But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide; +If he should still in Sicily reside, +Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main, +In hope the promis'd Italy to gain. +Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone +The will of Heav'n by Pallas was foreshown; +Vers'd in portents, experienc'd, and inspir'd +To tell events, and what the fates requir'd; +Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin'd, +With cheerful words reliev'd his lab'ring mind: +"O goddess-born, resign'd in ev'ry state, +With patience bear, with prudence push your fate. +By suff'ring well, our Fortune we subdue; +Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue. +Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind; +To him disclose the secrets of your mind: +Trust in his hands your old and useless train; +Too num'rous for the ships which yet remain: +The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease, +The dames who dread the dangers of the seas, +With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand +The shock of battle with your foes by land. +Here you may build a common town for all, +And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call." +The reasons, with his friend's experience join'd, +Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd his mind. + +'T was dead of night; when to his slumb'ring eyes +His father's shade descended from the skies, +And thus he spoke: "O more than vital breath, +Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death; +O son, in various toils and troubles toss'd, +The King of Heav'n employs my careful ghost +On his commands: the god, who sav'd from fire +Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire. +The wholesome counsel of your friend receive, +And here the coward train and woman leave: +The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare, +Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war. +The stern Italians will their courage try; +Rough are their manners, and their minds are high. +But first to Pluto's palace you shall go, +And seek my shade among the blest below: +For not with impious ghosts my soul remains, +Nor suffers with the damn'd perpetual pains, +But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains. +The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey, +And blood of offer'd victims free the way. +There shall you know what realms the gods assign, +And learn the fates and fortunes of your line. +But now, farewell! I vanish with the night, +And feel the blast of heav'n's approaching light." +He said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy flight. +"Whither so fast?" the filial duty cried; +"And why, ah why, the wish'd embrace denied?" + +He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires, +He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires; +His country gods and Vesta then adores +With cakes and incense, and their aid implores. +Next, for his friends and royal host he sent, +Reveal'd his vision, and the gods' intent, +With his own purpose. All, without delay, +The will of Jove, and his desires obey. +They list with women each degenerate name, +Who dares not hazard life for future fame. +These they cashier: the brave remaining few, +Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew. +The prince designs a city with the plow; +The lots their sev'ral tenements allow. +This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy, +And the new king ascends the throne with joy; +A chosen senate from the people draws; +Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws. +Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin +A rising temple to the Paphian queen. +Anchises, last, is honor'd as a god; +A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd, +And groves are planted round his blest abode. +Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd; +And fumes of incense in the fanes abound. +Then from the south arose a gentle breeze +That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas; +The rising winds a ruffling gale afford, +And call the merry mariners aboard. + +Now loud laments along the shores resound, +Of parting friends in close embraces bound. +The trembling women, the degenerate train, +Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main, +Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share +Of the rough passage and the promis'd war: +Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends +To their new master's care his fearful friends. +On Eryx's altars three fat calves he lays; +A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas; +Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs. +High on the deck the godlike hero stands, +With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands; +Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine, +And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine. +Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie, +And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly. + +Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears, +To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears: +"The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage, +The malice which no suff'rings can assuage, +Compel me to these pray'rs; since neither fate, +Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate: +Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife; +Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife. +As if 't were little to consume the town +Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown, +She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains, +And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains. +Let her the causes of her hatred tell; +But you can witness its effects too well. +You saw the storm she rais'd on Libyan floods, +That mix'd the mounting billows with the clouds; +When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main, +And mov'd rebellion in your wat'ry reign. +With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames, +To burn their fleet with execrable flames, +And forc'd Aeneas, when his ships were lost, +To leave his foll'wers on a foreign coast. +For what remains, your godhead I implore, +And trust my son to your protecting pow'r. +If neither Jove's nor Fate's decree withstand, +Secure his passage to the Latian land." + +Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main: +"What may not Venus hope from Neptune's reign? +My kingdom claims your birth; my late defense +Of your indanger'd fleet may claim your confidence. +Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare +How much your lov'd Aeneas is my care. +Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest. +Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd, +And drove before him headlong on the plain, +And dash'd against the walls the trembling train; +When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain; +When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way, +Stood up on ridges to behold the sea; +(New heaps came tumbling in, and chok'd his way;) +When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds +Of force unequal, and unequal gods; +I spread a cloud before the victor's sight, +Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight; +Ev'n then secur'd him, when I sought with joy +The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy. +My will's the same: fair goddess, fear no more, +Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore; +Their lives are giv'n; one destin'd head alone +Shall perish, and for multitudes atone." +Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind, +His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd, +Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws, +And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws. +High on the waves his azure car he guides; +Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides, +And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides. +The tempests fly before their father's face, +Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace, +And monster whales before their master play, +And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat'ry way. +The marshal'd pow'rs in equal troops divide +To right and left; the gods his better side +Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride. + +Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude, +Within the hero's mind his joys renew'd. +He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display; +The cheerful crew with diligence obey; +They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea. +Ahead of all the master pilot steers; +And, as he leads, the following navy veers. +The steeds of Night had travel'd half the sky, +The drowsy rowers on their benches lie, +When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight, +Descends, and draws behind a trail of light. +Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey; +To thee alone he takes his fatal way. +Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears; +And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears. +Then thus the traitor god began his tale: +"The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale; +The ships, without thy care, securely sail. +Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I +Will take the rudder and thy room supply." +To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep: +"Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep, +The harlot smiles of her dissembling face, +And to her faith commit the Trojan race? +Shall I believe the Siren South again, +And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main?" +He said: his fasten'd hands the rudder keep, +And, fix'd on heav'n, his eyes repel invading sleep. +The god was wroth, and at his temples threw +A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian dew: +The pilot, vanquish'd by the pow'r divine, +Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine. +Scarce were his limbs extended at their length, +The god, insulting with superior strength, +Fell heavy on him, plung'd him in the sea, +And, with the stern, the rudder tore away. +Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main, +Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain. +The victor daemon mounts obscure in air, +While the ship sails without the pilot's care. +On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies; +But what the man forsook, the god supplies, +And o'er the dang'rous deep secure the navy flies; +Glides by the Sirens' cliffs, a shelfy coast, +Long infamous for ships and sailors lost, +And white with bones. Th' impetuous ocean roars, +And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores. +The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found +The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground. +Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself +The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf. +Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast, +Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd: +"For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flatt'ring sky, +Thy naked corpse is doom'd on shores unknown to lie." +BOOK VI + +He said, and wept; then spread his sails before +The winds, and reach'd at length the Cumaean shore: +Their anchors dropp'd, his crew the vessels moor. +They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land, +And greet with greedy joy th' Italian strand. +Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed; +Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed, +Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, +Or trace thro' valleys the discover'd floods. +Thus, while their sev'ral charges they fulfil, +The pious prince ascends the sacred hill +Where Phoebus is ador'd; and seeks the shade +Which hides from sight his venerable maid. +Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; +Thence full of fate returns, and of the god. +Thro' Trivia's grove they walk; and now behold, +And enter now, the temple roof'd with gold. +When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore, +His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, +(The first who sail'd in air,) 't is sung by Fame, +To the Cumaean coast at length he came, +And here alighting, built this costly frame. +Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high +The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: +Then o'er the lofty gate his art emboss'd +Androgeos' death, and off'rings to his ghost; +Sev'n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet +The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. +And next to those the dreadful urn was plac'd, +In which the destin'd names by lots were cast: +The mournful parents stand around in tears, +And rising Crete against their shore appears. +There too, in living sculpture, might be seen +The mad affection of the Cretan queen; +Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye; +The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, +The lower part a beast, a man above, +The monument of their polluted love. +Not far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze, +A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways: +Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, +Not to be found, but by the faithful clew; +Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief, +Lent to the loving maid this last relief, +And all those erring paths describ'd so well +That Theseus conquer'd and the monster fell. +Here hapless Icarus had found his part, +Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art. +He twice assay'd to cast his son in gold; +Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming mold. + +All this with wond'ring eyes Aeneas view'd; +Each varying object his delight renew'd: +Eager to read the rest- Achates came, +And by his side the mad divining dame, +The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name. +"Time suffers not," she said, "to feed your eyes +With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice. +Sev'n bullocks, yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose, +And for Diana sev'n unspotted ewes." +This said, the servants urge the sacred rites, +While to the temple she the prince invites. +A spacious cave, within its farmost part, +Was hew'd and fashion'd by laborious art +Thro' the hill's hollow sides: before the place, +A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; +As many voices issue, and the sound +Of Sybil's words as many times rebound. +Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: +"This is the time; enquire your destinies. +He comes; behold the god!" Thus while she said, +(And shiv'ring at the sacred entry stay'd,) +Her color chang'd; her face was not the same, +And hollow groans from her deep spirit came. +Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd +Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast. +Greater than humankind she seem'd to look, +And with an accent more than mortal spoke. +Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll; +When all the god came rushing on her soul. +Swiftly she turn'd, and, foaming as she spoke: +"Why this delay?" she cried- "the pow'rs invoke! +Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode; +Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god." + +She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, +O'erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear. +The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd, +His vows to great Apollo thus address'd: +"Indulgent god, propitious pow'r to Troy, +Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, +Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart +Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part: +Thus far, by fate's decrees and thy commands, +Thro' ambient seas and thro' devouring sands, +Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground; +And now, at length, the flying coast is found. +Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place, +With fury has pursued her wand'ring race. +Here cease, ye pow'rs, and let your vengeance end: +Troy is no more, and can no more offend. +And thou, O sacred maid, inspir'd to see +Th' event of things in dark futurity; +Give me what Heav'n has promis'd to my fate, +To conquer and command the Latian state; +To fix my wand'ring gods, and find a place +For the long exiles of the Trojan race. +Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear +To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray'r; +And annual rites, and festivals, and games, +Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names. +Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land; +For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, +Preserv'd in shrines; and ev'ry sacred lay, +Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: +All shall be treasur'd by a chosen train +Of holy priests, and ever shall remain. +But O! commit not thy prophetic mind +To flitting leaves, the sport of ev'ry wind, +Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; +Write not, but, what the pow'rs ordain, relate." + +Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, +And lab'ring underneath the pond'rous god, +The more she strove to shake him from her breast, +With more and far superior force he press'd; +Commands his entrance, and, without control, +Usurps her organs and inspires her soul. +Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors +Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars +Within the cave, and Sibyl's voice restores: +"Escap'd the dangers of the wat'ry reign, +Yet more and greater ills by land remain. +The coast, so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event), +Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach'd, repent. +Wars, horrid wars, I view- a field of blood, +And Tiber rolling with a purple flood. +Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there: +A new Achilles shall in arms appear, +And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno's hate, +Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate. +To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, +Driv'n to solicit aid at ev'ry court! +The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd; +A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest. +But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, +The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose. +The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown +From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town." + +Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, +And the resisting air the thunder broke; +The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook. +Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast, +In these mysterious words his mind express'd; +Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest. +At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas'd, +And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd. +Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view, +No frightful face of danger can be new. +Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare, +The Fates, without my pow'r, shall be without my care. +This let me crave, since near your grove the road +To hell lies open, and the dark abode +Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood; +Conduct me thro' the regions void of light, +And lead me longing to my father's sight. +For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, +And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, +Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought. +He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, +And wrath of Heav'n, my still auspicious guide, +And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. +Oft, since he breath'd his last, in dead of night +His reverend image stood before my sight; +Enjoin'd to seek, below, his holy shade; +Conducted there by your unerring aid. +But you, if pious minds by pray'rs are won, +Oblige the father, and protect the son. +Yours is the pow'r; nor Proserpine in vain +Has made you priestess of her nightly reign. +If Orpheus, arm'd with his enchanting lyre, +The ruthless king with pity could inspire, +And from the shades below redeem his wife; +If Pollux, off'ring his alternate life, +Could free his brother, and can daily go +By turns aloft, by turns descend below- +Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, +Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend? +Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came; +My mother greater, my descent the same." +So pray'd the Trojan prince, and, while he pray'd, +His hand upon the holy altar laid. + +Then thus replied the prophetess divine: +"O goddess-born of great Anchises' line, +The gates of hell are open night and day; +Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: +But to return, and view the cheerful skies, +In this the task and mighty labor lies. +To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, +And those of shining worth and heav'nly race. +Betwixt those regions and our upper light, +Deep forests and impenetrable night +Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds +Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. +But if so dire a love your soul invades, +As twice below to view the trembling shades; +If you so hard a toil will undertake, +As twice to pass th' innavigable lake; +Receive my counsel. In the neighb'ring grove +There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove +Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night +Conceal the happy plant from human sight. +One bough it bears; but (wondrous to behold!) +The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold: +This from the vulgar branches must be torn, +And to fair Proserpine the present borne, +Ere leave be giv'n to tempt the nether skies. +The first thus rent a second will arise, +And the same metal the same room supplies. +Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see +The lurking gold upon the fatal tree: +Then rend it off, as holy rites command; +The willing metal will obey thy hand, +Following with ease, if favor'd by thy fate, +Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state: +If not, no labor can the tree constrain; +And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain. +Besides, you know not, while you here attend, +Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend: +Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, +Depriv'd of fun'ral rites, pollutes your host. +Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, +Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; +Then, living turfs upon his body lay: +This done, securely take the destin'd way, +To find the regions destitute of day." + +She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went +Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, +Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. +Achates, the companion of his breast, +Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress'd. +Walking, they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd +What friend the priestess by those words design'd. +But soon they found an object to deplore: +Misenus lay extended the shore; +Son of the God of Winds: none so renown'd +The warrior trumpet in the field to sound; +With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, +And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms. +He serv'd great Hector, and was ever near, +Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. +But by Pelides' arms when Hector fell, +He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well. +Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, +He now provokes the sea gods from the shore; +With envy Triton heard the martial sound, +And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd; +Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand: +The gazing crowd around the body stand. +All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate, +And hastens to perform the funeral state. +In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; +The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air. +An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd, +(The shady covert of the salvage kind,) +The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied; +Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow'ring pride +Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, +And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. +Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown +Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. +Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears, +And by his pious labor urges theirs. + +Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind +The ways to compass what his wish design'd, +He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, +And then with vows implor'd the Queen of Love: +"O may thy pow'r, propitious still to me, +Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, +In this deep forest; since the Sibyl's breath +Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death." +Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight, +Two doves, descending from their airy flight, +Secure upon the grassy plain alight. +He knew his mother's birds; and thus he pray'd: +"Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, +And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, +Whose glitt'ring shadow gilds the sacred ground. +And thou, great parent, with celestial care, +In this distress be present to my pray'r!" +Thus having said, he stopp'd with watchful sight, +Observing still the motions of their flight, +What course they took, what happy signs they shew. +They fed, and, flutt'ring, by degrees withdrew +Still farther from the place, but still in view: +Hopping and flying, thus they led him on +To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun +They wing'd their flight aloft; then, stooping low, +Perch'd on the double tree that bears the golden bough. +Thro' the green leafs the glitt'ring shadows glow; +As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe, +Where the proud mother views her precious brood, +And happier branches, which she never sow'd. +Such was the glitt'ring; such the ruddy rind, +And dancing leaves, that wanton'd in the wind. +He seiz'd the shining bough with griping hold, +And rent away, with ease, the ling'ring gold; +Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize. +Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes, +To dead Misenus pay his obsequies. +First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear, +Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir: +The fabric's front with cypress twigs they strew, +And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew. +The topmost part his glitt'ring arms adorn; +Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne, +Are pour'd to wash his body, joint by joint, +And fragrant oils the stiffen'd limbs anoint. +With groans and cries Misenus they deplore: +Then on a bier, with purple cover'd o'er, +The breathless body, thus bewail'd, they lay, +And fire the pile, their faces turn'd away- +Such reverend rites their fathers us'd to pay. +Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw, +And fat of victims, which his friends bestow. +These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour; +Then on the living coals red wine they pour; +And, last, the relics by themselves dispose, +Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose. +Old Corynaeus compass'd thrice the crew, +And dipp'd an olive branch in holy dew; +Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud +Invok'd the dead, and then dismissed the crowd. +But good Aeneas order'd on the shore +A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore, +A soldier's fauchion, and a seaman's oar. +Thus was his friend interr'd; and deathless fame +Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. +These rites perform'd, the prince, without delay, +Hastes to the nether world his destin'd way. +Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went +From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent; +And here th' access a gloomy grove defends, +And there th' unnavigable lake extends, +O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light, +No bird presumes to steer his airy flight; +Such deadly stenches from the depths arise, +And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies. +From hence the Grecian bards their legends make, +And give the name Avernus to the lake. +Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught, +For sacrifice the pious hero brought. +The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns; +Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns, +Invoking Hecate hither to repair: +A pow'rful name in hell and upper air. +The sacred priests with ready knives bereave +The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive +The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night +(The sable wool without a streak of white) +Aeneas offers; and, by fate's decree, +A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee, +With holocausts he Pluto's altar fills; +Sev'n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills; +Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours; +Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours. +Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun, +Nor ended till the next returning sun. +Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance, +And howling dogs in glimm'ring light advance, +Ere Hecate came. "Far hence be souls profane!" +The Sibyl cried, "and from the grove abstain! +Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford; +Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword." +She said, and pass'd along the gloomy space; +The prince pursued her steps with equal pace. + +Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight, +Ye gods who rule the regions of the night, +Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate +The mystic wonders of your silent state! + +Obscure they went thro' dreary shades, that led +Along the waste dominions of the dead. +Thus wander travelers in woods by night, +By the moon's doubtful and malignant light, +When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, +And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes. + +Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, +Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell, +And pale Diseases, and repining Age, +Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage; +Here Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep, +Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep; +With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind, +Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind; +The Furies' iron beds; and Strife, that shakes +Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes. +Full in the midst of this infernal road, +An elm displays her dusky arms abroad: +The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head, +And empty dreams on ev'ry leaf are spread. +Of various forms unnumber'd specters more, +Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door. +Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands, +And Briareus with all his hundred hands; +Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame; +And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame. +The chief unsheath'd his shining steel, prepar'd, +Tho' seiz'd with sudden fear, to force the guard, +Off'ring his brandish'd weapon at their face; +Had not the Sibyl stopp'd his eager pace, +And told him what those empty phantoms were: +Forms without bodies, and impassive air. +Hence to deep Acheron they take their way, +Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay, +Are whirl'd aloft, and in Cocytus lost. +There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast- +A sordid god: down from his hoary chin +A length of beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean; +His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; +A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. +He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers; +The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. +He look'd in years; yet in his years were seen +A youthful vigor and autumnal green. +An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, +Which fill'd the margin of the fatal flood: +Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids, +And mighty heroes' more majestic shades, +And youths, intomb'd before their fathers' eyes, +With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries. +Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods, +Or fowls, by winter forc'd, forsake the floods, +And wing their hasty flight to happier lands; +Such, and so thick, the shiv'ring army stands, +And press for passage with extended hands. +Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore: +The rest he drove to distance from the shore. +The hero, who beheld with wond'ring eyes +The tumult mix'd with shrieks, laments, and cries, +Ask'd of his guide, what the rude concourse meant; +Why to the shore the thronging people bent; +What forms of law among the ghosts were us'd; +Why some were ferried o'er, and some refus'd. + +"Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods," +The Sibyl said, "you see the Stygian floods, +The sacred stream which heav'n's imperial state +Attests in oaths, and fears to violate. +The ghosts rejected are th' unhappy crew +Depriv'd of sepulchers and fun'ral due: +The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host, +He ferries over to the farther coast; +Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves +With such whose bones are not compos'd in graves. +A hundred years they wander on the shore; +At length, their penance done, are wafted o'er." +The Trojan chief his forward pace repress'd, +Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast, +He saw his friends, who, whelm'd beneath the waves, +Their fun'ral honors claim'd, and ask'd their quiet graves. +The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, +And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, +Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; +The sailors master'd, and the ship o'erset. + +Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press'd, +Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest, +Who, while he steering view'd the stars, and bore +His course from Afric to the Latian shore, +Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix'd his view, +And scarcely thro' the gloom the sullen shadow knew. +Then thus the prince: "What envious pow'r, O friend, +Brought your lov'd life to this disastrous end? +For Phoebus, ever true in all he said, +Has in your fate alone my faith betray'd. +The god foretold you should not die, before +You reach'd, secure from seas, th' Italian shore. +Is this th' unerring pow'r?" The ghost replied; +"Nor Phoebus flatter'd, nor his answers lied; +Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep: +But, while the stars and course of heav'n I keep, +My wearied eyes were seiz'd with fatal sleep. +I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain'd +Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain'd. +Now by the winds and raging waves I swear, +Your safety, more than mine, was then my care; +Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost, +Your ship should run against the rocky coast. +Three blust'ring nights, borne by the southern blast, +I floated, and discover'd land at last: +High on a mounting wave my head I bore, +Forcing my strength, and gath'ring to the shore. +Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz'd +The craggy cliffs, and my tir'd members eas'd. +While, cumber'd with my dropping clothes, I lay, +The cruel nation, covetous of prey, +Stain'd with my blood th' unhospitable coast; +And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss'd: +Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, +Which I have lost for this eternal night! +Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, +By your dead sire, and by your living son, +Redeem from this reproach my wand'ring ghost; +Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, +And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; +Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, +Without whose aid you durst not undertake +This frightful passage o'er the Stygian lake, +Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o'er +To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore." +Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: +"What hopes delude thee, miserable man? +Think'st thou, thus unintomb'd, to cross the floods, +To view the Furies and infernal gods, +And visit, without leave, the dark abodes? +Attend the term of long revolving years; +Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears. +This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: +The wrath of Heav'n, inflicted for thy sake, +With vengeance shall pursue th' inhuman coast, +Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, +And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray'r; +And Palinurus' name the place shall bear." +This calm'd his cares; sooth'd with his future fame, +And pleas'd to hear his propagated name. + +Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: +Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw; +Observ'd their passage thro' the shady wood, +And mark'd their near approaches to the flood. +Then thus he call'd aloud, inflam'd with wrath: +"Mortal, whate'er, who this forbidden path +In arms presum'st to tread, I charge thee, stand, +And tell thy name, and bus'ness in the land. +Know this, the realm of night- the Stygian shore: +My boat conveys no living bodies o'er; +Nor was I pleas'd great Theseus once to bear, +Who forc'd a passage with his pointed spear, +Nor strong Alcides- men of mighty fame, +And from th' immortal gods their lineage came. +In fetters one the barking porter tied, +And took him trembling from his sov'reign's side: +Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride." +To whom the Sibyl thus: "Compose thy mind; +Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd. +Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain +Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, +And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain. +The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, +Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love, +Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove. +If neither piety, nor Heav'n's command, +Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, +This fatal present shall prevail at least." +Then shew'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest. +No more was needful: for the gloomy god +Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; +Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen- +A venerable gift, so rarely seen. +His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land; +The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: +He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; +The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight. +Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; +The pressing water pours within her sides. +His passengers at length are wafted o'er, +Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore. + +No sooner landed, in his den they found +The triple porter of the Stygian sound, +Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear +His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair. +The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd +A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard; +Which, mix'd with pow'rful drugs, she cast before +His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar. +With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, +With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait. +Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; +He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave. +The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay +Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way. +Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, +Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, +Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws +Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause. +Nor want they lots, nor judges to review +The wrongful sentence, and award a new. +Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; +And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears. +Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, +Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. +The next, in place and punishment, are they +Who prodigally throw their souls away; +Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, +And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate. +With late repentance now they would retrieve +The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; +Their pains and poverty desire to bear, +To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air: +But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, +And with circling streams the captive souls inclose. + +Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear +So call'd from lovers that inhabit there. +The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, +In secret solitude and myrtle shades +Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, +Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire. +Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, +Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound +Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there, +With Phaedra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair. +There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, +Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: +Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, +But ending in the sex she first began. +Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, +Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood; +Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, +Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, +(Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night, +Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,) +With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade; +And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said: +"Unhappy queen! then is the common breath +Of rumor true, in your reported death, +And I, alas! the cause? By Heav'n, I vow, +And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below, +Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, +Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by fate- +Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might +Have sent me to these regions void of light, +Thro' the vast empire of eternal night. +Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief, +My flight should urge you to this dire relief. +Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: +'T is the last interview that fate allows!" +In vain he thus attempts her mind to move +With tears, and pray'rs, and late-repenting love. +Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round, +But fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground, +And what he says and swears, regards no more +Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; +But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight, +Hid in the forest and the shades of night; +Then sought Sichaeus thro' the shady grove, +Who answer'd all her cares, and equal'd all her love. + +Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, +And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade, +Then took the forward way, by fate ordain'd, +And, with his guide, the farther fields attain'd, +Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd. +Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race, +The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace; +And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face. +Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a num'rous train, +All much lamented, all in battle slain; +Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, +Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest. +And proud Idaeus, Priam's charioteer, +Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear. +The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend +And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; +Delight to hover near, and long to know +What bus'ness brought him to the realms below. +But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train, +When his refulgent arms flash'd thro' the shady plain, +Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, +As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear +Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear. +They rais'd a feeble cry, with trembling notes; +But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats. + +Here Priam's son, Deiphobus, he found, +Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: +Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears, +Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears. +He scarcely knew him, striving to disown +His blotted form, and blushing to be known; +And therefore first began: "O Tsucer's race, +Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? +What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace? +'Twas fam'd, that in our last and fatal night +Your single prowess long sustain'd the fight, +Till tir'd, not forc'd, a glorious fate you chose, +And fell upon a heap of slaughter'd foes. +But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, +A tomb and fun'ral honors I decreed; +Thrice call'd your manes on the Trojan plains: +The place your armor and your name retains. +Your body too I sought, and, had I found, +Design'd for burial in your native ground." + +The ghost replied: "Your piety has paid +All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade; +But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, +To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life. +These are the monuments of Helen's love: +The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. +You know in what deluding joys we pass'd +The night that was by Heav'n decreed our last: +For, when the fatal horse, descending down, +Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th' unhappy town +She feign'd nocturnal orgies; left my bed, +And, mix'd with Trojan dames, the dances led +Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, +Which rous'd the Grecians from their ambuscade. +With watching overworn, with cares oppress'd, +Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, +And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess'd. +Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, +And from beneath my head my sword convey'd; +The door unlatch'd, and, with repeated calls, +Invites her former lord within my walls. +Thus in her crime her confidence she plac'd, +And with new treasons would redeem the past. +What need I more? Into the room they ran, +And meanly murther'd a defenseless man. +Ulysses, basely born, first led the way. +Avenging pow'rs! with justice if I pray, +That fortune be their own another day! +But answer you; and in your turn relate, +What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: +Driv'n by the winds and errors of the sea, +Or did you Heav'n's superior doom obey? +Or tell what other chance conducts your way, +To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, +Tumults and torments of th' infernal seats." + +While thus in talk the flying hours they pass, +The sun had finish'd more than half his race: +And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent +The little time of stay which Heav'n had lent; +But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: +"Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: +'T is here, in different paths, the way divides; +The right to Pluto's golden palace guides; +The left to that unhappy region tends, +Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; +The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends." +Then thus Deiphobus: "O sacred maid, +Forbear to chide, and be your will obey'd! +Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, +To pay my penance till my years expire. +Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown'd, +And born to better fates than I have found." +He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn'd +To secret shadows, and in silence mourn'd. + +The hero, looking on the left, espied +A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side +With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, +Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; +And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds +Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais'd on high +With adamantine columns, threats the sky. +Vain is the force of man, and Heav'n's as vain, +To crush the pillars which the pile sustain. +Sublime on these a tow'r of steel is rear'd; +And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, +Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, +Observant of the souls that pass the downward way. +From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains +Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains. +The Trojan stood astonish'd at their cries, +And ask'd his guide from whence those yells arise; +And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, +And loud laments that rent the liquid air. + +She thus replied: "The chaste and holy race +Are all forbidden this polluted place. +But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, +Then led me trembling thro' these dire abodes, +And taught the tortures of th' avenging gods. +These are the realms of unrelenting fate; +And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state. +He hears and judges each committed crime; +Enquires into the manner, place, and time. +The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, +(Loth to confess, unable to conceal), +From the first moment of his vital breath, +To his last hour of unrepenting death. +Straight, o'er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes +The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, +And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. +Then, of itself, unfolds th' eternal door; +With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar. +You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost +Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post. +More formidable Hydra stands within, +Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin. +The gaping gulf low to the center lies, +And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. +The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, +Here, sing'd with lightning, roll within th' unfathom'd space. +Here lie th' Alaean twins, (I saw them both,) +Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, +Who dar'd in fight the Thund'rer to defy, +Affect his heav'n, and force him from the sky. +Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel pains, I found, +For emulating Jove; the rattling sound +Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze +Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. +Thro' Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; +Th' audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: +He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain, +Sought godlike worship from a servile train. +Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass +O'er hollow arches of resounding brass, +To rival thunder in its rapid course, +And imitate inimitable force! +But he, the King of Heav'n, obscure on high, +Bar'd his red arm, and, launching from the sky +His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, +Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook. +There Tityus was to see, who took his birth +From heav'n, his nursing from the foodful earth. +Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, +Infold nine acres of infernal space. +A rav'nous vulture, in his open'd side, +Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried; +Still for the growing liver digg'd his breast; +The growing liver still supplied the feast; +Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains: +Th' immortal hunger lasts, th' immortal food remains. +Ixion and Perithous I could name, +And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame. +High o'er their heads a mold'ring rock is plac'd, +That promises a fall, and shakes at ev'ry blast. +They lie below, on golden beds display'd; +And genial feasts with regal pomp are made. +The Queen of Furies by their sides is set, +And snatches from their mouths th' untasted meat, +Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, +Tossing her torch, and thund'ring in their ears. +Then they, who brothers' better claim disown, +Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; +Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, +Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; +Who dare not give, and ev'n refuse to lend +To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend. +Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train +Of lustful youths, for foul adult'ry slain: +Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold, +And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold. +All these within the dungeon's depth remain, +Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. +Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know +Their process, or the forms of law below. +Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along, +And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung +Unhappy Theseus, doom'd for ever there, +Is fix'd by fate on his eternal chair; +And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries +(Could warning make the world more just or wise): +'Learn righteousness, and dread th' avenging deities.' +To tyrants others have their country sold, +Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; +Some have old laws repeal'd, new statutes made, +Not as the people pleas'd, but as they paid; +With incest some their daughters' bed profan'd: +All dar'd the worst of ills, and, what they dar'd, attain'd. +Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, +And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs, +I could not half those horrid crimes repeat, +Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. +But let us haste our voyage to pursue: +The walls of Pluto's palace are in view; +The gate, and iron arch above it, stands +On anvils labor'd by the Cyclops' hands. +Before our farther way the Fates allow, +Here must we fix on high the golden bough." + +She said: and thro' the gloomy shades they pass'd, +And chose the middle path. Arriv'd at last, +The prince with living water sprinkled o'er +His limbs and body; then approach'd the door, +Possess'd the porch, and on the front above +He fix'd the fatal bough requir'd by Pluto's love. +These holy rites perform'd, they took their way +Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: +The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie, +With ether vested, and a purple sky; +The blissful seats of happy souls below. +Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; +Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, +And on the green contend the wrestler's prize. +Some in heroic verse divinely sing; +Others in artful measures led the ring. +The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, +There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; +His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, +Strikes sev'n distinguish'd notes, and sev'n at once they fill. +Here found they Tsucer's old heroic race, +Born better times and happier years to grace. +Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy +Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. +The chief beheld their chariots from afar, +Their shining arms, and coursers train'd to war: +Their lances fix'd in earth, their steeds around, +Free from their harness, graze the flow'ry ground. +The love of horses which they had, alive, +And care of chariots, after death survive. +Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; +Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, +Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po +Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. +Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, +In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: +Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode, +And poets worthy their inspiring god; +And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, +Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts: +Those who to worth their bounty did extend, +And those who knew that bounty to commend. +The heads of these with holy fillets bound, +And all their temples were with garlands crown'd. + +To these the Sibyl thus her speech address'd, +And first to him surrounded by the rest +(Tow'ring his height, and ample was his breast): +"Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say, +Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way +To find the hero, for whose only sake +We sought the dark abodes, and cross'd the bitter lake?" +To this the sacred poet thus replied: +"In no fix'd place the happy souls reside. +In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, +By crystal streams, that murmur thro' the meads: +But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; +The path conducts you to your journey's end." +This said, he led them up the mountain's brow, +And shews them all the shining fields below. +They wind the hill, and thro' the blissful meadows go. + +But old Anchises, in a flow'ry vale, +Review'd his muster'd race, and took the tale: +Those happy spirits, which, ordain'd by fate, +For future beings and new bodies wait- +With studious thought observ'd th' illustrious throng, +In nature's order as they pass'd along: +Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care, +In peaceful senates and successful war. +He, when Aeneas on the plain appears, +Meets him with open arms, and falling tears. +"Welcome," he said, "the gods' undoubted race! +O long expected to my dear embrace! +Once more 't is giv'n me to behold your face! +The love and pious duty which you pay +Have pass'd the perils of so hard a way. +'T is true, computing times, I now believ'd +The happy day approach'd; nor are my hopes deceiv'd. +What length of lands, what oceans have you pass'd; +What storms sustain'd, and on what shores been cast? +How have I fear'd your fate! but fear'd it most, +When love assail'd you, on the Libyan coast." +To this, the filial duty thus replies: +"Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes +Appear'd, and often urg'd this painful enterprise. +After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea, +My navy rides at anchor in the bay. +But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun +The dear embraces of your longing son!" +He said; and falling tears his face bedew: +Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw; +And thrice the flitting shadow slipp'd away, +Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. + +Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees +A sep'rate grove, thro' which a gentle breeze +Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro' the trees; +And, just before the confines of the wood, +The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood. +About the boughs an airy nation flew, +Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; +In summer's heat on tops of lilies feed, +And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: +The winged army roams the fields around; +The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. +Aeneas wond'ring stood, then ask'd the cause +Which to the stream the crowding people draws. +Then thus the sire: "The souls that throng the flood +Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow'd: +In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste, +Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. +Long has my soul desir'd this time and place, +To set before your sight your glorious race, +That this presaging joy may fire your mind +To seek the shores by destiny design'd."- +"O father, can it be, that souls sublime +Return to visit our terrestrial clime, +And that the gen'rous mind, releas'd by death, +Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?" + +Anchises then, in order, thus begun +To clear those wonders to his godlike son: +"Know, first, that heav'n, and earth's compacted frame, +And flowing waters, and the starry flame, +And both the radiant lights, one common soul +Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole. +This active mind, infus'd thro' all the space, +Unites and mingles with the mighty mass. +Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain, +And birds of air, and monsters of the main. +Th' ethereal vigor is in all the same, +And every soul is fill'd with equal flame; +As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay +Of mortal members, subject to decay, +Blunt not the beams of heav'n and edge of day. +From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, +Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts, +And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind, +In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin'd, +Assert the native skies, or own its heav'nly kind: +Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains; +But long-contracted filth ev'n in the soul remains. +The relics of inveterate vice they wear, +And spots of sin obscene in ev'ry face appear. +For this are various penances enjoin'd; +And some are hung to bleach upon the wind, +Some plung'd in waters, others purg'd in fires, +Till all the dregs are drain'd, and all the rust expires. +All have their manes, and those manes bear: +The few, so cleans'd, to these abodes repair, +And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air. +Then are they happy, when by length of time +The scurf is worn away of each committed crime; +No speck is left of their habitual stains, +But the pure ether of the soul remains. +But, when a thousand rolling years are past, +(So long their punishments and penance last,) +Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god, +Compell'd to drink the deep Lethaean flood, +In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares +Of their past labors, and their irksome years, +That, unrememb'ring of its former pain, +The soul may suffer mortal flesh again." + +Thus having said, the father spirit leads +The priestess and his son thro' swarms of shades, +And takes a rising ground, from thence to see +The long procession of his progeny. +"Survey," pursued the sire, "this airy throng, +As, offer'd to thy view, they pass along. +These are th' Italian names, which fate will join +With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line. +Observe the youth who first appears in sight, +And holds the nearest station to the light, +Already seems to snuff the vital air, +And leans just forward, on a shining spear: +Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race, +But first in order sent, to fill thy place; +An Alban name, but mix'd with Dardan blood, +Born in the covert of a shady wood: +Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife, +Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life. +In Alba he shall fix his royal seat, +And, born a king, a race of kings beget. +Then Procas, honor of the Trojan name, +Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame. +A second Silvius after these appears; +Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears; +For arms and justice equally renown'd, +Who, late restor'd, in Alba shall be crown'd. +How great they look! how vig'rously they wield +Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield! +But they, who crown'd with oaken wreaths appear, +Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear; +Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found; +And raise Collatian tow'rs on rocky ground. +All these shall then be towns of mighty fame, +Tho' now they lie obscure, and lands without a name. +See Romulus the great, born to restore +The crown that once his injur'd grandsire wore. +This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear, +And like his sire in arms he shall appear. +Two rising crests, his royal head adorn; +Born from a god, himself to godhead born: +His sire already signs him for the skies, +And marks the seat amidst the deities. +Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come, +Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome- +Rome, whose ascending tow'rs shall heav'n invade, +Involving earth and ocean in her shade; +High as the Mother of the Gods in place, +And proud, like her, of an immortal race. +Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, +With golden turrets on her temples crown'd; +A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; +Her offspring all, and all command the sky. + +"Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see +Your Roman race, and Julian progeny. +The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour, +Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis'd pow'r. +But next behold the youth of form divine, +Ceasar himself, exalted in his line; +Augustus, promis'd oft, and long foretold, +Sent to the realm that Saturn rul'd of old; +Born to restore a better age of gold. +Afric and India shall his pow'r obey; +He shall extend his propagated sway +Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, +Where Atlas turns the rolling heav'ns around, +And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown'd. +At his foreseen approach, already quake +The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake: +Their seers behold the tempest from afar, +And threat'ning oracles denounce the war. +Nile hears him knocking at his sev'nfold gates, +And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates. +Nor Hercules more lands or labors knew, +Not tho' the brazen-footed hind he slew, +Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, +And dipp'd his arrows in Lernaean gore; +Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, +By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, +From Nisus' top descending on the plains, +With curling vines around his purple reins. +And doubt we yet thro' dangers to pursue +The paths of honor, and a crown in view? +But what's the man, who from afar appears? +His head with olive crown'd, his hand a censer bears, +His hoary beard and holy vestments bring +His lost idea back: I know the Roman king. +He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain, +Call'd from his mean abode a scepter to sustain. +Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds, +An active prince, and prone to martial deeds. +He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare, +Disus'd to toils, and triumphs of the war. +By dint of sword his crown he shall increase, +And scour his armor from the rust of peace. +Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air, +But vain within, and proudly popular. +Next view the Tarquin kings, th' avenging sword +Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor'd. +He first renews the rods and ax severe, +And gives the consuls royal robes to wear. +His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain, +And long for arbitrary lords again, +With ignominy scourg'd, in open sight, +He dooms to death deserv'd, asserting public right. +Unhappy man, to break the pious laws +Of nature, pleading in his children's cause! +Howeer the doubtful fact is understood, +'T is love of honor, and his country's good: +The consul, not the father, sheds the blood. +Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; +And, next, the two devoted Decii view: +The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home +With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes o'ercome +The pair you see in equal armor shine, +Now, friends below, in close embraces join; +But, when they leave the shady realms of night, +And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light, +With mortal hate each other shall pursue: +What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue! +From Alpine heights the father first descends; +His daughter's husband in the plain attends: +His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends. +Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; +Nor stain your country with her children's gore! +And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, +Thou, of my blood, who bearist the Julian name! +Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, +And to the Capitol his chariot guide, +From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils. +And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils, +On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, +And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; +Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; +Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace, +And Pallas, for her violated place. +Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd, +And conqu'ring Cossus goes with laurels crown'd. +Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare +The Scipios' worth, those thunderbolts of war, +The double bane of Carthage? Who can see +Without esteem for virtuous poverty, +Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire +The plowman consul in his coarse attire? +Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; +And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, +Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state, +And, by delays, to put a stop to fate! +Let others better mold the running mass +Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, +And soften into flesh a marble face; +Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, +And when the stars descend, and when they rise. +But, Rome, 't is thine alone, with awful sway, +To rule mankind, and make the world obey, +Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; +To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free: +These are imperial arts, and worthy thee." + +He paus'd; and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd +The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd: +"See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils, +He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils! +He, when his country, threaten'd with alarms, +Requires his courage and his conqu'ring arms, +Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; +Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; +Then to the Capitol in triumph move, +And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove." +Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, +A godlike youth in glitt'ring armor shine, +With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; +But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. +He saw, and, wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide, +What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side: +"His son, or one of his illustrious name? +How like the former, and almost the same! +Observe the crowds that compass him around; +All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: +But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread, +And night, with sable shades, involves his head." +"Seek not to know," the ghost replied with tears, +"The sorrows of thy sons in future years. +This youth (the blissful vision of a day) +Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch'd away. +The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state, +Were but their gifts as permanent as great. +What groans of men shall fill the Martian field! +How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield! +What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, +When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity! +No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, +No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; +The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast, +Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost! +Mirror of ancient faith in early youth! +Undaunted worth, inviolable truth! +No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field +Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; +Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, +When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse. +Ah! couldst thou break thro' fate's severe decree, +A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! +Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, +Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring; +Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow; +This gift which parents to their children owe, +This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!" +Thus having said, he led the hero round +The confines of the blest Elysian ground; +Which when Anchises to his son had shown, +And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne, +He tells the future wars, ordain'd by fate; +The strength and customs of the Latian state; +The prince, and people; and forearms his care +With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear. + +Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; +Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn: +True visions thro' transparent horn arise; +Thro' polish'd ivory pass deluding lies. +Of various things discoursing as he pass'd, +Anchises hither bends his steps at last. +Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd +His valiant offspring and divining guest. +Straight to the ships Aeneas his way, +Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea, +Still coasting, till he gain'd Cajeta's bay. +At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; +Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore. +BOOK VII + +And thou, O matron of immortal fame, +Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name; +Cajeta still the place is call'd from thee, +The nurse of great Aeneas' infancy. +Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains; +Thy name ('t is all a ghost can have) remains. + +Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid, +He plow'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd. +From land a gentle breeze arose by night, +Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, +And the sea trembled with her silver light. +Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run, +(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,) +A dang'rous coast: the goddess wastes her days +In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: +In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, +And cedar brands supply her father's light. +From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, +The roars of lions that refuse the chain, +The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, +And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears. +These from their caverns, at the close of night, +Fill the sad isle with horror and affright. +Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r, +(That watch'd the moon and planetary hour,) +With words and wicked herbs from humankind +Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd. +Which monsters lest the Trojans' pious host +Should bear, or touch upon th' inchanted coast, +Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night +With rising gales that sped their happy flight. +Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore, +And hear the swelling surges vainly roar. +Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, +And wav'd her saffron streamer thro' the skies; +When Thetis blush'd in purple not her own, +And from her face the breathing winds were blown, +A sudden silence sate upon the sea, +And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way. +The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, +Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: +Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, +With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, +That drove the sand along, he took his way, +And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea. +About him, and above, and round the wood, +The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, +That bath'd within, or basked upon his side, +To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied. +The captain gives command; the joyful train +Glide thro' the gloomy shade, and leave the main. + +Now, Erato, thy poet's mind inspire, +And fill his soul with thy celestial fire! +Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings; +Declare the past and state of things, +When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, +And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought. +These are my theme, and how the war began, +And how concluded by the godlike man: +For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, +Which princes and their people did engage; +And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate, +In fighting fields pursued and found their fate; +That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, +And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms. +A larger scene of action is display'd; +And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh'd. + +Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd +The Latin scepter, and his people blest: +His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame +His mother; fair Marica was her name. +But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew +His birth from Saturn, if records be true. +Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, +Had Saturn author of his family. +But this old peaceful prince, as Heav'n decreed, +Was blest with no male issue to succeed: +His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate; +One only daughter heir'd the royal state. +Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led, +The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed. +Among the crowd, but far above the rest, +Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd. +Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, +Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen; +With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand, +But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand. + +Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood +A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood; +Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair +Was kept and cut with superstitious care. +This plant Latinus, when his town he wall'd, +Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call'd; +And last, in honor of his new abode, +He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god. +It happen'd once (a boding prodigy!) +A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, +(Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,) +Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight; +There with their clasping feet together clung, +And a long cluster from the laurel hung. +An ancient augur prophesied from hence: +"Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince! +From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands, +To the same parts on earth; his army lands; +The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands." + +Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire +Before the gods, and stood beside her sire, +(Strange to relate!) the flames, involv'd in smoke +Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, +Caught her dishevel'd hair and rich attire; +Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire: +From thence the fuming trail began to spread +And lambent glories danc'd about her head. +This new portent the seer with wonder views, +Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews: +"The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, +Shall shine with honor, shall herself be crown'd; +But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate, +War shall the country waste, and change the state." + +Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, +For counsel to his father Faunus went, +And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy +Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie. +To these the Latian and the Sabine land +Fly, when distress'd, and thence relief demand. +The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease, +And nightly visions in his slumber sees; +A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears, +And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears: +These he consults, the future fates to know, +From pow'rs above, and from the fiends below. +Here, for the gods' advice, Latinus flies, +Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice: +Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd, +He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd. +No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound, +When, from above, a more than mortal sound +Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke: +"Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke +Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke. +A foreign son upon thy shore descends, +Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends. +His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd, +Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound: +'T is theirs whate'er the sun surveys around." +These answers, in the silent night receiv'd, +The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd: +The fame thro' all the neighb'ring nations flew, +When now the Trojan navy was in view. + +Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread +His table on the turf, with cakes of bread; +And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed. +They sate; and, (not without the god's command,) +Their homely fare dispatch'd, the hungry band +Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour, +To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour. +Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said: +"See, we devour the plates on which we fed." +The speech had omen, that the Trojan race +Should find repose, and this the time and place. +Aeneas took the word, and thus replies, +Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes: +"All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods! +Behold the destin'd place of your abodes! +For thus Anchises prophesied of old, +And this our fatal place of rest foretold: +'When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat, +By famine forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat, +Then ease your weary Trojans will attend, +And the long labors of your voyage end. +Remember on that happy coast to build, +And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.' +This was that famine, this the fatal place +Which ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race. +Then, on to-morrow's dawn, your care employ, +To search the land, and where the cities lie, +And what the men; but give this day to joy. +Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest, +Call great Anchises to the genial feast: +Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught; +Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought." + +Thus having said, the hero bound his brows +With leafy branches, then perform'd his vows; +Adoring first the genius of the place, +Then Earth, the mother of the heav'nly race, +The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown, +And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne, +And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove, +And last his sire below, and mother queen above. +Then heav'n's high monarch thunder'd thrice aloud, +And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud. +Soon thro' the joyful camp a rumor flew, +The time was come their city to renew. +Then ev'ry brow with cheerful green is crown'd, +The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round. + +When next the rosy morn disclos'd the day, +The scouts to sev'ral parts divide their way, +To learn the natives' names, their towns explore, +The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore: +Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands; +Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands. +The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways +To found his empire, and his town to raise, +A hundred youths from all his train selects, +And to the Latian court their course directs, +(The spacious palace where their prince resides,) +And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides. +They go commission'd to require a peace, +And carry presents to procure access. +Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs +His new-elected seat, and draws the lines. +The Trojans round the place a rampire cast, +And palisades about the trenches plac'd. + +Meantime the train, proceeding on their way, +From far the town and lofty tow'rs survey; +At length approach the walls. Without the gate, +They see the boys and Latian youth debate +The martial prizes on the dusty plain: +Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein; +Some bend the stubborn bow for victory, +And some with darts their active sinews try. +A posting messenger, dispatch'd from hence, +Of this fair troop advis'd their aged prince, +That foreign men of mighty stature came; +Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name. +The king ordains their entrance, and ascends +His regal seat, surrounded by his friends. + +The palace built by Picus, vast and proud, +Supported by a hundred pillars stood, +And round incompass'd with a rising wood. +The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight; +Surpris'd at once with reverence and delight. +There kings receiv'd the marks of sov'reign pow'r; +In state the monarchs march'd; the lictors bore +Their awful axes and the rods before. +Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray'r, +And here the sacred senators repair; +All at large tables, in long order set, +A ram their off'ring, and a ram their meat. +Above the portal, carv'd in cedar wood, +Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood; +Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high; +And Italus, that led the colony; +And ancient Janus, with his double face, +And bunch of keys, the porter of the place. +There good Sabinus, planter of the vines, +On a short pruning hook his head reclines, +And studiously surveys his gen'rous wines; +Then warlike kings, who for their country fought, +And honorable wounds from battle brought. +Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears, +And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars, +And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars. +Above the rest, as chief of all the band, +Was Picus plac'd, a buckler in his hand; +His other wav'd a long divining wand. +Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate, +Yet could not with his art avoid his fate: +For Circe long had lov'd the youth in vain, +Till love, refus'd, converted to disdain: +Then, mixing pow'rful herbs, with magic art, +She chang'd his form, who could not change his heart; +Constrain'd him in a bird, and made him fly, +With party-color'd plumes, a chatt'ring pie. + +In this high temple, on a chair of state, +The seat of audience, old Latinus sate; +Then gave admission to the Trojan train; +And thus with pleasing accents he began: +"Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own, +Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown- +Say what you seek, and whither were you bound: +Were you by stress of weather cast aground? +(Such dangers as on seas are often seen, +And oft befall to miserable men,) +Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay, +Spent and disabled in so long a way? +Say what you want: the Latians you shall find +Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd; +For, since the time of Saturn's holy reign, +His hospitable customs we retain. +I call to mind (but time the tale has worn) +Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho' born +On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore, +And Samothracia, Samos call'd before. +From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd his birth; +But after, when exempt from mortal earth, +From thence ascended to his kindred skies, +A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice," + +He said. Ilioneus made this reply: +"O king, of Faunus' royal family! +Nor wintry winds to Latium forc'd our way, +Nor did the stars our wand'ring course betray. +Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound, +The port, so long desir'd, at length we found; +From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell'd; +Great as the greatest that the sun beheld. +The god began our line, who rules above; +And, as our race, our king descends from Jove: +And hither are we come, by his command, +To crave admission in your happy land. +How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour'd, +Our plains, our temples, and our town devour'd; +What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms +Shook Asia's crown with European arms; +Ev'n such have heard, if any such there be, +Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea; +And such as, born beneath the burning sky +And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie. +From that dire deluge, thro' the wat'ry waste, +Such length of years, such various perils past, +At last escap'd, to Latium we repair, +To beg what you without your want may spare: +The common water, and the common air; +Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes, +Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods. +Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace, +Nor length of time our gratitude efface. +Besides, what endless honor you shall gain, +To save and shelter Troy's unhappy train! +Now, by my sov'reign, and his fate, I swear, +Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in war; +Oft our alliance other lands desir'd, +And, what we seek of you, of us requir'd. +Despite not then, that in our hands we bear +These holy boughs, sue with words of pray'r. +Fate and the gods, by their supreme command, +Have doom'd our ships to seek the Latian land. +To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends; +Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends; +Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force, +And where Numicus opes his holy source. +Besides, our prince presents, with his request, +Some small remains of what his sire possess'd. +This golden charger, snatch'd from burning Troy, +Anchises did in sacrifice employ; +This royal robe and this tiara wore +Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore +In full assemblies, and in solemn games; +These purple vests were weav'd by Dardan dames." + +Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around +His eyes, and fix'd a while upon the ground. +Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his breast; +Not by the scepter mov'd, or kingly vest, +But pond'ring future things of wondrous weight; +Succession, empire, and his daughter's fate. +On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind, +And then revolv'd what Faunus had divin'd. +This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed +To share his scepter, and Lavinia's bed; +This was the race that sure portents foreshew +To sway the world, and land and sea subdue. +At length he rais'd his cheerful head, and spoke: +"The pow'rs," said he, "the pow'rs we both invoke, +To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be, +And firm our purpose with their augury! +Have what you ask; your presents I receive; +Land, where and when you please, with ample leave; +Partake and use my kingdom as your own; +All shall be yours, while I command the crown: +And, if my wish'd alliance please your king, +Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring. +Then let him not a friend's embraces fear; +The peace is made when I behold him here. +Besides this answer, tell my royal guest, +I add to his commands my own request: +One only daughter heirs my crown and state, +Whom not our oracles, nor Heav'n, nor fate, +Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join +With any native of th' Ausonian line. +A foreign son-in-law shall come from far +(Such is our doom), a chief renown'd in war, +Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name, +And thro' the conquer'd world diffuse our fame. +Himself to be the man the fates require, +I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire." + +He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed. +Three hundred horses, in high stables fed, +Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress'd: +Of these he chose the fairest and the best, +To mount the Trojan troop. At his command +The steeds caparison'd with purple stand, +With golden trappings, glorious to behold, +And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold. +Then to his absent guest the king decreed +A pair of coursers born of heav'nly breed, +Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire; +Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, +By substituting mares produc'd on earth, +Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal birth. +These draw the chariot which Latinus sends, +And the rich present to the prince commends. +Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne, +To their expecting lord with peace return. + +But jealous Juno, from Pachynus' height, +As she from Argos took her airy flight, +Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight. +She saw the Trojan and his joyful train +Descend upon the shore, desert the main, +Design a town, and, with unhop'd success, +Th' embassadors return with promis'd peace. +Then, pierc'd with pain, she shook her haughty head, +Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus she said: +"O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes! +O fates of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose! +Could they not fall unpitied on the plain, +But slain revive, and, taken, scape again? +When execrable Troy in ashes lay, +Thro' fires and swords and seas they forc'd their way. +Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend, +Her rage disarm'd, her empire at an end. +Breathless and tir'd, is all my fury spent? +Or does my glutted spleen at length relent? +As if 't were little from their town to chase, +I thro' the seas pursued their exil'd race; +Ingag'd the heav'ns, oppos'd the stormy main; +But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain. +What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done, +When these they overpass, and those they shun? +On Tiber's shores they land, secure of fate, +Triumphant o'er the storms and Juno's hate. +Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe, +And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath, +Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon; +(What great offense had either people done?) +But I, the consort of the Thunderer, +Have wag'd a long and unsuccessful war, +With various arts and arms in vain have toil'd, +And by a mortal man at length am foil'd. +If native pow'r prevail not, shall I doubt +To seek for needful succor from without? +If Jove and Heav'n my just desires deny, +Hell shall the pow'r of Heav'n and Jove supply. +Grant that the Fates have firm'd, by their decree, +The Trojan race to reign in Italy; +At least I can defer the nuptial day, +And with protracted wars the peace delay: +With blood the dear alliance shall be bought, +And both the people near destruction brought; +So shall the son-in-law and father join, +With ruin, war, and waste of either line. +O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow'd +With Phrygian, Latian, andRutulian blood! +Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand; +Another queen brings forth another brand, +To burn with foreign fires another land! +A second Paris, diff'ring but in name, +Shall fire his country with a second flame." + +Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground, +With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound, +To rouse Alecto from th' infernal seat +Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat. +This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose; +One who delights in wars and human woes. +Ev'n Pluto hates his own misshapen race; +Her sister Furies fly her hideous face; +So frightful are the forms the monster takes, +So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes. +Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite: +"O virgin daughter of eternal Night, +Give me this once thy labor, to sustain +My right, and execute my just disdain. +Let not the Trojans, with a feign'd pretense +Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian prince. +Expel from Italy that odious name, +And let not Juno suffer in her fame. +'T is thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a state, +Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate, +And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate. +Thy hand o'er towns the fun'ral torch displays, +And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways. +Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds +Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds: +Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare +Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war." + +Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonian blood, +The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood; +And on her wicker wings, sublime thro' night, +She to the Latian palace took her flight: +There sought the queen's apartment, stood before +The peaceful threshold, and besieg'd the door. +Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast +Fir'd with disdain for Turnus dispossess'd, +And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest. +From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes +Her darling plague, the fav'rite of her snakes; +With her full force she threw the poisonous dart, +And fix'd it deep within Amata's heart, +That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage, +And sacrifice to strife her house husband's age. +Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims +Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs; +His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides, +Now like a chain around her neck he rides, +Now like a fillet to her head repairs, +And with his circling volumes folds her hairs. +At first the silent venom slid with ease, +And seiz'd her cooler senses by degrees; +Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far, +In plaintive accents she began the war, +And thus bespoke her husband: "Shall," she said, +"A wand'ring prince enjoy Lavinia's bed? +If nature plead not in a parent's heart, +Pity my tears, and pity her desert. +I know, my dearest lord, the time will come, +You in vain, reverse your cruel doom; +The faithless pirate soon will set to sea, +And bear the royal virgin far away! +A guest like him, a Trojan guest before, +In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore, +And ravish'd Helen from her husband bore. +Think on a king's inviolable word; +And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord: +To this false foreigner you give your throne, +And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son. +Resume your ancient care; and, if the god +Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood, +Know all are foreign, in a larger sense, +Not born your subjects, or deriv'd from hence. +Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace, +He springs from Inachus of Argive race." + +But when she saw her reasons idly spent, +And could not move him from his fix'd intent, +She flew to rage; for now the snake possess'd +Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast; +She raves, she runs with a distracted pace, +And fills with horrid howls the public place. +And, as young striplings whip the top for sport, +On the smooth pavement of an empty court; +The wooden engine flies and whirls about, +Admir'd, with clamors, of the beardless rout; +They lash aloud; each other they provoke, +And lend their little souls at ev'ry stroke: +Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows +Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes. +Nor yet content, she strains her malice more, +And adds new ills to those contriv'd before: +She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng +Of madding matrons, bears the bride along, +Wand'ring thro' woods and wilds, and devious ways, +And with these arts the Trojan match delays. +She feign'd the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud, +And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd. +"Evoe! O Bacchus!" thus began the song; +And "Evoe!" answer'd all the female throng. +"O virgin! worthy thee alone!" she cried; +"O worthy thee alone!" the crew replied. +"For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance, +And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance." +Like fury seiz'd the rest; the progress known, +All seek the mountains, and forsake the town: +All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav'lin bear, +Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair, +And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff'ring air. +The queen herself, inspir'd with rage divine, +Shook high above her head a flaming pine; +Then roll'd her haggard eyes around the throng, +And sung, in Turnus' name, the nuptial song: +"Io, ye Latian dames! if any here +Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear; +If there be here," she said, who dare maintain +My right, nor think the name of mother vain; +Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair, +And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare." + +Amata's breast the Fury thus invades, +And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades; +Then, when she found her venom spread so far, +The royal house embroil'd in civil war, +Rais'd on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies, +And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies. +His town, as fame reports, was built of old +By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold, +Who fled her father's rage, and, with a train +Of following Argives, thro' the stormy main, +Driv'n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign. +'T was Ardua once; now Ardea's name it bears; +Once a fair city, now consum'd with years. +Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay, +Betwixt the confines of the night and day, +Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside +Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried +The foulness of th' infernal form to hide. +Propp'd on a staff, she takes a trembling mien: +Her face is furrow'd, and her front obscene; +Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws; +Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws; +Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound, +Her temples with an olive wreath are crown'd. +Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane +Of Juno, now she seem'd, and thus began, +Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man: +"Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain +In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain? +Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize, +Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories? +The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought, +The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought. +Go now, deluded man, and seek again +New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain. +Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize; +Protect the Latians in luxurious ease. +This dream all-pow'rful Juno sends; I bear +Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear. +Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain; +With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train: +Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie +In Tiber's mouth, with fire and sword destroy. +The Latian king, unless he shall submit, +Own his old promise, and his new forget- +Let him, in arms, the pow'r of Turnus prove, +And learn to fear whom he disdains to love. +For such is Heav'n's command." The youthful prince +With scorn replied, and made this bold defense: +"You tell me, mother, what I knew before: +The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. +I neither fear nor will provoke the war; +My fate is Juno's most peculiar care. +But time has made you dote, and vainly tell +Of arms imagin'd in your lonely cell. +Go; be the temple and the gods your care; +Permit to men the thought of peace and war." + +These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke, +And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. +Her eyes grow stiffen'd, and with sulphur burn; +Her hideous looks and hellish form return; +Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, +And open all the furies of her face: +Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes, +She cast him backward as he strove to rise, +And, ling'ring, sought to frame some new replies. +High on her head she rears two twisted snakes, +Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes; +And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks: +"Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell +Of arms imagin'd in her lonely cell! +Behold the Fates' infernal minister! +War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear." + +Thus having said, her smold'ring torch, impress'd +With her full force, she plung'd into his breast. +Aghast he wak'd; and, starting from his bed, +Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o'erspread. +"Arms! arms!" he cries: "my sword and shield prepare!" +He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war. +So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, +The bubbling waters from the bottom rise: +Above the brims they force their fiery way; +Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day. + +The peace polluted thus, a chosen band +He first commissions to the Latian land, +In threat'ning embassy; then rais'd the rest, +To meet in arms th' intruding Trojan guest, +To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, +And Italy's indanger'd peace restore. +Himself alone an equal match he boasts, +To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts. +The gods invok'd, the Rutuli prepare +Their arms, and warn each other to the war. +His beauty these, and those his blooming age, +The rest his house and his own fame ingage. + +While Turnus urges thus his enterprise, +The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies; +New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand, +Which overlooks the vale with wide command; +Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train, +With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, +And pitch their toils around the shady plain. +The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent, +And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. +'Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise +High o'er his front; his beams invade the skies. +From this light cause th' infernal maid prepares +The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars. + +The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred, +Snatch'd from his dams, and the tame youngling fed. +Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring, +Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king: +Their sister Silvia cherish'd with her care +The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare +To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied +His tender neck, and comb'd his silken hide, +And bathed his body. Patient of command +In time he grew, and, growing us'd to hand, +He waited at his master's board for food; +Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood, +Where grazing all the day, at night he came +To his known lodgings, and his country dame. + +This household beast, that us'd the woodland grounds, +Was view'd at first by the young hero's hounds, +As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat +In the cool waters, and to quench his heat. +Ascanius young, and eager of his game, +Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim; +But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides, +Which pierc'd his bowels thro' his panting sides. +The bleeding creature issues from the floods, +Possess'd with fear, and seeks his known abodes, +His old familiar hearth and household gods. +He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans, +Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans. +Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud +For succor from the clownish neighborhood: +The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay +In the close woody covert, urg'd their way. +One with a brand yet burning from the flame, +Arm'd with a knotty club another came: +Whate'er they catch or find, without their care, +Their fury makes an instrument of war. +Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast, +Then clench'd a hatchet in his horny fist, +But held his hand from the descending stroke, +And left his wedge within the cloven oak, +To whet their courage and their rage provoke. +And now the goddess, exercis'd in ill, +Who watch'd an hour to work her impious will, +Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn, +Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne, +Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around, +And mountains, tremble at th' infernal sound. +The sacred lake of Trivia from afar, +The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar, +Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war. +Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess'd, +And strain their helpless infants to their breast. + +The clowns, a boist'rous, rude, ungovern'd crew, +With furious haste to the loud summons flew. +The pow'rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain, +With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain: +Not theirs a raw and unexperienc'd train, +But a firm body of embattled men. +At first, while fortune favor'd neither side, +The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried; +But now, both parties reinforc'd, the fields +Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields. +A shining harvest either host displays, +And shoots against the sun with equal rays. +Thus, when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise, +White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries; +Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies; +Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, +The muddy bottom o'er the clouds is thrown. +First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus' eldest care, +Pierc'd with an arrow from the distant war: +Fix'd in his throat the flying weapon stood, +And stopp'd his breath, and drank his vital blood +Huge heaps of slain around the body rise: +Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies; +A good old man, while peace he preach'd in vain, +Amidst the madness of th' unruly train: +Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill'd; +His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till'd. + +Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood +The Fury bath'd them in each other's blood; +Then, having fix'd the fight, exulting flies, +And bears fulfill'd her promise to the skies. +To Juno thus she speaks: "Behold! It is done, +The blood already drawn, the war begun; +The discord is complete; nor can they cease +The dire debate, nor you command the peace. +Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood +Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood; +Speak, and my pow'r shall add this office more: +The neighb'ing nations of th' Ausonian shore +Shall hear the dreadful rumor, from afar, +Of arm'd invasion, and embrace the war." +Then Juno thus: "The grateful work is done, +The seeds of discord sow'd, the war begun; +Frauds, fears, and fury have possess'd the state, +And fix'd the causes of a lasting hate. +A bloody Hymen shall th' alliance join +Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line: +But thou with speed to night and hell repair; +For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear +Thy lawless wand'ring walks in upper air. +Leave what remains to me." Saturnia said: +The sullen fiend her sounding wings display'd, +Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade. + +In midst of Italy, well known to fame, +There lies a lake (Amsanctus is the name) +Below the lofty mounts: on either side +Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide. +Full in the center of the sacred wood +An arm arises of the Stygian flood, +Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, +Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around. +Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, +And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. +To this infernal lake the Fury flies; +Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab'ring skies. + +Saturnian Juno now, with double care, +Attends the fatal process of the war. +The clowns, return'd, from battle bear the slain, +Implore the gods, and to their king complain. +The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; +Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town. +Ambitious Turnus in the press appears, +And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears; +Proclaims his private injuries aloud, +A solemn promise made, and disavow'd; +A foreign son is sought, and a mix'd mungril brood. +Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, +In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, +And lead his dances with dishevel'd hair, +Increase the clamor, and the war demand, +(Such was Amata's interest in the land,) +Against the public sanctions of the peace, +Against all omens of their ill success. +With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, +To force their monarch, and insult the court. +But, like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves +The raging tempest and the rising waves- +Propp'd on himself he stands; his solid sides +Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides- +So stood the pious prince, unmov'd, and long +Sustain'd the madness of the noisy throng. +But, when he found that Juno's pow'r prevail'd, +And all the methods of cool counsel fail'd, +He calls the gods to witness their offense, +Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. +"Hurried by fate," he cries, "and borne before +A furious wind, we have the faithful shore. +O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear +The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war: +Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate, +And pray to Heav'n for peace, but pray too late. +For me, my stormy voyage at an end, +I to the port of death securely tend. +The fun'ral pomp which to your kings you pay, +Is all I want, and all you take away." +He said no more, but, in his walls confin'd, +Shut out the woes which he too well divin'd +Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, +But left the helm, and let the vessel drive. + +A solemn custom was observ'd of old, +Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold, +Their standard when in fighting fields they rear +Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare +The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war; +Or from the boasting Parthians would regain +Their eagles, lost in Carrhae's bloody plain. +Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear, +And still are worship'd with religious fear) +Before his temple stand: the dire abode, +And the fear'd issues of the furious god, +Are fenc'd with brazen bolts; without the gates, +The wary guardian Janus doubly waits. +Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, +The Roman consul their decree declares, +And in his robes the sounding gates unbars. +The youth in military shouts arise, +And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. +These rites, of old by sov'reign princes us'd, +Were the king's office; but the king refus'd, +Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar +Of sacred peace, or loose th' imprison'd war; +But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, +Abhorr'd the wicked ministry of arms. +Then heav'n's imperious queen shot down from high: +At her approach the brazen hinges fly; +The gates are forc'd, and ev'ry falling bar; +And, like a tempest, issues out the war. + +The peaceful cities of th' Ausonian shore, +Lull'd in their ease, and undisturb'd before, +Are all on fire; and some, with studious care, +Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare; +Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, +And war is all their wish, and arms the gen'ral cry. +Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part +New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart: +With joy they view the waving ensigns fly, +And hear the trumpet's clangor pierce the sky. +Five cities forge their arms: th' Atinian pow'rs, +Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow'rs, +Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town: +All these of old were places of renown. +Some hammer helmets for the fighting field; +Some twine young sallows to support the shield; +The croslet some, and some the cuishes mold, +With silver plated, and with ductile gold. +The rustic honors of the scythe and share +Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war. +Old fauchions are new temper'd in the fires; +The sounding trumpet ev'ry soul inspires. +The word is giv'n; with eager speed they lace +The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace. +The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied; +The trusty weapon sits on ev'ry side. + +And now the mighty labor is begun +Ye Muses, open all your Helicon. +Sing you the chiefs that sway'd th' Ausonian land, +Their arms, and armies under their command; +What warriors in our ancient clime were bred; +What soldiers follow'd, and what heroes led. +For well you know, and can record alone, +What fame to future times conveys but darkly down. +Mezentius first appear'd upon the plain: +Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain, +Defying earth and heav'n. Etruria lost, +He brings to Turnus' aid his baffled host. +The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire, +Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire; +To Turnus only second in the grace +Of manly mien, and features of the face. +A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred, +With fates averse a thousand men he led: +His sire unworthy of so brave a son; +Himself well worthy of a happier throne. + +Next Aventinus drives his chariot round +The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown'd. +Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field; +His father's hydra fills his ample shield: +A hundred serpents hiss about the brims; +The son of Hercules he justly seems +By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs; +Of heav'nly part, and part of earthly blood, +A mortal woman mixing with a god. +For strong Alcides, after he had slain +The triple Geryon, drove from conquer'd Spain +His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led, +On Tuscan Tiber's flow'ry banks they fed. +Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove +The priestess Rhea found, and forc'd to love. +For arms, his men long piles and jav'lins bore; +And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. +Like Hercules himself his son appears, +In salvage pomp; a lion's hide he wears; +About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; +The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. +Thus, like the god his father, homely dress'd, +He strides into the hall, a horrid guest. + +Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came, +(Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,) +Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear: +Arm'd Argive horse they led, and in the front appear. +Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height +With rapid course descending to the fight; +They rush along; the rattling woods give way; +The branches bend before their sweepy sway. + +Nor was Praeneste's founder wanting there, +Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber: +Found in the fire, and foster'd in the plains, +A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, +And leads to Turnus' aid his country swains. +His own Praeneste sends a chosen band, +With those who plow Saturnia's Gabine land; +Besides the succor which cold Anien yields, +The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields, +Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene- +A num'rous rout, but all of naked men: +Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, +Nor drive the chariot thro' the dusty field, +But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead, +And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head; +The left foot naked, when they march to fight, +But in a bull's raw hide they sheathe the right. +Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) +Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, +In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms +A heartless train, unexercis'd in arms: +The just Faliscans he to battle brings, +And those who live where Lake Ciminia springs; +And where Feronia's grove and temple stands, +Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands. +All these in order march, and marching sing +The warlike actions of their sea-born king; +Like a long team of snowy swans on high, +Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky, +When, homeward from their wat'ry pastures borne, +They sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return. +Not one who heard their music from afar, +Would think these troops an army train'd to war, +But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, +With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore. + +Then Clausus came, who led a num'rous band +Of troops embodied from the Sabine land, +And, in himself alone, an army brought. +'T was he, the noble Claudian race begot, +The Claudian race, ordain'd, in times to come, +To share the greatness of imperial Rome. +He led the Cures forth, of old renown, +Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, +And all th' Eretian pow'rs; besides a band +That follow'd from Velinum's dewy land, +And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame, +And mountaineers, that from Severus came, +And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica, +And those where yellow Tiber takes his way, +And where Himella's wanton waters play. +Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie +By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli: +The warlike aids of Horta next appear, +And the cold Nursians come to close the rear, +Mix'd with the natives born of Latine blood, +Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood. +Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main, +When pale Orion sets in wintry rain; +Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, +Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies, +Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around; +Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. + +High in his chariot then Halesus came, +A foe by birth to Troy's unhappy name: +From Agamemnon born- to Turnus' aid +A thousand men the youthful hero led, +Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown'd, +And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground, +And those who live by Sidicinian shores, +And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars, +Cales' and Osca's old inhabitants, +And rough Saticulans, inur'd to wants: +Light demi-lances from afar they throw, +Fasten'd with leathern thongs, to gall the foe. +Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear; +And on their warding arm light bucklers bear. + +Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung, +From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung, +Who then in Teleboan Capri reign'd; +But that short isle th' ambitious youth disdain'd, +And o'er Campania stretch'd his ample sway, +Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea; +O'er Batulum, and where Abella sees, +From her high tow'rs, the harvest of her trees. +And these (as was the Teuton use of old) +Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold; +Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight; +Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light. + +Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went, +And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent. +The rude Equicolae his rule obey'd; +Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade. +In arms they plow'd, to battle still prepar'd: +Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard. + +Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led, +By King Archippus sent to Turnus' aid, +And peaceful olives crown'd his hoary head. +His wand and holy words, the viper's rage, +And venom'd wounds of serpents could assuage. +He, when he pleas'd with powerful juice to steep +Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep. +But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art, +To cure the wound giv'n by the Dardan dart: +Yet his untimely fate th' Angitian woods +In sighs remurmur'd to the Fucine floods. + +The son of fam'd Hippolytus was there, +Fam'd as his sire, and, as his mother, fair; +Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore, +And nurs'd his youth along the marshy shore, +Where great Diana's peaceful altars flame, +In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name. +Hippolytus, as old records have said, +Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed; +But, when no female arts his mind could move, +She turn'd to furious hate her impious love. +Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore, +Another's crimes th' unhappy hunter bore, +Glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore. +But chaste Diana, who his death deplor'd, +With Aesculapian herbs his life restor'd. +Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain, +The dead inspir'd with vital breath again, +Struck to the center, with his flaming dart, +Th' unhappy founder of the godlike art. +But Trivia kept in secret shades alone +Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown; +And call'd him Virbius in th' Egerian grove, +Where then he liv'd obscure, but safe from Jove. +For this, from Trivia's temple and her wood +Are coursers driv'n, who shed their master's blood, +Affrighted by the monsters of the flood. +His son, the second Virbius, yet retain'd +His father's art, and warrior steeds he rein'd. + +Amid the troops, and like the leading god, +High o'er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode: +A triple of plumes his crest adorn'd, +On which with belching flames Chimaera burn'd: +The more the kindled combat rises high'r, +The more with fury burns the blazing fire. +Fair Io grac'd his shield; but Io now +With horns exalted stands, and seems to low- +A noble charge! Her keeper by her side, +To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied; +And on the brims her sire, the wat'ry god, +Roll'd from a silver urn his crystal flood. +A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields +With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt'ring shields; +Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands, +And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands; +Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields, +And the proud Labicans, with painted shields, +And those who near Numician streams reside, +And those whom Tiber's holy forests hide, +Or Circe's hills from the main land divide; +Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands, +Or the black water of Pomptina stands. + +Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came, +And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame; +Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd, +She chose the nobler Pallas of the field. +Mix'd with the first, the fierce virago fought, +Sustain'd the toils of arms, the danger sought, +Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain, +Flew o'er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain: +She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along, +Her flying feet unbath'd on billows hung. +Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise, +Where'er she passes, fix their wond'ring eyes: +Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight, +Devour her o'er and o'er with vast delight; +Her purple habit sits with such a grace +On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face; +Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown'd, +And in a golden caul the curls are bound. +She shakes her myrtle jav'lin; and, behind, +Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind. +BOOK VIII + +When Turnus had assembled all his pow'rs, +His standard planted on Laurentum's tow'rs; +When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar, +Had giv'n the signal of approaching war, +Had rous'd the neighing steeds to scour the fields, +While the fierce riders clatter'd on their shields; +Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare +To join th' allies, and headlong rush to war. +Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd, +With bold Mezentius, who blasphem'd aloud. +These thro' the country took their wasteful course, +The fields to forage, and to gather force. +Then Venulus to Diomede they send, +To beg his aid Ausonia to defend, +Declare the common danger, and inform +The Grecian leader of the growing storm: +Aeneas, landed on the Latian coast, +With banish'd gods, and with a baffled host, +Yet now aspir'd to conquest of the state, +And claim'd a title from the gods and fate; +What num'rous nations in his quarrel came, +And how they spread his formidable name. +What he design'd, what mischief might arise, +If fortune favor'd his first enterprise, +Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears, +And common interest, was involv'd in theirs. + +While Turnus and th' allies thus urge the war, +The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, +Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare. +This way and that he turns his anxious mind; +Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design'd; +Explores himself in vain, in ev'ry part, +And gives no rest to his distracted heart. +So, when the sun by day, or moon by night, +Strike on the polish'd brass their trembling light, +The glitt'ring species here and there divide, +And cast their dubious beams from side to side; +Now on the walls, now on the pavement play, +And to the ceiling flash the glaring day. + +'T was night; and weary nature lull'd asleep +The birds of air, and fishes of the deep, +And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief +Was laid on Tiber's banks, oppress'd with grief, +And found in silent slumber late relief. +Then, thro' the shadows of the poplar wood, +Arose the father of the Roman flood; +An azure robe was o'er his body spread, +A wreath of shady reeds adorn'd his head: +Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear'd, +And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer'd: +"Undoubted offspring of ethereal race, +O long expected in this promis'd place! +Who thro' the foes hast borne thy banish'd gods, +Restor'd them to their hearths, and old abodes; +This is thy happy home, the clime where fate +Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state. +Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace, +And all the rage of haughty Juno cease. +And that this nightly vision may not seem +Th' effect of fancy, or an idle dream, +A sow beneath an oak shall lie along, +All white herself, and white her thirty young. +When thirty rolling years have run their race, +Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space, +Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame, +Which from this omen shall receive the name. +Time shall approve the truth. For what remains, +And how with sure success to crown thy pains, +With patience next attend. A banish'd band, +Driv'n with Evander from th' Arcadian land, +Have planted here, and plac'd on high their walls; +Their town the founder Pallanteum calls, +Deriv'd from Pallas, his great-grandsire's name: +But the fierce Latians old possession claim, +With war infesting the new colony. +These make thy friends, and on their aid rely. +To thy free passage I submit my streams. +Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams; +And, when the setting stars are lost in day, +To Juno's pow'r thy just devotion pay; +With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease: +Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease. +When thou return'st victorious from the war, +Perform thy vows to me with grateful care. +The god am I, whose yellow water flows +Around these fields, and fattens as it goes: +Tiber my name; among the rolling floods +Renown'd on earth, esteem'd among the gods. +This is my certain seat. In times to come, +My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome." + +He said, and plung'd below. While yet he spoke, +His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook. +He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies +With purple blushing, and the day arise. +Then water in his hollow palm he took +From Tiber's flood, and thus the pow'rs bespoke: +"Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed, +And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed +Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep. +Whatever fount, whatever holy deep, +Conceals thy wat'ry stores; where'er they rise, +And, bubbling from below, salute the skies; +Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn +Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn, +For this thy kind compassion of our woes, +Shalt share my morning song and ev'ning vows. +But, O be present to thy people's aid, +And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!" +Thus having said, two galleys from his stores, +With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars. +Now on the shore the fatal swine is found. +Wondrous to tell!- She lay along the ground: +Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung; +She white herself, and white her thirty young. +Aeneas takes the mother and her brood, +And all on Juno's altar are bestow'd. + +The foll'wing night, and the succeeding day, +Propitious Tiber smooth'd his wat'ry way: +He roll'd his river back, and pois'd he stood, +A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood. +The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore, +Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar. +Shouts from the land give omen to their course, +And the pitch'd vessels glide with easy force. +The woods and waters wonder at the gleam +Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream. +One summer's night and one whole day they pass +Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass. +The fiery sun had finish'd half his race, +Look'd back, and doubted in the middle space, +When they from far beheld the rising tow'rs, +The tops of sheds, and shepherds' lowly bow'rs, +Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay, +Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway. +These cots (Evander's kingdom, mean and poor) +The Trojan saw, and turn'd his ships to shore. +'T was on a solemn day: th' Arcadian states, +The king and prince, without the city gates, +Then paid their off'rings in a sacred grove +To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove. +Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies, +And fat of entrails on his altar fries. + +But, when they saw the ships that stemm'd the flood, +And glitter'd thro' the covert of the wood, +They rose with fear, and left th' unfinish'd feast, +Till dauntless Pallas reassur'd the rest +To pay the rites. Himself without delay +A jav'lin seiz'd, and singly took his way; +Then gain'd a rising ground, and call'd from far: +"Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are; +Your bus'ness here; and bring you peace or war?" +High on the stern Aeneas his stand, +And held a branch of olive in his hand, +While thus he spoke: "The Phrygians' arms you see, +Expell'd from Troy, provok'd in Italy +By Latian foes, with war unjustly made; +At first affianc'd, and at last betray'd. +This message bear: 'The Trojans and their chief +Bring holy peace, and beg the king's relief.' +Struck with so great a name, and all on fire, +The youth replies: "Whatever you require, +Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend. +A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend." +He said, and, downward hasting to the strand, +Embrac'd the stranger prince, and join'd his hand. + +Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke +The silence first, and thus the king bespoke: +"Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate's command, +I bear these peaceful branches in my hand, +Undaunted I approach you, tho' I know +Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe; +From Atreus tho' your ancient lineage came, +And both the brother kings your kindred claim; +Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown, +Your virtue, thro' the neighb'ring nations blown, +Our fathers' mingled blood, Apollo's voice, +Have led me hither, less by need than choice. +Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung, +And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung: +Electra from the loins of Atlas came; +Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame. +Your sire is Mercury, whom long before +On cold Cyllene's top fair Maia bore. +Maia the fair, on fame if we rely, +Was Atlas' daughter, who sustains the sky. +Thus from one common source our streams divide; +Ours is the Trojan, yours th' Areadian side. +Rais'd by these hopes, I sent no news before, +Nor ask'd your leave, nor did your faith implore; +But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador. +The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue +The Trojan race, are equal foes to you. +Our host expell'd, what farther force can stay +The victor troops from universal sway? +Then will they stretch their pow'r athwart the land, +And either sea from side to side command. +Receive our offer'd faith, and give us thine; +Ours is a gen'rous and experienc'd line: +We want not hearts nor bodies for the war; +In council cautious, and in fields we dare." + +He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes +Evander view'd the man with vast surprise, +Pleas'd with his action, ravish'd with his face: +Then answer'd briefly, with a royal grace: +"O valiant leader of the Trojan line, +In whom the features of thy father shine, +How I recall Anchises! how I see +His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee! +Long tho' it be, 't is fresh within my mind, +When Priam to his sister's court design'd +A welcome visit, with a friendly stay, +And thro' th' Arcadian kingdom took his way. +Then, past a boy, the callow down began +To shade my chin, and call me first a man. +I saw the shining train with vast delight, +And Priam's goodly person pleas'd my sight: +But great Anchises, far above the rest, +With awful wonder fir'd my youthful breast. +I long'd to join in friendship's holy bands +Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands. +I first accosted him: I sued, I sought, +And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought. +He gave me, when at length constrain'd to go, +A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow, +A vest embroider'd, glorious to behold, +And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold, +Which my son's coursers in obedience hold. +The league you ask, I offer, as your right; +And, when to-morrow's sun reveals the light, +With swift supplies you shall be sent away. +Now celebrate with us this solemn day, +Whose holy rites admit no long delay. +Honor our annual feast; and take your seat, +With friendly welcome, at a homely treat." +Thus having said, the bowls (remov'd for fear) +The youths replac'd, and soon restor'd the cheer. +On sods of turf he set the soldiers round: +A maple throne, rais'd higher from the ground, +Receiv'd the Trojan chief; and, o'er the bed, +A lion's shaggy hide for ornament they spread. +The loaves were serv'd in canisters; the wine +In bowls; the priest renew'd the rites divine: +Broil'd entrails are their food, and beef's continued chine. + +But when the rage of hunger was repress'd, +Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest: +"These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king, +From no vain fears or superstition spring, +Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance, +Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance; +But, sav'd from danger, with a grateful sense, +The labors of a god we recompense. +See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky, +About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie; +Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare, +How desart now it stands, expos'd in air! +'T was once a robber's den, inclos'd around +With living stone, and deep beneath the ground. +The monster Cacus, more than half a beast, +This hold, impervious to the sun, possess'd. +The pavement ever foul with human gore; +Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door. +Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire, +Black clouds he belch'd, and flakes of livid fire. +Time, long expected, eas'd us of our load, +And brought the needful presence of a god. +Th' avenging force of Hercules, from Spain, +Arriv'd in triumph, from Geryon slain: +Thrice liv'd the giant, and thrice liv'd in vain. +His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove +Near Tiber's bank, to graze the shady grove. +Allur'd with hope of plunder, and intent +By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent, +The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray'd, +Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey'd; +And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen, +He dragg'd 'em backwards to his rocky den. +The tracks averse a lying notice gave, +And led the searcher backward from the cave. + +"Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place, +To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass. +The beasts, who miss'd their mates, fill'd all around +With bellowings, and the rocks restor'd the sound. +One heifer, who had heard her love complain, +Roar'd from the cave, and made the project vain. +Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook, +And toss'd about his head his knotted oak. +Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows' flight, +He clomb, with eager haste, th' aerial height. +Then first we saw the monster mend his pace; +Fear his eyes, and paleness in his face, +Confess'd the god's approach. Trembling he springs, +As terror had increas'd his feet with wings; +Nor stay'd for stairs; but down the depth he threw +His body, on his back the door he drew +(The door, a rib of living rock; with pains +His father hew'd it out, and bound with iron chains): +He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos'd, +And bars and levers to his foe oppos'd. +The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast; +The fierce avenger came with bounding haste; +Survey'd the mouth of the forbidden hold, +And here and there his raging eyes he roll'd. +He gnash'd his teeth; and thrice he compass'd round +With winged speed the circuit of the ground. +Thrice at the cavern's mouth he pull'd in vain, +And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain. +A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black, +Grew gibbous from behind the mountain's back; +Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night, +Here built their nests, and hither wing'd their flight. +The leaning head hung threat'ning o'er the flood, +And nodded to the left. The hero stood +Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right, +Tugg'd at the solid stone with all his might. +Thus heav'd, the fix'd foundations of the rock +Gave way; heav'n echo'd at the rattling shock. +Tumbling, it chok'd the flood: on either side +The banks leap backward, and the streams divide; +The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread, +And trembling Tiber div'd beneath his bed. +The court of Cacus stands reveal'd to sight; +The cavern glares with new-admitted light. +So the pent vapors, with a rumbling sound, +Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground; +A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high, +The gods with hate beheld the nether sky: +The ghosts repine at violated night, +And curse th' invading sun, and sicken at the sight. +The graceless monster, caught in open day, +Inclos'd, and in despair to fly away, +Howls horrible from underneath, and fills +His hollow palace with unmanly yells. +The hero stands above, and from afar +Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war. +He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires +Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father's fires, +Gath'ring, with each repeated blast, the night, +To make uncertain aim, and erring sight. +The wrathful god then plunges from above, +And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove, +There lights; and wades thro' fumes, and gropes his way, +Half sing'd, half stifled, till he grasps his prey. +The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found; +He squeez'd his throat; he writh'd his neck around, +And in a knot his crippled members bound; +Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes: +Roll'd on a heap, the breathless robber lies. +The doors, unbarr'd, receive the rushing day, +And thoro' lights disclose the ravish'd prey. +The bulls, redeem'd, breathe open air again. +Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den. +The wond'ring neighborhood, with glad surprise, +Behold his shagged breast, his giant size, +His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish'd eyes. +From that auspicious day, with rites divine, +We worship at the hero's holy shrine. +Potitius first ordain'd these annual vows: +As priests, were added the Pinarian house, +Who rais'd this altar in the sacred shade, +Where honors, ever due, for ever shall be paid. +For these deserts, and this high virtue shown, +Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown: +Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood, +And with deep draughts invoke our common god." + +This said, a double wreath Evander twin'd, +And poplars black and white his temples bind. +Then brims his ample bowl. With like design +The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine. +Meantime the sun descended from the skies, +And the bright evening star began to rise. +And now the priests, Potitius at their head, +In skins of beasts involv'd, the long procession led; +Held high the flaming tapers in their hands, +As custom had prescrib'd their holy bands; +Then with a second course the tables load, +And with full chargers offer to the god. +The Salii sing, and cense his altars round +With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound- +One choir of old, another of the young, +To dance, and bear the burthen of the song. +The lay records the labors, and the praise, +And all th' immortal acts of Hercules: +First, how the mighty babe, when swath'd in bands, +The serpents strangled with his infant hands; +Then, as in years and matchless force he grew, +Th' Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew. +Besides, a thousand hazards they relate, +Procur'd by Juno's and Eurystheus' hate: +"Thy hands, unconquer'd hero, could subdue +The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew: +Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood, +Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood. +The triple porter of the Stygian seat, +With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet, +And, seiz'd with fear, forgot his mangled meat. +Th' infernal waters trembled at thy sight; +Thee, god, no face of danger could affright; +Not huge Typhoeus, nor th' unnumber'd snake, +Increas'd with hissing heads, in Lerna's lake. +Hail, Jove's undoubted son! an added grace +To heav'n and the great author of thy race! +Receive the grateful off'rings which we pay, +And smile propitious on thy solemn day!" +In numbers thus they sung; above the rest, +The den and death of Cacus crown the feast. +The woods to hollow vales convey the sound, +The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound. +The rites perform'd, the cheerful train retire. + +Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire, +The Trojan pass'd, the city to survey, +And pleasing talk beguil'd the tedious way. +The stranger cast around his curious eyes, +New objects viewing still, with new surprise; +With greedy joy enquires of various things, +And acts and monuments of ancient kings. +Then thus the founder of the Roman tow'rs: +"These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow'rs, +Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took +Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak. +Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care +Of lab'ring oxen, or the shining share, +Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain'd to spare. +Their exercise the chase; the running flood +Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food. +Then Saturn came, who fled the pow'r of Jove, +Robb'd of his realms, and banish'd from above. +The men, dispers'd on hills, to towns he brought, +And laws ordain'd, and civil customs taught, +And Latium call'd the land where safe he lay +From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway. +With his mild empire, peace and plenty came; +And hence the golden times deriv'd their name. +A more degenerate and discolor'd age +Succeeded this, with avarice and rage. +Th' Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came; +And Saturn's empire often chang'd the name. +Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest, +With arbitrary sway the land oppress'd: +For Tiber's flood was Albula before, +Till, from the tyrant's fate, his name it bore. +I last arriv'd, driv'n from my native home +By fortune's pow'r, and fate's resistless doom. +Long toss'd on seas, I sought this happy land, +Warn'd by my mother nymph, and call'd by Heav'n's command." + +Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew'd the gate, +Since call'd Carmental by the Roman state; +Where stood an altar, sacred to the name +Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame, +Who to her son foretold th' Aenean race, +Sublime in fame, and Rome's imperial place: +Then shews the forest, which, in after times, +Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes +A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine +Where Pan below the rock had rites divine: +Then tells of Argus' death, his murder'd guest, +Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest. +Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads; +Now roof'd with gold, then thatch'd with homely reeds. +A reverent fear (such superstition reigns +Among the rude) ev'n then possess'd the swains. +Some god, they knew- what god, they could not tell- +Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell. +Th' Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw +The mighty Thund'rer with majestic awe, +Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around, +And scatter'd tempests on the teeming ground. +Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood +Two stately towns, on either side the flood,) +Saturnia's and Janicula's remains; +And either place the founder's name retains. +Discoursing thus together, they resort +Where poor Evander kept his country court. +They view'd the ground of Rome's litigious hall; +(Once oxen low'd, where now the lawyers bawl;) +Then, stooping, thro' the narrow gate they press'd, +When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest: +"Mean as it is, this palace, and this door, +Receiv'd Alcides, then a conqueror. +Dare to be poor; accept our homely food, +Which feasted him, and emulate a god." +Then underneath a lowly roof he led +The weary prince, and laid him on a bed; +The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o'erspread. +Now Night had shed her silver dews around, +And with her sable wings embrac'd the ground, +When love's fair goddess, anxious for her son, +(New tumults rising, and new wars begun,) +Couch'd with her husband in his golden bed, +With these alluring words invokes his aid; +And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move, +Inspires each accent with the charms of love: +"While cruel fate conspir'd with Grecian pow'rs, +To level with the ground the Trojan tow'rs, +I ask'd not aid th' unhappy to restore, +Nor did the succor of thy skill implore; +Nor urg'd the labors of my lord in vain, +A sinking empire longer to sustain, +Tho'much I ow'd to Priam's house, and more +The dangers of Aeneas did deplore. +But now, by Jove's command, and fate's decree, +His race is doom'd to reign in Italy: +With humble suit I beg thy needful art, +O still propitious pow'r, that rules my heart! +A mother kneels a suppliant for her son. +By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won +To forge impenetrable shields, and grace +With fated arms a less illustrious race. +Behold, what haughty nations are combin'd +Against the relics of the Phrygian kind, +With fire and sword my people to destroy, +And conquer Venus twice, in conqu'ring Troy." +She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue, +About her unresolving husband threw. +Her soft embraces soon infuse desire; +His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire; +And all the godhead feels the wonted fire. +Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies, +Or forky lightnings flash along the skies. +The goddess, proud of her successful wiles, +And conscious of her form, in secret smiles. + +Then thus the pow'r, obnoxious to her charms, +Panting, and half dissolving in her arms: +"Why seek you reasons for a cause so just, +Or your own beauties or my love distrust? +Long since, had you requir'd my helpful hand, +Th' artificer and art you might command, +To labor arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate, +Confin'd their empire to so short a date. +And, if you now desire new wars to wage, +My skill I promise, and my pains engage. +Whatever melting metals can conspire, +Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, +Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove, +And think no task is difficult to love." +Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms, +He snatch'd the willing goddess to his arms; +Till in her lap infus'd, he lay possess'd +Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest. +Now when the Night her middle race had rode, +And his first slumber had refresh'd the god- +The time when early housewives leave the bed; +When living embers on the hearth they spread, +Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise- +With yawning mouths, and with half-open'd eyes, +They ply the distaff by the winking light, +And to their daily labor add the night: +Thus frugally they earn their children's bread, +And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed- +Not less concern'd, nor at a later hour, +Rose from his downy couch the forging pow'r. + +Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay, +Betwixt Sicilia's coasts and Lipare, +Rais'd high on smoking rocks; and, deep below, +In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow. +The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; +Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, +Are heard around; the boiling waters roar, +And smoky flames thro' fuming tunnels soar. +Hether the Father of the Fire, by night, +Thro' the brown air precipitates his flight. +On their eternal anvils here he found +The brethren beating, and the blows go round. +A load of pointless thunder now there lies +Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: +These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast; +Consum'd on mortals with prodigious waste. +Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, +Of winged southern winds and cloudy store +As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame; +And fears are added, and avenging flame. +Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair +His broken axletrees and blunted war, +And send him forth again with furbish'd arms, +To wake the lazy war with trumpets' loud alarms. +The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold +The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold. +Full on the crest the Gorgon's head they place, +With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face. + +"My sons," said Vulcan, "set your tasks aside; +Your strength and master-skill must now be tried. +Arms for a hero forge; arms that require +Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire." +He said. They set their former work aside, +And their new toils with eager haste divide. +A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold, +And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll'd; +Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare, +Alone sufficient to sustain the war. +Sev'n orbs within a spacious round they close: +One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows. +The hissing steel is in the smithy drown'd; +The grot with beaten anvils groans around. +By turns their arms advance, in equal time; +By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime. +They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs; +The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs. + +While, at the Lemnian god's command, they urge +Their labors thus, and ply th' Aeolian forge, +The cheerful morn salutes Evander's eyes, +And songs of chirping birds invite to rise. +He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet +Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet: +He sets his trusty sword upon his side, +And o'er his shoulder throws a panther's hide. +Two menial dogs before their master press'd. +Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest. +Mindful of promis'd aid, he mends his pace, +But meets Aeneas in the middle space. +Young Pallas did his father's steps attend, +And true Achates waited on his friend. +They join their hands; a secret seat they choose; +Th' Arcadian first their former talk renews: +"Undaunted prince, I never can believe +The Trojan empire lost, while you survive. +Command th' assistance of a faithful friend; +But feeble are the succors I can send. +Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds; +That other side the Latian state surrounds, +Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds. +But mighty nations I prepare, to join +Their arms with yours, and aid your just design. +You come, as by your better genius sent, +And fortune seems to favor your intent. +Not far from hence there stands a hilly town, +Of ancient building, and of high renown, +Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race, +Who gave the name of Caere to the place, +Once Agyllina call'd. It flourish'd long, +In pride of wealth and warlike people strong, +Till curs'd Mezentius, in a fatal hour, +Assum'd the crown, with arbitrary pow'r. +What words can paint those execrable times, +The subjects' suff'rings, and the tyrant's crimes! +That blood, those murthers, O ye gods, replace +On his own head, and on his impious race! +The living and the dead at his command +Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, +Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied, +The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died. +Thus plung'd in ills, and meditating more- +The people's patience, tir'd, no longer bore +The raging monster; but with arms beset +His house, and vengeance and destruction threat. +They fire his palace: while the flame ascends, +They force his guards, and execute his friends. +He cleaves the crowd, and, favor'd by the night, +To Turnus' friendly court directs his flight. +By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire, +With arms, their king to punishment require: +Their num'rous troops, now muster'd on the strand, +My counsel shall submit to your command. +Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry +To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny. +An ancient augur, skill'd in future fate, +With these foreboding words restrains their hate: +'Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow'r +Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow'r, +Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms, +To seek your tyrant's death by lawful arms; +Know this: no native of our land may lead +This pow'rful people; seek a foreign head.' +Aw'd with these words, in camps they still abide, +And wait with longing looks their promis'd guide. +Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent +Their crown, and ev'ry regal ornament: +The people join their own with his desire; +And all my conduct, as their king, require. +But the chill blood that creeps within my veins, +And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains, +And a soul conscious of its own decay, +Have forc'd me to refuse imperial sway. +My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne, +And should, but he's a Sabine mother's son, +And half a native; but, in you, combine +A manly vigor, and a foreign line. +Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way, +Pursue the ready path to sov'reign sway. +The staff of my declining days, my son, +Shall make your good or ill success his own; +In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare, +And serve the hard apprenticeship of war; +Your matchless courage and your conduct view, +And early shall begin t' admire and copy you. +Besides, two hundred horse he shall command; +Tho' few, a warlike and well-chosen band. +These in my name are listed; and my son +As many more has added in his own." + +Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest, +With downcast eyes, their silent grief express'd; +Who, short of succors, and in deep despair, +Shook at the dismal prospect of the war. +But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud, +To cheer her issue, thunder'd thrice aloud; +Thrice forky lightning flash'd along the sky, +And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high. +Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear; +And, in a heav'n serene, refulgent arms appear: +Redd'ning the skies, and glitt'ring all around, +The temper'd metals clash, and yield a silver sound. +The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine; +Aeneas only, conscious to the sign, +Presag'd th' event, and joyful view'd, above, +Th' accomplish'd promise of the Queen of Love. +Then, to th' Arcadian king: "This prodigy +(Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me. +Heav'n calls me to the war: th' expected sign +Is giv'n of promis'd aid, and arms divine. +My goddess mother, whose indulgent care +Foresaw the dangers of the growing war, +This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms, +Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms, +Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow'd +Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood. +Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn; +And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne, +Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms; +And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur'd arms." + +He said, and, rising from his homely throne, +The solemn rites of Hercules begun, +And on his altars wak'd the sleeping fires; +Then cheerful to his household gods retires; +There offers chosen sheep. Th' Arcadian king +And Trojan youth the same oblations bring. +Next, of his men and ships he makes review; +Draws out the best and ablest of the crew. +Down with the falling stream the refuse run, +To raise with joyful news his drooping son. +Steeds are prepar'd to mount the Trojan band, +Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land. +A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest, +The king himself presents his royal guest: +A lion's hide his back and limbs infold, +Precious with studded work, and paws of gold. +Fame thro' the little city spreads aloud +Th' intended march, amid the fearful crowd: +The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears, +And double their devotion in their fears. +The war at hand appears with more affright, +And rises ev'ry moment to the sight. + +Then old Evander, with a close embrace, +Strain'd his departing friend; and tears o'erflow his face. +"Would Heav'n," said he, "my strength and youth recall, +Such as I was beneath Praeneste's wall; +Then when I made the foremost foes retire, +And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire; +When Herilus in single fight I slew, +Whom with three lives Feronia did endue; +And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore, +Till the last ebbing soul return'd no more- +Such if I stood renew'd, not these alarms, +Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas' arms; +Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish'd, boast +His rapes and murthers on the Tuscan coast. +Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring +Relief, and hear a father and a king! +If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see +My son return with peace and victory; +If the lov'd boy shall bless his father's sight; +If we shall meet again with more delight; +Then draw my life in length; let me sustain, +In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain. +But if your hard decrees- which, O! I dread- +Have doom'd to death his undeserving head; +This, O this very moment, let me die! +While hopes and fears in equal balance lie; +While, yet possess'd of all his youthful charms, +I strain him close within these aged arms; +Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!" +He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground. +His servants bore him off, and softly laid +His languish'd limbs upon his homely bed. + +The horsemen march; the gates are open'd wide; +Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side. +Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along; +Last follows in the rear th' Arcadian throng. +Young Pallas shone conspicuous o'er the rest; +Gilded his arms, embroider'd was his vest. +So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head +The star by whom the lights of heav'n are led; +Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews, +Dispels the darkness, and the day renews. +The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd, +And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud, +Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far +The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war. +The troops, drawn up in beautiful array, +O'er heathy plains pursue the ready way. +Repeated peals of shouts are heard around; +The neighing coursers answer to the sound, +And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground. + +A greenwood shade, for long religion known, +Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town, +Incompass'd round with gloomy hills above, +Which add a holy horror to the grove. +The first inhabitants of Grecian blood, +That sacred forest to Silvanus vow'd, +The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay +Their due devotions on his annual day. +Not far from hence, along the river's side, +In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide, +By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground, +Aeneas cast his wond'ring eyes around, +And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight, +Stretch'd on the spacious plain from left to right. +Thether his warlike train the Trojan led, +Refresh'd his men, and wearied horses fed. + +Meantime the mother goddess, crown'd with charms, +Breaks thro' the clouds, and brings the fated arms. +Within a winding vale she finds her son, +On the cool river's banks, retir'd alone. +She shews her heav'nly form without disguise, +And gives herself to his desiring eyes. +"Behold," she said, "perform'd in ev'ry part, +My promise made, and Vulcan's labor'd art. +Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy, +And haughty Turnus to the field defy." +She said; and, having first her son embrac'd, +The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac'd, +Proud of the gift, he roll'd his greedy sight +Around the work, and gaz'd with vast delight. +He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires +The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires: +His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold, +One keen with temper'd steel, one stiff with gold: +Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright; +So shines a cloud, when edg'd with adverse light. +He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try +The plated cuishes on his manly thigh; +But most admires the shield's mysterious mold, +And Roman triumphs rising on the gold: +For these, emboss'd, the heav'nly smith had wrought +(Not in the rolls of future fate untaught) +The wars in order, and the race divine +Of warriors issuing from the Julian line. +The cave of Mars was dress'd with mossy greens: +There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins. +Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung; +The foster dam loll'd out her fawning tongue: +They suck'd secure, while, bending back her head, +She lick'd their tender limbs, and form'd them as they fed. +Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games +Projected for the rape of Sabine dames. +The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds, +For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds. +Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend; +The Romans there with arms the prey defend. +Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease; +And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace. +The friendly chiefs before Jove's altar stand, +Both arm'd, with each a charger in his hand: +A fatted sow for sacrifice is led, +With imprecations on the perjur'd head. +Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch'd between +Four fiery steeds, is dragg'd along the green, +By Tullus' doom: the brambles drink his blood, +And his torn limbs are left the vulture's food. +There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings, +And would by force restore the banish'd kings. +One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights; +The Roman youth assert their native rights. +Before the town the Tuscan army lies, +To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. +Their king, half-threat'ning, half-disdaining stood, +While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm'd the flood. +The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, +Scap'd from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide. +High on a rock heroic Manlius stood, +To guard the temple, and the temple's god. +Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold +The palace thatch'd with straw, now roof'd with gold. +The silver goose before the shining gate +There flew, and, by her cackle, sav'd the state. +She told the Gauls' approach; th' approaching Gauls, +Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls. +The gold dissembled well their yellow hair, +And golden chains on their white necks they wear. +Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield, +And their left arm sustains a length of shield. +Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; +And naked thro' the streets the mad Luperci dance, +In caps of wool; the targets dropp'd from heav'n. +Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv'n, +To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, +And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. +Far hence remov'd, the Stygian seats are seen; +Pains of the damn'd, and punish'd Catiline +Hung on a rock- the traitor; and, around, +The Furies hissing from the nether ground. +Apart from these, the happy souls he draws, +And Cato's holy ghost dispensing laws. + +Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea; +But foaming surges there in silver play. +The dancing dolphins with their tails divide +The glitt'ring waves, and cut the precious tide. +Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage +Their brazen beaks, oppos'd with equal rage. +Actium surveys the well-disputed prize; +Leucate's wat'ry plain with foamy billows fries. +Young Caesar, on the stern, in armor bright, +Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight: +His beamy temples shoot their flames afar, +And o'er his head is hung the Julian star. +Agrippa seconds him, with prosp'rous gales, +And, with propitious gods, his foes assails: +A naval crown, that binds his manly brows, +The happy fortune of the fight foreshows. +Rang'd on the line oppos'd, Antonius brings +Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings; +Th' Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar, +Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war: +And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife, +His ill fate follows him- th' Egyptian wife. +Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows +The froth is gather'd, and the water glows. +It seems, as if the Cyclades again +Were rooted up, and justled in the main; +Or floating mountains floating mountains meet; +Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet. +Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav'lins fly; +The fields of Neptune take a purple dye. +The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms, +With cymbals toss'd her fainting soldiers warms- +Fool as she was! who had not yet divin'd +Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind. +Her country gods, the monsters of the sky, +Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love's Queen defy: +The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain, +Nor longer dares oppose th' ethereal train. +Mars in the middle of the shining shield +Is grav'd, and strides along the liquid field. +The Dirae souse from heav'n with swift descent; +And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent, +Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads, +And shakes her iron rod above their heads. +This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height, +Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight +The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield, +And soft Sabaeans quit the wat'ry field. +The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails, +And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales. +Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath, +Panting, and pale with fear of future death. +The god had figur'd her as driv'n along +By winds and waves, and scudding thro' the throng. +Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide +His arms and ample bosom to the tide, +And spreads his mantle o'er the winding coast, +In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host. +The victor to the gods his thanks express'd, +And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless'd. +Three hundred temples in the town he plac'd; +With spoils and altars ev'ry temple grac'd. +Three shining nights, and three succeeding days, +The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise, +The domes with songs, the theaters with plays. +All altars flame: before each altar lies, +Drench'd in his gore, the destin'd sacrifice. +Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne, +Before Apollo's porch of Parian stone; +Accepts the presents vow'd for victory, +And hangs the monumental crowns on high. +Vast crowds of vanquish'd nations march along, +Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue. +Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place +For Carians, and th' ungirt Numidian race; +Then ranks the Thracians in the second row, +With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow. +And here the tam'd Euphrates humbly glides, +And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides, +And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind; +The Danes' unconquer'd offspring march behind, +And Morini, the last of humankind. + +These figures, on the shield divinely wrought, +By Vulcan labor'd, and by Venus brought, +With joy and wonder fill the hero's thought. +Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace, +And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. +BOOK IX + +While these affairs in distant places pass'd, +The various Iris Juno sends with haste, +To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought, +The secret shade of his great grandsire sought. +Retir'd alone she found the daring man, +And op'd her rosy lips, and thus began: +"What none of all the gods could grant thy vows, +That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows. +Aeneas, gone to seek th' Arcadian prince, +Has left the Trojan camp without defense; +And, short of succors there, employs his pains +In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains. +Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs; +Unite thy forces, and attack their lines." +This said, on equal wings she pois'd her weight, +And form'd a radiant rainbow in her flight. + +The Daunian hero lifts his hands eyes, +And thus invokes the goddess as she flies: +"Iris, the grace of heav'n, what pow'r divine +Has sent thee down, thro' dusky clouds to shine? +See, they divide; immortal day appears, +And glitt'ring planets dancing in their spheres! +With joy, these happy omens I obey, +And follow to the war the god that leads the way." +Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, +He scoop'd the water from the crystal flood; +Then with his hands the drops to heav'n he throws, +And loads the pow'rs above with offer'd vows. + +Now march the bold confed'rates thro' the plain, +Well hors'd, well clad; a rich and shining train. +Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear, +The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear. +In the main battle, with his flaming crest, +The mighty Turnus tow'rs above the rest. +Silent they move, majestically slow, +Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow. +The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far, +And the dark menace of the distant war. +Caicus from the rampire saw it rise, +Black'ning the fields, and thick'ning thro' the skies. +Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls: +"What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls? +Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears +And pointed darts! the Latian host appears." + +Thus warn'd, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend +The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend: +For their wise gen'ral, with foreseeing care, +Had charg'd them not to tempt the doubtful war, +Nor, tho' provok'd, in open fields advance, +But close within their lines attend their chance. +Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command, +And sourly wait in arms the hostile band. +The fiery Turnus flew before the rest: +A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press'd; +His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest. +With twenty horse to second his designs, +An unexpected foe, he fac'd the lines. +"Is there," he said, "in arms, who bravely dare +His leader's honor and his danger share?" +Then spurring on, his brandish'd dart he threw, +In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue. + +Amaz'd to find a dastard race, that run +Behind the rampires and the battle shun, +He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes, +And stops at ev'ry post, and ev'ry passage tries. +So roams the nightly wolf about the fold: +Wet with descending show'rs, and stiff with cold, +He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain, +(His gnashing teeth are exercis'd in vain,) +And, impotent of anger, finds no way +In his distended paws to grasp the prey. +The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs +Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams. +Thus ranges eager Turnus o'er the plain. +Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain; +Surveys each passage with a piercing sight, +To force his foes in equal field to fight. +Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies, +Where, fenc'd with strong redoubts, their navy lies, +Close underneath the walls; the washing tide +Secures from all approach this weaker side. +He takes the wish'd occasion, fills his hand +With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand. +Urg'd by his presence, ev'ry soul is warm'd, +And ev'ry hand with kindled firs is arm'd. +From the fir'd pines the scatt'ring sparkles fly; +Fat vapors, mix'd with flames, involve the sky. +What pow'r, O Muses, could avert the flame +Which threaten'd, in the fleet, the Trojan name? +Tell: for the fact, thro' length of time obscure, +Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure. + +'T is said that, when the chief prepar'd his flight, +And fell'd his timber from Mount Ida's height, +The grandam goddess then approach'd her son, +And with a mother's majesty begun: +"Grant me," she said, "the sole request I bring, +Since conquer'd heav'n has own'd you for its king. +On Ida's brows, for ages past, there stood, +With firs and maples fill'd, a shady wood; +And on the summit rose a sacred grove, +Where I was worship'd with religious love. +Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight, +I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight. +Now, fill'd with fear, on their behalf I come; +Let neither winds o'erset, nor waves intomb +The floating forests of the sacred pine; +But let it be their safety to be mine." +Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls +The radiant stars, and heav'n and earth controls: +"How dare you, mother, endless date demand +For vessels molded by a mortal hand? +What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride, +Of safety certain, on th' uncertain tide? +Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o'er, +The chief is landed on the Latian shore, +Whatever ships escape the raging storms, +At my command shall change their fading forms +To nymphs divine, and plow the wat'ry way, +Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea." +To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore, +The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore, +And Phlegethon's innavigable flood, +And the black regions of his brother god. +He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod. + +And now at length the number'd hours were come, +Prefix'd by fate's irrevocable doom, +When the great Mother of the Gods was free +To save her ships, and finish Jove's decree. +First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung +A light that sign'd the heav'ns, and shot along; +Then from a cloud, fring'd round with golden fires, +Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs; +And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds, +Both hosts, in arms oppos'd, with equal horror wounds: +"O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear, +And know, my ships are my peculiar care. +With greater ease the bold Rutulian may, +With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea, +Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge, +Loos'd from your crooked anchors, launch at large, +Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand, +And swim the seas, at Cybele's command." +No sooner had the goddess ceas'd to speak, +When, lo! th' obedient ships their haulsers break; +And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main +They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again: +As many beauteous maids the billows sweep, +As rode before tall vessels on the deep. + +The foes, surpris'd with wonder, stood aghast; +Messapus curb'd his fiery courser's haste; +Old Tiber roar'd, and, raising up his head, +Call'd back his waters to their oozy bed. +Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock, +And with these words his trembling troops bespoke: +"These monsters for the Trojans' fate are meant, +And are by Jove for black presages sent. +He takes the cowards' last relief away; +For fly they cannot, and, constrain'd to stay, +Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey. +The liquid half of all the globe is lost; +Heav'n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast. +Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground +Which myriads of our martial men surround. +Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles. +'T was giv'n to Venus they should cross the seas, +And land secure upon the Latian plains: +Their promis'd hour is pass'd, and mine remains. +'T is in the fate of Turnus to destroy, +With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy. +Shall such affronts as these alone inflame +The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name? +My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife, +And final ruin, for a ravish'd wife. +Was 't not enough, that, punish'd for the crime, +They fell; but will they fall a second time? +One would have thought they paid enough before, +To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more. +Can they securely trust their feeble wall, +A slight partition, a thin interval, +Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho' built +By hands divine, yet perish'd by their guilt? +Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands, +To force from out their lines these dastard bands. +Less than a thousand ships will end this war, +Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare. +Let all the Tuscans, all th' Arcadians, join! +Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design. +Let them not fear the treasons of the night, +The robb'd Palladium, the pretended flight: +Our onset shall be made in open light. +No wooden engine shall their town betray; +Fires they shall have around, but fires by day. +No Grecian babes before their camp appear, +Whom Hector's arms detain'd to the tenth tardy year. +Now, since the sun is rolling to the west, +Give we the silent night to needful rest: +Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare; +The morn shall end the small remains of war." + +The post of honor to Messapus falls, +To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls, +To pitch the fires at distances around, +And close the Trojans in their scanty ground. +Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand, +And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command; +All clad in shining arms the works invest, +Each with a radiant helm and waving crest. +Stretch'd at their length, they press the grassy ground; +They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,) +With lights and cheerful fires renew the day, +And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play. + +The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld, +And with arm'd legions all the rampires fill'd. +Seiz'd with affright, their gates they first explore; +Join works to works with bridges, tow'r to tow'r: +Thus all things needful for defense abound. +Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round, +Commission'd by their absent prince to share +The common danger, and divide the care. +The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall, +By turns relieve each other on the wall. + +Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance, +To watch the gate was warlike Nisus' chance. +His father Hyrtacus of noble blood; +His mother was a huntress of the wood, +And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear +His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear, +But better skill'd unerring shafts to send. +Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend: +Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host +No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast- +Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun. +One was their care, and their delight was one: +One common hazard in the war they shar'd, +And now were both by choice upon the guard. + +Then Nisus thus: "Or do the gods inspire +This warmth, or make we gods of our desire? +A gen'rous ardor boils within my breast, +Eager of action, enemy to rest: +This urges me to fight, and fires my mind +To leave a memorable name behind. +Thou see'st the foe secure; how faintly shine +Their scatter'd fires! the most, in sleep supine +Along the ground, an easy conquest lie: +The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply; +All hush'd around. Now hear what I revolve- +A thought unripe- and scarcely yet resolve. +Our absent prince both camp and council mourn; +By message both would hasten his return: +If they confer what I demand on thee, +(For fame is recompense enough for me,) +Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied +A way that safely will my passage guide." + +Euryalus stood list'ning while he spoke, +With love of praise and noble envy struck; +Then to his ardent friend expos'd his mind: +"All this, alone, and leaving me behind! +Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join'd? +Thinkist thou I can my share of glory yield, +Or send thee unassisted to the field? +Not so my father taught my childhood arms; +Born in a siege, and bred among alarms! +Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend, +Nor of the heav'n-born hero I attend. +The thing call'd life, with ease I can disclaim, +And think it over-sold to purchase fame." + +Then Nisus thus: "Alas! thy tender years +Would minister new matter to my fears. +So may the gods, who view this friendly strife, +Restore me to thy lov'd embrace with life, +Condemn'd to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,) +This thy request is cruel and unjust. +But if some chance- as many chances are, +And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war- +If one should reach my head, there let it fall, +And spare thy life; I would not perish all. +Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date: +Live thou to mourn thy love's unhappy fate; +To bear my mangled body from the foe, +Or buy it back, and fun'ral rites bestow. +Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny, +Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply. +O let not me the widow's tears renew! +Nor let a mother's curse my name pursue: +Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee, +Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily, +Her age committing to the seas and wind, +When ev'ry weary matron stay'd behind." +To this, Euryalus: "You plead in vain, +And but protract the cause you cannot gain. +No more delays, but haste!" With that, he wakes +The nodding watch; each to his office takes. +The guard reliev'd, the gen'rous couple went +To find the council at the royal tent. + +All creatures else forgot their daily care, +And sleep, the common gift of nature, share; +Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate +In nightly council for th' indanger'd state. +They vote a message to their absent chief, +Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief. +Amid the camp a silent seat they chose, +Remote from clamor, and secure from foes. +On their left arms their ample shields they bear, +The right reclin'd upon the bending spear. +Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard, +And beg admission, eager to be heard: +Th' affair important, not to be deferr'd. +Ascanius bids 'em be conducted in, +Ord'ring the more experienc'd to begin. +Then Nisus thus: "Ye fathers, lend your ears; +Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years. +The foe, securely drench'd in sleep and wine, +Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine; +And where the smoke in cloudy vapors flies, +Cov'ring the plain, and curling to the skies, +Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide, +Close by the sea, a passage we have spied, +Which will our way to great Aeneas guide. +Expect each hour to see him safe again, +Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain. +Snatch we the lucky minute while we may; +Nor can we be mistaken in the way; +For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen +The rising turrets, and the stream between, +And know the winding course, with ev'ry ford." + +He ceas'd; and old Alethes took the word: +"Our country gods, in whom our trust we place, +Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race, +While we behold such dauntless worth appear +In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear." +Then into tears of joy the father broke; +Each in his longing arms by turns he took; +Panted and paus'd; and thus again he spoke: +"Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we, +In recompense of such desert, decree? +The greatest, sure, and best you can receive, +The gods and your own conscious worth will give. +The rest our grateful gen'ral will bestow, +And young Ascanius till his manhood owe." + +"And I, whose welfare in my father lies," +Ascanius adds, "by the great deities, +By my dear country, by my household gods, +By hoary Vesta's rites and dark abodes, +Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands; +That and my faith I plight into your hands,) +Make me but happy in his safe return, +Whose wanted presence I can only mourn; +Your common gift shall two large goblets be +Of silver, wrought with curious imagery, +And high emboss'd, which, when old Priam reign'd, +My conqu'ring sire at sack'd Arisba gain'd; +And more, two tripods cast in antic mold, +With two great talents of the finest gold; +Beside a costly bowl, ingrav'd with art, +Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart. +But, if in conquer'd Italy we reign, +When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain- +Thou saw'st the courser by proud Turnus press'd: +That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest, +And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share: +Twelve lab'ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair +All clad in rich attire, and train'd with care; +And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains, +And a large portion of the king's domains. +But thou, whose years are more to mine allied- +No fate my vow'd affection shall divide +From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine; +Take full possession; all my soul is thine. +One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend; +My life's companion, and my bosom friend: +My peace shall be committed to thy care, +And to thy conduct my concerns in war." + +Then thus the young Euryalus replied: +"Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide, +The same shall be my age, as now my youth; +No time shall find me wanting to my truth. +This only from your goodness let me gain +(And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain) +Of Priam's royal race my mother came- +And sure the best that ever bore the name- +Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold +From me departing, but, o'erspent and old, +My fate she follow'd. Ignorant of this +(Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss, +Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave, +And in this only act of all my life deceive. +By this right hand and conscious Night I swear, +My soul so sad a farewell could not bear. +Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place +(Permit me to presume so great a grace) +Support her age, forsaken and distress'd. +That hope alone will fortify my breast +Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears." +He said. The mov'd assistants melt in tears. + +Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see +That image of his filial piety: +"So great beginnings, in so green an age, +Exact the faith which I again ingage. +Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim, +Creusa had, and only want the name. +Whate'er event thy bold attempt shall have, +'T is merit to have borne a son so brave. +Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear, +(My father us'd it,) what, returning here +Crown'd with success, I for thyself prepare, +That, if thou fail, shall thy lov'd mother share." + +He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word, +From his broad belt he drew a shining sword, +Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made, +And in an ivory scabbard sheath'd the blade. +This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend +A lion's hide, his body to defend; +And good Alethes furnish'd him, beside, +With his own trusty helm, of temper tried. + +Thus arm'd they went. The noble Trojans wait +Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate +With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears +Ascanius, manly far beyond his years, +And messages committed to their care, +Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air. + +The trenches first they pass'd; then took their way +Where their proud foes in pitch'd pavilions lay; +To many fatal, ere themselves were slain. +They found the careless host dispers'd upon the plain, +Who, gorg'd, and drunk with wine, supinely snore. +Unharness'd chariots stand along the shore: +Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by, +A medley of debauch and war, they lie. +Observing Nisus shew'd his friend the sight: +"Behold a conquest gain'd without a fight. +Occasion offers, and I stand prepar'd; +There lies our way; be thou upon the guard, +And look around, while I securely go, +And hew a passage thro' the sleeping foe." +Softly he spoke; then striding took his way, +With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay; +His head rais'd high on tapestry beneath, +And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath; +A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov'd: +But fate by prescience cannot be remov'd. +Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies +Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies. +His armor-bearer first, and next he kills +His charioteer, intrench'd betwixt the wheels +And his lov'd horses; last invades their lord; +Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword: +The gasping head flies off; a purple flood +Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood, +Which, by the spurning heels dispers'd around, +The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground. +Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong, +He slew, and then Serranus fair and young. +From dice and wine the youth retir'd to rest, +And puff'd the fumy god from out his breast: +Ev'n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play- +More lucky, had it lasted till the day. +The famish'd lion thus, with hunger bold, +O'erleaps the fences of the nightly fold, +And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe +Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw. + +Nor with less rage Euryalus employs +The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys; +But on th' ignoble crowd his fury flew; +He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew. +Oppress'd with heavy sleep the former fell, +But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all: +Behind a spacious jar he slink'd for fear; +The fatal iron found and reach'd him there; +For, as he rose, it pierc'd his naked side, +And, reeking, thence return'd in crimson dyed. +The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood; +The purple soul comes floating in the flood. + +Now, where Messapus quarter'd, they arrive. +The fires were fainting there, and just alive; +The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed. +Nisus observ'd the discipline, and said: +"Our eager thirst of blood may both betray; +And see the scatter'd streaks of dawning day, +Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend; +Here let our glutted execution end. +A lane thro' slaughter'd bodies we have made." +The bold Euryalus, tho' loth, obey'd. +Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find +A precious load; but these they leave behind. +Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay +To make the rich caparison his prey, +Which on the steed of conquer'd Rhamnes lay. +Nor did his eyes less longingly behold +The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish'd gold. +This present Caedicus the rich bestow'd +On Remulus, when friendship first they vow'd, +And, absent, join'd in hospitable ties: +He, dying, to his heir bequeath'd the prize; +Till, by the conqu'ring Ardean troops oppress'd, +He fell; and they the glorious gift possess'd. +These glitt'ring spoils (now made the victor's gain) +He to his body suits, but suits in vain: +Messapus' helm he finds among the rest, +And laces on, and wears the waving crest. +Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey, +They leave the camp, and take the ready way. + +But far they had not pass'd, before they spied +Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide. +The queen a legion to King Turnus sent; +But the swift horse the slower foot prevent, +And now, advancing, sought the leader's tent. +They saw the pair; for, thro' the doubtful shade, +His shining helm Euryalus betray'd, +On which the moon with full reflection play'd. +"'T is not for naught," cried Volscens from the crowd, +"These men go there;" then rais'd his voice aloud: +"Stand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent? +From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?" +Silent they scud away, and haste their flight +To neighb'ring woods, and trust themselves to night. +The speedy horse all passages belay, +And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way, +And watch each entrance of the winding wood. +Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood, +Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn; +Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn. +The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey, +And fear, misled the younger from his way. +But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste, +And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass'd, +And Alban plains, from Alba's name so call'd, +Where King Latinus then his oxen stall'd; +Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground, +And miss'd his friend, and cast his eyes around: +"Ah wretch!" he cried, "where have I left behind +Th' unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find? +Or what way take?" Again he ventures back, +And treads the mazes of his former track. +He winds the wood, and, list'ning, hears the noise +Of tramping coursers, and the riders' voice. +The sound approach'd; and suddenly he view'd +The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued, +Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain +The shelter of the friendly shades to gain. +What should he next attempt? what arms employ, +What fruitless force, to free the captive boy? +Or desperate should he rush and lose his life, +With odds oppress'd, in such unequal strife? + +Resolv'd at length, his pointed spear he shook; +And, casting on the moon a mournful look: +"Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night, +Fair queen," he said, "direct my dart aright. +If e'er my pious father, for my sake, +Did grateful off'rings on thy altars make, +Or I increas'd them with my sylvan toils, +And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils, +Give me to scatter these." Then from his ear +He pois'd, and aim'd, and launch'd the trembling spear. +The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove, +Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove; +Pierc'd his thin armor, drank his vital blood, +And in his body left the broken +He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death, +And with short sobs he gasps away his breath. +All stand amaz'd- a second jav'lin flies +With equal strength, and quivers thro' the skies. +This thro' thy temples, Tagus, forc'd the way, +And in the brainpan warmly buried lay. +Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, +Descried not him who gave the fatal wound, +Nor knew to fix revenge: "But thou," he cries, +"Shalt pay for both," and at the pris'ner flies +With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair, +That cruel sight the lover could not bear; +But from his covert rush'd in open view, +And sent his voice before him as he flew: +"Me! me!" he cried- "turn all your swords alone +On me- the fact confess'd, the fault my own. +He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth: +Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth! +His only crime (if friendship can offend) +Is too much love to his unhappy friend." +Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides, +Driv'n with full force, had pierc'd his tender sides. +Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound +Gush'd out a purple stream, and stain'd the ground. +His snowy neck reclines upon his breast, +Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd; +Like a white poppy sinking on the plain, +Whose heavy head is overcharg'd with rain. +Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow'd, +Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd. +Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends: +Borne back and bor'd by his surrounding friends, +Onward he press'd, and kept him still in sight; +Then whirl'd aloft his sword with all his might: +Th' unerring steel descended while he spoke, +Piered his wide mouth, and thro' his weazon broke. +Dying, he slew; and, stagg'ring on the plain, +With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain; +Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell, +Content, in death, to be reveng'd so well. + +O happy friends! for, if my verse can give +Immortal life, your fame shall ever live, +Fix'd as the Capitol's foundation lies, +And spread, where'er the Roman eagle flies! + +The conqu'ring party first divide the prey, +Then their slain leader to the camp convey. +With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill'd, +To see such numbers whom so few had kill'd. +Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found: +Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround; +And the yet reeking blood o'erflows the ground. +All knew the helmet which Messapus lost, +But mourn'd a purchase that so dear had cost. +Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed, +And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread; +Nor long the sun his daily course withheld, +But added colors to the world reveal'd: +When early Turnus, wak'ning with the light, +All clad in armor, calls his troops to fight. +His martial men with fierce harangue he fir'd, +And his own ardor in their souls inspir'd. +This done- to give new terror to his foes, +The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows, +Rais'd high on pointed spears- a ghastly sight: +Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight. + +Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls; +They line their trenches, and they man their walls. +In front extended to the left they stood; +Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood. +But, casting from their tow'rs a frightful view, +They saw the faces, which too well they knew, +Tho' then disguis'd in death, and smear'd all o'er +With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore. +Soon hasty fame thro' the sad city bears +The mournful message to the mother's ears. +An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes; +Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes. +She runs the rampires round amidst the war, +Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair, +And fills with loud laments the liquid air. +"Thus, then, my lov'd Euryalus appears! +Thus looks the prop my declining years! +Was't on this face my famish'd eyes I fed? +Ah! how unlike the living is the dead! +And could'st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone? +Not one kind kiss from a departing son! +No look, no last adieu before he went, +In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent! +Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay, +To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey! +Nor was I near to close his dying eyes, +To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies, +To call about his corpse his crying friends, +Or spread the mantle (made for other ends) +On his dear body, which I wove with care, +Nor did my daily pains or nightly labor spare. +Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains +His trunk dismember'd, and his cold remains? +For this, alas! I left my needful ease, +Expos'd my life to winds and winter seas! +If any pity touch Rutulian hearts, +Here empty all your quivers, all your darts; +Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe, +And send me thunderstruck to shades below!" +Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans' ears, +Unman their courage, and augment their fears; +Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain, +Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain, +But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent, +To bear the madding mother to her tent. + +And now the trumpets terribly, from far, +With rattling clangor, rouse the sleepy war. +The soldiers' shouts succeed the brazen sounds; +And heav'n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds. +The Volscians bear their shields upon their head, +And, rushing forward, form a moving shed. +These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down: +Some raise the ladders; others scale the town. +But, where void spaces on the walls appear, +Or thin defense, they pour their forces there. +With poles and missive weapons, from afar, +The Trojans keep aloof the rising war. +Taught, by their ten years' siege, defensive fight, +They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight, +To break the penthouse with the pond'rous blow, +Which yet the patient Volscians undergo: +But could not bear th' unequal combat long; +For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng, +The ruin falls: their shatter'd shields give way, +And their crush'd heads become an easy prey. +They shrink for fear, abated of their rage, +Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage; +Contented now to gall them from below +With darts and slings, and with the distant bow. + +Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view, +A blazing pine within the trenches threw. +But brave Messapus, Neptune's warlike son, +Broke down the palisades, the trenches won, +And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town. + +Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine, +Inspire your poet in his high design, +To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made, +What souls he sent below the Stygian shade, +What fame the soldiers with their captain share, +And the vast circuit of the fatal war; +For you in singing martial facts excel; +You best remember, and alone can tell. + +There stood a tow'r, amazing to the sight, +Built up of beams, and of stupendous height: +Art, and the nature of the place, conspir'd +To furnish all the strength that war requir'd. +To level this, the bold Italians join; +The wary Trojans obviate their design; +With weighty stones o'erwhelm their troops below, +Shoot thro' the loopholes, and sharp jav'lins throw. +Turnus, the chief, toss'd from his thund'ring hand +Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand: +It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high; +The planks were season'd, and the timber dry. +Contagion caught the posts; it spread along, +Scorch'd, and to distance drove the scatter'd throng. +The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain, +Still gath'ring fast upon the trembling train; +Till, crowding to the corners of the wall, +Down the defense and the defenders fall. +The mighty flaw makes heav'n itself resound: +The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground. +The tow'r, that follow'd on the fallen crew, +Whelm'd o'er their heads, and buried whom it slew: +Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent; +All the same equal ruin underwent. + +Young Lycus and Helenor only scape; +Sav'd- how, they know not- from the steepy leap. +Helenor, elder of the two: by birth, +On one side royal, one a son of earth, +Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare, +And sent her boasted bastard to the war +(A privilege which none but freemen share). +Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield: +No marks of honor charg'd its empty field. +Light as he fell, so light the youth arose, +And rising, found himself amidst his foes; +Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way. +Embolden'd by despair, he stood at bay; +And- like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds +Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds- +Resolv'd on death, he dissipates his fears, +And bounds aloft against the pointed spears: +So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws +His dying body on his thickest foes. +But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far, +Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war; +Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind, +And snatches at the beam he first can find; +Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch, +In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach. +But Turnus follow'd hard his hunted prey +(His spear had almost reach'd him in the way, +Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind) +"Fool!" said the chief, "tho' fleeter than the wind, +Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?" +He said, and downward by the feet he drew +The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls; +Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls. +Thus on some silver swan, or tim'rous hare, +Jove's bird comes sousing down from upper air; +Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey: +Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way. +So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb, +In vain lamented by the bleating dam. + +Then rushing onward with a barb'rous cry, +The troops of Turnus to the combat fly. +The ditch with fagots fill'd, the daring foe +Toss'd firebrands to the steepy turrets throw. + +Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came +To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame, +Roll'd down the fragment of a rock so right, +It crush'd him double underneath the weight. +Two more young Liger and Asylas slew: +To bend the bow young Liger better knew; +Asylas best the pointed jav'lin threw. +Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain; +The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain. +By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall, +Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall. +From Capys' arms his fate Privernus found: +Hurt by Themilla first-but slight the wound- +His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart, +He clapp'd his hand upon the wounded part: +The second shaft came swift and unespied, +And pierc'd his hand, and nail'd it to his side, +Transfix'd his breathing lungs and beating heart: +The soul came issuing out, and hiss'd against the dart. + +The son of Arcens shone amid the rest, +In glitt'ring armor and a purple vest, +(Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,) +Bred by his father in the Martian grove, +Where the fat altars of Palicus flame, +And send in arms to purchase early fame. +Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king +Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling, +Thrice whirl'd the thong around his head, and threw: +The heated lead half melted as it flew; +It pierc'd his hollow temples and his brain; +The youth came tumbling down, and spurn'd the plain. + +Then young Ascanius, who, before this day, +Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey, +First bent in martial strife the twanging bow, +And exercis'd against a human foe- +With this bereft Numanus of his life, +Who Turnus' younger sister took to wife. +Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride, +Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen'd with a stride, +In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied: + +"Twice-conquer'd cowards, now your shame is shown- +Coop'd up a second time within your town! +Who dare not issue forth in open field, +But hold your walls before you for a shield. +Thus threat you war? thus our alliance force? +What gods, what madness, hether steer'd your course? +You shall not find the sons of Atreus here, +Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear. +Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood, +We bear our newborn infants to the flood; +There bath'd amid the stream, our boys we hold, +With winter harden'd, and inur'd to cold. +They wake before the day to range the wood, +Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer'd food. +No sports, but what belong to war, they know: +To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow. +Our youth, of labor patient, earn their bread; +Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed. +From plows and harrows sent to seek renown, +They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town. +No part of life from toils of war is free, +No change in age, or diff'rence in degree. +We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel, +Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel; +Th' inverted lance makes furrows in the plain. +Ev'n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain: +The body, not the mind; nor can control +Th' immortal vigor, or abate the soul. +Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray: +We live by plunder, and delight in prey. +Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine; +In sloth you glory, and in dances join. +Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride +Your turbants underneath your chins are tied. +Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again! +Go, less than women, in the shapes of men! +Go, mix'd with eunuchs, in the Mother's rites, +Where with unequal sound the flute invites; +Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida's shade: +Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!" + +This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear +With patience, or a vow'd revenge forbear. +At the full stretch of both his hands he drew, +And almost join'd the horns of the tough yew. +But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood, +And thus with lifted hands invok'd the god: +"My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed! +An annual off'ring in thy grove shall bleed; +A snow-white steer, before thy altar led, +Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head, +Butts with his threat'ning brows, and bellowing stands, +And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands." + +Jove bow'd the heav'ns, and lent a gracious ear, +And thunder'd on the left, amidst the clear. +Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies +The feather'd death, and hisses thro' the skies. +The steel thro' both his temples forc'd the way: +Extended on the ground, Numanus lay. +"Go now, vain boaster, and true valor scorn! +The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return." +Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake +The heav'ns with shouting, and new vigor take. + +Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud, +To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd; +And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud: +"Advance, illustrious youth, increase in fame, +And wide from east to west extend thy name; +Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe +To thee a race of demigods below. +This is the way to heav'n: the pow'rs divine +From this beginning date the Julian line. +To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs, +The conquer'd war is due, and the vast world is theirs. +Troy is too narrow for thy name." He said, +And plunging downward shot his radiant head; +Dispell'd the breathing air, that broke his flight: +Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight. +Old Butes' form he took, Anchises' squire, +Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire: +His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs, +His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears, +And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years: +"Suffice it thee, thy father's worthy son, +The warlike prize thou hast already won. +The god of archers gives thy youth a part +Of his own praise, nor envies equal art. +Now tempt the war no more." He said, and flew +Obscure in air, and vanish'd from their view. +The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know, +And hear the twanging of his heav'nly bow. +Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus' name, +To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame. +Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun; +From wall to wall the shouts and clamors run. +They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around; +Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground; +And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound. +The combat thickens, like the storm that flies +From westward, when the show'ry Kids arise; +Or patt'ring hail comes pouring on the main, +When Jupiter descends in harden'd rain, +Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound, +And with an armed winter strew the ground. + +Pand'rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war, +Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare +On Ida's top, two youths of height and size +Like firs that on their mother mountain rise, +Presuming on their force, the gates unbar, +And of their own accord invite the war. +With fates averse, against their king's command, +Arm'd, on the right and on the left they stand, +And flank the passage: shining steel they wear, +And waving crests above their heads appear. +Thus two tall oaks, that Padus' banks adorn, +Lift up to heav'n their leafy heads unshorn, +And, overpress'd with nature's heavy load, +Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod. +In flows a tide of Latians, when they see +The gate set open, and the passage free; +Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on, +Equicolus, that in bright armor shone, +And Haemon first; but soon repuls'd they fly, +Or in the well-defended pass they die. +These with success are fir'd, and those with rage, +And each on equal terms at length ingage. +Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain, +The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain. + +Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought, +When suddenly th' unhop'd-for news was brought, +The foes had left the fastness of their place, +Prevail'd in fight, and had his men in chase. +He quits th' attack, and, to prevent their fate, +Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate. +The first he met, Antiphates the brave, +But base-begotten on a Theban slave, +Sarpedon's son, he slew: the deadly dart +Found passage thro' his breast, and pierc'd his heart. +Fix'd in the wound th' Italian cornel stood, +Warm'd in his lungs, and in his vital blood. +Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies, +And Meropes, and the gigantic size +Of Bitias, threat'ning with his ardent eyes. +Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress'd +(A dart were lost within that roomy breast), +But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, +Which roar'd like thunder as it whirl'd along: +Not two bull hides th' impetuous force withhold, +Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold. +Down sunk the monster bulk and press'd the ground; +His arms and clatt'ring shield on the vast body sound, +Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole, +Rais'd on the seas, the surges to control- +At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall; +Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall +Of the vast pile; the scatter'd ocean flies; +Black sands, discolor'd froth, and mingled mud arise: +The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores; +Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars: +Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove's command, +Astonish'd at the flaw that shakes the land, +Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake, +With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back. + +The warrior god the Latian troops inspir'd, +New strung their sinews, and their courage fir'd, +But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright: +Then black despair precipitates their flight. + +When Pandarus beheld his brother kill'd, +The town with fear and wild confusion fill'd, +He turns the hinges of the heavy gate +With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight +Some happier friends within the walls inclos'd; +The rest shut out, to certain death expos'd: +Fool as he was, and frantic in his care, +T' admit young Turnus, and include the war! +He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold, +Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold. +Too late his blazing buckler they descry, +And sparkling fires that shot from either eye, +His mighty members, and his ample breast, +His rattling armor, and his crimson crest. + +Far from that hated face the Trojans fly, +All but the fool who sought his destiny. +Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow'd +For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud: +"These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town +Amata proffers with Lavinia's crown: +'T is hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft, +No means of safe return by flight are left." +To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul sedate, +Thus Turnus: "Then begin, and try thy fate: +My message to the ghost of Priam bear; +Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there." + +A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw, +Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew: +With his full force he whirl'd it first around; +But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound: +Imperial Juno turn'd the course before, +And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door. + +"But hope not thou," said Turnus, "when I strike, +To shun thy fate: our force is not alike, +Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god." +Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood, +And aim'd from high: the full descending blow +Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two. +Down sinks the giant with a thund'ring sound: +His pond'rous limbs oppress the trembling ground; +Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound: +Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides, +And the shar'd visage hangs on equal sides. +The Trojans fly from their approaching fate; +And, had the victor then secur'd the gate, +And to his troops without unclos'd the bars, +One lucky day had ended all his wars. +But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood, +Push'd on his fury, to pursue the crowd. +Hamstring'd behind, unhappy Gyges died; +Then Phalaris is added to his side. +The pointed jav'lins from the dead he drew, +And their friends' arms against their fellows threw. +Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies; +Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies. +Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall- +Ingag'd against the foes who scal'd the wall: +But, whom they fear'd without, they found within. +At last, tho' late, by Lynceus he was seen. +He calls new succors, and assaults the prince: +But weak his force, and vain is their defense. +Turn'd to the right, his sword the hero drew, +And at one blow the bold aggressor slew. +He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong, +The helm flies off, and bears the head along. +Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill'd, +In darts invenom'd and in poison skill'd. +Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear, +And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear: +He fought with courage, and he sung the fight; +Arms were his bus'ness, verses his delight. + +The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief, +Their slaughter'd friends, and hasten their relief. +Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train, +Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain. +To save the living, and revenge the dead, +Against one warrior's arms all Troy they led. +"O, void of sense and courage!" Mnestheus cried, +"Where can you hope your coward heads to hide? +Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run? +One man, and in your camp inclos'd, you shun! +Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast, +And pass unpunish'd from a num'rous host? +Forsaking honor, and renouncing fame, +Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!" +This just reproach their virtue does excite: +They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight. + +Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield, +But with slow paces measures back the field, +And inches to the walls, where Tiber's tide, +Washing the camp, defends the weaker side. +The more he loses, they advance the more, +And tread in ev'ry step he trod before. +They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might +They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight. + +As, compass'd with a wood of spears around, +The lordly lion still maintains his ground; +Grins horrible, retires, and turns again; +Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane; +He loses while in vain he presses on, +Nor will his courage let him dare to run: +So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight, +Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight. +Yet twice, inrag'd, the combat he renews, +Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues. +But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied, +Come rolling on, and rush from ev'ry side: +Nor Juno, who sustain'd his arms before, +Dares with new strength suffice th' exhausted store; +For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down, +To force th' invader from the frighted town. + +With labor spent, no longer can he wield +The heavy fanchion, or sustain the shield, +O'erwhelm'd with darts, which from afar they fling: +The weapons round his hollow temples ring; +His golden helm gives way, with stony blows +Batter'd, and flat, and beaten to his brows. +His crest is rash'd away; his ample shield +Is falsified, and round with jav'lins fill'd. + +The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm; +And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm. +Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev'ry pore; +With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o'er; +Shorter and shorter ev'ry gasp he takes; +And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes. +Plung'd in the flood, and made the waters fly. +The yellow god the welcome burthen bore, +And wip'd the sweat, and wash'd away the gore; +Then gently wafts him to the farther coast, +And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host. +BOOK X + +The gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons all +The gods to council in the common hall. +Sublimely seated, he surveys from far +The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war, +And all th' inferior world. From first to last, +The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd. + +Then thus th' almighty sire began: "Ye gods, +Natives or denizens of blest abodes, +From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, +This backward fate from what was first design'd? +Why this protracted war, when my commands +Pronounc'd a peace, and gave the Latian lands? +What fear or hope on either part divides +Our heav'ns, and arms our powers on diff'rent sides? +A lawful time of war at length will come, +(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom), +When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome, +Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, +And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains. +Then is your time for faction and debate, +For partial favor, and permitted hate. +Let now your immature dissension cease; +Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace." + +Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge; +But lovely Venus thus replies at large: +"O pow'r immense, eternal energy, +(For to what else protection can we fly?) +Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare +In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care? +How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, +In shining arms, triumphant on the plain? +Ev'n in their lines and trenches they contend, +And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: +The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats, +With a red deluge, their increasing moats. +Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence, +Has left a camp expos'd, without defense. +This endless outrage shall they still sustain? +Shall Troy renew'd be forc'd and fir'd again? +A second siege my banish'd issue fears, +And a new Diomede in arms appears. +One more audacious mortal will be found; +And I, thy daughter, wait another wound. +Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave, +The Latian lands my progeny receive, +Bear they the pains of violated law, +And thy protection from their aid withdraw. +But, if the gods their sure success foretell; +If those of heav'n consent with those of hell, +To promise Italy; who dare debate +The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate? +What should I tell of tempests on the main, +Of Aeolus usurping Neptune's reign? +Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat +T' inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet? +Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends, +Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends. +That new example wanted yet above: +An act that well became the wife of Jove! +Alecto, rais'd by her, with rage inflames +The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames. +Imperial sway no more exalts my mind; +(Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav'n was kind;) +Now let my happier foes possess my place, +Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race; +And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace. +Since you can spare, from all your wide command, +No spot of earth, no hospitable land, +Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive; +(Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;) +Then, father, (if I still may use that name,) +By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame, +I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care, +Be freed from danger, and dismiss'd the war: +Inglorious let him live, without a crown. +The father may be cast on coasts unknown, +Struggling with fate; but let me save the son. +Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow'rs: +In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs, +Obscurely let him rest; his right resign +To promis'd empire, and his Julian line. +Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns destroy, +Nor fear the race of a rejected boy. +What profits it my son to scape the fire, +Arm'd with his gods, and loaded with his sire; +To pass the perils of the seas and wind; +Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind; +To reach th' Italian shores; if, after all, +Our second Pergamus is doom'd to fall? +Much better had he curb'd his high desires, +And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires. +To Simois' banks the fugitives restore, +And give them back to war, and all the woes before." + +Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's heart: +"And must I own," she said, "my secret smart- +What with more decence were in silence kept, +And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept? +Did god or man your fav'rite son advise, +With war unhop'd the Latians to surprise? +By fate, you boast, and by the gods' decree, +He left his native land for Italy! +Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more +Than Heav'n inspir'd, he sought a foreign shore! +Did I persuade to trust his second Troy +To the raw conduct of a beardless boy, +With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes, +And thro' the waves a wand'ring voyage takes? +When have I urg'd him meanly to demand +The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land? +Did I or Iris give this mad advice, +Or made the fool himself the fatal choice? +You think it hard, the Latians should destroy +With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy! +Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw +Their native air, nor take a foreign law! +That Turnus is permitted still to live, +To whom his birth a god and goddess give! +But yet is just and lawful for your line +To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join; +Realms, not your own, among your clans divide, +And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd bride; +Petition, while you public arms prepare; +Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war! +'T was giv'n to you, your darling son to shroud, +To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd, +And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud. +From flaming fleets you turn'd the fire away, +And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea. +But is my crime- the Queen of Heav'n offends, +If she presume to save her suff'ring friends! +Your son, not knowing what his foes decree, +You say, is absent: absent let him be. +Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs, +The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs. +Why do you then these needless arms prepare, +And thus provoke a people prone to war? +Did I with fire the Trojan town deface, +Or hinder from return your exil'd race? +Was I the cause of mischief, or the man +Whose lawless lust the fatal war began? +Think on whose faith th' adult'rous youth relied; +Who promis'd, who procur'd, the Spartan bride? +When all th' united states of Greece combin'd, +To purge the world of the perfidious kind, +Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate: +Your quarrels and complaints are now too late." + +Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix'd applause, +Just as they favor or dislike the cause. +So winds, when yet unfledg'd in woods they lie, +In whispers first their tender voices try, +Then issue on the main with bellowing rage, +And storms to trembling mariners presage. + +Then thus to both replied th' imperial god, +Who shakes heav'n's axles with his awful nod. +(When he begins, the silent senate stand +With rev'rence, list'ning to the dread command: +The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain; +And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.) +"Celestials, your attentive ears incline! +Since," said the god, "the Trojans must not join +In wish'd alliance with the Latian line; +Since endless jarrings and immortal hate +Tend but to discompose our happy state; +The war henceforward be resign'd to fate: +Each to his proper fortune stand or fall; +Equal and unconcern'd I look on all. +Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me; +And both shall draw the lots their fates decree. +Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend; +And, if she favors those, let those defend: +The Fates will find their way." The Thund'rer said, +And shook the sacred honors of his head, +Attesting Styx, th' inviolable flood, +And the black regions of his brother god. +Trembled the poles of heav'n, and earth confess'd the nod. +This end the sessions had: the senate rise, +And to his palace wait their sov'reign thro' the skies. + +Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes +Within their walls the Trojan host inclose: +They wound, they kill, they watch at ev'ry gate; +Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate. + +Th' Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief, +Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief. +Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few +A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew. +Yet in the face of danger some there stood: +The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood, +Asius and Acmon; both th' Assaraci; +Young Haemon, and tho' young, resolv'd to die. +With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join'd; +Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind. +From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came, +So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name: +Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone; +His brother Mnestheus could not more have done, +Or the great father of th' intrepid son. +Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send; +And some with darts, and some with stones defend. + +Amid the press appears the beauteous boy, +The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy. +His lovely face unarm'd, his head was bare; +In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair. +His forehead circled with a diadem; +Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem, +Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set, +Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet. + +Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war, +Directing pointed arrows from afar, +And death with poison arm'd- in Lydia born, +Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn; +Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands, +And leaves a rich manure of golden sands. +There Capys, author of the Capuan name, +And there was Mnestheus too, increas'd in fame, +Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame. + +Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side. +Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide: +For, anxious, from Evander when he went, +He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's tent; +Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief; +His name and country told, and ask'd relief; +Propos'd the terms; his own small strength declar'd; +What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar'd: +What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd; +Then shew'd the slipp'ry state of humankind, +And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware, +And to his wholesome counsel added pray'r. +Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs, +And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins. + +They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand; +Their forces trusted with a foreign hand. +Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear +Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear- +Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear. +Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate, +Revolving war's events, and various fate. +His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side, +And oft of winds enquir'd, and of the tide; +Oft of the stars, and of their wat'ry way; +And what he suffer'd both by land and sea. + +Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring! +The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing, +Which follow'd great Aeneas to the war: +Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare. + +A thousand youths brave Massicus obey, +Borne in the Tiger thro' the foaming sea; +From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care: +For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear. +Fierce Abas next: his men bright armor wore; +His stern Apollo's golden statue bore. +Six hundred Populonia sent along, +All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong. +Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins, +An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted mines. +Asylas on his prow the third appears, +Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars; +From offer'd entrails prodigies expounds, +And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds. +A thousand spears in warlike order stand, +Sent by the Pisans under his command. + +Fair Astur follows in the wat'ry field, +Proud of his manag'd horse and painted shield. +Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen, +And his own Caere, sent three hundred men; +With those which Minio's fields and Pyrgi gave, +All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave. + +Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew, +And brave Cupavo follow'd but by few; +Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man, +And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan. +Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry, +Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly. +For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton, +And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone, +Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief. +Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'd his relief, +And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair, +And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air. +His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood: +Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood, +Who heav'd a rock, and, threat'ning still to throw, +With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below: +They seem'd to fear the formidable sight, +And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight. + +Ocnus was next, who led his native train +Of hardy warriors thro' the wat'ry plain: +The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream, +From whence the Mantuan town derives the name- +An ancient city, but of mix'd descent: +Three sev'ral tribes compose the government; +Four towns are under each; but all obey +The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway. + +Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more, +Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore: +Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er. +These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep +With stretching oars at once the glassy deep. +Him and his martial train the Triton bears; +High on his poop the sea-green god appears: +Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound, +And at the blast the billows dance around. +A hairy man above the waist he shows; +A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows; +And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides, +And froth and foam augment the murm'ring tides. + +Full thirty ships transport the chosen train +For Troy's relief, and scour the briny main. + +Now was the world forsaken by the sun, +And Phoebe half her nightly race had run. +The careful chief, who never clos'd his eyes, +Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. +A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood, +Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood; +But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep, +As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep. +They know him from afar; and in a ring +Inclose the ship that bore the Trojan king. +Cymodoce, whose voice excell'd the rest, +Above the waves advanc'd her snowy breast; +Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides +The curling ocean, and corrects the tides. +She spoke for all the choir, and thus began +With pleasing words to warn th' unknowing man: +"Sleeps our lov'd lord? O goddess-born, awake! +Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat'ry track, +And haste your course. Your navy once were we, +From Ida's height descending to the sea; +Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood, +Presum'd to violate our holy wood. +Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires profane +(Unwillingly we broke our master's chain), +And since have sought you thro' the Tuscan main. +The mighty Mother chang'd our forms to these, +And gave us life immortal in the seas. +But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd, +By your insulting foes is hardly press'd. +Th' Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, +Advance in order on the Latian coast: +To cut their way the Daunian chief designs, +Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines. +Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light, +First arm thy soldiers for th' ensuing fight: +Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield, +And bear aloft th' impenetrable shield. +To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain, +Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain." +Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force +Push'd on the vessel in her wat'ry course; +For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind, +The ship flew forward, and outstripp'd the wind. +The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause, +The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws. + +Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes: +"Hear thou, great Mother of the deities. +With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill +Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, obey thy will.) +Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight; +And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right." + +He said no more. And now renewing day +Had chas'd the shadows of the night away. +He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care, +Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; +Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade 'em hope the war. +Now, his lofty poop, he view'd below +His camp incompass'd, and th' inclosing foe. +His blazing shield, imbrac'd, he held on high; +The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply. +Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw +Their darts with double force, and drive the foe. +Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise +Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies. + +King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd, +Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd, +The seas with swelling canvas cover'd o'er, +And the swift ships descending on the shore. +The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes, +The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to rise, +And dart diffusive fires around the field, +And the keen glitt'ring the golden shield. +Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise, +Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies: +So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights, +Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright: + +Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent +To man the shores, and hinder their descent, +And thus awakes the courage of his friends: +"What you so long have wish'd, kind Fortune sends; +In ardent arms to meet th' invading foe: +You find, and find him at advantage now. +Yours is the day: you need but only dare; +Your swords will make you masters of the war. +Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands, +And dearest wifes, are all within your hands. +Be mindful of the race from whence you came, +And emulate in arms your fathers' fame. +Now take the time, while stagg'ring yet they stand +With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand: +Fortune befriends the bold." Nor more he said, +But balanc'd whom to leave, and whom to lead; +Then these elects, the landing to prevent; +And those he leaves, to keep the city pent. + +Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore: +Some are by boats expos'd, by bridges more. +With lab'ring oars they bear along the strand, +Where the tide languishes, and leap aland. +Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes, +And, where no ford he finds, no water fries, +Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar, +But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore, +That course he steer'd, and thus he gave command: +"Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land: +Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound +This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground. +Let me securely land- I ask no more; +Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore." + +This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends: +They tug at ev'ry oar, and ev'ry stretcher bends; +They run their ships aground; the vessels knock, +(Thus forc'd ashore,) and tremble with the shock. +Tarchon's alone was lost, that stranded stood, +Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood: +She breaks her back; the loosen'd sides give way, +And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea. +Their broken oars and floating planks withstand +Their passage, while they labor to the land, +And ebbing tides bear back upon th' uncertain sand. + +Now Turnus leads his troops without delay, +Advancing to the margin of the sea. +The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail'd +The clowns new-rais'd and raw, and soon prevail'd. +Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight; +Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height. +He first in open field defied the prince: +But armor scal'd with gold was no defense +Against the fated sword, which open'd wide +His plated shield, and pierc'd his naked side. +Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born, +Was from his wretched mother ripp'd and torn; +Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee; +For his beginning life from biting steel was free. +Not far from him was Gyas laid along, +Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong: +Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail'd, +Nor valor nor Herculean arms avail'd, +Nor their fam'd father, wont in war to go +With great Alcides, while he toil'd below. +The noisy Pharos next receiv'd his death: +Aeneas writh'd his dart, and stopp'd his bawling breath. +Then wretched Cydon had receiv'd his doom, +Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom, +And sought with lust obscene polluted joys: +The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys, +Had not his sev'n bold brethren stopp'd the course +Of the fierce champions, with united force. +Sev'n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound +From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound: +The rest had reach'd him; but his mother's care +Prevented those, and turn'd aside in air. + +The prince then call'd Achates, to supply +The spears that knew the way to victory- +"Those fatal weapons, which, inur'd to blood, +In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood: +Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain +Against our foes, on this contended plain." +He said; then seiz'd a mighty spear, and threw; +Which, wing'd with fate, thro' Maeon's buckler flew, +Pierc'd all the brazen plates, and reach'd his heart: +He stagger'd with intolerable smart. +Alcanor saw; and reach'd, but reach'd in vain, +His helping hand, his brother to sustain. +A second spear, which kept the former course, +From the same hand, and sent with equal force, +His right arm pierc'd, and holding on, bereft +His use of both, and pinion'd down his left. +Then Numitor from his dead brother drew +Th' ill-omen'd spear, and at the Trojan threw: +Preventing fate directs the lance awry, +Which, glancing, only mark'd Achates' thigh. + +In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came, +And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim. +The spear flew hissing thro' the middle space, +And pierc'd his throat, directed at his face; +It stopp'd at once the passage of his wind, +And the free soul to flitting air resign'd: +His forehead was the first that struck the ground; +Lifeblood and life rush'd mingled thro' the wound. +He slew three brothers of the Borean race, +And three, whom Ismarus, their native place, +Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace. +Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads: +The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds, +Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand, +These fight to keep, and those to win, the land. +With mutual blood th' Ausonian soil is dyed, +While on its borders each their claim decide. +As wintry winds, contending in the sky, +With equal force of lungs their titles try: +They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav'n +Stands without motion, and the tide undriv'n: +Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield, +They long suspend the fortune of the field. +Both armies thus perform what courage can; +Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man. + +But, in another part, th' Arcadian horse +With ill success ingage the Latin force: +For, where th' impetuous torrent, rushing down, +Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown, +They left their coursers, and, unus'd to fight +On foot, were scatter'd in a shameful flight. +Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view'd +His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued, +Us'd threat'nings mix'd with pray'rs, his last resource, +With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force +"Which way, companions? whether would you run? +By you yourselves, and mighty battles won, +By my great sire, by his establish'd name, +And early promise of my future fame; +By my youth, emulous of equal right +To share his honors- shun ignoble flight! +Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way +Thro' yon black body, and that thick array: +'T is thro' that forward path that we must come; +There lies our way, and that our passage home. +Nor pow'rs above, nor destinies below +Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go, +With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe. +See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore, +The sea behind, our enemies before; +No passage left, unless we swim the main; +Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain." +This said, he strode with eager haste along, +And bore amidst the thickest of the throng. +Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe, +Had heav'd a stone of mighty weight, to throw: +Stooping, the spear descended on his chine, +Just where the bone distinguished either loin: +It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay, +That scarce the victor forc'd the steel away. +Hisbon came on: but, while he mov'd too slow +To wish'd revenge, the prince prevents his blow; +For, warding his at once, at once he press'd, +And plung'd the fatal weapon in his breast. +Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust, +Who stain'd his stepdam's bed with impious lust. +And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain, +Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain; +So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size, +As caus'd an error in their parents' eyes- +Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides +The nice distinction, and their fate divides: +For Thymbrus' head was lopp'd; and Laris' hand, +Dismember'd, sought its owner on the strand: +The trembling fingers yet the fauchion strain, +And threaten still th' intended stroke in vain. + +Now, to renew the charge, th' Arcadians came: +Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame, +And grief, with anger mix'd, their minds inflame. +Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain, +Who chanc'd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain: +The flying spear was after Ilus sent; +But Rhoeteus happen'd on a death unmeant: +From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled, +The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead: +Roll'd from his chariot with a mortal wound, +And intercepted fate, he spurn'd the ground. +As when, in summer, welcome winds arise, +The watchful shepherd to the forest flies, +And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads, +And catching flames infect the neighb'ring heads; +Around the forest flies the furious blast, +And all the leafy nation sinks at last, +And Vulcan rides in triumph o'er the waste; +The pastor, pleas'd with his dire victory, +Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky: +So Pallas' troops their scatter'd strength unite, +And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight. + +Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood; +But first collected in his arms he stood: +Advancing then, he plied the spear so well, +Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell. +Around his head he toss'd his glitt'ring brand, +And from Strymonius hew'd his better hand, +Held up to guard his throat; then hurl'd a stone +At Thoas' ample front, and pierc'd the bone: +It struck beneath the space of either eye; +And blood, and mingled brains, together fly. +Deep skill'd in future fates, Halesus' sire +Did with the youth to lonely groves retire: +But, when the father's mortal race was run, +Dire destiny laid hold upon the son, +And haul'd him to the war, to find, beneath +Th' Evandrian spear, a memorable death. +Pallas th' encounter seeks, but, ere he throws, +To Tuscan Tiber thus address'd his vows: +"O sacred stream, direct my flying dart, +And give to pass the proud Halesus' heart! +His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear." +Pleas'd with the bribe, the god receiv'd his pray'r: +For, while his shield protects a friend distress'd, +The dart came driving on, and pierc'd his breast. + +But Lausus, no small portion of the war, +Permits not panic fear to reign too far, +Caus'd by the death of so renown'd a knight; +But by his own example cheers the fight. +Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay +Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day. +The Phrygian troops escap'd the Greeks in vain: +They, and their mix'd allies, now load the plain. +To the rude shock of war both armies came; +Their leaders equal, and their strength the same. +The rear so press'd the front, they could not wield +Their angry weapons, to dispute the field. +Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there: +Of equal youth and beauty both appear, +But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air. +Their congress in the field great Jove withstands: +Both doom'd to fall, but fall by greater hands. + +Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief +Of Lausus' danger, urging swift relief. +With his driv'n chariot he divides the crowd, +And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud: +"Let none presume his needless aid to join; +Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine: +To this right hand is Pallas only due; +O were his father here, my just revenge to view!" +From the forbidden space his men retir'd. +Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir'd; +Survey'd him o'er and o'er with wond'ring sight, +Struck with his haughty mien, and tow'ring height. +Then to the king: "Your empty vaunts forbear; +Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear; +Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name; +Jove is impartial, and to both the same." +He said, and to the void advanc'd his pace: +Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face. +Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light, +Address'd himself on foot to single fight. +And, as a lion- when he spies from far +A bull that seems to meditate the war, +Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand- +Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand: +Imagine eager Turnus not more slow, +To rush from high on his unequal foe. + +Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance +Within due distance of his flying lance, +Prepares to charge him first, resolv'd to try +If fortune would his want of force supply; +And thus to Heav'n and Hercules address'd: +"Alcides, once on earth Evander's guest, +His son adjures you by those holy rites, +That hospitable board, those genial nights; +Assist my great attempt to gain this prize, +And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes, +His ravish'd spoils." 'T was heard, the vain request; +Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast. +Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began: +"Short bounds of life are set to mortal man. +'T is virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span. +So many sons of gods, in bloody fight, +Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light: +My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe; +Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow. +Ev'n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath, +And stands already on the verge of death." +This said, the god permits the fatal fight, +But from the Latian fields averts his sight. + +Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw, +And, having thrown, his shining fauchion drew +The steel just graz'd along the shoulder joint, +And mark'd it slightly with the glancing point, +Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew, +And pois'd his pointed spear, before he threw: +Then, as the winged weapon whizz'd along, +"See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung." +The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd +By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid: +Thro' folded brass and tough bull hides it pass'd, +His corslet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last. +In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood; +The soul comes issuing with the vital blood: +He falls; his arms upon his body sound; +And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground. + +Turnus bestrode the corpse: "Arcadians, hear," +Said he; "my message to your master bear: +Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send; +It costs him dear to be the Phrygians' friend. +The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow, +Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below." +He said, and trampled down with all the force +Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse; +Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid; +The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made, +Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight, +All in the compass of one mournful night, +Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light. + +In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore +Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore. +O mortals, blind in fate, who never know +To bear high fortune, or endure the low! +The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain, +Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain; +Shall wish the fatal belt were far away, +And curse the dire remembrance of the day. + +The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field, +Bear back the breathless body on a shield. +O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd, +With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd! +One day first sent thee to the fighting field, +Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd; +One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield. +This dismal news, not from uncertain fame, +But sad spectators, to the hero came: +His friends upon the brink of ruin stand, +Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand. +He whirls his sword around, without delay, +And hews thro' adverse foes an ample way, +To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud: +Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd +To large deserts, are present to his eyes; +His plighted hand, and hospitable ties. + +Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred, +He took in fight, and living victims led, +To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire, +In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire. +At Magus next he threw: he stoop'd below +The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow; +Then, creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd: +"By young Iulus, by thy father's shade, +O spare my life, and send me back to see +My longing sire, and tender progeny! +A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, +In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: +All these, and sums besides, which see no day, +The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. +If I survive, will Troy the less prevail? +A single soul's too light to turn the scale." +He said. The hero sternly thus replied: +"Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, +Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke +All rules of war by one relentless stroke, +When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone +My father's shadow, but my living son." +Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, +He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left; +Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd, +Up to the hilts his shining fauchion sheath'd. + +Apollo's priest, Emonides, was near; +His holy fillets on his front appear; +Glitt'ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd; +Much of his god, more of his purple, proud. +Him the fierce Trojan follow'd thro' the field: +The holy coward fell; and, forc'd to yield, +The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow, +Sent him an off'ring to the shades below. +His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears, +Design'd a trophy to the God of Wars. + +Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight, +And Umbro, born upon the mountains' height. +The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those, +And seeks revenge himself on other foes. +At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at the blow, +Both shield and arm to ground together go. +Anxur had boasted much of magic charms, +And thought he wore impenetrable arms, +So made by mutter'd spells; and, from the spheres, +Had life secur'd, in vain, for length of years. +Then Tarquitus the field triumph trod; +A nymph his mother, his sire a god. +Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince: +With his protended lance he makes defense; +Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on, +Arrests his better hand, and drags him down; +Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay, +Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray, +Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood, +Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood. +The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain: +"Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain; +Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb, +Far from thy mother and thy native home, +Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey, +Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea." + +On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran, +Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. +They fled for fear; with these, he chas'd along +Camers the yellow-lock'd, and Numa strong; +Both great in arms, and both were fair and young. +Camers was son to Volscens lately slain, +In wealth surpassing all the Latian train, +And in Amycla fix'd his silent easy reign. +And, as Aegaeon, when with heav'n he strove, +Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove; +Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war, +Defied the forky lightning from afar; +At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires, +And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires; +In his right hand as many swords he wields, +And takes the thunder on as many shields: +With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood; +And soon the fields with falling corps were strow'd, +When once his fauchion found the taste of blood. +With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew +Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew. +They, when they see the fiery chief advance, +And pushing at their chests his pointed lance, +Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear, +They threw their master headlong from the chair. +They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before +They bear the bounding chariot to the shore. + +Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains, +With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins, +And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains: +Bold brethren both. The former wav'd in air +His flaming sword: Aeneas couch'd his spear, +Unus'd to threats, and more unus'd to fear. +Then Liger thus: "Thy confidence is vain +To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain: +Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode, +Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode; +Nor Venus' veil is here, near Neptune's shield; +Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field." +Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan +Return'd his answer with his flying spear. +As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends, +Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends, +Prepar'd for fight; the fatal dart arrives, +And thro' the borders of his buckler drives; +Pass'd thro' and pierc'd his groin: the deadly wound, +Cast from his chariot, roll'd him on the ground. +Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite: +"Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight; +Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat; +But you yourself forsake your empty seat." +He said, and seiz'd at once the loosen'd rein; +For Liger lay already on the plain, +By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands, +The recreant thus his wretched life demands: +"Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man! +By her and him from whom thy breath began, +Who form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare +This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's pray'r." +Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said; +But the stern hero turn'd aside his head, +And cut him short: "I hear another man; +You talk'd not thus before the fight began. +Now take your turn; and, as a brother should, +Attend your brother to the Stygian flood." +Then thro' his breast his fatal sword he sent, +And the soul issued at the gaping vent. + +As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground, +Thus rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around. +At length Ascanius and the Trojan train +Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd in vain. + +Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man +Held conference with his queen, and thus began: +"My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife, +Still think you Venus' aid supports the strife- +Sustains her Trojans- or themselves, alone, +With inborn valor force their fortune on? +How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd! +Judge if such warriors want immortal aid." +To whom the goddess with the charming eyes, +Soft in her tone, submissively replies: +"Why, O my sov'reign lord, whose frown I fear, +And cannot, unconcern'd, your anger bear; +Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still +(As once I was) were mistress of your will, +From your almighty pow'r your pleasing wife +Might gain the grace of length'ning Turnus' life, +Securely snatch him from the fatal fight, +And give him to his aged father's sight. +Now let him perish, since you hold it good, +And glut the Trojans with his pious blood. +Yet from our lineage he derives his name, +And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came; +Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine, +And offers daily incense at your shrine." + +Then shortly thus the sov'reign god replied: +"Since in my pow'r and goodness you confide, +If for a little space, a lengthen'd span, +You beg reprieve for this expiring man, +I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence +From instant fate, and can so far dispense. +But, if some secret meaning lies beneath, +To save the short-liv'd youth from destin'd death, +Or if a farther thought you entertain, +To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain." +To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes: +"And what if that request, your tongue denies, +Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve, +But length of certain life, to Turnus give? +Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth, +If my presaging soul divines with truth; +Which, O! I wish, might err thro' causeless fears, +And you (for you have pow'r) prolong his years!" + +Thus having said, involv'd in clouds, she flies, +And drives a storm before her thro' the skies. +Swift she descends, alighting on the plain, +Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain. +Of air condens'd a specter soon she made; +And, what Aeneas was, such seem'd the shade. +Adorn'd with Dardan arms, the phantom bore +His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore; +This hand appear'd a shining sword to wield,. +And that sustain'd an imitated shield. +With manly mien he stalk'd along the ground, +Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound. +(Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight, +Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.) +The specter seems the Daunian chief to dare, +And flourishes his empty sword in air. +At this, advancing, Turnus hurl'd his spear: +The phantom wheel'd, and seem'd to fly for fear. +Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled, +And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. +"Whether, O coward?" (thus he calls aloud, +Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas'd a cloud,) +"Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me +The fated land you sought so long by sea." +He said, and, brandishing at once his blade, +With eager pace pursued the flying shade. +By chance a ship was fasten'd to the shore, +Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore: +The plank was ready laid for safe ascent; +For shelter there the trembling shadow bent, +And skipp't and skulk'd, and under hatches went. +Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste, +Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass'd. +Scarce had he reach'd the prow: Saturnia's hand +The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land. +With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea, +And measures back with speed her former way. +Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe, +And sends his slaughter'd troops to shades below. + +The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud, +And flew sublime, and vanish'd in a cloud. +Too late young Turnus the delusion found, +Far on the sea, still making from the ground. +Then, thankless for a life redeem'd by shame, +With sense of honor stung, and forfeit fame, +Fearful besides of what in fight had pass'd, +His hands and haggard eyes to heav'n he cast; +"O Jove!" he cried, "for what offense have +Deserv'd to bear this endless infamy? +Whence am I forc'd, and whether am I borne? +How, and with what reproach, shall I return? +Shall ever I behold the Latian plain, +Or see Laurentum's lofty tow'rs again? +What will they say of their deserting chief +The war was mine: I fly from their relief; +I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave; +And ev'n from hence their dying groans receive. +Here, overmatch'd in fight, in heaps they lie; +There, scatter'd o'er the fields, ignobly fly. +Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive! +Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve! +On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive; +Or set me shipwrack'd on some desart shore, +Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more, +Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame, +Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim." + +Thus Turnus rav'd, and various fates revolv'd: +The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv'd. +And now the sword, and now the sea took place, +That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace. +Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main, +By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain. +Thrice he the sword assay'd, and thrice the flood; +But Juno, mov'd with pity, both withstood. +And thrice repress'd his rage; strong gales supplied, +And push'd the vessel o'er the swelling tide. +At length she lands him on his native shores, +And to his father's longing arms restores. + +Meantime, by Jove's impulse, Mezentius arm'd, +Succeeding Turnus, with his ardor warm'd +His fainting friends, reproach'd their shameful flight, +Repell'd the victors, and renew'd the fight. +Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire; +Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire +Of wish'd revenge: on him, and him alone, +All hands employ'd, and all their darts are thrown. +He, like a solid rock by seas inclos'd, +To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd, +From his proud summit looking down, disdains +Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains. + +Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, +Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled. +At Latagus a weighty stone he flung: +His face was flatted, and his helmet rung. +But Palmus from behind receives his wound; +Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground: +His crest and armor, from his body torn, +Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. +Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew. +Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew, +Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, +The queen produc'd young Paris to his sire: +But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain, +Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain. + +And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred, +With forest mast and fatt'ning marshes fed, +When once he sees himself in toils inclos'd, +By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos'd- +He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; +Th' invaders dart their jav'lins from afar: +All keep aloof, and safely shout around; +But none presumes to give a nearer wound: +He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, +And shakes a grove of lances from his side: +Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir'd, +And just revenge against the tyrant fir'd, +Their darts with clamor at a distance drive, +And only keep the languish'd war alive. + +From Coritus came Acron to the fight, +Who left his spouse betroth'd, and unconsummate night. +Mezentius sees him thro' the squadrons ride, +Proud of the purple favors of his bride. +Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds +A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds, +Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain- +He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane, +He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws; +The prey lies panting underneath his paws: +He fills his famish'd maw; his mouth runs o'er +With unchew'd morsels, while he churns the gore: +So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes, +And first unhappy Acron overthrows: +Stretch'd at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground; +The lance, besmear'd with blood, lies broken in the wound. +Then with disdain the haughty victor view'd +Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued, +Nor thought the dastard's back deserv'd a wound, +But, running, gain'd th' advantage of the ground: +Then turning short, he met him face to face, +To give his victor the better grace. +Orodes falls, equal fight oppress'd: +Mezentius fix'd his foot upon his breast, +And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries: +"Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!" +The fields around with Io Paean! ring; +And peals of shouts applaud the conqu'ring king. +At this the vanquish'd, with his dying breath, +Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death: +"Nor thou, proud man, unpunish'd shalt remain: +Like death attends thee on this fatal plain." +Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied: +"For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; +But die thou first, whatever chance ensue." +He said, and from the wound the weapon drew. +A hov'ring mist came swimming o'er his sight, +And seal'd his eyes in everlasting night. + +By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain; +Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain; +Orses the strong to greater strength must yield; +He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill'd. +Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, +Who from Lycaon's blood his lineage drew. +But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, +Who threw his master, as he made a bound: +The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground; +Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails: +The Trojan sinks, and Neptune's son prevails. +Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, +To single fight the boldest foe defied; +Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o'ercame, +And not belied his mighty father's fame. +Salius to death the great Antronius sent: +But the same fate the victor underwent, +Slain by Nealces' hand, well-skill'd to throw +The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. + +Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; +By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance: +Victors and vanquish'd, in the various field, +Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. +The gods from heav'n survey the fatal strife, +And mourn the miseries of human life. +Above the rest, two goddesses appear +Concern'd for each: here Venus, Juno there. +Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes +Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. + +Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, +Brandish'd his spear, and rush'd into the plain, +Where tow'ring in the midmost rank she stood, +Like tall Orion stalking o'er the flood. +(When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, +His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), +Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, +Deep fix'd in earth; in clouds he hides his head. + +The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, +And dauntless undertook the doubtful war. +Collected in his strength, and like a rock, +Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock. +He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes +The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries: +"My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! +(Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) +His armor, from the Trojan pirate torn, +By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn." +He said; and with his utmost force he threw +The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, +Reach'd the celestial shield, that stopp'd the course; +But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force +Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt +The side and bowels fam'd Anthores fix'd. +Anthores had from Argos travel'd far, +Alcides' friend, and brother of the war; +Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose, +And in Evander's palace sought repose. +Now, falling by another's wound, his eyes +He cast to heav'n, on Argos thinks, and dies. + +The pious Trojan then his jav'lin sent; +The shield gave way; thro' treble plates it went +Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll'd, +And three bull hides which round the buckler fold. +All these it pass'd, resistless in the course, +Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force. +The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood. +The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, +His faunchion drew, to closer fight address'd, +And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd. + +His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief; +He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief. +And here, heroic youth, 't is here I must +To thy immortal memory be just, +And sing an act so noble and so new, +Posterity will scarce believe 't is true. +Pain'd with his wound, and useless for the fight, +The father sought to save himself by flight: +Incumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along, +Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung. +The pious youth, resolv'd on death, below +The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe; +Protects his parent, and prevents the blow. +Shouts of applause ran ringing thro' the field, +To see the son the vanquish'd father shield. +All, fir'd with gen'rous indignation, strive, +And with a storm of darts to distance drive +The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, +On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war. + +As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, +The plowman, passenger, and lab'ring hind +For shelter to the neighb'ring covert fly, +Or hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns lie; +But, that o'erblown, when heav'n above 'em smiles, +Return to travel, and renew their toils: +Aeneas thus, o'erwhelmed on ev'ry side, +The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; +And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat'ning cried: +"Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage +In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age, +Betray'd by pious love?" Nor, thus forborne, +The youth desists, but with insulting scorn +Provokes the ling'ring prince, whose patience, tir'd, +Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir'd. +For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd shears; +And lifted high the flaming sword appears, +Which, full descending with a frightful sway, +Thro' shield and corslet forc'd th' impetuous way, +And buried deep in his fair bosom lay. +The purple streams thro' the thin armor strove, +And drench'd th' imbroider'd coat his mother wove; +And life at length forsook his heaving heart, +Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart. + +But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread, +The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead, +He griev'd; he wept; the sight an image brought +Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought: +Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said: +"Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid +To love so great, to such transcendent store +Of early worth, and sure presage of more? +Accept whate'er Aeneas can afford; +Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword; +And all that pleas'd thee living, still remain +Inviolate, and sacred to the slain. +Thy body on thy parents I bestow, +To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know, +Or have a sense of human things below. +There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell: +''T was by the great Aeneas hand I fell.'" +With this, his distant friends he beckons near, +Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear: +Himself assists to lift him from the ground, +With clotted locks, and blood that well'd from out the wound. + +Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, +And wash'd his wounds by Tiber's yellow flood: +Oppress'd with anguish, panting, and o'erspent, +His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. +A bough his brazen helmet did sustain; +His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain: +A chosen train of youth around him stand; +His drooping head was rested on his hand: +His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought; +And all on Lausus ran his restless thought. +Careful, concern'd his danger to prevent, +He much enquir'd, and many a message sent +To warn him from the field- alas! in vain! +Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain! +O'er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning wound, +And drew a bloody trail along the ground. +Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd +The dire event, with a foreboding mind. +With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head; +Then both his lifted hands to heav'n he spread; +Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said: +"What joys, alas! could this frail being give, +That I have been so covetous to live? +To see my son, and such a son, resign +His life, a ransom for preserving mine! +And am I then preserv'd, and art thou lost? +How much too dear has that redemption cost! +'T is now my bitter banishment I feel: +This is a wound too deep for time to heal. +My guilt thy growing virtues did defame; +My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name. +Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd +For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild: +I ow'd my people these, and, from their hate, +With less resentment could have borne my fate. +And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight +Of hated men, and of more hated light: +But will not long." With that he rais'd from ground +His fainting limbs, that stagger'd with his wound; +Yet, with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd +With pains or perils, for his courser call'd +Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did dress +With daily care, and mounted with success; +His aid in arms, his ornament in peace. + +Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke, +The steed seem'd sensible, while thus he spoke: +"O Rhoebus, we have liv'd too long for me- +If life and long were terms that could agree! +This day thou either shalt bring back the head +And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead; +This day thou either shalt revenge my woe, +For murther'd Lausus, on his cruel foe; +Or, if inexorable fate deny +Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die: +For, after such a lord, rest secure, +Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure." +He said; and straight th' officious courser kneels, +To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills +With pointed jav'lins; on his head he lac'd +His glitt'ring helm, which terribly was grac'd +With waving horsehair, nodding from afar; +Then spurr'd his thund'ring steed amidst the war. +Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought, +Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought +Of inborn worth, his lab'ring soul oppress'd, +Roll'd in his eyes, and rag'd within his breast. +Then loud he call'd Aeneas thrice by name: +The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came. +"Great Jove," he said, "and the far-shooting god, +Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!" +He spoke no more; but hasten'd, void of fear, +And threaten'd with his long protended spear. + +To whom Mezentius thus: "Thy vaunts are vain. +My Lausus lies extended on the plain: +He's lost! thy conquest is already won; +The wretched sire is murther'd in the son. +Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy. +Forbear thy threats: my bus'ness is to die; +But first receive this parting legacy." +He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent; +Another after, and another went. +Round in a spacious ring he rides the field, +And vainly plies th' impenetrable shield. +Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel'd, +Turn'd as he turn'd: the golden orb withstood +The strokes, and bore about an iron wood. +Impatient of delay, and weary grown, +Still to defend, and to defend alone, +To wrench the darts which in his buckler light, +Urg'd and o'er-labor'd in unequal fight; +At length resolv'd, he throws with all his force +Full at the temples of the warrior horse. +Just where the stroke was aim'd, th' unerring spear +Made way, and stood transfix'd thro' either ear. +Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd with fright, +The wounded steed curvets, and, rais'd upright, +Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind +Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind. +Down comes the rider headlong from his height: +His horse came after with unwieldy weight, +And, flound'ring forward, pitching on his head, +His lord's incumber'd shoulder overlaid. + +From either host, the mingled shouts and cries +Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies. +Aeneas, hast'ning, wav'd his fatal sword +High o'er his head, with this reproachful word: +"Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain +Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?" + +Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies, +With scarce recover'd sight he thus replies: +"Why these insulting words, this waste of breath, +To souls undaunted, and secure of death? +'T is no dishonor for the brave to die, +Nor came I here with hope victory; +Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: +As I had us'd my fortune, use thou thine. +My dying son contracted no such band; +The gift is hateful from his murd'rer's hand. +For this, this only favor let me sue, +If pity can to conquer'd foes be due: +Refuse it not; but let my body have +The last retreat of humankind, a grave. +Too well I know th' insulting people's hate; +Protect me from their vengeance after fate: +This refuge for my poor remains provide, +And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side." +He said, and to the sword his throat applied. +The crimson stream distain'd his arms around, +And the disdainful soul came rushing thro' the wound. +BOOK XI + +Scarce had the rosy Morning rais'd her head +Above the waves, and left her wat'ry bed; +The pious chief, whom double cares attend +For his unburied soldiers and his friend, +Yet first to Heav'n perform'd a victor's vows: +He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs; +Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd, +Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd. +The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn, +Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, +Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar, +A trophy sacred to the God of War. +Above his arms, fix'd on the leafless wood, +Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood: +His brazen buckler on the left was seen; +Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between; +And on the right was placed his corslet, bor'd; +And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword. + +A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man, +Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: +"Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure success; +The greater part perform'd, achieve the less. +Now follow cheerful to the trembling town; +Press but an entrance, and presume it won. +Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, +As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice. +Turnus shall fall extended on the plain, +And, in this omen, is already slain. +Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance; +That none unwarn'd may plead his ignorance, +And I, at Heav'n's appointed hour, may find +Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind. +Meantime the rites and fun'ral pomps prepare, +Due to your dead companions of the war: +The last respect the living can bestow, +To shield their shadows from contempt below. +That conquer'd earth be theirs, for which they fought, +And which for us with their own blood they bought; +But first the corpse of our unhappy friend +To the sad city of Evander send, +Who, not inglorious, in his age's bloom, +Was hurried hence by too severe a doom." + +Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way, +Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay. +Acoetes watch'd the corpse; whose youth deserv'd +The father's trust; and now the son he serv'd +With equal faith, but less auspicious care. +Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share. +A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear, +And mourning matrons with dishevel'd hair. +Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry; +All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky. +They rear his drooping forehead from the ground; +But, when Aeneas view'd the grisly wound +Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore, +And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore; +First, melting into tears, the pious man +Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began: +"Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest +Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best! +She came; but brought not thee along, to bless +My longing eyes, and share in my success: +She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due +To prosp'rous valor, in the public view. +Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent +Thy needless succor with a sad consent; +Embrac'd me, parting for th' Etrurian land, +And sent me to possess a large command. +He warn'd, and from his own experience told, +Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold. +And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return, +Rich odors on his loaded altars burn, +While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare +To send him back his portion of the war, +A bloody breathless body, which can owe +No farther debt, but to the pow'rs below. +The wretched father, ere his race is run, +Shall view the fun'ral honors of his son. +These are my triumphs of the Latian war, +Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care! +And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see +A son whose death disgrac'd his ancestry; +Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd: +Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd. +He died no death to make thee wish, too late, +Thou hadst not liv'd to see his shameful fate: +But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast, +And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!" + +Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around, +To raise the breathless body from the ground; +And chose a thousand horse, the flow'r of all +His warlike troops, to wait the funeral, +To bear him back and share Evander's grief: +A well-becoming, but a weak relief. +Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier, +Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear. +The body on this rural hearse is borne: +Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn. +All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow'r, +New cropp'd by virgin hands, to dress the bow'r: +Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below, +No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe. +Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost, +Of purple woven, and with gold emboss'd, +For ornament the Trojan hero brought, +Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought. +One vest array'd the corpse; and one they spread +O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his head, +That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall, +The catching fire might burn the golden caul. +Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain, +When he descended on the Latian plain; +Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led +In long array- th' achievements of the dead. +Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear +Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear, +Appointed off'rings in the victor's name, +To sprinkle with their blood the fun'ral flame. +Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne; +Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn; +And fair inscriptions fix'd, and titles read +Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead. + +Acoetes on his pupil's corpse attends, +With feeble steps, supported by his friends. +Pausing at ev'ry pace, in sorrow drown'd, +Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground; +Where grov'ling while he lies in deep despair, +He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair. +The champion's chariot next is seen to roll, +Besmear'd with hostile blood, and honorably foul. +To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state, +Is led, the fun'rals of his lord to wait. +Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace +He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face. +The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest, +Are borne behind: the victor seiz'd the rest. +The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound; +The pikes and lances trail along the ground. +Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse +To Pallantean tow'rs direct their course, +In long procession rank'd, the pious chief +Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief: +"The public care," he said, "which war attends, +Diverts our present woes, at least suspends. +Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell! +Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!" +He said no more, but, inly thro' he mourn'd, +Restrained his tears, and to the camp return'd. + +Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand +A truce, with olive branches in their hand; +Obtest his clemency, and from the plain +Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain. +They plead, that none those common rites deny +To conquer'd foes that in fair battle die. +All cause of hate was ended in their death; +Nor could he war with bodies void of breath. +A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request, +Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest. + +Their suit, which was too just to be denied, +The hero grants, and farther thus replied: +"O Latian princes, how severe a fate +In causeless quarrels has involv'd your state, +And arm'd against an unoffending man, +Who sought your friendship ere the war began! +You beg a truce, which I would gladly give, +Not only for the slain, but those who live. +I came not hither but by Heav'n's command, +And sent by fate to share the Latian land. +Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied +My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride; +Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try +His cause in arms, to conquer or to die. +My right and his are in dispute: the slain +Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain. +In equal arms let us alone contend; +And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend. +This is the way (so tell him) to possess +The royal virgin, and restore the peace. +Bear this message back, with ample leave, +That your slain friends may fun'ral rites receive." + +Thus having said- th' embassadors, amaz'd, +Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd. +Drances, their chief, who harbor'd in his breast +Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess'd, +Broke silence first, and to the godlike man, +With graceful action bowing, thus began: +"Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name, +But yet whose actions far transcend your fame; +Would I your justice or your force express, +Thought can but equal; and all words are less. +Your answer we shall thankfully relate, +And favors granted to the Latian state. +If wish'd success our labor shall attend, +Think peace concluded, and the king your friend: +Let Turnus leave the realm to your command, +And seek alliance in some other land: +Build you the city which your fates assign; +We shall be proud in the great work to join." + +Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade +The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made. +Twelve days the term allow'd: and, during those, +Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes, +Mix'd in the woods, for fun'ral piles prepare +To fell the timber, and forget the war. +Loud axes thro' the groaning groves resound; +Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground; +First fall from high; and some the trunks receive +In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave. + +And now the fatal news by Fame is blown +Thro' the short circuit of th' Arcadian town, +Of Pallas slain- by Fame, which just before +His triumphs on distended pinions bore. +Rushing from out the gate, the people stand, +Each with a fun'ral flambeau in his hand. +Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze: +The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze, +That cast a sullen splendor on their friends, +The marching troop which their dead prince attends. +Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry; +The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply, +And their mix'd mourning rends the vaulted sky. +The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears, +Till the loud clamors reach Evander's ears: +Forgetful of his state, he runs along, +With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng; +Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies, +With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes. +Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks +A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks: + +"O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word, +To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword! +I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew +What perils youthful ardor would pursue, +That boiling blood would carry thee too far, +Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war! +O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom, +Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come! +Hard elements of unauspicious war, +Vain vows to Heav'n, and unavailing care! +Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed, +Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled, +Praescious of ills, and leaving me behind, +To drink the dregs of life by fate assign'd! +Beyond the goal of nature I have gone: +My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon. +If, for my league against th' Ausonian state, +Amidst their weapons I had found my fate, +(Deserv'd from them,) then I had been return'd +A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd. +Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid, +Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made. +'T was not his fault, my Pallas fell so young, +But my own crime, for having liv'd too long. +Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die, +At least he led the way to victory: +First for his friends he won the fatal shore, +And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before; +A death too great, too glorious to deplore. +Nor will I add new honors to thy grave, +Content with those the Trojan hero gave: +That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd, +In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd. +Great spoils and trophies, gain'd by thee, they bear: +Then let thy own achievements be thy share. +Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood, +Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood, +If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length +Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength. +But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain +These troops, to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain? +Go, friends, this message to your lord relate: +Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate, +And, after Pallas' death, live ling'ring on, +'T is to behold his vengeance for my son. +I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head +Is owing to the living and the dead. +My son and I expect it from his hand; +'T is all that he can give, or we demand. +Joy is no more; but I would gladly go, +To greet my Pallas with such news below." + +The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night, +Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light. +The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command +To raise the piles along the winding strand. +Their friends convey the dead fun'ral fires; +Black smold'ring smoke from the green wood expires; +The light of heav'n is chok'd, and the new day retires. +Then thrice around the kindled piles they go +(For ancient custom had ordain'd it so) +Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led; +And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead. +Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground, +And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound. +Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw +The spoils, in battle taken from the foe: +Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel; +One casts a target, one a chariot wheel; +Some to their fellows their own arms restore: +The fauchions which in luckless fight they bore, +Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain, +And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain. +Whole herds of offer'd bulls, about the fire, +And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire. +Around the piles a careful troop attends, +To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends; +Ling'ring along the shore, till dewy night +New decks the face of heav'n with starry light. + +The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care, +Piles without number for their dead prepare. +Part in the places where they fell are laid; +And part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd. +The corps of kings, and captains of renown, +Borne off in state, are buried in the town; +The rest, unhonor'd, and without a name, +Are cast a common heap to feed the flame. +Trojans and Latians vie with like desires +To make the field of battle shine with fires, +And the promiscuous blaze to heav'n aspires. + +Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light, +And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night, +When those who round the wasted fires remain, +Perform the last sad office to the slain. +They rake the yet warm ashes from below; +These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow; +These relics with their country rites they grace, +And raise a mount of turf to mark the place. + +But, in the palace of the king, appears +A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears. +Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans; +Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons. +All in that universal sorrow share, +And curse the cause of this unhappy war: +A broken league, a bride unjustly sought, +A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought! +These are the crimes with which they load the name +Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim: +"Let him who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land +Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand: +His is the gain; our lot is but to serve; +'T is just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve." +This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite: +"His foe expects, and dares him to the fight." +Nor Turnus wants a party, to support +His cause and credit in the Latian court. +His former acts secure his present fame, +And the queen shades him with her mighty name. + +While thus their factious minds with fury burn, +The legates from th' Aetolian prince return: +Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost +And care employ'd, their embassy is lost; +That Diomedes refus'd his aid in war, +Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r. +Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought, +Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought. + +Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late, +A foreign son is pointed out by fate; +And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed, +The wrath of Heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head. +The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side, +When late their titles in the field were tried: +Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried. +Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all +The Latian senate to the council hall. +The princes come, commanded by their head, +And crowd the paths that to the palace lead. +Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years, +He takes the throne, and in the midst appears. +Majestically sad, he sits in state, +And bids his envoys their success relate. + +When Venulus began, the murmuring sound +Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around. +"We have," said he, "perform'd your high command, +And pass'd with peril a long tract of land: +We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd, +The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld. +Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls +The city, which Argyripa he calls, +From his own Argos nam'd. We touch'd, with joy, +The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy. +When introduc'd, our presents first we bring, +Then crave an instant audience from the king. +His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name, +And tell th' important cause for which we came. +Attentively he heard us, while we spoke; +Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look, +Made this return: 'Ausonian race, of old +Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold, +What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd, +To change for war hereditary rest, +Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword, +A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd? +We- for myself I speak, and all the name +Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came, +Omitting those who were in battle slain, +Or borne by rolling Simois to the main- +Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought +The prize of honor which in arms he sought; +Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driv'n. +Outcasts, abandon'd by the care of Heav'n; +So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew, +As ev'n old Priam might with pity view. +Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd +In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast; +Th' Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led +Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed, +In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men +Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops' den. +Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain +Restor'd to scepters, and expell'd again? +Or young Achilles, by his rival slain? +Ev'n he, the King of Men, the foremost name +Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame, +The proud revenger of another's wife, +Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life; +Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy +The foul polluters of his bed enjoy. +The gods have envied me the sweets of life, +My much lov'd country, and my more lov'd wife: +Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky, +Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly: +Hov'ring about the coasts, they make their moan, +And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own. +What squalid specters, in the dead of night, +Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight! +I might have promis'd to myself those harms, +Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms, +Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move, +And violate with wounds the Queen of Love. +Such arms this hand shall never more employ; +No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy. +I war not with its dust; nor am I glad +To think of past events, or good or bad. +Your presents I return: whate'er you bring +To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king. +We met in fight; I know him, to my cost: +With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd! +Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw! +How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow! +Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might, +They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight: +Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd, +Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd. +The long defense the Trojan people made, +The war protracted, and the siege delay'd, +Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand: +Both brave alike, and equal in command; +Aeneas, not inferior in the field, +In pious reverence to the gods excell'd. +Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care +Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.' +He said no more; but, with this cold excuse, +Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce." + +Thus Venulus concluded his report. +A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court: +As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force, +And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course, +The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space, +Roars horrible along th' uneasy race; +White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around; +The rocky shores rebellow to the sound. + +The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne +The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun: +"I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate +Had been resolv'd before it was too late. +Much better had it been for you and me, +Unforc'd by this our last necessity, +To have been earlier wise, than now to call +A council, when the foe surrounds the wall. +O citizens, we wage unequal war, +With men not only Heav'n's peculiar care, +But Heav'n's own race; unconquer'd in the field, +Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield. +What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down: +Our hopes must center on ourselves alone. +Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain, +You see too well; nor need my words explain. +Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate; +Factions within, a foe without the gate! +Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts +With manly force, and with undaunted hearts: +With our united strength the war we wag'd; +With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd. +You see th' event.- Now hear what I propose, +To save our friends, and satisfy our foes. +A tract of land the Latins have possess'd +Along the Tiber, stretching to the west, +Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, +And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill. +Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land, +If you consent, the Trojan shall command, +Call'd into part of what is ours; and there, +On terms agreed, the common country share. +There let'em build and settle, if they please; +Unless they choose once more to cross the seas, +In search of seats remote from Italy, +And from unwelcome inmates set us free. +Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed, +Or twice as many more, if more they need. +Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood +Runs equal with the margin of the flood: +Let them the number and the form assign; +The care and cost of all the stores be mine. +To treat the peace, a hundred senators +Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs, +With olive the presents they shall bear, +A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair, +And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear, +And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate +This great affair, and save the sinking state." + +Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since, +The rising glories of the Daunian prince. +Factious and rich, bold at the council board, +But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword; +A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord. +Noble his mother was, and near the throne; +But, what his father's parentage, unknown. +He rose, and took th' advantage of the times, +To load young Turnus with invidious crimes. +"Such truths, O king," said he, "your words contain, +As strike the sense, and all replies are vain; +Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek +What common needs require, but fear to speak. +Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man, +Whose pride this unauspicious war began; +For whose ambition (let me dare to say, +Fear set apart, tho' death is in my way) +The plains of Latium run with blood around. +So many valiant heroes bite the ground; +Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears; +A town in mourning, and a land in tears; +While he, th' undoubted author of our harms, +The man who menaces the gods with arms, +Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight, +And sought his safety in ignoble flight. +Now, best of kings, since you propose to send +Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend; +Add yet a greater at our joint request, +One which he values more than all the rest: +Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride; +With that alliance let the league be tied, +And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide. +Let insolence no longer awe the throne; +But, with a father's right, bestow your own. +For this maligner of the general good, +If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd; +His haughty godhead we with pray'rs implore, +Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore. +O cursed cause of all our ills, must we +Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee! +What right hast thou to rule the Latian state, +And send us out to meet our certain fate? +'T is a destructive war: from Turnus' hand +Our peace and public safety we demand. +Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain; +If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain. +Turnus, I know you think me not your friend, +Nor will I much with your belief contend: +I beg your greatness not to give the law +In others' realms, but, beaten, to withdraw. +Pity your own, or pity our estate; +Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate. +Your interest is, the war should never cease; +But we have felt enough to wish the peace: +A land exhausted to the last remains, +Depopulated towns, and driven plains. +Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r, +A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r, +So fire your mind, in arms assert your right, +And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight. +Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone; +We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne: +A base ignoble crowd, without a name, +Unwept, unworthy, of the fun'ral flame, +By duty bound to forfeit each his life, +That Turnus may possess a royal wife. +Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew +Should share such triumphs, and detain from you +The post of honor, your undoubted due. +Rather alone your matchless force employ, +To merit what alone you must enjoy." + +These words, so full of malice mix'd with art, +Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart. +Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast, +He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd: +"You, Drances, never want a stream of words, +Then, when the public need requires our swords. +First in the council hall to steer the state, +And ever foremost in a tongue-debate, +While our strong walls secure us from the foe, +Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow: +But let the potent orator declaim, +And with the brand of coward blot my name; +Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand +Has cover'd with more corps the sanguine strand, +And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand. +If any doubt remains, who dares the most, +Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost, +And issue both abreast, where honor calls- +Foes are not far to seek without the walls- +Unless his noisy tongue can only fight, +And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight. +I beaten from the field? I forc'd away? +Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say? +Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes +Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies: +What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain, +And how the bloody Tiber swell'd the main. +All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire +In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire. +The giant brothers, in their camp, have found, +I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground. +Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd, +I singly their united arms oppos'd: +First forc'd an entrance thro' their thick array; +Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way. +'T is a destructive war? So let it be, +But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee! +Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears +With false reports, their minds with panic fears: +Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race; +Our foes encourage, and our friends debase. +Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town +Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown; +Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies, +And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies. +Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread +Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head, +When the great Trojan on his bank appears; +For that's as true as thy dissembled fears +Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity: +Thou, Drances, art below a death from me. +Let that vile soul in that vile body rest; +The lodging is well worthy of the guest. + +"Now, royal father, to the present state +Of our affairs, and of this high debate: +If in your arms thus early you diffide, +And think your fortune is already tried; +If one defeat has brought us down so low, +As never more in fields to meet the foe; +Then I conclude for peace: 't is time to treat, +And lie like vassals at the victor's feet. +But, O! if any ancient blood remains, +One drop of all our fathers', in our veins, +That man would I prefer before the rest, +Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast; +Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound, +To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground. +But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, +If our confederates can afford us more; +If the contended field we bravely fought, +And not a bloodless victory was bought; +Their losses equal'd ours; and, for their slain, +With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain; +Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield, +And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field? +Good unexpected, evils unforeseen, +Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene: +Some, rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain; +Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again. +If Diomede refuse his aid to lend, +The great Messapus yet remains our friend: +Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours; +Th' Italian chiefs and princes join their pow'rs: +Nor least in number, nor in name the last, +Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac'd +Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon +Contains an army in herself alone, +And heads a squadron, terrible to sight, +With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright. +Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, +And I alone the public peace withstand; +If you consent, he shall not be refus'd, +Nor find a hand to victory unus'd. +This new Achilles, let him take the field, +With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield! +For you, my royal father, and my fame, +I, Turnus, not the least of all my name, +Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand, +And I alone will answer his demand. +Drances shall rest secure, and neither share +The danger, nor divide the prize of war." + +While they debate, nor these nor those will yield, +Aeneas draws his forces to the field, +And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed +Return, and thro' the frighted city spread +Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried, +In battle marching by the river side, +And bending to the town. They take th' alarm: +Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm. +Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field; +They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield: +The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry; +Old feeble men with fainter groans reply; +A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky, +Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods, +Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods. + +Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud: +"Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: +Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls, +And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls." +He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace, +Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place: +"Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command +To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band. +Messapus and Catillus, post your force +Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse. +Some guard the passes, others man the wall; +Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call." + +They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town, +And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown. +Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late, +The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state, +Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time, +And own'd his easy temper as his crime, +Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied +To break the treaty for the promis'd bride. + +Some help to sink new trenches; others aid +To ram the stones, or raise the palisade. +Hoarse trumpets sound th' alarm; around the walls +Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls. +A sad procession in the streets is seen, +Of matrons, that attend the mother queen: +High in her chair she sits, and, at her side, +With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride. +They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands; +Pray'rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands, +With censers first they fume the sacred shrine, +Then in this common supplication join: +"O patroness of arms, unspotted maid, +Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid! +Break short the pirate's lance; pronounce his fate, +And lay the Phrygian low before the gate." + +Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast +Well-temper'd steel and scaly brass invest: +The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold +Are mingled metal damask'd o'er with gold. +His faithful fauchion sits upon his side; +Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide: +But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends, +With godlike grace, he from the tow'r descends. +Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare +His absent rival, and to promise war. +Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins, +The wanton courser prances o'er the plains, +Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the mounds, +And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds. +Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood, +To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood: +He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain, +And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane: +He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high; +Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly. + +Soon as the prince appears without the gate, +The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait +His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien, +Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen: +Her squadron imitates, and each descends; +Whose common suit Camilla thus commends: +"If sense of honor, if a soul secure +Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure, +Can promise aught, or on itself rely +Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die; +Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet +The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat. +Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown: +You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town:" + +Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise, +And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes; +Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy, +With what becoming thanks can I reply? +Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast, +But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd. +Yet rob me not of all; but let me join +My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine. +The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd, +Sends his light horse before to scour the field: +Himself, thro' steep ascents and thorny brakes, +A larger compass to the city takes. +This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare +To foil his cunning, and his force to dare; +With chosen foot his passage to forelay, +And place an ambush in the winding way. +Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse; +The brave Messapus shall thy troops inforce +With those of Tibur, and the Latian band, +Subjected all to thy supreme command." +This said, he warns Messapus to the war, +Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care. +All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins, +And hastes to prosecute his deep designs. + +Inclos'd with hills, a winding valley lies, +By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise. +A narrow track, by human steps untrode, +Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode. +High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands, +Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands. +The top is level, an offensive seat +Of war; and from the war a safe retreat: +For, on the right and left, is room to press +The foes at hand, or from afar distress; +To drive 'em headlong downward, and to pour +On their descending backs a stony show'r. +Thither young Turnus took the well-known way, +Possess'd the pass, and in blind ambush lay. + +Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies, +Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes, +And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid, +Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid; +Then with a sigh began: "Camilla goes +To meet her death amidst her fatal foes: +The nymphs I lov'd of all my mortal train, +Invested with Diana's arms, in vain. +Nor is my kindness for the virgin new: +'T was born with her; and with her years it grew. +Her father Metabus, when forc'd away +From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway, +Snatch'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes, +This tender babe, companion of his woes. +Casmilla was her mother; but he drown'd +One hissing letter in a softer sound, +And call'd Camilla. Thro' the woods he flies; +Wrapp'd in his robe the royal infant lies. +His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace; +With shout and clamors they pursue the chase. +The banks of Amasene at length he gains: + +The raging flood his farther flight restrains, +Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains. +Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears, +Not for himself, but for the charge he bears. +Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste; +Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last. +A knotty lance of well-boil'd oak he bore; +The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er: +He clos'd the child within the hollow space; +With twigs of bending osier bound the case; +Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight, +And thus invok'd my favor for the freight: +'Accept, great goddess of the woods,' he said, +'Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid! +Thro' air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine; +And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.' +He said; and with full force the spear he threw: +Above the sounding waves Camilla flew. +Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide, +And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side. +His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground, +And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound; +Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose, +Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes; +But, rough, in open air he chose to lie; +Earth was his couch, his cov'ring was the sky. +On hills unshorn, or in a desart den, +He shunn'd the dire society of men. +A shepherd's solitary life he led; +His daughter with the milk of mares he fed. +The dugs of bears, and ev'ry salvage beast, +He drew, and thro' her lips the liquor press'd. +The little Amazon could scarcely go: +He loads her with a quiver and a bow; +And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command, +He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand. +Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound; +Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground. +Instead of these, a tiger's hide o'erspread +Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head. +The flying dart she first attempts to fling, +And round her tender temples toss'd the sling; +Then, as her strength with years increas'd, began +To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan, +And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane. +The Tuscan matrons with each other vied, +To bless their rival sons with such a bride; +But she disdains their love, to share with me +The sylvan shades and vow'd virginity. +And, O! I wish, contented with my cares +Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars! +Then had she been of my celestial train, +And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain. +But since, opposing Heav'n's decree, she goes +To find her death among forbidden foes, +Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight. +Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight. +This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath, +This chosen arrow, to revenge her death: +By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain, +Or of the Trojan or Italian train, +Let him not pass unpunish'd from the plain. +Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid +To bear the breathless body of my maid: +Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd +Her holy limbs with any human hand, +And in a marble tomb laid in her native land." + +She said. The faithful nymph descends from high +With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky: +Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly. + +By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse, +Drawn up in squadrons, with united force, +Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound, +Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground. +Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far; +And the fields glitter with a waving war. +Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force +Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse; +These in the body plac'd, on either hand +Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band. +Advancing in a line, they couch their spears; +And less and less the middle space appears. +Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen +The neighing coursers, and the shouting men. +In distance of their darts they stop their course; +Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse. +The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide, +And deaths unseen are dealt on either side. +Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear, +By mettled coursers borne in full career, +Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock, +Their horses' heads against each other knock. +Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast, +As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast: +He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last. +The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright, +And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight +Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew; +Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue, +And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase; +Till, seiz'd, with shame, they wheel about and face, +Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry. +The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly. +So swelling surges, with a thund'ring roar, +Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the shore, +Bound o'er the rocks, incroach upon the land, +And far upon the beach eject the sand; +Then backward, with a swing, they take their way, +Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother sea; +With equal hurry quit th' invaded shore, +And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before. + +Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field, +Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell'd. +Asham'd at length, to the third charge they ran; +Both hosts resolv'd, and mingled man to man. +Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow'd +With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood. +Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie: +Confus'd the fight, and more confus'd the cry. +Orsilochus, who durst not press too near +Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear, +And stuck the steel beneath his horse's ear. +The fiery steed, impatient of the wound, +Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound, +His helpless lord cast backward on the ground. +Catillus pierc'd Iolas first; then drew +His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw, +The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew. +His neck and throat unarm'd, his head was bare, +But shaded with a length of yellow hair: +Secure, he fought, expos'd on ev'ry part, +A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart. +Across the shoulders came the feather'd wound; +Transfix'd he fell, and doubled to the ground. +The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed, +And death with honor sought on either side. + +Resistless thro' the war Camilla rode, +In danger unappall'd, and pleas'd with blood. +One side was bare for her exerted breast; +One shoulder with her painted quiver press'd. +Now from afar her fatal jav'lins play; +Now with her ax's edge she hews her way: +Diana's arms upon her shoulder sound; +And when, too closely press'd, she quits the ground, +From her bent bow she sends a backward wound. +Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side, +Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride: +Italians all; in peace, their queen's delight; +In war, the bold companions of the fight. +So march'd the Tracian Amazons of old, +When Thermodon with bloody billows roll'd: +Such troops as these in shining arms were seen, +When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen: +Such to the field Penthisilea led, +From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled; +With such, return'd triumphant from the war, +Her maids with cries attend the lofty car; +They clash with manly force their moony shields; +With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields. + +Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid, +On the cold earth were by thy courage laid? +Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first, +With fury driv'n, from side to side transpierc'd: +A purple stream came spouting from the wound; +Bath'd in his blood he lies, and bites the ground. +Liris and Pegasus at once she slew: +The former, as the slacken'd reins he drew +Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch'd +His arm to prop his friend, the jav'lin reach'd. +By the same weapon, sent from the same hand, +Both fall together, and both spurn the sand. +Amastrus next is added to the slain: +The rest in rout she follows o'er the plain: +Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon, +And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun. +Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost; +Each was attended with a Trojan ghost. +Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed, +Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed. +Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown: +O'er his broad back an ox's hide was thrown; +His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread +A cov'ring for his cheeks, and grinn'd around his head, +He clench'd within his hand an iron prong, +And tower'd above the rest, conspicuous in the throng. +Him soon she singled from the flying train, +And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain: +"Vain hunter, didst thou think thro' woods to chase +The savage herd, a vile and trembling race? +Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory: +A woman warrior was too strong for thee. +Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu'ror's name, +Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame." +Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew, +The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew; +But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends +Above the gorget, where his helmet ends, +And o'er the shield which his left side defends. +Orsilochus and she their courses ply: +He seems to follow, and she seems to fly; +But in a narrower ring she makes the race; +And then he flies, and she pursues the chase. +Gath'ring at length on her deluded foe, +She swings her ax, and rises to the blow +Full on the helm behind, with such a sway +The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way: +He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace; +Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face. + +Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by chance, +To see his fall; nor farther dares advance; +But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye, +He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly; +Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat, +(At least while fortune favor'd his deceit,) +Cries out aloud: "What courage have you shown, +Who trust your courser's strength, and not your own? +Forego the vantage of your horse, alight, +And then on equal terms begin the fight: +It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can, +When, foot to foot, you combat with a man," +He said. She glows with anger and disdain, +Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain, +And leaves her horse at large among her train; +With her drawn sword defies him to the field, +And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield. +The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed, +Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed; +Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides +The goring rowels in his bleeding sides. +"Vain fool, and coward!" cries the lofty maid, +"Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid! +On others practice thy Ligurian arts; +Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts +Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire, +With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire." +At this, so fast her flying feet she sped, +That soon she strain'd beyond his horse's head: +Then turning short, at once she seiz'd the rein, +And laid the boaster grov'ling on the plain. +Not with more ease the falcon, from above, +Trusses in middle air the trembling dove, +Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound: +The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground. + +Now mighty Jove, from his superior height, +With his broad eye surveys th' unequal fight. +He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain, +And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd plain. +Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides, +And these encourages, and those he chides; +Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight; +Renews their ardor, and restores the fight. +"What panic fear has seiz'd your souls? O shame, +O brand perpetual of th' Etrurian name! +Cowards incurable, a woman's hand +Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band! +Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield! +What use of weapons which you dare not wield? +Not thus you fly your female foes by night, +Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite; +When to fat off'rings the glad augur calls, +And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals. +These are your studied cares, your lewd delight: +Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight." +Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes, +Not managing the life he meant to lose. +The first he found he seiz'd with headlong haste, +In his strong gripe, and clasp'd around the waist; +'T was Venulus, whom from his horse he tore, +And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore. +Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes, +And view th' unusual sight with vast surprise. +The fiery Tarchon, flying o'er the plains, +Press'd in his arms the pond'rous prey sustains; +Then, with his shorten'd spear, explores around +His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound. +Nor less the captive struggles for his life: +He writhes his body to prolong the strife, +And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts +His utmost vigor, and the point averts. +So stoops the yellow eagle from on high, +And bears a speckled serpent thro' the sky, +Fast'ning his crooked talons on the prey: +The pris'ner hisses thro' the liquid way; +Resists the royal hawk; and, tho' oppress'd, +She fights in volumes, and erects her crest: +Turn'd to her foe, she stiffens ev'ry scale, +And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat'ning tail. +Against the victor, all defense is weak: +Th' imperial bird still plies her with his beak; +He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores; +Then claps his pinions, and securely soars. +Thus, thro' the midst of circling enemies, +Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his prize. +The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press +The Latins, and presume the like success. + +Then Aruns, doom'd to death, his arts assay'd, +To murther, unespied, the Volscian maid: +This way and that his winding course he bends, +And, whereso'er she turns, her steps attends. +When she retires victorious from the chase, +He wheels about with care, and shifts his place; +When, rushing on, she seeks her foes flight, +He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight: +He threats, and trembles, trying ev'ry way, +Unseen to kill, and safely to betray. +Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far, +Glitt'ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war, +Was by the virgin view'd. The steed he press'd +Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest +With scales of gilded brass was cover'd o'er; +A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore. +With deadly wounds he gall'd the distant foe; +Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow: +A golden helm his front and head surrounds +A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds. +Gold, weav'd with linen, on his thighs he wore, +With flowers of needlework distinguish'd o'er, +With golden buckles bound, and gather'd up before. +Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes, +Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize, +Or that the temple might his trophies hold, +Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold. +Blind in her haste, she chases him alone. +And seeks his life, regardless of her own. + +This lucky moment the sly traitor chose: +Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose, +And threw, but first to Heav'n address'd his vows: +"O patron of Socrates' high abodes, +Phoebus, the ruling pow'r among the gods, +Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine +Are fell'd for thee, and to thy glory shine; +By thee protected with our naked soles, +Thro' flames unsing'd we march, and tread the kindled coals +Give me, propitious pow'r, to wash away +The stains of this dishonorable day: +Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim, +But with my future actions trust my fame. +Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome, +And from the field return inglorious home." +Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r, +Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air. +He gives the death desir'd; his safe return +By southern tempests to the seas is borne. + +Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies, +Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes, +Directed by the sound. Of either host, +Th' unhappy virgin, tho' concern'd the most, +Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent +On golden spoils, and on her prey intent; +Till in her pap the winged weapon stood +Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood. +Her sad attendants hasten to sustain +Their dying lady, drooping on the plain. +Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies, +With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys; +Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow, +Or ev'n to bear the sight of his expiring foe. +As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide +At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side, +Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies, +And claps his quiv'ring tail between his thighs: +So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends, +But, spurring forward, herds among his friends. + +She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands, +But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands; +The wood she draws, the steely point remains; +She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains: +(A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes, +And from her cheeks the rosy color flies:) +Then turns to her, whom of her female train +She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain: +"Acca, 't is past! he swims before my sight, +Inexorable Death; and claims his right. +Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed, +And bid him timely to my charge succeed, +Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve: +Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive." +She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain: +Dying, her open'd hand forsakes the rein; +Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees +Her mind the passage from her body frees. +She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest, +Her drooping head declining on her breast: +In the last sigh her struggling soul expires, +And, murm'ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires. + +A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued; +Despair and rage the languish'd fight renew'd. +The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line, +Advance to charge; the mix'd Arcadians join. + +But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar +Surveys the field, and fortune of the war, +Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain, +Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain, +And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train. +Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew +A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue: +"Too dear a fine, ah much lamented maid, +For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid! +Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife, +Diana's sacred arms, to save thy life. +Yet unreveng'd thy goddess will not leave +Her vot'ry's death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve. +Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd; +But after ages shall thy praise record. +Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain: +Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain." + +High o'er the field there stood a hilly mound, +Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around, +Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay, +A king that once in Latium bore the sway. +The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight, +To mark the traitor Aruns from the height. +Him in refulgent arms she soon espied, +Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried: +"Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late; +Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate. +Charg'd with my message, to Camilla go, +And say I sent thee to the shades below, +An honor undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow." + +She said, and from her quiver chose with speed +The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed; +Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied, +Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side. +The bowstring touch'd her breast, so strong she drew; +Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew. +At once the twanging bow and sounding dart +The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart. +Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death, +His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath. +The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings, +The welcome message to her mistress brings. + +Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field, +And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield. +The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly, +More on their speed than on their strength rely. +Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down, +And spur their horses headlong to the town. +Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd, +Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind. +These drop the shield, and those the lance forego, +Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow. +The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound, +Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground. +Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky, +And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly. +The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands, +Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands. +All pressing on, pursuers and pursued, +Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude. +Some happy few escape: the throng too late +Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate. +Ev'n in the sight of home, the wretched sire +Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire. +Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close, +But leave their friends excluded with their foes. +The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout; +'T is terror all within, and slaughter all without. +Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall, +Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall. + +The Latian virgins, valiant with despair, +Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share: +So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd; +So much Camilla's great example fir'd. +Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw, +With imitated darts, to gall the foe. +Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath, +And crowd each other to be first in death. +Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade, +With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid: +"The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill'd; +The foes, entirely masters of the field, +Like a resistless flood, come rolling on: +The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town." + +Inflam'd with rage, (for so the Furies fire +The Daunian's breast, and so the Fates require,) +He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain +Possess'd, and downward issues on the plain. +Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed +From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed. +Thro' the black forest and the ferny brake, +Unknowingly secure, their way they take; +From the rough mountains to the plain descend, +And there, in order drawn, their line extend. +Both armies now in open fields are seen; +Nor far the distance of the space between. +Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees, +Thro' smoking fields, his hast'ning enemies; +And Turnus views the Trojans in array, +And hears th' approaching horses proudly neigh. +Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd; +But westward to the sea the sun declin'd. +Intrench'd before the town both armies lie, +While Night with sable wings involves the sky. +BOOK XII + +When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field, +Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd, +Himself become the mark of public spite, +His honor question'd for the promis'd fight; +The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd, +The more his fury boil'd within his breast: +He rous'd his vigor for the last debate, +And rais'd his haughty soul to meet his fate. + +As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase, +He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; +But, if the pointed jav'lin pierce his side, +The lordly beast returns with double pride: +He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain; +His sides he lashes, and erects his mane: +So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, +Thro' his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire. + +Trembling with rage, around the court he ran, +At length approach'd the king, and thus began: +"No more excuses or delays: I stand +In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand, +This base deserter of his native land. +The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take +The same conditions which himself did make. +Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare, +And to my single virtue trust the war. +The Latians unconcern'd shall see the fight; +This arm unaided shall assert your right: +Then, if my prostrate body press the plain, +To him the crown and beauteous bride remain." + +To whom the king sedately thus replied: +"Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried, +The more becomes it us, with due respect, +To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect. +You want not wealth, or a successive throne, +Or cities which your arms have made your own: +My towns and treasures are at your command, +And stor'd with blooming beauties is my land; +Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees, +Unmarried, fair, of noble families. +Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, +Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear, +But sound advice, proceeding from a heart +Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art. +The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown, +No prince Italian born should heir my throne: +Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd, +And oft our priests, foreign son reveal'd. +Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood, +Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood, +Urg'd by my wife, who would not be denied, +I promis'd my Lavinia for your bride: +Her from her plighted lord by force I took; +All ties of treaties, and of honor, broke: +On your account I wag'd an impious war- +With what success, 't is needless to declare; +I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share. +Twice vanquish'd while in bloody fields we strive, +Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive: +The rolling flood runs warm with human gore; +The bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring shore. +Why put I not an end to this debate, +Still unresolv'd, and still a slave to fate? +If Turnus' death a lasting peace can give, +Why should I not procure it whilst you live? +Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray, +What would my kinsmen the Rutulians say? +And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav'n defend!) +How curse the cause which hasten'd to his end +The daughter's lover and the father's friend? +Weigh in your mind the various chance of war; +Pity your parent's age, and ease his care." + +Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain: +The proffer'd med'cine but provok'd the pain. +The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief, +With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief: +"The care, O best of fathers, which you take +For my concerns, at my desire forsake. +Permit me not to languish out my days, +But make the best exchange of life for praise. +This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize; +And the blood follows, where the weapon flies. +His goddess mother is not near, to shroud +The flying coward with an empty cloud." + +But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life, +And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife, +Held him by force; and, dying in his death, +In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath: +"O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears, +And whate'er price Amata's honor bears +Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope, +My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's prop; +Since on the safety of thy life alone +Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne: +Refuse me not this one, this only pray'r, +To waive the combat, and pursue the war. +Whatever chance attends this fatal strife, +Think it includes, in thine, Amata's life. +I cannot live a slave, or see my throne +Usurp'd by strangers or a Trojan son." + +At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed; +A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread, +Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red. +The driving colors, never at a stay, +Run here and there, and flush, and fade away. +Delightful change! Thus Indian iv'ry shows, +Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows; +Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rose. + +The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire, +The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire: +Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite, +Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight. +Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes, +Firm to his first intent, he thus replies: +"O mother, do not by your tears prepare +Such boding omens, and prejudge the war. +Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free +To shun my death, if Heav'n my death decree." +Then turning to the herald, thus pursues: +"Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news; +Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light +Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight; +The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more +Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore: +Our single swords the quarrel shall decide, +And to the victor be the beauteous bride." + +He said, and striding on, with speedy pace, +He sought his coursers of the Thracian race. +At his approach they toss their heads on high, +And, proudly neighing, promise victory. +The sires of these Orythia sent from far, +To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war. +The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white, +Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight. +Officious grooms stand ready by his side; +And some with combs their flowing manes divide, +And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride + +He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass +Of golden metal those, and mountain brass. +Then to his head his glitt'ring helm he tied, +And girt his faithful fauchion to his side. +In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire +That fauchion labor'd for the hero's sire; +Immortal keenness on the blade bestow'd, +And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood. +Propp'd on a pillar, which the ceiling bore, +Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore; +Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand, +The tough ash trembled like an osier wand: +Then cried: "O pond'rous spoil of Actor slain, +And never yet by Turnus toss'd in vain, +Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go, +Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe! +Give me to tear his corslet from his breast, +And from that eunuch head to rend the crest; +Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil, +Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil!" + +Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies +A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes. +So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight: +Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight; +He tries his goring horns against a tree, +And meditates his absent enemy; +He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand +With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand. + +Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms, +To future fight his manly courage warms: +He whets his fury, and with joy prepares +To terminate at once the ling'ring wars; +To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates +What Heav'n had promis'd, and expounds the fates. +Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease +The rage of arms, and ratify the peace. + +The morn ensuing, from the mountain's height, +Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light; +Th' ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea, +From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day; +When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard, +In friendly labor join'd, the list prepar'd. +Beneath the walls they measure out the space; +Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass, +Where, with religious their common gods they place. +In purest white the priests their heads attire; +And living waters bear, and holy fire; +And, o'er their linen hoods and shaded hair, +Long twisted wreaths of sacred veryain wear, + +In order issuing from the town appears +The Latin legion, arm'd with pointed spears; +And from the fields, advancing on a line, +The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join: +Their various arms afford a pleasing sight; +A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for fight. +Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride, +Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed; +Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, +And there Messapus, born of seed divine. +The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space, +Each man in order fills his proper place. +Reclining on their ample shields, they stand, +And fix their pointed lances in the sand. +Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng +Of either sex promiscuous, old and young, +Swarm the town: by those who rest behind, +The gates and walls and houses' tops are lin'd. +Meantime the Queen of Heav'n beheld the sight, +With eyes unpleas'd, from Mount Albano's height +(Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame, +But then an empty hill, without a name). +She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs, +The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs. +Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke, +With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake, +King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid, +Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'd: +Compress'd by force, but, by the grateful god, +Now made the Nais of the neighb'ring flood. +"O nymph, the pride of living lakes," said she, +"O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me, +Long hast thou known, nor need I to record, +The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord. +Of ev'ry Latian fair whom Jove misled +To mount by stealth my violated bed, +To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace, +But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place. +Now learn from me thy near approaching grief, +Nor think my wishes want to thy relief. +While fortune favor'd, nor Heav'n's King denied +To lend my succor to the Latian side, +I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state: +But now he struggles with unequal fate, +And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in might, +To meet inevitable death in fight; +Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight. +Thou, if thou dar'st thy present aid supply; +It well becomes a sister's care to try." + +At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress'd, +Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast. +To whom Saturnia thus: "Thy tears are late: +Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch'd from fate: +New tumults kindle; violate the truce: +Who knows what changeful fortune may produce? +'T is not a crime t' attempt what I decree; +Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me." +She said, and, sailing on the winged wind, +Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind. + +And now pomp the peaceful kings appear: +Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear; +Twelve golden beams around his temples play, +To mark his lineage from the God of Day. +Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke, +And in his hand two massy spears he shook: +Then issued from the camp, in arms divine, +Aeneas, author of the Roman line; +And by his side Ascanius took his place, +The second hope of Rome's immortal race. +Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears, +And off'rings to the flaming altars bears; +A porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears. +Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes, +And strews the beasts, design'd for sacrifice, +With salt and meal: with like officious care +He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair. +Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds; +With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds. + +Aeneas then unsheath'd his shining sword, +And thus with pious pray'rs the gods ador'd: +"All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil, +For which I have sustain'd so long a toil, +Thou, King of Heav'n, and thou, the Queen of Air, +Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r; +Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway +The labors and events of arms obey; +Ye living fountains, and ye running floods, +All pow'rs of ocean, all ethereal gods, +Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field, +Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield, +My Trojans shall encrease Evander's town; +Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown: +All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease; +Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace. +But, if my juster arms prevail in fight, +(As sure they shall, if I divine aright,) +My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign: +Both equal, both unconquer'd shall remain, +Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes; +I ask but altars for my weary gods. +The care of those religious rites be mine; +The crown to King Latinus I resign: +His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share +His pow'r in peace, or his command in war. +For me, my friends another town shall frame, +And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's name." + +Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands, +The Latian king before his altar stands. +"By the same heav'n," said he, "and earth, and main, +And all the pow'rs that all the three contain; +By hell below, and by that upper god +Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod; +So let Latona's double offspring hear, +And double-fronted Janus, what I swear: +I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames, +And all those pow'rs attest, and all their names; +Whatever chance befall on either side, +No term of time this union shall divide: +No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind, +Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind; +Not tho' the circling seas should break their bound, +O'erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground; +Not tho' the lamps of heav'n their spheres forsake, +Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake: +Ev'n as this royal scepter" (for he bore +A scepter in his hand) "shall never more +Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth: +An orphan now, cut from the mother earth +By the keen ax, dishonor'd of its hair, +And cas'd in brass, for Latian kings to bear." + +When thus in public view the peace was tied +With solemn vows, and sworn on either side, +All dues perform'd which holy rites require; +The victim beasts are slain before the fire, +The trembling entrails from their bodies torn, +And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne. + +Already the Rutulians deem their man +O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began. +First rising fears are whisper'd thro' the crowd; +Then, gath'ring sound, they murmur more aloud. +Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes +The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size: +The nearer they approach, the more is known +Th' apparent disadvantage of their own. +Turnus himself appears in public sight +Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight. +Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands +With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands; +And, while he mutters undistinguish'd pray'rs, +A livid deadness in his cheeks appears. + +With anxious pleasure when Juturna view'd +Th' increasing fright of the mad multitude, +When their short sighs and thick'ning sobs she heard, +And found their ready minds for change prepar'd; +Dissembling her immortal form, she took +Camertus' mien, his habit, and his look; +A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known +Was his great sire, and he his greater son. +His shape assum'd, amid the ranks she ran, +And humoring their first motions, thus began: +"For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight +Of one expos'd for all, in single fight? +Can we, before the face of heav'n, confess +Our courage colder, or our numbers less? +View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band, +And Tuscan army; count 'em as they stand: +Undaunted to the battle if we go, +Scarce ev'ry second man will share a foe. +Turnus, 't is true, in this unequal strife, +Shall lose, with honor, his devoted life, +Or change it rather for immortal fame, +Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came: +But you, a servile and inglorious band, +For foreign lords shall sow your native land, +Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain'd, +Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd." +With words like these, she carried her design: +A rising murmur runs along the line. +Then ev'n the city troops, and Latians, tir'd +With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd: +Their champion's fate with pity they lament, +And of the league, so lately sworn, repent. + +Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage +With lying wonders, and a false presage; +But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes, +Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise. +For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, +Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove: +A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, +And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; +Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, +In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan. +Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight; +But, while he lags, and labors in his flight, +Behold, the dastard fowl return anew, +And with united force the foe pursue: +Clam'rous around the royal hawk they fly, +And, thick'ning in a cloud, o'ershade the sky. +They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course; +Nor can th' incumber'd bird sustain their force; +But vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the pond'rous prey, +And, lighten'd of his burthen, wings his way. + +Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight, +Eager of action, and demand the fight. +Then King Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts, +Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts: +"At length 't is granted, what I long desir'd! +This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd. +Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey. +Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way. +These are the foreign foes, whose impious band, +Like that rapacious bird, infest our land: +But soon, like him, they shall be forc'd to sea +By strength united, and forego the prey. +Your timely succor to your country bring, +Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king." + +He said; and, pressing onward thro' the crew, +Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw. +The winged weapon, whistling in the wind, +Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd. +At once the cornel rattled in the skies; +At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise. +Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood, +Born of Arcadian mix'd with Tuscan blood, +Gylippus' sons: the fatal jav'lin flew, +Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew. +A passage thro' the jointed arms it found, +Just where the belt was to the body bound, +And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground. +Then, fir'd with pious rage, the gen'rous train +Run madly forward to revenge the slain. +And some with eager haste their jav'lins throw; +And some with sword in hand assault the foe. + +The wish'd insult the Latine troops embrace, +And meet their ardor in the middle space. +The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line, +With equal courage obviate their design. +Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate +Both armies urges to their mutual fate. +With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd, +The sacrifice half-broil'd, and half-unburn'd. +Thick storms of steel from either army fly, +And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky; +Brands from the fire are missive weapons made, +With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade. +Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray, +And bears his unregarded gods away. +These on their horses vault; those yoke the car; +The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war. + +Messapus, eager to confound the peace, +Spurr'd his hot courser thro' the fighting prease, +At King Aulestes, by his purple known +A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown; +And, with a shock encount'ring, bore him down. +Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd, +The ruins of an altar were behind: +There, pitching on his shoulders and his head, +Amid the scatt'ring fires he lay supinely spread. +The beamy spear, descending from above, +His cuirass pierc'd, and thro' his body drove. +Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries: +"The gods have found a fitter sacrifice." +Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead +Of his rich armor, and uncrown his head. + +Priest Corynaeus, arm'd his better hand, +From his own altar, with a blazing brand; +And, as Ebusus with a thund'ring pace +Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face: +His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires; +The crackling crop a noisome scent expires. +Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown +With his left hand; his other cast him down. +The prostrate body with his knees he press'd, +And plung'd his holy poniard in his breast. + +While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued +The shepherd Alsus thro' the flying crowd, +Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow +Full on the front of his unwary foe. +The broad ax enters with a crashing sound, +And cleaves the chin with one continued wound; +Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around +An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd, +And seal'd their heavy lids in endless rest. + +But good Aeneas rush'd amid the bands; +Bare was his head, and naked were his hands, +In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud: +"What sudden rage, what new desire of blood, +Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans, cease +From impious arms, nor violate the peace! +By human sanctions, and by laws divine, +The terms are all agreed; the war is mine. +Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue; +This hand alone shall right the gods and you: +Our injur'd altars, and their broken vow, +To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe." + +Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defense, +A winged arrow struck the pious prince. +But, whether from some human hand it came, +Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame: +No human hand or hostile god was found, +To boast the triumph of so base a wound. + +When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain, +His chiefs dismay'd, his troops a fainting train, +Th' unhop'd event his heighten'd soul inspires: +At once his arms and coursers he requires; +Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains, +And with a ready hand assumes the reins. +He drives impetuous, and, where'er he goes, +He leaves behind a lane of slaughter'd foes. +These his lance reaches; over those he rolls +His rapid car, and crushes out their souls: +In vain the vanquish'd fly; the victor sends +The dead men's weapons at their living friends. +Thus, on the banks of Hebrus' freezing flood, +The God of Battles, in his angry mood, +Clashing his sword against his brazen shield, +Let loose the reins, and scours along the field: +Before the wind his fiery coursers fly; +Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky. +Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair +(Dire faces, and deform'd) surround the car; +Friends of the god, and followers of the war. +With fury not unlike, nor less disdain, +Exulting Turnus flies along the plain: +His smoking horses, at their utmost speed, +He lashes on, and urges o'er the dead. +Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound, +The gore and gath'ring dust are dash'd around. +Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war, +He kill'd at hand, but Sthenelus afar: +From far the sons of Imbracus he slew, +Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew; +Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join'd, +Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind. + +Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field, +New fir'd the Trojans, and their foes repell'd. +This son of Dolon bore his grandsire's name, +But emulated more his father's fame; +His guileful father, sent a nightly spy, +The Grecian camp and order to descry: +Hard enterprise! and well he might require +Achilles' car and horses, for his hire: +But, met upon the scout, th' Aetolian prince +In death bestow'd a juster recompense. +Fierce Turnus view'd the Trojan from afar, +And launch'd his jav'lin from his lofty car; +Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow, +And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe, +Wrench'd from his feeble hold the shining sword, +And plung'd it in the bosom of its lord. +"Possess," said he, "the fruit of all thy pains, +And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains. +Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand; +Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!" + +Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew, +Whom o'er his neck his flound'ring courser threw. +As when loud Boreas, with his blust'ring train, +Stoops from above, incumbent on the main; +Where'er he flies, he drives the rack before, +And rolls the billows on th' Aegaean shore: +So, where resistless Turnus takes his course, +The scatter'd squadrons bend before his force; +His crest of horses' hair is blown behind +By adverse air, and rustles in the wind. + +This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain, +And, as the chariot roll'd along the plain, +Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz'd the rein. +Thus hung in air, he still retain'd his hold, +The coursers frighted, and their course controll'd. +The lance of Turnus reach'd him as he hung, +And pierc'd his plated arms, but pass'd along, +And only raz'd the skin. He turn'd, and held +Against his threat'ning foe his ample shield; +Then call'd for aid: but, while he cried in vain, +The chariot bore him backward on the plain. +He lies revers'd; the victor king descends, +And strikes so justly where his helmet ends, +He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk +With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk. + +While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield, +The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field: +Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried, +And young Ascanius, weeping by his side, +Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear +His limbs from earth, supported on his spear. +Resolv'd in mind, regardless of the smart, +He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart. +The steel remains. No readier way he found +To draw the weapon, than t' inlarge the wound. +Eager of fight, impatient of delay, +He begs; and his unwilling friends obey. + +Iapis was at hand to prove his art, +Whose blooming youth so fir'd Apollo's heart, +That, for his love, he proffer'd to bestow +His tuneful harp and his unerring bow. +The pious youth, more studious how to save +His aged sire, now sinking to the grave, +Preferr'd the pow'r of plants, and silent praise +Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays. + +Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood, +And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd. +The fam'd physician tucks his robes around +With ready hands, and hastens to the wound. +With gentle touches he performs his part, +This way and that, soliciting the dart, +And exercises all his heav'nly art. +All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use, +He presses out, and pours their noble juice. +These first infus'd, to lenify the pain, +He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain. +Then to the patron of his art he pray'd: +The patron of his art refus'd his aid. + +Meantime the war approaches to the tents; +Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments: +The driving dust proclaims the danger near; +And first their friends, and then their foes appear: +Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear. +The camp is fill'd with terror and affright: +The hissing shafts within the trench alight; +An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky, +The shouts those who kill, and groans of those who die. + +But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief, +And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief. +A branch of healing dittany she brought, +Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought: +Rough is the stern, which woolly leafs surround; +The leafs with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd, +Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief +To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief. +This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews +Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews, +And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands, +Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands, +And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd +With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound. +The leech, unknowing of superior art +Which aids the cure, with this foments the part; +And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart. +Stanch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands: +The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands, +Moves up, and follows of its own accord, +And health and vigor are at once restor'd. +Iapis first perceiv'd the closing wound, +And first the footsteps of a god he found. +"Arms! arms!" he cries; "the sword and shield prepare, +And send the willing chief, renew'd, to war. +This is no mortal work, no cure of mine, +Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine. +Some god our general to the battle sends; +Some god preserves his life for greater ends." + +The hero arms in haste; his hands infold +His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold: +Inflam'd to fight, and rushing to the field, +That hand sustaining the celestial shield, +This gripes the lance, and with such vigor shakes, +That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes. +Then with a close embrace he strain'd his son, +And, kissing thro' his helmet, thus begun: +"My son, from my example learn the war, +In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare; +But happier chance than mine attend thy care! +This day my hand thy tender age shall shield, +And crown with honors of the conquer'd field: +Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth +To toils of war, be mindful of my worth; +Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known, +For Hector's nephew, and Aeneas' son." +He said; and, striding, issued on the plain. +Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num'rous train, +Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take, +And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake. +A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around, +Labors beneath their feet the trembling ground. + +Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far +Beheld the progress of the moving war: +With him the Latins view'd the cover'd plains, +And the chill blood ran backward in their veins. +Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear, +And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear. +Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train, +Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain. +As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore +From the mid ocean, drives the waves before; +The painful hind with heavy heart foresees +The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees; +With like impetuous rage the prince appears +Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears. +And now both armies shock in open field; +Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill'd. +Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain +(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train) +By Gyas', Mnestheus', and Achates' hand. +The fatal augur falls, by whose command +The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued +With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd. +Loud shouts and clamors rend the liquid sky, +And o'er the field the frighted Latins fly. +The prince disdains the dastards to pursue, +Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few; +Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain, +He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain. +Juturna heard, and, seiz'd with mortal fear, +Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer; +Assumes his shape, his armor, and his mien, +And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen. + +As the black swallow near the palace plies; +O'er empty courts, and under arches, flies; +Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood, +To furnish her loquacious nest with food: +So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains; +The smoking horses run with loosen'd reins. +She steers a various course among the foes; +Now here, now there, her conqu'ring brother shows; +Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight, +She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight. +Aeneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd, +And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud: +He runs within a narrower ring, and tries +To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies. +If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears, +And far away the Daunian hero bears. + +What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail; +And various cares in vain his mind assail. +The great Messapus, thund'ring thro' the field, +In his left hand two pointed jav'lins held: +Encount'ring on the prince, one dart he drew, +And with unerring aim and utmost vigor threw. +Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low +Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threat'ning blow. +The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore +The waving plume which on his helm he wore. +Forced by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite, +That flying Turnus still declin'd the fight, +The Prince, whose piety had long repell'd +His inborn ardor, now invades the field; +Invokes the pow'rs of violated peace, +Their rites and injur'd altars to redress; +Then, to his rage abandoning the rein, +With blood and slaughter'd bodies fills the plain. + +What god can tell, what numbers can display, +The various labors of that fatal day; +What chiefs and champions fell on either side, +In combat slain, or by what deaths they died; +Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd; +Who shar'd the fame and fortune of the field! +Jove, could'st thou view, and not avert thy sight, +Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight, +Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite! + +Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found, +Whose valor made the Trojans quit their ground; +Betwixt his ribs the jav'lin drove so just, +It reach'd his heart, nor needs a second thrust. +Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew; +First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw: +Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail'd +Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd. +Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place; +Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace. + +Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw, +Whom without respite at one charge he slew: +Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress'd, +And sad Onythes, added to the rest, +Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore. + +Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore, +And from Apollo's fane to battle sent, +O'erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent. +Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill'd, +Who long had shunn'd the dangers of the field: +On Lerna's lake a silent life he led, +And with his nets and angle earn'd his bread; +Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew, +But wisely from th' infectious world withdrew: +Poor was his house; his father's painful hand +Discharg'd his rent, and plow'd another's land. + +As flames among the lofty woods are thrown +On diff'rent sides, and both by winds are blown; +The laurels crackle in the sputt'ring fire; +The frighted sylvans from their shades retire: +Or as two neighb'ring torrents fall from high; +Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry; +They roll to sea with unresisted force, +And down the rocks precipitate their course: +Not with less rage the rival heroes take +Their diff'rent ways, nor less destruction make. +With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike; +And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike. +Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field; +And hearts are pierc'd, unknowing how to yield: +They blow for blow return, and wound for wound; +And heaps of bodies raise the level ground. + +Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs +From a long royal race of Latian kings, +Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown, +Crush'd with the weight of an unwieldy stone: +Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore +His living load, his dying body tore. +His starting steeds, to shun the glitt'ring sword, +Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord. + +Fierce Hyllus threaten'd high, and, face to face, +Affronted Turnus in the middle space: +The prince encounter'd him in full career, +And at his temples aim'd the deadly spear; +So fatally the flying weapon sped, +That thro' his helm it pierc'd his head. +Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus' hand, +In vain the strongest of th' Arcadian band: +Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford +Availing aid against th' Aenean sword, +Which to his naked heart pursued the course; +Nor could his plated shield sustain the force. + +Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow'rs, +Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow'rs, +Were doom'd to kill, while Heav'n prolong'd his date; +But who can pass the bounds, prefix'd by fate? +In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held +Two palaces, and was from each expell'd: +Of all the mighty man, the last remains +A little spot of foreign earth contains. + +And now both hosts their broken troops unite +In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight. +Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join +The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line: +Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads +The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads. +They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space, +Resolv'd on death, impatient of disgrace; +And, where one falls, another fills his place. + +The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son +To leave th' unfinish'd fight, and storm the town: +For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain +In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain, +He views th' unguarded city from afar, +In careless quiet, and secure of war. +Occasion offers, and excites his mind +To dare beyond the task he first design'd. +Resolv'd, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight: +Attended thus, he takes a neighb'ring height; +The crowding troops about their gen'ral stand, +All under arms, and wait his high command. +Then thus the lofty prince: "Hear and obey, +Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay +Jove is with us; and what I have decreed +Requires our utmost vigor, and our speed. +Your instant arms against the town prepare, +The source of mischief, and the seat of war. +This day the Latian tow'rs, that mate the sky, +Shall level with the plain in ashes lie: +The people shall be slaves, unless in time +They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime. +Twice have our foes been vanquish'd on the plain: +Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain? +Your force against the perjur'd city bend. +There it began, and there the war shall end. +The peace profan'd our rightful arms requires; +Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires." + +He finish'd; and, one soul inspiring all, +Form'd in a wedge, the foot approach the wall. +Without the town, an unprovided train +Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain. +Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear, +And those they toss aloft, and these they rear: +The flames now launch'd, the feather'd arrows fly, +And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky. +Advancing to the front, the hero stands, +And, stretching out to heav'n his pious hands, +Attests the gods, asserts his innocence, +Upbraids with breach of faith th' Ausonian prince; +Declares the royal honor doubly stain'd, +And twice the rites of holy peace profan'd. + +Dissenting clamors in the town arise; +Each will be heard, and all at once advise. +One part for peace, and one for war contends; +Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends. +The helpless king is hurried in the throng, +And, whate'er tide prevails, is borne along. +Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock, +Invades the bees with suffocating smoke, +They run around, or labor on their wings, +Disus'd to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings; +To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try; +Black vapors, issuing from the vent, involve the sky. + +But fate and envious fortune now prepare +To plunge the Latins in the last despair. +The queen, who saw the foes invade the town, +And brands on tops of burning houses thrown, +Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear- +No troops of Turnus in the field appear. +Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain, +And then concludes the royal youth is slain. +Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear +The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air. +She calls herself the cause of all this ill, +And owns the dire effects of her ungovern'd will; +She raves against the gods; she beats her breast; +She tears with both her hands her purple vest: +Then round a beam a running noose she tied, +And, fasten'd by the neck, obscenely died. + +Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown, +And to her dames and to her daughter known, +The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair +And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share: +With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair. +The spreading rumor fills the public place: +Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace, +And silent shame, are seen in ev'ry face. +Latinus tears his garments as he goes, +Both for his public and his private woes; +With filth his venerable beard besmears, +And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs. +And much he blames the softness of his mind, +Obnoxious to the charms of womankind, +And soon seduc'd to change what he so well design'd; +To break the solemn league so long desir'd, +Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir'd. + +Now Turnus rolls aloof o'er empty plains, +And here and there some straggling foes he gleans. +His flying coursers please him less and less, +Asham'd of easy fight and cheap success. +Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind, +The distant cries come driving in the wind, +Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown'd; +A jarring mixture, and a boding sound. +"Alas!" said he, "what mean these dismal cries? +What doleful clamors from the town arise?" +Confus'd, he stops, and backward pulls the reins. +She who the driver's office now sustains, +Replies: "Neglect, my lord, these new alarms; +Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms: +There want not others to defend the wall. +If by your rival's hand th' Italians fall, +So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress, +In honor equal, equal in success." + +To this, the prince: "O sister- for I knew +The peace infring'd proceeded first from you; +I knew you, when you mingled first in fight; +And now in vain you would deceive my sight- +Why, goddess, this unprofitable care? +Who sent you down from heav'n, involv'd in air, +Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain, +And see your brother bleeding on the plain? +For to what pow'r can Turnus have recourse, +Or how resist his fate's prevailing force? +These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground: +Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound. +I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath, +My name invoking to revenge his death. +Brave Ufens fell with honor on the place, +To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace. +On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies; +His vest and armor are the victor's prize. +Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame, +Which only wanted, to complete my shame? +How will the Latins hoot their champion's flight! +How Drances will insult and point them to the sight! +Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below, +(Since those above so small compassion show,) +Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame, +Which not belies my great forefather's name!" + +He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed +Came Sages urging on his foamy steed: +Fix'd on his wounded face a shaft he bore, +And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before: +"Turnus, on you, on you alone, depends +Our last relief: compassionate your friends! +Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on, +With arms invests, with flames invades the town: +The brands are toss'd on high; the winds conspire +To drive along the deluge of the fire. +All eyes are fix'd on you: your foes rejoice; +Ev'n the king staggers, and suspends his choice; +Doubts to deliver or defend the town, +Whom to reject, or whom to call his son. +The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac'd, +Herself suborning death, has breath'd her last. +'T is true, Messapus, fearless of his fate, +With fierce Atinas' aid, defends the gate: +On ev'ry side surrounded by the foe, +The more they kill, the greater numbers grow; +An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow. +You, far aloof from your forsaken bands, +Your rolling chariot drive o'er empty + +Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin'd, +And various cares revolving in his mind: +Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast, +And sorrow mix'd with shame, his soul oppress'd; +And conscious worth lay lab'ring in his thought, +And love by jealousy to madness wrought. +By slow degrees his reason drove away +The mists of passion, and resum'd her sway. +Then, rising on his car, he turn'd his look, +And saw the town involv'd in fire and smoke. +A wooden tow'r with flames already blaz'd, +Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais'd; +And bridges laid above to join the space, +And wheels below to roll from place to place. +"Sister, the Fates have vanquish'd: let us go +The way which Heav'n and my hard fortune show. +The fight is fix'd; nor shall the branded name +Of a base coward blot your brother's fame. +Death is my choice; but suffer me to try +My force, and vent my rage before I die." +He said; and, leaping down without delay, +Thro' crowds of scatter'd foes he freed his way. +Striding he pass'd, impetuous as the wind, +And left the grieving goddess far behind. +As when a fragment, from a mountain torn +By raging tempests, or by torrents borne, +Or sapp'd by time, or loosen'd from the roots- +Prone thro' the void the rocky ruin shoots, +Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep; +Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep: +Involv'd alike, they rush to nether ground; +Stunn'd with the shock they fall, and stunn'd from earth rebound: +So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town, +Should'ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down. +Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew, +Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew, +And sanguine streams the slipp'ry ground embrue. +First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace, +He cries aloud, to make the combat cease: +"Rutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire! +The fight is mine; and me the gods require. +'T is just that I should vindicate alone +The broken truce, or for the breach atone. +This day shall free from wars th' Ausonian state, +Or finish my misfortunes in my fate." + +Both armies from their bloody work desist, +And, bearing backward, form a spacious list. +The Trojan hero, who receiv'd from fame +The welcome sound, and heard the champion's name, +Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls, +Greedy of war where greater glory calls. +He springs to fight, exulting in his force +His jointed armor rattles in the course. +Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows, +Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows, +His head divine obscure in clouds he hides, +And shakes the sounding forest on his sides. +The nations, overaw'd, surcease the fight; +Immovable their bodies, fix'd their sight. +Ev'n death stands still; nor from above they throw +Their darts, nor drive their batt'ring-rams below. +In silent order either army stands, +And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands. +Th' Ausonian king beholds, with wond'ring sight, +Two mighty champions match'd in single fight, +Born under climes remote, and brought by fate, +With swords to try their titles to the state. + +Now, in clos'd field, each other from afar +They view; and, rushing on, begin the war. +They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet; +The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet: +Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high, +And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly. +Courage conspires with chance, and both ingage +With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage. +As when two bulls for their fair female fight +In Sila's shades, or on Taburnus' height; +With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies; +Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes, +And wait th' event; which victor they shall bear, +And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year: +With rage of love the jealous rivals burn, +And push for push, and wound for wound return; +Their dewlaps gor'd, their sides are lav'd in blood; +Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro' the wood: +Such was the combat in the listed ground; +So clash their swords, and so their shields resound. + +Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays +The champions' fate, and each exactly weighs. +On this side, life and lucky chance ascends; +Loaded with death, that other scale descends. +Rais'd on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow +Full on the helm of his unguarded foe: +Shrill shouts and clamors ring on either side, +As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide. +But all in pieces flies the traitor sword, +And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord. +Now is but death, or flight; disarm'd he flies, +When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies. +Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join'd, +Hurrying to war, disorder'd in his mind, +Snatch'd the first weapon which his haste could find. +'T was not the fated sword his father bore, +But that his charioteer Metiscus wore. +This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held; +But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield, +The mortal-temper'd steel deceiv'd his hand: +The shiver'd fragments shone amid the sand. + +Surpris'd with fear, he fled along the field, +And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel'd; +For here the Trojan troops the list surround, +And there the pass is clos'd with pools and marshy ground. +Aeneas hastens, tho' with heavier pace- +His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase, +And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse- +Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues. + +Thus, when a fearful stag is clos'd around +With crimson toils, or in a river found, +High on the bank the deep-mouth'd hound appears, +Still opening, following still, where'er he steers; +The persecuted creature, to and fro, +Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe: +Steep is th' ascent, and, if he gains the land, +The purple death is pitch'd along the strand. +His eager foe, determin'd to the chase, +Stretch'd at his length, gains ground at ev'ry pace; +Now to his beamy head he makes his way, +And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey: +Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear; +He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air: +The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries; +The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies. +Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames +His tardy troops, and, calling by their names, +Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats +The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats +To lay in ashes, if they dare supply +With arms or aid his vanquish'd enemy: +Thus menacing, he still pursues the course, +With vigor, tho' diminish'd of his force. +Ten times already round the listed place +One chief had fled, and t' other giv'n the chase: +No trivial prize is play'd; for on the life +Or death of Turnus now depends the strife. + +Within the space, an olive tree had stood, +A sacred shade, a venerable wood, +For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins' guardian god. +Here hung the vests, and tablets were ingrav'd, +Of sinking mariners from shipwrack sav'd. +With heedless hands the Trojans fell'd the tree, +To make the ground inclos'd for combat free. +Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance, +Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance; +Then stoop'd, and tugg'd with force immense, to free +Th' incumber'd spear from the tenacious tree; +That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain, +His flying weapon might from far attain. + +Confus'd with fear, bereft of human aid, +Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray'd: +"O Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth, +Where I thy foster son receiv'd my birth, +Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand +Your plant has honor'd, which your foes profan'd, +Propitious hear my pious pray'r!" He said, +Nor with successless vows invok'd their aid. +Th' incumbent hero wrench'd, and pull'd, and strain'd; +But still the stubborn earth the steel detain'd. +Juturna took her time; and, while in vain +He strove, assum'd Meticus' form again, +And, in that imitated shape, restor'd +To the despairing prince his Daunian sword. +The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief, +Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief, +T' assert her offspring with a greater deed, +From the tough root the ling'ring weapon freed. + +Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance: +One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance; +And both resolv'd alike to try their fatal chance. + +Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke, +Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock: +"What new arrest, O Queen of Heav'n, is sent +To stop the Fates now lab'ring in th' event? +What farther hopes are left thee to pursue? +Divine Aeneas, (and thou know'st it too,) +Foredoom'd, to these celestial seats are due. +What more attempts for Turnus can be made, +That thus thou ling'rest in this lonely shade? +Is it becoming of the due respect +And awful honor of a god elect, +A wound unworthy of our state to feel, +Patient of human hands and earthly steel? +Or seems it just, the sister should restore +A second sword, when one was lost before, +And arm a conquer'd wretch against his conqueror? +For what, without thy knowledge and avow, +Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do? +At last, in deference to my love, forbear +To lodge within thy soul this anxious care; +Reclin'd upon my breast, thy grief unload: +Who should relieve the goddess, but the god? +Now all things to their utmost issue tend, +Push'd by the Fates to their appointed +While leave was giv'n thee, and a lawful hour +For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow'r, +Toss'd on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress, +And, driv'n ashore, with hostile arms oppress; +Deform the royal house; and, from the side +Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride: +Now cease at my command." The Thund'rer said; +And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made: +"Because your dread decree too well I knew, +From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew. +Else should you not behold me here, alone, +Involv'd in empty clouds, my friends bemoan, +But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight +Engag'd against my foes in mortal fight. +'T is true, Juturna mingled in the strife +By my command, to save her brother's life- +At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake, +(The most religious oath the gods can take,) +With this restriction, not to bend the bow, +Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw. +And now, resign'd to your superior might, +And tir'd with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight. +This let me beg (and this no fates withstand) +Both for myself and for your father's land, +That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace, +(Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,) +The laws of either nation be the same; +But let the Latins still retain their name, +Speak the same language which they spoke before, +Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore. +Call them not Trojans: perish the renown +And name of Troy, with that detested town. +Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign +And Rome's immortal majesty remain." + +Then thus the founder of mankind replies +(Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes) +"Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir, +Such endless anger in her bosom bear? +Be mistress, and your full desires obtain; +But quench the choler you foment in vain. +From ancient blood th' Ausonian people sprung, +Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue. +The Trojans to their customs shall be tied: +I will, myself, their common rites provide; +The natives shall command, the foreigners subside. +All shall be Latium; Troy without a name; +And her lost sons forget from whence they came. +From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow, +Equal to gods, excelling all below. +No nation more respect to you shall pay, +Or greater off'rings on your altars lay." +Juno consents, well pleas'd that her desires +Had found success, and from the cloud retires. + +The peace thus made, the Thund'rer next prepares +To force the wat'ry goddess from the wars. +Deep in the dismal regions void of light, +Three daughters at a birth were born to Night: +These their brown mother, brooding on her care, +Indued with windy wings to flit in air, +With serpents girt alike, and crown'd with hissing hair. +In heav'n the Dirae call'd, and still at hand, +Before the throne of angry Jove they stand, +His ministers of wrath, and ready still +The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, +Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate +On realms or towns deserving of their fate, +Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care, +And terrifies the guilty world with war. +One sister plague if these from heav'n he sent, +To fright Juturna with a dire portent. +The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow +Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, +Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, +And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies. +With such a sudden and unseen a flight +Shot thro' the clouds the daughter of the night. +Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view, +And from afar her destin'd quarry knew, +Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, +Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns, +And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, +Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings. +Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries +The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, +Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes. + +A lazy chillness crept along his blood; +Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood. +Juturna from afar beheld her fly, +And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry +And stridor of her wings. Amaz'd with fear, +Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair. + +"Ah me!" she cries, "in this unequal strife +What can thy sister more to save thy life? +Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend +In arms with that inexorable fiend? +Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright +My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night; +The lashing of your wings I know too well, +The sounding flight, and fun'ral screams of hell! +These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove, +The worthy recompense of ravish'd love! +Did he for this exempt my life from fate? +O hard conditions of immortal state, +Tho' born to death, not privileg'd to die, +But forc'd to bear impos'd eternity! +Take back your envious bribes, and let me go +Companion to my brother's ghost below! +The joys are vanish'd: nothing now remains, +Of life immortal, but immortal pains. +What earth will open her devouring womb, +To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!" +She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said, +But in her azure mantle wrapp'd her head, +Then plung'd into her stream, with deep despair, +And her last sobs came bubbling up in air. + +Now stern Aeneas his weighty spear +Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear: +"What farther subterfuge can Turnus find? +What empty hopes are harbor'd in his mind? +'T is not thy swiftness can secure thy flight; +Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight. +Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare +What skill and courage can attempt in war; +Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky; +Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!" +The champion shook his head, and made this short reply: +"No threats of thine my manly mind can move; +'T is hostile heav'n I dread, and partial Jove." +He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress'd +The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast. + +Then, as he roll'd his troubled eyes around, +An antique stone he saw, the common bound +Of neighb'ring fields, and barrier of the ground; +So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days +Th' enormous weight from earth could hardly raise. +He heav'd it at a lift, and, pois'd on high, +Ran stagg'ring on against his enemy, +But so disorder'd, that he scarcely knew +His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw. +His knocking knees are bent beneath the load, +And shiv'ring cold congeals his vital blood. +The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short +For want of vigor, mocks his vain effort. +And as, when heavy sleep has clos'd the sight, +The sickly fancy labors in the night; +We seem to run; and, destitute of force, +Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course: +In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry; +The nerves, unbrac'd, their usual strength deny; +And on the tongue the falt'ring accents die: +So Turnus far'd; whatever means he tried, +All force of arms and points of art employ'd, +The Fury flew athwart, and made th' endeavor void. + +A thousand various thoughts his soul confound; +He star'd about, nor aid nor issue found; +His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround. +Once more he pauses, and looks out again, +And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain. +Trembling he views the thund'ring chief advance, +And brandishing aloft the deadly lance: +Amaz'd he cow'rs beneath his conqu'ring foe, +Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow. +Astonish'd while he stands, and fix'd with fear, +Aim'd at his shield he sees th' impending spear. + +The hero measur'd first, with narrow view, +The destin'd mark; and, rising as he threw, +With its full swing the fatal weapon flew. +Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls, +Or stones from batt'ring-engines break the walls: +Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong, +The lance drove on, and bore the death along. +Naught could his sev'nfold shield the prince avail, +Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail: +It pierc'd thro' all, and with a grisly wound +Transfix'd his thigh, and doubled him to ground. +With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky: +Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply. + +Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid, +With eyes cast upward, and with arms display'd, +And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray'd: +"I know my death deserv'd, nor hope to live: +Use what the gods and thy good fortune give. +Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown- +Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son- +Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave; +And for Anchises' sake old Daunus save! +Or, if thy vow'd revenge pursue my death, +Give to my friends my body void of breath! +The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life; +Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife: +Against a yielded man, 't is mean ignoble strife." + +In deep suspense the Trojan seem'd to stand, +And, just prepar'd to strike, repress'd his hand. +He roll'd his eyes, and ev'ry moment felt +His manly soul with more compassion melt; +When, casting down a casual glance, he spied +The golden belt that glitter'd on his side, +The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore +From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore. +Then, rous'd anew to wrath, he loudly cries +(Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes) +"Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, +Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend? +To his sad soul a grateful off'ring go! +'T is Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow." +He rais'd his arm aloft, and, at the word, +Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword. +The streaming blood distain'd his arms around, +And the disdainful soul came rushing thro' the wound. + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Aeneid, in English + + diff --git a/old/anide10.zip b/old/anide10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..899edfb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/anide10.zip diff --git a/old/old-2024-12-05/228-0.txt b/old/old-2024-12-05/228-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d9dafb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-12-05/228-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14866 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Aeneid, by Virgil + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Aeneid + +Author: Virgil + +Translator: John Dryden + +Release Date: March, 1995 [eBook #228] +[Most recently updated: September 3, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Anonymous Volunteers and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + + + + + THE AENEID + + + by Virgil + + Translated by John Dryden + + Contents + + BOOK I + + BOOK II + + BOOK III + + BOOK IV + + BOOK V + + BOOK VI + + BOOK VII + + BOOK VIII + + BOOK IX + + BOOK X + + BOOK XI + + BOOK XII + + + + + BOOK I + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + The Trojans, after a seven years’ voyage, set sail for Italy, but + are overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Aeolus raises at the + request of Juno. The tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest. + Neptune drives off the winds, and calms the sea. Aeneas, with his + own ship and six more, arrives safe at an African port. Venus + complains to Jupiter of her son’s misfortunes. Jupiter comforts + her, and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the + Carthaginians. Aeneas, going out to discover the country, meets + his mother in the shape of a huntress, who conveys him in a cloud + to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom he thought lost, and + receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by device of + Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some + discourse with him, desires the history of his adventures since + the siege of Troy, which is the subject of the two following + books. + + + Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc’d by fate, + And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate, + Expell’d and exil’d, left the Trojan shore. + Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore, + And in the doubtful war, before he won + The Latian realm, and built the destin’d town; + His banish’d gods restor’d to rites divine, + And settled sure succession in his line, + From whence the race of Alban fathers come, + And the long glories of majestic Rome. + O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate; + What goddess was provok’d, and whence her hate; + For what offence the Queen of Heav’n began + To persecute so brave, so just a man; + Involv’d his anxious life in endless cares, + Expos’d to wants, and hurried into wars! + Can heav’nly minds such high resentment show, + Or exercise their spite in human woe? + + Against the Tiber’s mouth, but far away, + An ancient town was seated on the sea; + A Tyrian colony; the people made + Stout for the war, and studious of their trade: + Carthage the name; belov’d by Juno more + Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore. + Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav’n were kind, + The seat of awful empire she design’d. + Yet she had heard an ancient rumour fly, + (Long cited by the people of the sky,) + That times to come should see the Trojan race + Her Carthage ruin, and her tow’rs deface; + Nor thus confin’d, the yoke of sov’reign sway + Should on the necks of all the nations lay. + She ponder’d this, and fear’d it was in fate; + Nor could forget the war she wag’d of late + For conqu’ring Greece against the Trojan state. + Besides, long causes working in her mind, + And secret seeds of envy, lay behind; + Deep graven in her heart the doom remain’d + Of partial Paris, and her form disdain’d; + The grace bestow’d on ravish’d Ganymed, + Electra’s glories, and her injur’d bed. + Each was a cause alone; and all combin’d + To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind. + For this, far distant from the Latian coast + She drove the remnants of the Trojan host; + And sev’n long years th’ unhappy wand’ring train + Were toss’d by storms, and scatter’d thro’ the main. + Such time, such toil, requir’d the Roman name, + Such length of labour for so vast a frame. + + Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars, + Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores, + Ent’ring with cheerful shouts the wat’ry reign, + And plowing frothy furrows in the main; + When, lab’ring still with endless discontent, + The Queen of Heav’n did thus her fury vent: + + “Then am I vanquish’d? must I yield?” said she, + “And must the Trojans reign in Italy? + So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force; + Nor can my pow’r divert their happy course. + Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen, + The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men? + She, for the fault of one offending foe, + The bolts of Jove himself presum’d to throw: + With whirlwinds from beneath she toss’d the ship, + And bare expos’d the bosom of the deep; + Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game, + The wretch, yet hissing with her father’s flame, + She strongly seiz’d, and with a burning wound + Transfix’d, and naked, on a rock she bound. + But I, who walk in awful state above, + The majesty of heav’n, the sister wife of Jove, + For length of years my fruitless force employ + Against the thin remains of ruin’d Troy! + What nations now to Juno’s pow’r will pray, + Or off’rings on my slighted altars lay?” + + Thus rag’d the goddess; and, with fury fraught. + The restless regions of the storms she sought, + Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, + The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne, + With pow’r imperial curbs the struggling winds, + And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds. + This way and that th’ impatient captives tend, + And, pressing for release, the mountains rend. + High in his hall th’ undaunted monarch stands, + And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands; + Which did he not, their unresisted sway + Would sweep the world before them in their way; + Earth, air, and seas thro’ empty space would roll, + And heav’n would fly before the driving soul. + In fear of this, the Father of the Gods + Confin’d their fury to those dark abodes, + And lock’d ’em safe within, oppress’d with mountain loads; + Impos’d a king, with arbitrary sway, + To loose their fetters, or their force allay. + To whom the suppliant queen her pray’rs address’d, + And thus the tenor of her suit express’d: + + “O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav’n + The pow’r of tempests and of winds has giv’n; + Thy force alone their fury can restrain, + And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main. + A race of wand’ring slaves, abhorr’d by me, + With prosp’rous passage cut the Tuscan sea; + To fruitful Italy their course they steer, + And for their vanquish’d gods design new temples there. + Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies; + Sink or disperse my fatal enemies. + Twice sev’n, the charming daughters of the main, + Around my person wait, and bear my train: + Succeed my wish, and second my design; + The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine, + And make thee father of a happy line.” + + To this the god: “’Tis yours, O queen, to will + The work which duty binds me to fulfil. + These airy kingdoms, and this wide command, + Are all the presents of your bounteous hand: + Yours is my sov’reign’s grace; and, as your guest, + I sit with gods at their celestial feast; + Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue; + Dispose of empire, which I hold from you.” + + He said, and hurl’d against the mountain side + His quiv’ring spear, and all the god applied. + The raging winds rush thro’ the hollow wound, + And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground; + Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep, + Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep. + South, East, and West with mix’d confusion roar, + And roll the foaming billows to the shore. + The cables crack; the sailors’ fearful cries + Ascend; and sable night involves the skies; + And heav’n itself is ravish’d from their eyes. + Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue; + Then flashing fires the transient light renew; + The face of things a frightful image bears, + And present death in various forms appears. + Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief, + With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief; + And, “Thrice and four times happy those,” he cried, + “That under Ilian walls before their parents died! + Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train! + Why could not I by that strong arm be slain, + And lie by noble Hector on the plain, + Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields + Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields + Of heroes, whose dismember’d hands yet bear + The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!” + + Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails, + Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails, + And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise, + And mount the tossing vessels to the skies: + Nor can the shiv’ring oars sustain the blow; + The galley gives her side, and turns her prow; + While those astern, descending down the steep, + Thro’ gaping waves behold the boiling deep. + Three ships were hurried by the southern blast, + And on the secret shelves with fury cast. + Those hidden rocks th’ Ausonian sailors knew: + They call’d them Altars, when they rose in view, + And show’d their spacious backs above the flood. + Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood, + Dash’d on the shallows of the moving sand, + And in mid ocean left them moor’d a-land. + Orontes’ bark, that bore the Lycian crew, + (A horrid sight!) ev’n in the hero’s view, + From stem to stern by waves was overborne: + The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn, + Was headlong hurl’d; thrice round the ship was toss’d, + Then bulg’d at once, and in the deep was lost; + And here and there above the waves were seen + Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men. + The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way, + And suck’d thro’ loosen’d planks the rushing sea. + Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old, + Achates faithful, Abas young and bold, + Endur’d not less; their ships, with gaping seams, + Admit the deluge of the briny streams. + + Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound + Of raging billows breaking on the ground. + Displeas’d, and fearing for his wat’ry reign, + He rear’d his awful head above the main, + Serene in majesty; then roll’d his eyes + Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies. + He saw the Trojan fleet dispers’d, distress’d, + By stormy winds and wintry heav’n oppress’d. + Full well the god his sister’s envy knew, + And what her aims and what her arts pursue. + He summon’d Eurus and the western blast, + And first an angry glance on both he cast; + Then thus rebuk’d: “Audacious winds! from whence + This bold attempt, this rebel insolence? + Is it for you to ravage seas and land, + Unauthoriz’d by my supreme command? + To raise such mountains on the troubled main? + Whom I—but first ’tis fit the billows to restrain; + And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign. + Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear, + The realms of ocean and the fields of air + Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me + The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea. + His pow’r to hollow caverns is confin’d: + There let him reign, the jailer of the wind, + With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, + And boast and bluster in his empty hall.” + He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth’d the sea, + Dispell’d the darkness, and restor’d the day. + Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train + Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main, + Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands: + The god himself with ready trident stands, + And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands; + Then heaves them off the shoals. Where’er he guides + His finny coursers and in triumph rides, + The waves unruffle and the sea subsides. + As, when in tumults rise th’ ignoble crowd, + Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; + And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly, + And all the rustic arms that fury can supply: + If then some grave and pious man appear, + They hush their noise, and lend a list’ning ear; + He soothes with sober words their angry mood, + And quenches their innate desire of blood: + So, when the Father of the Flood appears, + And o’er the seas his sov’reign trident rears, + Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains, + High on his chariot, and, with loosen’d reins, + Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains. + The weary Trojans ply their shatter’d oars + To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores. + + Within a long recess there lies a bay: + An island shades it from the rolling sea, + And forms a port secure for ships to ride; + Broke by the jutting land, on either side, + In double streams the briny waters glide. + Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene + Appears above, and groves for ever green: + A grot is form’d beneath, with mossy seats, + To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats. + Down thro’ the crannies of the living walls + The crystal streams descend in murm’ring falls: + No haulsers need to bind the vessels here, + Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear. + Sev’n ships within this happy harbour meet, + The thin remainders of the scatter’d fleet. + The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes, + Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish’d repose. + + First, good Achates, with repeated strokes + Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes: + Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither’d leaves + The dying sparkles in their fall receives: + Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise, + And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies. + The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around + The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground: + Some dry their corn, infected with the brine, + Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine. + Aeneas climbs the mountain’s airy brow, + And takes a prospect of the seas below, + If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy, + Or see the streamers of Caicus fly. + No vessels were in view; but, on the plain, + Three beamy stags command a lordly train + Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng + Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along. + He stood; and, while secure they fed below, + He took the quiver and the trusty bow + Achates us’d to bear: the leaders first + He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc’d; + Nor ceas’d his arrows, till the shady plain + Sev’n mighty bodies with their blood distain. + For the sev’n ships he made an equal share, + And to the port return’d, triumphant from the war. + The jars of gen’rous wine (Acestes’ gift, + When his Trinacrian shores the navy left) + He set abroach, and for the feast prepar’d, + In equal portions with the ven’son shar’d. + Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief + With cheerful words allay’d the common grief: + “Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose + To future good our past and present woes. + With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried; + Th’ inhuman Cyclops and his den defied. + What greater ills hereafter can you bear? + Resume your courage and dismiss your care, + An hour will come, with pleasure to relate + Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate. + Thro’ various hazards and events, we move + To Latium and the realms foredoom’d by Jove. + Call’d to the seat (the promise of the skies) + Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise, + Endure the hardships of your present state; + Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.” + + These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart; + His outward smiles conceal’d his inward smart. + The jolly crew, unmindful of the past, + The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste. + Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil; + The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil; + Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil. + Stretch’d on the grassy turf, at ease they dine, + Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with + wine. + Their hunger thus appeas’d, their care attends + The doubtful fortune of their absent friends: + Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess, + Whether to deem ’em dead, or in distress. + Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate + Of brave Orontes, and th’ uncertain state + Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus. + The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus. + + When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys + Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas, + At length on Libyan realms he fix’d his eyes: + Whom, pond’ring thus on human miseries, + When Venus saw, she with a lowly look, + Not free from tears, her heav’nly sire bespoke: + + “O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand + Disperses thunder on the seas and land, + Disposing all with absolute command; + How could my pious son thy pow’r incense? + Or what, alas! is vanish’d Troy’s offence? + Our hope of Italy not only lost, + On various seas by various tempests toss’d, + But shut from ev’ry shore, and barr’d from ev’ry coast. + You promis’d once, a progeny divine + Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line, + In after times should hold the world in awe, + And to the land and ocean give the law. + How is your doom revers’d, which eas’d my care + When Troy was ruin’d in that cruel war? + Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now, + When Fortune still pursues her former blow, + What can I hope? What worse can still succeed? + What end of labours has your will decreed? + Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts, + Could pass secure, and pierce th’ Illyrian coasts, + Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves + And thro’ nine channels disembogues his waves. + At length he founded Padua’s happy seat, + And gave his Trojans a secure retreat; + There fix’d their arms, and there renew’d their name, + And there in quiet rules, and crown’d with fame. + But we, descended from your sacred line, + Entitled to your heav’n and rites divine, + Are banish’d earth; and, for the wrath of one, + Remov’d from Latium and the promis’d throne. + Are these our scepters? these our due rewards? + And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?” + + To whom the Father of th’ immortal race, + Smiling with that serene indulgent face, + With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies, + First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies: + + “Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire + The fates of thine are fix’d, and stand entire. + Thou shalt behold thy wish’d Lavinian walls; + And, ripe for heav’n, when fate Aeneas calls, + Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me: + No councils have revers’d my firm decree. + And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state, + Know, I have search’d the mystic rolls of Fate: + Thy son (nor is th’ appointed season far) + In Italy shall wage successful war, + Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field, + And sov’reign laws impose, and cities build, + Till, after ev’ry foe subdued, the sun + Thrice thro’ the signs his annual race shall run: + This is his time prefix’d. Ascanius then, + Now call’d Iulus, shall begin his reign. + He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear, + Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer, + And, with hard labour, Alba Longa build. + The throne with his succession shall be fill’d + Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen + Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen, + Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes, + Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose. + The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain: + Then Romulus his grandsire’s throne shall gain, + Of martial tow’rs the founder shall become, + The people Romans call, the city Rome. + To them no bounds of empire I assign, + Nor term of years to their immortal line. + Ev’n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils, + Earth, seas, and heav’n, and Jove himself turmoils; + At length aton’d, her friendly pow’r shall join, + To cherish and advance the Trojan line. + The subject world shall Rome’s dominion own, + And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown. + An age is ripening in revolving fate + When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state, + And sweet revenge her conqu’ring sons shall call, + To crush the people that conspir’d her fall. + Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise, + Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies + Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils, + Our heav’n, the just reward of human toils, + Securely shall repay with rites divine; + And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine. + Then dire debate and impious war shall cease, + And the stern age be soften’d into peace: + Then banish’d Faith shall once again return, + And Vestal fires in hallow’d temples burn; + And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain + The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain. + Janus himself before his fane shall wait, + And keep the dreadful issues of his gate, + With bolts and iron bars: within remains + Imprison’d Fury, bound in brazen chains; + High on a trophy rais’d, of useless arms, + He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms.” + + He said, and sent Cyllenius with command + To free the ports, and ope the Punic land + To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate, + The queen might force them from her town and state. + Down from the steep of heav’n Cyllenius flies, + And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies. + Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god, + Performs his message, and displays his rod: + The surly murmurs of the people cease; + And, as the fates requir’d, they give the peace: + The queen herself suspends the rigid laws, + The Trojans pities, and protects their cause. + + Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies: + Care seiz’d his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes. + But, when the sun restor’d the cheerful day, + He rose, the coast and country to survey, + Anxious and eager to discover more. + It look’d a wild uncultivated shore; + But, whether humankind, or beasts alone + Possess’d the new-found region, was unknown. + Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides: + Tall trees surround the mountain’s shady sides; + The bending brow above a safe retreat provides. + Arm’d with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends, + And true Achates on his steps attends. + Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood, + Before his eyes his goddess mother stood: + A huntress in her habit and her mien; + Her dress a maid, her air confess’d a queen. + Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind; + Loose was her hair, and wanton’d in the wind; + Her hand sustain’d a bow; her quiver hung behind. + She seem’d a virgin of the Spartan blood: + With such array Harpalyce bestrode + Her Thracian courser and outstripp’d the rapid flood. + “Ho, strangers! have you lately seen,” she said, + “One of my sisters, like myself array’d, + Who cross’d the lawn, or in the forest stray’d? + A painted quiver at her back she bore; + Varied with spots, a lynx’s hide she wore; + And at full cry pursued the tusky boar.” + + Thus Venus: thus her son replied again: + “None of your sisters have we heard or seen, + O virgin! or what other name you bear + Above that style; O more than mortal fair! + Your voice and mien celestial birth betray! + If, as you seem, the sister of the day, + Or one at least of chaste Diana’s train, + Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain; + But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss’d, + What earth we tread, and who commands the coast? + Then on your name shall wretched mortals call, + And offer’d victims at your altars fall.” + “I dare not,” she replied, “assume the name + Of goddess, or celestial honours claim: + For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear, + And purple buskins o’er their ankles wear. + Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are: + A people rude in peace, and rough in war. + The rising city, which from far you see, + Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony. + Phoenician Dido rules the growing state, + Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother’s hate. + Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate; + Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known + For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne, + Possess’d fair Dido’s bed; and either heart + At once was wounded with an equal dart. + Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid; + Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway’d: + One who condemn’d divine and human laws. + Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause. + The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth, + With steel invades his brother’s life by stealth; + Before the sacred altar made him bleed, + And long from her conceal’d the cruel deed. + Some tale, some new pretence, he daily coin’d, + To soothe his sister, and delude her mind. + At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears + Of her unhappy lord: the spectre stares, + And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares. + The cruel altars and his fate he tells, + And the dire secret of his house reveals, + Then warns the widow, with her household gods, + To seek a refuge in remote abodes. + Last, to support her in so long a way, + He shows her where his hidden treasure lay. + Admonish’d thus, and seiz’d with mortal fright, + The queen provides companions of her flight: + They meet, and all combine to leave the state, + Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate. + They seize a fleet, which ready rigg’d they find; + Nor is Pygmalion’s treasure left behind. + The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea + With prosp’rous winds; a woman leads the way. + I know not, if by stress of weather driv’n, + Or was their fatal course dispos’d by Heav’n; + At last they landed, where from far your eyes + May view the turrets of new Carthage rise; + There bought a space of ground, which Byrsa call’d, + From the bull’s hide, they first inclos’d, and wall’d. + But whence are you? what country claims your birth? + What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?” + + To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes, + And deeply sighing, thus her son replies: + “Could you with patience hear, or I relate, + O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate! + Thro’ such a train of woes if I should run, + The day would sooner than the tale be done! + From ancient Troy, by force expell’d, we came, + If you by chance have heard the Trojan name. + On various seas by various tempests toss’d, + At length we landed on your Libyan coast. + The good Aeneas am I call’d, a name, + While Fortune favour’d, not unknown to fame. + My household gods, companions of my woes, + With pious care I rescued from our foes. + To fruitful Italy my course was bent; + And from the King of Heav’n is my descent. + With twice ten sail I cross’d the Phrygian sea; + Fate and my mother goddess led my way. + Scarce sev’n, the thin remainders of my fleet, + From storms preserv’d, within your harbour meet. + Myself distress’d, an exile, and unknown, + Debarr’d from Europe, and from Asia thrown, + In Libyan deserts wander thus alone.” + + His tender parent could no longer bear; + But, interposing, sought to soothe his care. + “Whoe’er you are, not unbelov’d by Heav’n, + Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv’n: + Have courage: to the gods permit the rest, + And to the queen expose your just request. + Now take this earnest of success, for more: + Your scatter’d fleet is join’d upon the shore; + The winds are chang’d, your friends from danger free; + Or I renounce my skill in augury. + Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move, + And stoop with closing pinions from above; + Whom late the bird of Jove had driv’n along, + And thro’ the clouds pursued the scatt’ring throng: + Now, all united in a goodly team, + They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream. + As they, with joy returning, clap their wings, + And ride the circuit of the skies in rings; + Not otherwise your ships, and ev’ry friend, + Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend. + No more advice is needful; but pursue + The path before you, and the town in view.” + + Thus having said, she turn’d, and made appear + Her neck refulgent, and dishevel’d hair, + Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach’d the ground. + And widely spread ambrosial scents around: + In length of train descends her sweeping gown; + And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known. + The prince pursued the parting deity + With words like these: “Ah! whither do you fly? + Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son + In borrow’d shapes, and his embrace to shun; + Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown; + And still to speak in accents not your own.” + Against the goddess these complaints he made, + But took the path, and her commands obey’d. + They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds + With mists their persons, and involves in clouds, + That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay, + Or force to tell the causes of their way. + This part perform’d, the goddess flies sublime + To visit Paphos and her native clime; + Where garlands, ever green and ever fair, + With vows are offer’d, and with solemn pray’r: + A hundred altars in her temple smoke; + A thousand bleeding hearts her pow’r invoke. + + They climb the next ascent, and, looking down, + Now at a nearer distance view the town. + The prince with wonder sees the stately tow’rs, + Which late were huts and shepherds’ homely bow’rs, + The gates and streets; and hears, from ev’ry part, + The noise and busy concourse of the mart. + The toiling Tyrians on each other call + To ply their labour: some extend the wall; + Some build the citadel; the brawny throng + Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along. + Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground, + Which, first design’d, with ditches they surround. + Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice + Of holy senates, and elect by voice. + Here some design a mole, while others there + Lay deep foundations for a theatre; + From marble quarries mighty columns hew, + For ornaments of scenes, and future view. + Such is their toil, and such their busy pains, + As exercise the bees in flow’ry plains, + When winter past, and summer scarce begun, + Invites them forth to labour in the sun; + Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense + Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense; + Some at the gate stand ready to receive + The golden burthen, and their friends relieve; + All with united force, combine to drive + The lazy drones from the laborious hive: + With envy stung, they view each other’s deeds; + The fragrant work with diligence proceeds. + “Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!” + Aeneas said, and view’d, with lifted eyes, + Their lofty tow’rs; then, ent’ring at the gate, + Conceal’d in clouds (prodigious to relate) + He mix’d, unmark’d, among the busy throng, + Borne by the tide, and pass’d unseen along. + + Full in the centre of the town there stood, + Thick set with trees, a venerable wood. + The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground, + And digging here, a prosp’rous omen found: + From under earth a courser’s head they drew, + Their growth and future fortune to foreshew. + This fated sign their foundress Juno gave, + Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave. + Sidonian Dido here with solemn state + Did Juno’s temple build, and consecrate, + Enrich’d with gifts, and with a golden shrine; + But more the goddess made the place divine. + On brazen steps the marble threshold rose, + And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose: + The rafters are with brazen cov’rings crown’d; + The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound. + What first Aeneas in this place beheld, + Reviv’d his courage, and his fear expell’d. + For while, expecting there the queen, he rais’d + His wond’ring eyes, and round the temple gaz’d, + Admir’d the fortune of the rising town, + The striving artists, and their arts’ renown; + He saw, in order painted on the wall, + Whatever did unhappy Troy befall: + The wars that fame around the world had blown, + All to the life, and ev’ry leader known. + There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies, + And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies. + He stopp’d, and weeping said: “O friend! ev’n here + The monuments of Trojan woes appear! + Our known disasters fill ev’n foreign lands: + See there, where old unhappy Priam stands! + Ev’n the mute walls relate the warrior’s fame, + And Trojan griefs the Tyrians’ pity claim.” + He said, his tears a ready passage find, + Devouring what he saw so well design’d, + And with an empty picture fed his mind: + For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield, + And here the trembling Trojans quit the field, + Pursued by fierce Achilles thro’ the plain, + On his high chariot driving o’er the slain. + The tents of Rhesus next, his grief renew, + By their white sails betray’d to nightly view; + And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword + The sentries slew, nor spar’d their slumb’ring lord, + Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food + Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood. + Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied + Achilles, and unequal combat tried; + Then, where the boy disarm’d, with loosen’d reins, + Was by his horses hurried o’er the plains, + Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg’d around: + The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound, + With tracks of blood inscrib’d the dusty ground. + Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress’d with woe, + To Pallas’ fane in long procession go, + In hopes to reconcile their heav’nly foe. + They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair, + And rich embroider’d vests for presents bear; + But the stern goddess stands unmov’d with pray’r. + Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew + The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew. + Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold, + The lifeless body of his son is sold. + So sad an object, and so well express’d, + Drew sighs and groans from the griev’d hero’s breast, + To see the figure of his lifeless friend, + And his old sire his helpless hand extend. + Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train, + Mix’d in the bloody battle on the plain; + And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew, + His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew. + Penthisilea there, with haughty grace, + Leads to the wars an Amazonian race: + In their right hands a pointed dart they wield; + The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield. + Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws, + Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes, + And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose. + + Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes, + Fix’d on the walls with wonder and surprise, + The beauteous Dido, with a num’rous train + And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane. + Such on Eurotas’ banks, or Cynthus’ height, + Diana seems; and so she charms the sight, + When in the dance the graceful goddess leads + The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads: + Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien, + She walks majestic, and she looks their queen; + Latona sees her shine above the rest, + And feeds with secret joy her silent breast. + Such Dido was; with such becoming state, + Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great. + Their labour to her future sway she speeds, + And passing with a gracious glance proceeds; + Then mounts the throne, high plac’d before the shrine: + In crowds around, the swarming people join. + She takes petitions, and dispenses laws, + Hears and determines ev’ry private cause; + Their tasks in equal portions she divides, + And, where unequal, there by lots decides. + Another way by chance Aeneas bends + His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends, + Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong, + And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng, + Whom late the tempest on the billows toss’d, + And widely scatter’d on another coast. + The prince, unseen, surpris’d with wonder stands, + And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands; + But, doubtful of the wish’d event, he stays, + And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys, + Impatient till they told their present state, + And where they left their ships, and what their fate, + And why they came, and what was their request; + For these were sent, commission’d by the rest, + To sue for leave to land their sickly men, + And gain admission to the gracious queen. + Ent’ring, with cries they fill’d the holy fane; + Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began: + + “O Queen! indulg’d by favour of the gods + To found an empire in these new abodes, + To build a town, with statutes to restrain + The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign, + We wretched Trojans, toss’d on ev’ry shore, + From sea to sea, thy clemency implore. + Forbid the fires our shipping to deface! + Receive th’ unhappy fugitives to grace, + And spare the remnant of a pious race! + We come not with design of wasteful prey, + To drive the country, force the swains away: + Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire; + The vanquish’d dare not to such thoughts aspire. + A land there is, Hesperia nam’d of old; + The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold + Th’ Oenotrians held it once, by common fame + Now call’d Italia, from the leader’s name. + To that sweet region was our voyage bent, + When winds and ev’ry warring element + Disturb’d our course, and, far from sight of land, + Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand: + The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar, + Dispers’d and dash’d the rest upon the rocky shore. + Those few you see escap’d the storm, and fear, + Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here. + What men, what monsters, what inhuman race, + What laws, what barb’rous customs of the place, + Shut up a desert shore to drowning men, + And drive us to the cruel seas again? + If our hard fortune no compassion draws, + Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws, + The gods are just, and will revenge our cause. + Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord, + Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword; + Observant of the right, religious of his word. + If yet he lives, and draws this vital air, + Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair; + Nor you, great queen, these offices repent, + Which he will equal, and perhaps augment. + We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts, + Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts. + Permit our ships a shelter on your shores, + Refitted from your woods with planks and oars, + That, if our prince be safe, we may renew + Our destin’d course, and Italy pursue. + But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain + That thou art swallow’d in the Libyan main, + And if our young Iulus be no more, + Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore, + That we to good Acestes may return, + And with our friends our common losses mourn.” + Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew + With cries and clamours his request renew. + + The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes, + Ponder’d the speech; then briefly thus replies: + “Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate, + And doubts attending an unsettled state, + Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes. + Who has not heard the story of your woes, + The name and fortune of your native place, + The fame and valour of the Phrygian race? + We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense, + Nor so remote from Phoebus’ influence. + Whether to Latian shores your course is bent, + Or, driv’n by tempests from your first intent, + You seek the good Acestes’ government, + Your men shall be receiv’d, your fleet repair’d, + And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard: + Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow’rs + To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow’rs, + My wealth, my city, and myself are yours. + And would to Heav’n, the Storm, you felt, would bring + On Carthaginian coasts your wand’ring king. + My people shall, by my command, explore + The ports and creeks of ev’ry winding shore, + And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest + Of so renown’d and so desir’d a guest.” + + Rais’d in his mind the Trojan hero stood, + And long’d to break from out his ambient cloud: + Achates found it, and thus urg’d his way: + “From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay? + What more can you desire, your welcome sure, + Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure? + One only wants; and him we saw in vain + Oppose the Storm, and swallow’d in the main. + Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid; + The rest agrees with what your mother said.” + Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way, + The mists flew upward and dissolv’d in day. + + The Trojan chief appear’d in open sight, + August in visage, and serenely bright. + His mother goddess, with her hands divine, + Had form’d his curling locks, and made his temples shine, + And giv’n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace, + And breath’d a youthful vigour on his face; + Like polish’d ivory, beauteous to behold, + Or Parian marble, when enchas’d in gold: + Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke, + And thus with manly modesty he spoke: + + “He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss’d, + And sav’d from shipwreck on your Libyan coast; + Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne, + A prince that owes his life to you alone. + Fair majesty, the refuge and redress + Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress, + You, who your pious offices employ + To save the relics of abandon’d Troy; + Receive the shipwreck’d on your friendly shore, + With hospitable rites relieve the poor; + Associate in your town a wand’ring train, + And strangers in your palace entertain: + What thanks can wretched fugitives return, + Who, scatter’d thro’ the world, in exile mourn? + The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin’d; + If acts of mercy touch their heav’nly mind, + And, more than all the gods, your gen’rous heart. + Conscious of worth, requite its own desert! + In you this age is happy, and this earth, + And parents more than mortal gave you birth. + While rolling rivers into seas shall run, + And round the space of heav’n the radiant sun; + While trees the mountain tops with shades supply, + Your honour, name, and praise shall never die. + Whate’er abode my fortune has assign’d, + Your image shall be present in my mind.” + Thus having said, he turn’d with pious haste, + And joyful his expecting friends embrac’d: + With his right hand Ilioneus was grac’d, + Serestus with his left; then to his breast + Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press’d; + And so by turns descended to the rest. + + The Tyrian queen stood fix’d upon his face, + Pleas’d with his motions, ravish’d with his grace; + Admir’d his fortunes, more admir’d the man; + Then recollected stood, and thus began: + “What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow’rs + Have cast you shipwreck’d on our barren shores? + Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame, + Who from celestial seed your lineage claim? + + The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore + To fam’d Anchises on th’ Idaean shore? + It calls into my mind, tho’ then a child, + When Teucer came, from Salamis exil’d, + And sought my father’s aid, to be restor’d: + My father Belus then with fire and sword + Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare, + And, conqu’ring, finish’d the successful war. + From him the Trojan siege I understood, + The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood. + Your foe himself the Dardan valour prais’d, + And his own ancestry from Trojans rais’d. + Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find, + If not a costly welcome, yet a kind: + For I myself, like you, have been distress’d, + Till Heav’n afforded me this place of rest; + Like you, an alien in a land unknown, + I learn to pity woes so like my own.” + She said, and to the palace led her guest; + Then offer’d incense, and proclaim’d a feast. + Nor yet less careful for her absent friends, + Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends; + Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs, + With bleating cries, attend their milky dams; + And jars of gen’rous wine and spacious bowls + She gives, to cheer the sailors’ drooping souls. + Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls, + And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls: + On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine; + With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine, + And antique vases, all of gold emboss’d + (The gold itself inferior to the cost), + Of curious work, where on the sides were seen + The fights and figures of illustrious men, + From their first founder to the present queen. + + The good Aeneas, whose paternal care + Iulus’ absence could no longer bear, + Dispatch’d Achates to the ships in haste, + To give a glad relation of the past, + And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy, + Snatch’d from the ruins of unhappy Troy: + A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire; + An upper vest, once Helen’s rich attire, + From Argos by the fam’d adultress brought, + With golden flow’rs and winding foliage wrought, + Her mother Leda’s present, when she came + To ruin Troy and set the world on flame; + The scepter Priam’s eldest daughter bore, + Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore + Of double texture, glorious to behold, + One order set with gems, and one with gold. + Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes, + And in his diligence his duty shows. + + But Venus, anxious for her son’s affairs, + New counsels tries, and new designs prepares: + That Cupid should assume the shape and face + Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace; + Should bring the presents, in her nephew’s stead, + And in Eliza’s veins the gentle poison shed: + For much she fear’d the Tyrians, double-tongued, + And knew the town to Juno’s care belong’d. + These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke, + And thus alarm’d, to winged Love she spoke: + “My son, my strength, whose mighty pow’r alone + Controls the Thund’rer on his awful throne, + To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies, + And on thy succour and thy faith relies. + Thou know’st, my son, how Jove’s revengeful wife, + By force and fraud, attempts thy brother’s life; + And often hast thou mourn’d with me his pains. + Him Dido now with blandishment detains; + But I suspect the town where Juno reigns. + For this ’tis needful to prevent her art, + And fire with love the proud Phoenician’s heart: + A love so violent, so strong, so sure, + As neither age can change, nor art can cure. + How this may be perform’d, now take my mind: + Ascanius by his father is design’d + To come, with presents laden, from the port, + To gratify the queen, and gain the court. + I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep, + And, ravish’d, in Idalian bow’rs to keep, + Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit + May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat. + Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace + But only for a night’s revolving space: + Thyself a boy, assume a boy’s dissembled face; + That when, amidst the fervour of the feast, + The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast, + And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains, + Thou may’st infuse thy venom in her veins.” + The God of Love obeys, and sets aside + His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride; + He walks Iulus in his mother’s sight, + And in the sweet resemblance takes delight. + + The goddess then to young Ascanius flies, + And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes: + Lull’d in her lap, amidst a train of Loves, + She gently bears him to her blissful groves, + Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head, + And softly lays him on a flow’ry bed. + Cupid meantime assum’d his form and face, + Foll’wing Achates with a shorter pace, + And brought the gifts. The queen already sate + Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state, + High on a golden bed: her princely guest + Was next her side; in order sate the rest. + Then canisters with bread are heap’d on high; + Th’ attendants water for their hands supply, + And, having wash’d, with silken towels dry. + Next fifty handmaids in long order bore + The censers, and with fumes the gods adore: + Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join + To place the dishes, and to serve the wine. + The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast, + Approach, and on the painted couches rest. + All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze, + But view the beauteous boy with more amaze, + His rosy-colour’d cheeks, his radiant eyes, + His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god’s disguise; + Nor pass unprais’d the vest and veil divine, + Which wand’ring foliage and rich flow’rs entwine. + But, far above the rest, the royal dame, + (Already doom’d to love’s disastrous flame,) + With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy, + Beholds the presents, and admires the boy. + The guileful god about the hero long, + With children’s play, and false embraces, hung; + Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms + With greedy pleasure, and devour’d his charms. + Unhappy Dido little thought what guest, + How dire a god, she drew so near her breast; + But he, not mindless of his mother’s pray’r, + Works in the pliant bosom of the fair, + And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care. + The dead is to the living love resign’d; + And all Aeneas enters in her mind. + + Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas’d, + The meat remov’d, and ev’ry guest was pleas’d, + The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown’d, + And thro’ the palace cheerful cries resound. + From gilded roofs depending lamps display + Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day. + A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine, + The queen commanded to be crown’d with wine: + The bowl that Belus us’d, and all the Tyrian line. + Then, silence thro’ the hall proclaim’d, she spoke: + “O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke, + With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow’r; + Bless to both nations this auspicious hour! + So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line + In lasting concord from this day combine. + Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer, + And gracious Juno, both be present here! + And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address + To Heav’n with mine, to ratify the peace.” + The goblet then she took, with nectar crown’d + (Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,) + And rais’d it to her mouth with sober grace; + Then, sipping, offer’d to the next in place. + ’Twas Bitias whom she call’d, a thirsty soul; + He took the challenge, and embrac’d the bowl, + With pleasure swill’d the gold, nor ceas’d to draw, + Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw. + The goblet goes around: Iopas brought + His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught: + The various labours of the wand’ring moon, + And whence proceed th’ eclipses of the sun; + Th’ original of men and beasts; and whence + The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense, + And fix’d and erring stars dispose their influence; + What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays + The summer nights and shortens winter days. + With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song: + Those peals are echo’d by the Trojan throng. + Th’ unhappy queen with talk prolong’d the night, + And drank large draughts of love with vast delight; + Of Priam much enquir’d, of Hector more; + Then ask’d what arms the swarthy Memnon wore, + What troops he landed on the Trojan shore; + The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse, + And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force; + At length, as fate and her ill stars requir’d, + To hear the series of the war desir’d. + “Relate at large, my godlike guest,” she said, + “The Grecian stratagems, the town betray’d: + The fatal issue of so long a war, + Your flight, your wand’rings, and your woes, declare; + For, since on ev’ry sea, on ev’ry coast, + Your men have been distress’d, your navy toss’d, + Sev’n times the sun has either tropic view’d, + The winter banish’d, and the spring renew’d.” + + + + BOOK II + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Aeneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years’ + siege, by the treachery of Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden + horse. He declares the fixed resolution he had taken not to + survive the ruin of his country, and the various adventures he + met with in defence of it. At last, having been before advised by + Hector’s ghost, and now by the appearance of his mother Venus, he + is prevailed upon to leave the town, and settle his household + gods in another country. In order to this, he carries off his + father on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand, + his wife following behind. When he comes to the place appointed + for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of + people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to + him, and tells him the land which was designed for him. + + + All were attentive to the godlike man, + When from his lofty couch he thus began: + “Great queen, what you command me to relate + Renews the sad remembrance of our fate: + An empire from its old foundations rent, + And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent; + A peopled city made a desert place; + All that I saw, and part of which I was: + Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear, + Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. + And now the latter watch of wasting night, + And setting stars, to kindly rest invite; + But, since you take such int’rest in our woe, + And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know, + I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell + What in our last and fatal night befell. + + “By destiny compell’d, and in despair, + The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, + And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d, + Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: + The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made + For their return, and this the vow they paid. + Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side + Selected numbers of their soldiers hide: + With inward arms the dire machine they load, + And iron bowels stuff the dark abode. + In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle + (While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile) + Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay, + Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. + There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece + Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release. + The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long, + Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng, + Like swarming bees, and with delight survey + The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay: + The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d; + Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode; + Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode. + Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: + The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy. + Thymoetes first (’tis doubtful whether hir’d, + Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d) + Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down, + To lodge the monster fabric in the town. + But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind, + The fatal present to the flames designed, + Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore + The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore. + The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, + With noise say nothing, and in parts divide. + Laocoon, follow’d by a num’rous crowd, + Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud: + ‘O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns? + What more than madness has possess’d your brains? + Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone? + And are Ulysses’ arts no better known? + This hollow fabric either must inclose, + Within its blind recess, our secret foes; + Or ’tis an engine rais’d above the town, + T’ o’erlook the walls, and then to batter down. + Somewhat is sure design’d, by fraud or force: + Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.’ + Thus having said, against the steed he threw + His forceful spear, which, hissing as it flew, + Pierc’d thro’ the yielding planks of jointed wood, + And trembling in the hollow belly stood. + The sides, transpierc’d, return a rattling sound, + And groans of Greeks inclos’d come issuing thro’ the wound + And, had not Heav’n the fall of Troy design’d, + Or had not men been fated to be blind, + Enough was said and done t’inspire a better mind. + Then had our lances pierc’d the treach’rous wood, + And Ilian tow’rs and Priam’s empire stood. + Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring + A captive Greek, in bands, before the king; + Taken to take; who made himself their prey, + T’ impose on their belief, and Troy betray; + Fix’d on his aim, and obstinately bent + To die undaunted, or to circumvent. + About the captive, tides of Trojans flow; + All press to see, and some insult the foe. + Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis’d; + Behold a nation in a man compris’d. + Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm’d and bound; + He star’d, and roll’d his haggard eyes around, + Then said: ‘Alas! what earth remains, what sea + Is open to receive unhappy me? + What fate a wretched fugitive attends, + Scorn’d by my foes, abandon’d by my friends?’ + He said, and sigh’d, and cast a rueful eye: + Our pity kindles, and our passions die. + We cheer the youth to make his own defence, + And freely tell us what he was, and whence: + What news he could impart, we long to know, + And what to credit from a captive foe. + + “His fear at length dismiss’d, he said: ‘Whate’er + My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere: + I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim; + Greece is my country, Sinon is my name. + Tho’ plung’d by Fortune’s pow’r in misery, + ’Tis not in Fortune’s pow’r to make me lie. + If any chance has hither brought the name + Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame, + Who suffer’d from the malice of the times, + Accus’d and sentenc’d for pretended crimes, + Because these fatal wars he would prevent; + Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament; + Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare + Of other means, committed to his care, + His kinsman and companion in the war. + While Fortune favour’d, while his arms support + The cause, and rul’d the counsels, of the court, + I made some figure there; nor was my name + Obscure, nor I without my share of fame. + But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts, + Had made impression in the people’s hearts, + And forg’d a treason in my patron’s name + (I speak of things too far divulg’d by fame), + My kinsman fell. Then I, without support, + In private mourn’d his loss, and left the court. + Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate + With silent grief, but loudly blam’d the state, + And curs’d the direful author of my woes. + ’Twas told again; and hence my ruin rose. + I threaten’d, if indulgent Heav’n once more + Would land me safely on my native shore, + His death with double vengeance to restore. + This mov’d the murderer’s hate; and soon ensued + Th’ effects of malice from a man so proud. + Ambiguous rumours thro’ the camp he spread, + And sought, by treason, my devoted head; + New crimes invented; left unturn’d no stone, + To make my guilt appear, and hide his own; + Till Calchas was by force and threat’ning wrought: + But why—why dwell I on that anxious thought? + If on my nation just revenge you seek, + And ’tis t’ appear a foe, t’ appear a Greek; + Already you my name and country know; + Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow: + My death will both the kingly brothers please, + And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.’ + This fair unfinish’d tale, these broken starts, + Rais’d expectations in our longing hearts: + Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts. + His former trembling once again renew’d, + With acted fear, the villain thus pursued: + + “‘Long had the Grecians (tir’d with fruitless care, + And wearied with an unsuccessful war) + Resolv’d to raise the siege, and leave the town; + And, had the gods permitted, they had gone; + But oft the wintry seas and southern winds + Withstood their passage home, and chang’d their minds. + Portents and prodigies their souls amaz’d; + But most, when this stupendous pile was rais’d: + Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen, + And thunders rattled thro’ a sky serene. + Dismay’d, and fearful of some dire event, + Eurypylus t’ enquire their fate was sent. + He from the gods this dreadful answer brought: + + “O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought, + Your passage with a virgin’s blood was bought: + So must your safe return be bought again, + And Grecian blood once more atone the main.” + The spreading rumour round the people ran; + All fear’d, and each believ’d himself the man. + Ulysses took th’ advantage of their fright; + Call’d Calchas, and produc’d in open sight: + Then bade him name the wretch, ordain’d by fate + The public victim, to redeem the state. + Already some presag’d the dire event, + And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant. + For twice five days the good old seer withstood + Th’ intended treason, and was dumb to blood, + Till, tir’d, with endless clamours and pursuit + Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; + But, as it was agreed, pronounc’d that I + Was destin’d by the wrathful gods to die. + All prais’d the sentence, pleas’d the storm should fall + On one alone, whose fury threaten’d all. + The dismal day was come; the priests prepare + Their leaven’d cakes, and fillets for my hair. + I follow’d nature’s laws, and must avow + I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow. + Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay, + Secure of safety when they sail’d away. + But now what further hopes for me remain, + To see my friends, or native soil, again; + My tender infants, or my careful sire, + Whom they returning will to death require; + Will perpetrate on them their first design, + And take the forfeit of their heads for mine? + Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move, + If there be faith below, or gods above, + If innocence and truth can claim desert, + Ye Trojans, from an injur’d wretch avert.’ + + “False tears true pity move; the king commands + To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands: + Then adds these friendly words: ‘Dismiss thy fears; + Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs. + But truly tell, was it for force or guile, + Or some religious end, you rais’d the pile?’ + Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts, + This well-invented tale for truth imparts: + ‘Ye lamps of heav’n!’ he said, and lifted high + His hands now free, ‘thou venerable sky! + Inviolable pow’rs, ador’d with dread! + Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head! + Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled! + Be all of you adjur’d; and grant I may, + Without a crime, th’ ungrateful Greeks betray, + Reveal the secrets of the guilty state, + And justly punish whom I justly hate! + But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave, + If I, to save myself, your empire save. + The Grecian hopes, and all th’ attempts they made, + Were only founded on Minerva’s aid. + But from the time when impious Diomede, + And false Ulysses, that inventive head, + Her fatal image from the temple drew, + The sleeping guardians of the castle slew, + Her virgin statue with their bloody hands + Polluted, and profan’d her holy bands; + From thence the tide of fortune left their shore, + And ebb’d much faster than it flow’d before: + Their courage languish’d, as their hopes decay’d; + And Pallas, now averse, refus’d her aid. + Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare + Her alter’d mind and alienated care. + When first her fatal image touch’d the ground, + She sternly cast her glaring eyes around, + That sparkled as they roll’d, and seem’d to threat: + Her heav’nly limbs distill’d a briny sweat. + Thrice from the ground she leap’d, was seen to wield + Her brandish’d lance, and shake her horrid shield. + Then Calchas bade our host for flight + And hope no conquest from the tedious war, + Till first they sail’d for Greece; with pray’rs besought + Her injur’d pow’r, and better omens brought. + And now their navy plows the wat’ry main, + Yet soon expect it on your shores again, + With Pallas pleas’d; as Calchas did ordain. + But first, to reconcile the blue-ey’d maid + For her stol’n statue and her tow’r betray’d, + Warn’d by the seer, to her offended name + We rais’d and dedicate this wondrous frame, + So lofty, lest thro’ your forbidden gates + It pass, and intercept our better fates: + For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost; + And Troy may then a new Palladium boast; + For so religion and the gods ordain, + That, if you violate with hands profane + Minerva’s gift, your town in flames shall burn, + (Which omen, O ye gods, on Grecia turn!) + But if it climb, with your assisting hands, + The Trojan walls, and in the city stands; + Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn, + And the reverse of fate on us return.’ + + “With such deceits he gain’d their easy hearts, + Too prone to credit his perfidious arts. + What Diomede, nor Thetis’ greater son, + A thousand ships, nor ten years’ siege, had done: + False tears and fawning words the city won. + + “A greater omen, and of worse portent, + Did our unwary minds with fear torment, + Concurring to produce the dire event. + Laocoon, Neptune’s priest by lot that year, + With solemn pomp then sacrific’d a steer; + When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied + Two serpents, rank’d abreast, the seas divide, + And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide. + Their flaming crests above the waves they show; + Their bellies seem to burn the seas below; + Their speckled tails advance to steer their course, + And on the sounding shore the flying billows force. + And now the strand, and now the plain they held; + Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill’d; + Their nimble tongues they brandish’d as they came, + And lick’d their hissing jaws, that sputter’d flame. + We fled amaz’d; their destin’d way they take, + And to Laocoon and his children make; + And first around the tender boys they wind, + Then with their sharpen’d fangs their limbs and bodies grind. + The wretched father, running to their aid + With pious haste, but vain, they next invade; + Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll’d; + And twice about his gasping throat they fold. + The priest thus doubly chok’d, their crests divide, + And tow’ring o’er his head in triumph ride. + With both his hands he labours at the knots; + His holy fillets the blue venom blots; + His roaring fills the flitting air around. + Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound, + He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies, + And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies. + Their tasks perform’d, the serpents quit their prey, + And to the tow’r of Pallas make their way: + Couch’d at her feet, they lie protected there + By her large buckler and protended spear. + Amazement seizes all; the gen’ral cry + Proclaims Laocoon justly doom’d to die, + Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood, + And dared to violate the sacred wood. + All vote t’ admit the steed, that vows be paid + And incense offer’d to th’ offended maid. + A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare; + Some hoisting levers, some the wheels prepare + And fasten to the horse’s feet; the rest + With cables haul along th’ unwieldly beast. + Each on his fellow for assistance calls; + At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls, + Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown’d, + And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around. + Thus rais’d aloft, and then descending down, + It enters o’er our heads, and threats the town. + O sacred city, built by hands divine! + O valiant heroes of the Trojan line! + Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound + Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound. + Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate, + We haul along the horse in solemn state; + Then place the dire portent within the tow’r. + Cassandra cried, and curs’d th’ unhappy hour; + Foretold our fate; but, by the god’s decree, + All heard, and none believ’d the prophecy. + With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste, + In jollity, the day ordain’d to be the last. + Meantime the rapid heav’ns roll’d down the light, + And on the shaded ocean rush’d the night; + Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held, + But easy sleep their weary limbs compell’d. + The Grecians had embark’d their naval pow’rs + From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores, + Safe under covert of the silent night, + And guided by th’ imperial galley’s light; + When Sinon, favour’d by the partial gods, + Unlock’d the horse, and op’d his dark abodes; + Restor’d to vital air our hidden foes, + Who joyful from their long confinement rose. + Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide, + And dire Ulysses down the cable slide: + Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste; + Nor was the Podalirian hero last, + Nor injur’d Menelaus, nor the fam’d + Epeus, who the fatal engine fram’d. + A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join + T’ invade the town, oppress’d with sleep and wine. + Those few they find awake first meet their fate; + Then to their fellows they unbar the gate. + + “’Twas in the dead of night, when sleep repairs + Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares, + When Hector’s ghost before my sight appears: + A bloody shroud he seem’d, and bath’d in tears; + Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain, + Thessalian coursers dragg’d him o’er the plain. + Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust + Thro’ the bor’d holes; his body black with dust; + Unlike that Hector who return’d from toils + Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils, + Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire, + And launch’d against their navy Phrygian fire. + His hair and beard stood stiffen’d with his gore; + And all the wounds he for his country bore + Now stream’d afresh, and with new purple ran. + I wept to see the visionary man, + And, while my trance continued, thus began: + ‘O light of Trojans, and support of Troy, + Thy father’s champion, and thy country’s joy! + O, long expected by thy friends! from whence + Art thou so late return’d for our defence? + Do we behold thee, wearied as we are + With length of labours, and with toils of war? + After so many fun’rals of thy own + Art thou restor’d to thy declining town? + But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace + Deforms the manly features of thy face?’ + + “To this the spectre no reply did frame, + But answer’d to the cause for which he came, + And, groaning from the bottom of his breast, + This warning in these mournful words express’d: + ‘O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight, + The flames and horrors of this fatal night. + The foes already have possess’d the wall; + Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall. + Enough is paid to Priam’s royal name, + More than enough to duty and to fame. + If by a mortal hand my father’s throne + Could be defended, ’twas by mine alone. + Now Troy to thee commends her future state, + And gives her gods companions of thy fate: + From their assistance walls expect, + Which, wand’ring long, at last thou shalt erect.’ + He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes, + The venerable statues of the gods, + With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir, + The wreaths and relics of th’ immortal fire. + + “Now peals of shouts come thund’ring from afar, + Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war: + The noise approaches, tho’ our palace stood + Aloof from streets, encompass’d with a wood. + Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th’ alarms + Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms. + Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay, + But mount the terrace, thence the town survey, + And hearken what the frightful sounds convey. + Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne, + Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn; + Or deluges, descending on the plains, + Sweep o’er the yellow ear, destroy the pains + Of lab’ring oxen and the peasant’s gains; + Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away + Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish’d prey: + The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far + The wasteful ravage of the wat’ry war. + Then Hector’s faith was manifestly clear’d, + And Grecian frauds in open light appear’d. + The palace of Deiphobus ascends + In smoky flames, and catches on his friends. + Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright + With splendour not their own, and shine with Trojan light. + New clamours and new clangours now arise, + The sound of trumpets mix’d with fighting cries. + With frenzy seiz’d, I run to meet th’ alarms, + Resolv’d on death, resolv’d to die in arms, + But first to gather friends, with them t’ oppose + If fortune favour’d, and repel the foes; + Spurr’d by my courage, by my country fir’d, + With sense of honour and revenge inspir’d. + + “Pantheus, Apollo’s priest, a sacred name, + Had scap’d the Grecian swords, and pass’d the flame: + With relics loaden, to my doors he fled, + And by the hand his tender grandson led. + ‘What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run? + Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?’ + Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan: + ‘Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town! + The fatal day, th’ appointed hour, is come, + When wrathful Jove’s irrevocable doom + Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands. + The fire consumes the town, the foe commands; + And armed hosts, an unexpected force, + Break from the bowels of the fatal horse. + Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about + The flames; and foes for entrance press without, + With thousand others, whom I fear to name, + More than from Argos or Mycenae came. + To sev’ral posts their parties they divide; + Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide: + The bold they kill, th’ unwary they surprise; + Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies. + The warders of the gate but scarce maintain + Th’ unequal combat, and resist in vain.’ + + “I heard; and Heav’n, that well-born souls inspires, + Prompts me thro’ lifted swords and rising fires + To run where clashing arms and clamour calls, + And rush undaunted to defend the walls. + Ripheus and Iph’itas by my side engage, + For valour one renown’d, and one for age. + Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew + My motions and my mien, and to my party drew; + With young Coroebus, who by love was led + To win renown and fair Cassandra’s bed, + And lately brought his troops to Priam’s aid, + Forewarn’d in vain by the prophetic maid. + Whom when I saw resolv’d in arms to fall, + And that one spirit animated all: + ‘Brave souls!’ said I, ‘but brave, alas! in vain: + Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain. + You see the desp’rate state of our affairs, + And heav’n’s protecting pow’rs are deaf to pray’rs. + The passive gods behold the Greeks defile + Their temples, and abandon to the spoil + Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire + To save a sinking town, involv’d in fire. + Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes: + Despair of life the means of living shows.’ + So bold a speech incourag’d their desire + Of death, and added fuel to their fire. + + “As hungry wolves, with raging appetite, + Scour thro’ the fields, nor fear the stormy night; + Their whelps at home expect the promis’d food, + And long to temper their dry chaps in blood: + So rush’d we forth at once; resolv’d to die, + Resolv’d, in death, the last extremes to try. + We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare + Th’ unequal combat in the public square: + Night was our friend; our leader was despair. + What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night? + What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright? + An ancient and imperial city falls: + The streets are fill’d with frequent funerals; + Houses and holy temples float in blood, + And hostile nations make a common flood. + Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn, + The vanquish’d triumph, and the victors mourn. + Ours take new courage from despair and night: + Confus’d the fortune is, confus’d the fight. + All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears; + And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears. + Androgeos fell among us, with his band, + Who thought us Grecians newly come to land. + ‘From whence,’ said he, ‘my friends, this long delay? + You loiter, while the spoils are borne away: + Our ships are laden with the Trojan store; + And you, like truants, come too late ashore.’ + He said, but soon corrected his mistake, + Found, by the doubtful answers which we make: + Amaz’d, he would have shunn’d th’ unequal fight; + But we, more num’rous, intercept his flight. + As when some peasant, in a bushy brake, + Has with unwary footing press’d a snake; + He starts aside, astonish’d, when he spies + His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes; + So from our arms surpris’d Androgeos flies. + In vain; for him and his we compass’d round, + Possess’d with fear, unknowing of the ground, + And of their lives an easy conquest found. + Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil’d. + Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil’d, + Swoln with success, and a daring mind, + This new invention fatally design’d. + ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘since Fortune shows the way, + ’Tis fit we should th’ auspicious guide obey. + For what has she these Grecian arms bestow’d, + But their destruction, and the Trojans’ good? + Then change we shields, and their devices bear: + Let fraud supply the want of force in war. + They find us arms.’ This said, himself he dress’d + In dead Androgeos’ spoils, his upper vest, + His painted buckler, and his plumy crest. + Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train, + Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain. + Mix’d with the Greeks, we go with ill presage, + Flatter’d with hopes to glut our greedy rage; + Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet, + And strew with Grecian carcasses the street. + Thus while their straggling parties we defeat, + Some to the shore and safer ships retreat; + And some, oppress’d with more ignoble fear, + Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there. + + “But, ah! what use of valour can be made, + When heav’n’s propitious pow’rs refuse their aid! + Behold the royal prophetess, the fair + Cassandra, dragg’d by her dishevel’d hair, + Whom not Minerva’s shrine, nor sacred bands, + In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands: + On heav’n she cast her eyes, she sigh’d, she cried, + (’Twas all she could) her tender arms were tied. + So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear; + But, fir’d with rage, distracted with despair, + Amid the barb’rous ravishers he flew: + Our leader’s rash example we pursue. + But storms of stones, from the proud temple’s height, + Pour down, and on our batter’d helms alight: + We from our friends receiv’d this fatal blow, + Who thought us Grecians, as we seem’d in show. + They aim at the mistaken crests, from high; + And ours beneath the pond’rous ruin lie. + Then, mov’d with anger and disdain, to see + Their troops dispers’d, the royal virgin free, + The Grecians rally, and their pow’rs unite, + With fury charge us, and renew the fight. + The brother kings with Ajax join their force, + And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse. + + “Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try, + Contending for the kingdom of the sky, + South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne; + The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn: + Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise, + And, mix’d with ooze and sand, pollute the skies. + The troops we squander’d first again appear + From several quarters, and enclose the rear. + They first observe, and to the rest betray, + Our diff’rent speech; our borrow’d arms survey. + Oppress’d with odds, we fall; Coroebus first, + At Pallas’ altar, by Peneleus pierc’d. + Then Ripheus follow’d, in th’ unequal fight; + Just of his word, observant of the right: + Heav’n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends, + With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends. + Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy mitre, nor the bands + Of awful Phoebus, sav’d from impious hands. + Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear, + What I perform’d, and what I suffer’d there; + No sword avoiding in the fatal strife, + Expos’d to death, and prodigal of life; + Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault: + I strove to have deserv’d the death I sought. + But, when I could not fight, and would have died, + Borne off to distance by the growing tide, + Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence, + With Pelias wounded, and without defence. + New clamours from th’ invested palace ring: + We run to die, or disengage the king. + So hot th’ assault, so high the tumult rose, + While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose + As all the Dardan and Argolic race + Had been contracted in that narrow space; + Or as all Ilium else were void of fear, + And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there. + Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes, + Secure advancing, to the turrets rose: + Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold, + Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold; + Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th’ ascent, + While with their right they seize the battlement. + From their demolish’d tow’rs the Trojans throw + Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe; + And heavy beams and rafters from the sides + (Such arms their last necessity provides) + And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high, + The marks of state and ancient royalty. + The guards below, fix’d in the pass, attend + The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. + Renew’d in courage with recover’d breath, + A second time we ran to tempt our death, + To clear the palace from the foe, succeed + The weary living, and revenge the dead. + + “A postern door, yet unobserv’d and free, + Join’d by the length of a blind gallery, + To the king’s closet led: a way well known + To Hector’s wife, while Priam held the throne, + Thro’ which she brought Astyanax, unseen, + To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire’s queen. + Thro’ this we pass, and mount the tow’r, from whence + With unavailing arms the Trojans make defence. + From this the trembling king had oft descried + The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride. + Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew, + Then, wrenching with our hands, th’ assault renew; + And, where the rafters on the columns meet, + We push them headlong with our arms and feet. + The lightning flies not swifter than the fall, + Nor thunder louder than the ruin’d wall: + Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath + Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death. + Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent; + We cease not from above, nor they below relent. + Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat’ning loud, + With glitt’ring arms conspicuous in the crowd. + So shines, renew’d in youth, the crested snake, + Who slept the winter in a thorny brake, + And, casting off his slough when spring returns, + Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns; + Restor’d with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides + Reflect the sun; and rais’d on spires he rides; + High o’er the grass, hissing he rolls along, + And brandishes by fits his forky tongue. + Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon, + His father’s charioteer, together run + To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry + Rush on in crowds, and the barr’d passage free. + Ent’ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend; + And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend. + Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows, + And with his ax repeated strokes bestows + On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply, + Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly. + He hews apace; the double bars at length + Yield to his ax and unresisted strength. + A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal’d + Appear, and all the palace is reveal’d; + The halls of audience, and of public state, + And where the lonely queen in secret sate. + Arm’d soldiers now by trembling maids are seen, + With not a door, and scarce a space, between. + The house is fill’d with loud laments and cries, + And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies; + The fearful matrons run from place to place, + And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace. + The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies, + And all his father sparkles in his eyes; + Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain: + The bars are broken, and the guards are slain. + In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill; + Those few defendants whom they find, they kill. + Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood + Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood; + Bears down the dams with unresisted sway, + And sweeps the cattle and the cots away. + These eyes beheld him when he march’d between + The brother kings: I saw th’ unhappy queen, + The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood, + To stain his hallow’d altar with his brood. + The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he, + So large a promise, of a progeny), + The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils, + Fell the reward of the proud victor’s toils. + Where’er the raging fire had left a space, + The Grecians enter and possess the place. + + “Perhaps you may of Priam’s fate enquire. + He, when he saw his regal town on fire, + His ruin’d palace, and his ent’ring foes, + On ev’ry side inevitable woes, + In arms, disus’d, invests his limbs, decay’d, + Like them, with age; a late and useless aid. + His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain; + Loaded, not arm’d, he creeps along with pain, + Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain! + Uncover’d but by heav’n, there stood in view + An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew, + Dodder’d with age, whose boughs encompass round + The household gods, and shade the holy ground. + Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train + Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain. + Driv’n like a flock of doves along the sky, + Their images they hug, and to their altars fly. + The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord, + And hanging by his side a heavy sword, + ‘What rage,’ she cried, ‘has seiz’d my husband’s mind? + What arms are these, and to what use design’d? + These times want other aids! Were Hector here, + Ev’n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear. + With us, one common shelter thou shalt find, + Or in one common fate with us be join’d.’ + She said, and with a last salute embrac’d + The poor old man, and by the laurel plac’d. + Behold! Polites, one of Priam’s sons, + Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs. + Thro’ swords and foes, amaz’d and hurt, he flies + Thro’ empty courts and open galleries. + Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues, + And often reaches, and his thrusts renews. + The youth, transfix’d, with lamentable cries, + Expires before his wretched parent’s eyes: + Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw, + The fear of death gave place to nature’s law; + And, shaking more with anger than with age, + ‘The gods,’ said he, ‘requite thy brutal rage! + As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must, + If there be gods in heav’n, and gods be just: + Who tak’st in wrongs an insolent delight; + With a son’s death t’ infect a father’s sight. + Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire + To call thee his; not he, thy vaunted sire, + Thus us’d my wretched age: the gods he fear’d, + The laws of nature and of nations heard. + He cheer’d my sorrows, and, for sums of gold, + The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold; + Pitied the woes a parent underwent, + And sent me back in safety from his tent.’ + + “This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw, + Which, flutt’ring, seem’d to loiter as it flew: + Just, and but barely, to the mark it held, + And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield. + + “Then Pyrrhus thus: ‘Go thou from me to fate, + And to my father my foul deeds relate. + Now die!’ With that he dragg’d the trembling sire, + Slidd’ring thro’ clotter’d blood and holy mire, + (The mingled paste his murder’d son had made,) + Haul’d from beneath the violated shade, + And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid. + His right hand held his bloody falchion bare, + His left he twisted in his hoary hair; + Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found: + The lukewarm blood came rushing thro’ the wound, + And sanguine streams distain’d the sacred ground. + Thus Priam fell, and shar’d one common fate + With Troy in ashes, and his ruin’d state: + He, who the scepter of all Asia sway’d, + Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey’d. + On the bleak shore now lies th’ abandon’d king, + A headless carcass, and a nameless thing. + + “Then, not before, I felt my curdled blood + Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood: + My father’s image fill’d my pious mind, + Lest equal years might equal fortune find. + Again I thought on my forsaken wife, + And trembled for my son’s abandon’d life. + I look’d about, but found myself alone, + Deserted at my need! My friends were gone. + Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress’d, + Leap’d headlong from the heights; the flames consum’d the rest. + Thus, wand’ring in my way, without a guide, + The graceless Helen in the porch I spied + Of Vesta’s temple; there she lurk’d alone; + Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown: + But, by the flames that cast their blaze around, + That common bane of Greece and Troy I found. + For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword; + More dreads the vengeance of her injur’d lord; + Ev’n by those gods who refug’d her abhorr’d. + Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard, + Resolv’d to give her guilt the due reward: + ‘Shall she triumphant sail before the wind, + And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind? + Shall she her kingdom and her friends review, + In state attended with a captive crew, + While unreveng’d the good old Priam falls, + And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls? + For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood + Were swell’d with bodies, and were drunk with blood? + ’Tis true, a soldier can small honour gain, + And boast no conquest, from a woman slain: + Yet shall the fact not pass without applause, + Of vengeance taken in so just a cause; + The punish’d crime shall set my soul at ease, + And murm’ring manes of my friends appease.’ + Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light + Spread o’er the place; and, shining heav’nly bright, + My mother stood reveal’d before my sight + Never so radiant did her eyes appear; + Not her own star confess’d a light so clear: + Great in her charms, as when on gods above + She looks, and breathes herself into their love. + She held my hand, the destin’d blow to break; + Then from her rosy lips began to speak: + ‘My son, from whence this madness, this neglect + Of my commands, and those whom I protect? + Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind + Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind. + Look if your helpless father yet survive, + Or if Ascanius or Creusa live. + Around your house the greedy Grecians err; + And these had perish’d in the nightly war, + But for my presence and protecting care. + Not Helen’s face, nor Paris, was in fault; + But by the gods was this destruction brought. + Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve + The mists and films that mortal eyes involve, + Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see + The shape of each avenging deity. + Enlighten’d thus, my just commands fulfil, + Nor fear obedience to your mother’s will. + Where yon disorder’d heap of ruin lies, + Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise, + Amid that smother Neptune holds his place, + Below the wall’s foundation drives his mace, + And heaves the building from the solid base. + Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands + Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands, + Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands. + See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud, + Bestrides the tow’r, refulgent thro’ the cloud: + See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies, + And arms against the town the partial deities. + Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labour end: + Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend: + Haste; and a mother’s care your passage shall befriend.’ + She said, and swiftly vanish’d from my sight, + Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night. + I look’d, I listen’d; dreadful sounds I hear; + And the dire forms of hostile gods appear. + Troy sunk in flames I saw, nor could prevent; + And Ilium from its old foundations rent; + Rent like a mountain ash, which dar’d the winds, + And stood the sturdy strokes of lab’ring hinds. + About the roots the cruel ax resounds; + The stumps are pierc’d with oft-repeated wounds: + The war is felt on high; the nodding crown + Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down. + To their united force it yields, tho’ late, + And mourns with mortal groans th’ approaching fate: + The roots no more their upper load sustain; + But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro’ the plain. + + “Descending thence, I scape thro’ foes and fire: + Before the goddess, foes and flames retire. + Arriv’d at home, he, for whose only sake, + Or most for his, such toils I undertake, + The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight, + I purpos’d to secure on Ida’s height, + Refus’d the journey, resolute to die + And add his fun’rals to the fate of Troy, + Rather than exile and old age sustain. + ‘Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev’ry vein. + Had Heav’n decreed that I should life enjoy, + Heav’n had decreed to save unhappy Troy. + ’Tis, sure, enough, if not too much, for one, + Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown. + Make haste to save the poor remaining crew, + And give this useless corpse a long adieu. + These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath; + At least the pitying foes will aid my death, + To take my spoils, and leave my body bare: + As for my sepulcher, let Heav’n take care. + ’Tis long since I, for my celestial wife + Loath’d by the gods, have dragg’d a ling’ring life; + Since ev’ry hour and moment I expire, + Blasted from heav’n by Jove’s avenging fire.’ + This oft repeated, he stood fix’d to die: + Myself, my wife, my son, my family, + Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry. + ‘What, will he still persist, on death resolve, + And in his ruin all his house involve!’ + He still persists his reasons to maintain; + Our pray’rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain. + + “Urg’d by despair, again I go to try + The fate of arms, resolv’d in fight to die: + ‘What hope remains, but what my death must give? + Can I, without so dear a father, live? + You term it prudence, what I baseness call: + Could such a word from such a parent fall? + If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain, + That nothing should of ruin’d Troy remain, + And you conspire with Fortune to be slain, + The way to death is wide, th’ approaches near: + For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear, + Reeking with Priam’s blood: the wretch who slew + The son (inhuman) in the father’s view, + And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew. + O goddess mother, give me back to Fate; + Your gift was undesir’d, and came too late! + Did you, for this, unhappy me convey + Thro’ foes and fires, to see my house a prey? + Shall I my father, wife, and son behold, + Welt’ring in blood, each other’s arms infold? + Haste! gird my sword, tho’ spent and overcome: + ’Tis the last summons to receive our doom. + I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call! + Not unreveng’d the foe shall see my fall. + Restore me to the yet unfinish’d fight: + My death is wanting to conclude the night.’ + Arm’d once again, my glitt’ring sword I wield, + While th’ other hand sustains my weighty shield, + And forth I rush to seek th’ abandon’d field. + I went; but sad Creusa stopp’d my way, + And cross the threshold in my passage lay, + Embrac’d my knees, and, when I would have gone, + Shew’d me my feeble sire and tender son: + ‘If death be your design, at least,’ said she, + ‘Take us along to share your destiny. + If any farther hopes in arms remain, + This place, these pledges of your love, maintain. + To whom do you expose your father’s life, + Your son’s, and mine, your now forgotten wife!’ + While thus she fills the house with clam’rous cries, + Our hearing is diverted by our eyes: + For, while I held my son, in the short space + Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace; + Strange to relate, from young Iulus’ head + A lambent flame arose, which gently spread + Around his brows, and on his temples fed. + Amaz’d, with running water we prepare + To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair; + But old Anchises, vers’d in omens, rear’d + His hands to heav’n, and this request preferr’d: + ‘If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend + Thy will; if piety can pray’rs commend, + Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas’d to send.’ + Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear + A peal of rattling thunder roll in air: + There shot a streaming lamp along the sky, + Which on the winged lightning seem’d to fly; + From o’er the roof the blaze began to move, + And, trailing, vanish’d in th’ Idaean grove. + It swept a path in heav’n, and shone a guide, + Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died. + + “The good old man with suppliant hands implor’d + The gods’ protection, and their star ador’d. + ‘Now, now,’ said he, ‘my son, no more delay! + I yield, I follow where Heav’n shews the way. + Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place, + And guard this relic of the Trojan race, + This tender child! These omens are your own, + And you can yet restore the ruin’d town. + At least accomplish what your signs foreshow: + I stand resign’d, and am prepar’d to go.’ + + “He said. The crackling flames appear on high. + And driving sparkles dance along the sky. + With Vulcan’s rage the rising winds conspire, + And near our palace roll the flood of fire. + ‘Haste, my dear father, (’tis no time to wait,) + And load my shoulders with a willing freight. + Whate’er befalls, your life shall be my care; + One death, or one deliv’rance, we will share. + My hand shall lead our little son; and you, + My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue. + Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands: + Without the walls a ruin’d temple stands, + To Ceres hallow’d once; a cypress nigh + Shoots up her venerable head on high, + By long religion kept; there bend your feet, + And in divided parties let us meet. + Our country gods, the relics, and the bands, + Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands: + In me ’tis impious holy things to bear, + Red as I am with slaughter, new from war, + Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt + Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.’ + Thus, ord’ring all that prudence could provide, + I clothe my shoulders with a lion’s hide + And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back, + The welcome load of my dear father take; + While on my better hand Ascanius hung, + And with unequal paces tripp’d along. + Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray + Thro’ ev’ry dark and ev’ry devious way. + I, who so bold and dauntless just before, + The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore, + At ev’ry shadow now am seiz’d with fear, + Not for myself, but for the charge I bear; + Till, near the ruin’d gate arriv’d at last, + Secure, and deeming all the danger past, + A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear. + My father, looking thro’ the shades, with fear, + Cried out: ‘Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh; + Their swords and shining armour I descry.’ + Some hostile god, for some unknown offence, + Had sure bereft my mind of better sense; + For, while thro’ winding ways I took my flight, + And sought the shelter of the gloomy night, + Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell + If by her fatal destiny she fell, + Or weary sate, or wander’d with affright; + But she was lost for ever to my sight. + I knew not, or reflected, till I meet + My friends, at Ceres’ now deserted seat. + We met: not one was wanting; only she + Deceiv’d her friends, her son, and wretched me. + + “What mad expressions did my tongue refuse! + Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse! + This was the fatal blow, that pain’d me more + Than all I felt from ruin’d Troy before. + Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, + Abandoning my now forgotten care, + Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, + My sire, my son, my country gods I left. + In shining armour once again I sheathe + My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death. + Then headlong to the burning walls I run, + And seek the danger I was forc’d to shun. + I tread my former tracks; thro’ night explore + Each passage, ev’ry street I cross’d before. + All things were full of horror and affright, + And dreadful ev’n the silence of the night. + Then to my father’s house I make repair, + With some small glimpse of hope to find her there. + Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met; + The house was fill’d with foes, with flames beset. + Driv’n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire, + Thro’ air transported, to the roofs aspire. + From thence to Priam’s palace I resort, + And search the citadel and desert court. + Then, unobserv’d, I pass by Juno’s church: + A guard of Grecians had possess’d the porch; + There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey, + And thither all the wealth of Troy convey: + The spoils which they from ransack’d houses brought, + And golden bowls from burning altars caught, + The tables of the gods, the purple vests, + The people’s treasure, and the pomp of priests. + A rank of wretched youths, with pinion’d hands, + And captive matrons, in long order stands. + Then, with ungovern’d madness, I proclaim, + Thro’ all the silent street, Creusa’s name: + Creusa still I call; at length she hears, + And sudden thro’ the shades of night appears. + Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife, + But a pale spectre, larger than the life. + Aghast, astonish’d, and struck dumb with fear, + I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen’d hair. + Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief + ‘Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief. + Desist, my much-lov’d lord, t’ indulge your pain; + You bear no more than what the gods ordain. + My fates permit me not from hence to fly; + Nor he, the great controller of the sky. + Long wand’ring ways for you the pow’rs decree; + On land hard labours, and a length of sea. + Then, after many painful years are past, + On Latium’s happy shore you shall be cast, + Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds + The flow’ry meadows, and the feeding folds. + There end your toils; and there your fates provide + A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: + There fortune shall the Trojan line restore, + And you for lost Creusa weep no more. + Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame, + Th’ imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame; + Or, stooping to the victor’s lust, disgrace + My goddess mother, or my royal race. + And now, farewell! The parent of the gods + Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes: + I trust our common issue to your care.’ + She said, and gliding pass’d unseen in air. + I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue; + And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, + And, thrice deceiv’d, on vain embraces hung. + Light as an empty dream at break of day, + Or as a blast of wind, she rush’d away. + + “Thus having pass’d the night in fruitless pain, + I to my longing friends return again, + Amaz’d th’ augmented number to behold, + Of men and matrons mix’d, of young and old; + A wretched exil’d crew together brought, + With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught, + Resolv’d, and willing, under my command, + To run all hazards both of sea and land. + The Morn began, from Ida, to display + Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day: + Before the gates the Grecians took their post, + And all pretence of late relief was lost. + I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire, + And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.” + + + + BOOK III + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Aeneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet + with which he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to + Thrace. From thence he directs his course to Delos and asks the + oracle what place the gods had appointed for his habitation. By a + mistake of the oracle’s answer, he settles in Crete. His + household gods give him the true sense of the oracle in a dream. + He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy. + He is cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising + adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily, where his father + Anchises dies. This is the place which he was sailing from, when + the tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coast. + + + When Heav’n had overturn’d the Trojan state + And Priam’s throne, by too severe a fate; + When ruin’d Troy became the Grecians’ prey, + And Ilium’s lofty tow’rs in ashes lay; + Warn’d by celestial omens, we retreat, + To seek in foreign lands a happier seat. + Near old Antandros, and at Ida’s foot, + The timber of the sacred groves we cut, + And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find + What place the gods for our repose assign’d. + Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring + Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing, + When old Anchises summon’d all to sea: + The crew my father and the Fates obey. + With sighs and tears I leave my native shore, + And empty fields, where Ilium stood before. + My sire, my son, our less and greater gods, + All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods. + + “Against our coast appears a spacious land, + Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command, + Thracia the name; the people bold in war; + Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care, + A hospitable realm while Fate was kind, + With Troy in friendship and religion join’d. + I land; with luckless omens, then adore + Their gods, and draw a line along the shore; + I lay the deep foundations of a wall, + And Aenos, nam’d from me, the city call. + To Dionaean Venus vows are paid, + And all the pow’rs that rising labours aid; + A bull on Jove’s imperial altar laid. + Not far, a rising hillock stood in view; + Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew. + There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes, + And shade our altar with their leafy greens, + I pull’d a plant; with horror I relate + A prodigy so strange and full of fate. + The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound + Black bloody drops distill’d upon the ground. + Mute and amaz’d, my hair with terror stood; + Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal’d my blood. + Mann’d once again, another plant I try: + That other gush’d with the same sanguine dye. + Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown, + With pray’rs and vows the Dryads I atone, + With all the sisters of the woods, and most + The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast, + That they, or he, these omens would avert, + Release our fears, and better signs impart. + Clear’d, as I thought, and fully fix’d at length + To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength: + I bent my knees against the ground; once more + The violated myrtle ran with gore. + Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb + Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb, + A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew’d + My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued: + ‘Why dost thou thus my buried body rend? + O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend! + Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood: + The tears distil not from the wounded wood; + But ev’ry drop this living tree contains + Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins. + O fly from this unhospitable shore, + Warn’d by my fate; for I am Polydore! + Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued, + Again shoot upward, by my blood renew’d.’ + + “My falt’ring tongue and shiv’ring limbs declare + My horror, and in bristles rose my hair. + When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent, + Old Priam, fearful of the war’s event, + This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent: + Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far + From noise and tumults, and destructive war, + Committed to the faithless tyrant’s care; + Who, when he saw the pow’r of Troy decline, + Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join; + Broke ev’ry bond of nature and of truth, + And murder’d, for his wealth, the royal youth. + O sacred hunger of pernicious gold! + What bands of faith can impious lucre hold? + Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears, + I call my father and the Trojan peers; + Relate the prodigies of Heav’n, require + What he commands, and their advice desire. + All vote to leave that execrable shore, + Polluted with the blood of Polydore; + But, ere we sail, his fun’ral rites prepare, + Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear. + In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round, + With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown’d, + With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound. + Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour, + And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore. + + “Now, when the raging storms no longer reign, + But southern gales invite us to the main, + We launch our vessels, with a prosp’rous wind, + And leave the cities and the shores behind. + + “An island in th’ Aegaean main appears; + Neptune and wat’ry Doris claim it theirs. + It floated once, till Phoebus fix’d the sides + To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides. + Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore, + With needful ease our weary limbs restore, + And the Sun’s temple and his town adore. + + “Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown’d, + His hoary locks with purple fillets bound, + Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend, + Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend; + Invites him to his palace; and, in sign + Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join. + Then to the temple of the god I went, + And thus, before the shrine, my vows present: + ‘Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place + To the sad relics of the Trojan race; + A seat secure, a region of their own, + A lasting empire, and a happier town. + Where shall we fix? where shall our labours end? + Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend? + Let not my pray’rs a doubtful answer find; + But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.’ + Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground, + The laurels, and the lofty hills around; + And from the tripos rush’d a bellowing sound. + Prostrate we fell; confess’d the present god, + Who gave this answer from his dark abode: + ‘Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth + From which your ancestors derive their birth. + The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race + In her old bosom shall again embrace. + Through the wide world th’ Aeneian house shall reign, + And children’s children shall the crown sustain.’ + Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose: + A mighty tumult, mix’d with joy, arose. + + “All are concern’d to know what place the god + Assign’d, and where determin’d our abode. + My father, long revolving in his mind + The race and lineage of the Trojan kind, + Thus answer’d their demands: ‘Ye princes, hear + Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear. + The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame, + Sacred of old to Jove’s imperial name, + In the mid ocean lies, with large command, + And on its plains a hundred cities stand. + Another Ida rises there, and we + From thence derive our Trojan ancestry. + From thence, as ’tis divulg’d by certain fame, + To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came; + There fix’d, and there the seat of empire chose, + Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow’rs arose. + In humble vales they built their soft abodes, + Till Cybele, the mother of the gods, + With tinkling cymbals charm’d th’ Idaean woods, + She secret rites and ceremonies taught, + And to the yoke the savage lions brought. + Let us the land which Heav’n appoints, explore; + Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore. + If Jove assists the passage of our fleet, + The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.’ + Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid + On smoking altars, to the gods he paid: + A bull, to Neptune an oblation due, + Another bull to bright Apollo slew; + A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please, + And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas. + Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread + That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled, + Expell’d and exil’d; that the coast was free + From foreign or domestic enemy. + + “We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea. + By Naxos, fam’d for vintage, make our way; + Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight + Of Paros’ isle, with marble quarries white. + We pass the scatter’d isles of Cyclades, + That, scarce distinguish’d, seem to stud the seas. + The shouts of sailors double near the shores; + They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars. + ‘All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!’ they cry, + And swiftly thro’ the foamy billows fly. + Full on the promis’d land at length we bore, + With joy descending on the Cretan shore. + With eager haste a rising town I frame, + Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name: + The name itself was grateful; I exhort + To found their houses, and erect a fort. + Our ships are haul’d upon the yellow strand; + The youth begin to till the labour’d land; + And I myself new marriages promote, + Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot; + When rising vapours choke the wholesome air, + And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year; + The trees devouring caterpillars burn; + Parch’d was the grass, and blighted was the corn: + Nor ’scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high, + With pestilential heat infects the sky: + My men, some fall, the rest in fevers fry. + Again my father bids me seek the shore + Of sacred Delos, and the god implore, + To learn what end of woes we might expect, + And to what clime our weary course direct. + + “’Twas night, when ev’ry creature, void of cares, + The common gift of balmy slumber shares: + The statues of my gods (for such they seem’d), + Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem’d, + Before me stood, majestically bright, + Full in the beams of Phoebe’s ent’ring light. + Then thus they spoke, and eas’d my troubled mind: + ‘What from the Delian god thou go’st to find, + He tells thee here, and sends us to relate. + Those pow’rs are we, companions of thy fate, + Who from the burning town by thee were brought, + Thy fortune follow’d, and thy safety wrought. + Thro’ seas and lands as we thy steps attend, + So shall our care thy glorious race befriend. + An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain, + A town that o’er the conquer’d world shall reign. + Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build; + Nor let thy weary mind to labours yield: + But change thy seat; for not the Delian god, + Nor we, have giv’n thee Crete for our abode. + A land there is, Hesperia call’d of old, + The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold. + Th’ Oenotrians held it once, by later fame + Now call’d Italia, from the leader’s name. + Jasius there and Dardanus were born; + From thence we came, and thither must return. + Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet. + Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.’ + + “Astonish’d at their voices and their sight, + (Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night; + I saw, I knew their faces, and descried, + In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;) + I started from my couch; a clammy sweat + On all my limbs and shiv’ring body sate. + To heav’n I lift my hands with pious haste, + And sacred incense in the flames I cast. + Thus to the gods their perfect honours done, + More cheerful, to my good old sire I run, + And tell the pleasing news. In little space + He found his error of the double race; + Not, as before he deem’d, deriv’d from Crete; + No more deluded by the doubtful seat: + Then said: ‘O son, turmoil’d in Trojan fate! + Such things as these Cassandra did relate. + This day revives within my mind what she + Foretold of Troy renew’d in Italy, + And Latian lands; but who could then have thought + That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought, + Or who believ’d what mad Cassandra taught? + Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.’ + + “He said; and we with glad consent obey, + Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind, + We spread our sails before the willing wind. + Now from the sight of land our galleys move, + With only seas around and skies above; + When o’er our heads descends a burst of rain, + And night with sable clouds involves the main; + The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise; + The scatter’d fleet is forc’d to sev’ral ways; + The face of heav’n is ravish’d from our eyes, + And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies. + Cast from our course, we wander in the dark. + No stars to guide, no point of land to mark. + Ev’n Palinurus no distinction found + Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign’d around. + Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays, + Without distinction, and three sunless days; + The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds, + We view a rising land, like distant clouds; + The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight, + And curling smoke ascending from their height. + The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply; + From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly. + At length I land upon the Strophades, + Safe from the danger of the stormy seas. + Those isles are compass’d by th’ Ionian main, + The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign, + Forc’d by the winged warriors to repair + To their old homes, and leave their costly fare. + Monsters more fierce offended Heav’n ne’er sent + From hell’s abyss, for human punishment: + With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene, + Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; + With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean. + + “We landed at the port, and soon beheld + Fat herds of oxen graze the flow’ry field, + And wanton goats without a keeper stray’d. + With weapons we the welcome prey invade, + Then call the gods for partners of our feast, + And Jove himself, the chief invited guest. + We spread the tables on the greensward ground; + We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round; + When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry, + And clatt’ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly; + They snatch the meat, defiling all they find, + And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind. + Close by a hollow rock, again we sit, + New dress the dinner, and the beds refit, + Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade, + Where tufted trees a native arbour made. + Again the holy fires on altars burn; + And once again the rav’nous birds return, + Or from the dark recesses where they lie, + Or from another quarter of the sky; + With filthy claws their odious meal repeat, + And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat. + I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare, + And with the hellish nation wage the war. + They, as commanded, for the fight provide, + And in the grass their glitt’ring weapons hide; + Then, when along the crooked shore we hear + Their clatt’ring wings, and saw the foes appear, + Misenus sounds a charge: we take th’ alarm, + And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm. + In this new kind of combat all employ + Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy. + In vain, the fated skin is proof to wounds; + And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds. + At length rebuff’d, they leave their mangled prey, + And their stretch’d pinions to the skies display. + Yet one remain’d, the messenger of Fate: + High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate, + And thus her dismal errand did relate: + ‘What! not contented with our oxen slain, + Dare you with Heav’n an impious war maintain, + And drive the Harpies from their native reign? + Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind + What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design’d, + And I, the Furies’ queen, from both relate: + You seek th’ Italian shores, foredoom’d by fate: + Th’ Italian shores are granted you to find, + And a safe passage to the port assign’d. + But know, that ere your promis’d walls you build, + My curses shall severely be fulfill’d. + Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed, + Reduc’d to grind the plates on which you feed.’ + She said, and to the neighb’ring forest flew. + Our courage fails us, and our fears renew. + Hopeless to win by war, to pray’rs we fall, + And on th’ offended Harpies humbly call, + And whether gods or birds obscene they were, + Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer. + But old Anchises, off’ring sacrifice, + And lifting up to heav’n his hands and eyes, + Ador’d the greater gods: ‘Avert,’ said he, + ‘These omens; render vain this prophecy, + And from th’ impending curse a pious people free!’ + + “Thus having said, he bids us put to sea; + We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey, + And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat’ry way. + Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear; + And next by rocky Neritos we steer: + We fly from Ithaca’s detested shore, + And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore. + At length Leucate’s cloudy top appears, + And the Sun’s temple, which the sailor fears. + Resolv’d to breathe a while from labour past, + Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast, + And joyful to the little city haste. + Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay + To Jove, the guide and patron of our way. + The customs of our country we pursue, + And Trojan games on Actian shores renew. + Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil, + And exercise the wrastlers’ noble toil; + Pleas’d to have sail’d so long before the wind, + And left so many Grecian towns behind. + The sun had now fulfill’d his annual course, + And Boreas on the seas display’d his force: + I fix’d upon the temple’s lofty door + The brazen shield which vanquish’d Abas bore; + The verse beneath my name and action speaks: + ‘These arms Aeneas took from conqu’ring Greeks.’ + Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply + Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly. + The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost, + And skimm’d along Epirus’ rocky coast. + + “Then to Chaonia’s port our course we bend, + And, landed, to Buthrotus’ heights ascend. + Here wondrous things were loudly blaz’d fame: + How Helenus reviv’d the Trojan name, + And reign’d in Greece; that Priam’s captive son + Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne; + And fair Andromache, restor’d by fate, + Once more was happy in a Trojan mate. + I leave my galleys riding in the port, + And long to see the new Dardanian court. + By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate, + Then solemniz’d her former husband’s fate. + Green altars, rais’d of turf, with gifts she crown’d, + And sacred priests in order stand around, + And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound. + The grove itself resembles Ida’s wood; + And Simois seem’d the well-dissembled flood. + But when at nearer distance she beheld + My shining armour and my Trojan shield, + Astonish’d at the sight, the vital heat + Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat: + She faints, she falls, and scarce recov’ring strength, + Thus, with a falt’ring tongue, she speaks at length: + + “‘Are you alive, O goddess-born?’ she said, + ‘Or if a ghost, then where is Hector’s shade?’ + At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry. + With broken words I made this brief reply: + ‘All of me that remains appears in sight; + I live, if living be to loathe the light. + No phantom; but I drag a wretched life, + My fate resembling that of Hector’s wife. + What have you suffer’d since you lost your lord? + By what strange blessing are you now restor’d? + Still are you Hector’s? or is Hector fled, + And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus’ bed?’ + With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone, + After a modest pause she thus begun: + + “‘O only happy maid of Priam’s race, + Whom death deliver’d from the foes’ embrace! + Commanded on Achilles’ tomb to die, + Not forc’d, like us, to hard captivity, + Or in a haughty master’s arms to lie. + In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne, + Endur’d the victor’s lust, sustain’d the scorn: + Thus I submitted to the lawless pride + Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride. + Cloy’d with possession, he forsook my bed, + And Helen’s lovely daughter sought to wed; + Then me to Trojan Helenus resign’d, + And his two slaves in equal marriage join’d; + Till young Orestes, pierc’d with deep despair, + And longing to redeem the promis’d fair, + Before Apollo’s altar slew the ravisher. + By Pyrrhus’ death the kingdom we regain’d: + At least one half with Helenus remain’d. + Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls, + And names from Pergamus his rising walls. + But you, what fates have landed on our coast? + What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss’d? + Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy, + Sav’d from the ruins of unhappy Troy? + O tell me how his mother’s loss he bears, + What hopes are promis’d from his blooming years, + How much of Hector in his face appears?’ + She spoke; and mix’d her speech with mournful cries, + And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes. + + “At length her lord descends upon the plain, + In pomp, attended with a num’rous train; + Receives his friends, and to the city leads, + And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds. + Proceeding on, another Troy I see, + Or, in less compass, Troy’s epitome. + A riv’let by the name of Xanthus ran, + And I embrace the Scaean gate again. + My friends in porticoes were entertain’d, + And feasts and pleasures thro’ the city reign’d. + The tables fill’d the spacious hall around, + And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown’d. + Two days we pass’d in mirth, till friendly gales, + Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails. + Then to the royal seer I thus began: + ‘O thou, who know’st, beyond the reach of man, + The laws of heav’n, and what the stars decree; + Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy, + From his own tripod, and his holy tree; + Skill’d in the wing’d inhabitants of air, + What auspices their notes and flights declare: + O say; for all religious rites portend + A happy voyage, and a prosp’rous end; + And ev’ry power and omen of the sky + Direct my course for destin’d Italy; + But only dire Celaeno, from the gods, + A dismal famine fatally forebodes: + O say what dangers I am first to shun, + What toils vanquish, and what course to run.’ + + “The prophet first with sacrifice adores + The greater gods; their pardon then implores; + Unbinds the fillet from his holy head; + To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led, + Full of religious doubts and awful dread. + Then, with his god possess’d, before the shrine, + These words proceeded from his mouth divine: + ‘O goddess-born, (for Heav’n’s appointed will, + With greater auspices of good than ill, + Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs; + Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,) + Of many things some few I shall explain, + Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main, + And how at length the promis’d shore to gain. + The rest the fates from Helenus conceal, + And Juno’s angry pow’r forbids to tell. + First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh, + Will far from your deluded wishes fly; + Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy: + For you must cruise along Sicilian shores, + And stem the currents with your struggling oars; + Then round th’ Italian coast your navy steer; + And, after this, to Circe’s island veer; + And, last, before your new foundations rise, + Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies. + Now mark the signs of future ease and rest, + And bear them safely treasur’d in thy breast. + When, in the shady shelter of a wood, + And near the margin of a gentle flood, + Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground, + With thirty sucking young encompass’d round; + The dam and offspring white as falling snow: + These on thy city shall their name bestow, + And there shall end thy labours and thy woe. + Nor let the threaten’d famine fright thy mind, + For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find. + Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent, + Which fronts from far th’ Epirian continent: + Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess’d; + The salvage Locrians here the shores infest; + There fierce Idomeneus his city builds, + And guards with arms the Salentinian fields; + And on the mountain’s brow Petilia stands, + Which Philoctetes with his troops commands. + Ev’n when thy fleet is landed on the shore, + And priests with holy vows the gods adore, + Then with a purple veil involve your eyes, + Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice. + These rites and customs to the rest commend, + That to your pious race they may descend. + + ‘When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits + For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits + Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way, + Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea: + Veer starboard sea and land. Th’ Italian shore + And fair Sicilia’s coast were one, before + An earthquake caus’d the flaw: the roaring tides + The passage broke that land from land divides; + And where the lands retir’d, the rushing ocean rides. + Distinguish’d by the straits, on either hand, + Now rising cities in long order stand, + And fruitful fields: so much can time invade + The mould’ring work that beauteous Nature made. + Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides: + Charybdis roaring on the left presides, + And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides; + Then spouts them from below: with fury driv’n, + The waves mount up and wash the face of heav’n. + But Scylla from her den, with open jaws, + The sinking vessel in her eddy draws, + Then dashes on the rocks. A human face, + And virgin bosom, hides her tail’s disgrace: + Her parts obscene below the waves descend, + With dogs inclos’d, and in a dolphin end. + ’Tis safer, then, to bear aloof to sea, + And coast Pachynus, tho’ with more delay, + Than once to view misshapen Scylla near, + And the loud yell of wat’ry wolves to hear. + + “‘Besides, if faith to Helenus be due, + And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true, + Do not this precept of your friend forget, + Which therefore more than once I must repeat: + Above the rest, great Juno’s name adore; + Pay vows to Juno; Juno’s aid implore. + Let gifts be to the mighty queen design’d, + And mollify with pray’rs her haughty mind. + Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free, + And you shall safe descend on Italy. + Arriv’d at Cumae, when you view the flood + Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood, + The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find, + Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin’d. + She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits, + The notes and names, inscrib’d, to leafs commits. + What she commits to leafs, in order laid, + Before the cavern’s entrance are display’d: + Unmov’d they lie; but, if a blast of wind + Without, or vapours issue from behind, + The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air, + And she resumes no more her museful care, + Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter’d verse, + Nor sets in order what the winds disperse. + Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid + The madness of the visionary maid, + And with loud curses leave the mystic shade. + + “‘Think it not loss of time a while to stay, + Tho’ thy companions chide thy long delay; + Tho’ summon’d to the seas, tho’ pleasing gales + Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails: + But beg the sacred priestess to relate + With willing words, and not to write thy fate. + The fierce Italian people she will show, + And all thy wars, and all thy future woe, + And what thou may’st avoid, and what must undergo. + She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind, + And teach thee how the happy shores to find. + This is what Heav’n allows me to relate: + Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate, + And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.’ + + “This when the priest with friendly voice declar’d, + He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar’d: + Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want + With heavy gold, and polish’d elephant; + Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board, + And ev’ry ship with sums of silver stor’d. + A trusty coat of mail to me he sent, + Thrice chain’d with gold, for use and ornament; + The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest, + That flourish’d with a plume and waving crest. + Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends; + And large recruits he to my navy sends: + Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores; + Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars. + Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails, + Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales. + + “The prophet bless’d the parting crew, and last, + With words like these, his ancient friend embrac’d: + ‘Old happy man, the care of gods above, + Whom heav’nly Venus honour’d with her love, + And twice preserv’d thy life, when Troy was lost, + Behold from far the wish’d Ausonian coast: + There land; but take a larger compass round, + For that before is all forbidden ground. + The shore that Phoebus has design’d for you, + At farther distance lies, conceal’d from view. + Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes, + Blest in a son, and favour’d by the gods: + For I with useless words prolong your stay, + When southern gales have summon’d you away.’ + + “Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor’d, + Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord. + A noble present to my son she brought, + A robe with flow’rs on golden tissue wrought, + A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside + Of precious texture, and of Asian pride. + ‘Accept,’ she said, ‘these monuments of love, + Which in my youth with happier hands I wove: + Regard these trifles for the giver’s sake; + ’Tis the last present Hector’s wife can make. + Thou call’st my lost Astyanax to mind; + In thee his features and his form I find: + His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame; + Such were his motions; such was all his frame; + And ah! had Heav’n so pleas’d, his years had been the same.’ + + “With tears I took my last adieu, and said: + ‘Your fortune, happy pair, already made, + Leaves you no farther wish. My diff’rent state, + Avoiding one, incurs another fate. + To you a quiet seat the gods allow: + You have no shores to search, no seas to plow, + Nor fields of flying Italy to chase: + (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!) + You see another Simois, and enjoy + The labour of your hands, another Troy, + With better auspice than her ancient tow’rs, + And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow’rs. + If e’er the gods, whom I with vows adore, + Conduct my steps to Tiber’s happy shore; + If ever I ascend the Latian throne, + And build a city I may call my own; + As both of us our birth from Troy derive, + So let our kindred lines in concord live, + And both in acts of equal friendship strive. + Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same: + The double Troy shall differ but in name; + That what we now begin may never end, + But long to late posterity descend.’ + + “Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore; + The shortest passage to th’ Italian shore. + Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light, + And hills were hid in dusky shades of night: + We land, and, on the bosom of the ground, + A safe retreat and a bare lodging found. + Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep + Their watches, and the rest securely sleep. + The night, proceeding on with silent pace, + Stood in her noon, and view’d with equal face + Her steepy rise and her declining race. + Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy + The face of heav’n, and the nocturnal sky; + And listen’d ev’ry breath of air to try; + Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course, + The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat’ry force; + And both the Bears is careful to behold, + And bright Orion, arm’d with burnish’d gold. + Then, when he saw no threat’ning tempest nigh, + But a sure promise of a settled sky, + He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep, + Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep. + + “And now the rising morn with rosy light + Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight; + When we from far, like bluish mists, descry + The hills, and then the plains, of Italy. + Achates first pronounc’d the joyful sound; + Then, ‘Italy!’ the cheerful crew rebound. + My sire Anchises crown’d a cup with wine, + And, off’ring, thus implor’d the pow’rs divine: + ‘Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas, + And you who raging winds and waves appease, + Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp’rous wind, + And smooth our passage to the port assign’d!’ + The gentle gales their flagging force renew, + And now the happy harbour is in view. + Minerva’s temple then salutes our sight, + Plac’d, as a landmark, on the mountain’s height. + We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore; + The curling waters round the galleys roar. + The land lies open to the raging east, + Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress’d, + Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain, + And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain. + The port lies hid within; on either side + Two tow’ring rocks the narrow mouth divide. + The temple, which aloft we view’d before, + To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore. + Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld + Were four white steeds that cropp’d the flow’ry field. + ‘War, war is threaten’d from this foreign ground,’ + My father cried, ‘where warlike steeds are found. + Yet, since reclaim’d to chariots they submit, + And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit, + Peace may succeed to war.’ Our way we bend + To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend; + There prostrate to the fierce Virago pray, + Whose temple was the landmark of our way. + Each with a Phrygian mantle veil’d his head, + And all commands of Helenus obey’d, + And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid. + These dues perform’d, we stretch our sails, and stand + To sea, forsaking that suspected land. + + “From hence Tarentum’s bay appears in view, + For Hercules renown’d, if fame be true. + Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands; + Caulonian tow’rs, and Scylacaean strands, + For shipwrecks fear’d. Mount Aetna thence we spy, + Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky. + Far off we hear the waves with surly sound + Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound. + The billows break upon the sounding strand, + And roll the rising tide, impure with sand. + Then thus Anchises, in experience old: + ‘’Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold, + And those the promis’d rocks! Bear off to sea!’ + With haste the frighted mariners obey. + First Palinurus to the larboard veer’d; + Then all the fleet by his example steer’d. + To heav’n aloft on ridgy waves we ride, + Then down to hell descend, when they divide; + And thrice our galleys knock’d the stony ground, + And thrice the hollow rocks return’d the sound, + And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around. + The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun; + And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run. + The port capacious, and secure from wind, + Is to the foot of thund’ring Aetna join’d. + By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high; + By turns hot embers from her entrails fly, + And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky. + Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown, + And, shiver’d by the force, come piecemeal down. + Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow, + Fed from the fiery springs that boil below. + Enceladus, they say, transfix’d by Jove, + With blasted limbs came tumbling from above; + And, where he fell, th’ avenging father drew + This flaming hill, and on his body threw. + As often as he turns his weary sides, + He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides. + In shady woods we pass the tedious night, + Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright, + Of which no cause is offer’d to the sight; + For not one star was kindled in the sky, + Nor could the moon her borrow’d light supply; + For misty clouds involv’d the firmament, + The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent. + + “Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal’d, + Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell’d, + When from the woods there bolts, before our sight, + Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite, + So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan, + So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man. + This thing, all tatter’d, seem’d from far t’implore + Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore. + We look behind, then view his shaggy beard; + His clothes were tagg’d with thorns, and filth his limbs + besmear’d; + The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face, + Appear’d a Greek, and such indeed he was. + He cast on us, from far, a frightful view, + Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew; + Stood still, and paus’d; then all at once began + To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran. + Soon as approach’d, upon his knees he falls, + And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls: + ‘Now, by the pow’rs above, and what we share + From Nature’s common gift, this vital air, + O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more; + But bear me far from this unhappy shore. + ’Tis true, I am a Greek, and farther own, + Among your foes besieg’d th’ imperial town. + For such demerits if my death be due, + No more for this abandon’d life I sue; + This only favour let my tears obtain, + To throw me headlong in the rapid main: + Since nothing more than death my crime demands, + I die content, to die by human hands.’ + He said, and on his knees my knees embrac’d: + I bade him boldly tell his fortune past, + His present state, his lineage, and his name, + Th’ occasion of his fears, and whence he came. + The good Anchises rais’d him with his hand; + Who, thus encourag’d, answer’d our demand: + ‘From Ithaca, my native soil, I came + To Troy; and Achaemenides my name. + Me my poor father with Ulysses sent; + (O had I stay’d, with poverty content!) + But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen + Left me forsaken in the Cyclops’ den. + The cave, tho’ large, was dark; the dismal floor + Was pav’d with mangled limbs and putrid gore. + Our monstrous host, of more than human size, + Erects his head, and stares within the skies; + Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue. + Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view! + The joints of slaughter’d wretches are his food; + And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood. + These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand + He seiz’d two captives of our Grecian band; + Stretch’d on his back, he dash’d against the stones + Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones: + With spouting blood the purple pavement swims, + While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs. + + “‘Not unreveng’d Ulysses bore their fate, + Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state; + For, gorg’d with flesh, and drunk with human wine + While fast asleep the giant lay supine, + Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw + His indigested foam, and morsels raw; + We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround + The monstrous body, stretch’d along the ground: + Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand + To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand. + Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye; + For only one did the vast frame supply; + But that a globe so large, his front it fill’d, + Like the sun’s disk or like a Grecian shield. + The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends: + This vengeance follow’d for our slaughter’d friends. + But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly! + Your cables cut, and on your oars rely! + Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears, + A hundred more this hated island bears: + Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep; + Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep; + Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep + And now three moons their sharpen’d horns renew, + Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view, + I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright, + And in deserted caverns lodge by night; + Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see + Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree: + From far I hear his thund’ring voice resound, + And trampling feet that shake the solid ground. + Cornels and salvage berries of the wood, + And roots and herbs, have been my meager food. + While all around my longing eyes I cast, + I saw your happy ships appear at last. + On those I fix’d my hopes, to these I run; + ’Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun; + What other death you please, yourselves bestow.’ + + “Scarce had he said, when on the mountain’s brow + We saw the giant shepherd stalk before + His following flock, and leading to the shore: + A monstrous bulk, deform’d, depriv’d of sight; + His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright. + His pond’rous whistle from his neck descends; + His woolly care their pensive lord attends: + This only solace his hard fortune sends. + Soon as he reach’d the shore and touch’d the waves, + From his bor’d eye the gutt’ring blood he laves: + He gnash’d his teeth, and groan’d; thro’ seas he strides, + And scarce the topmost billows touch’d his sides. + + “Seiz’d with a sudden fear, we run to sea, + The cables cut, and silent haste away; + The well-deserving stranger entertain; + Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main. + The giant harken’d to the dashing sound: + But, when our vessels out of reach he found, + He strided onward, and in vain essay’d + Th’ Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade. + With that he roar’d aloud: the dreadful cry + Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly + Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy. + The neighb’ring Aetna trembling all around, + The winding caverns echo to the sound. + His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar, + And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore. + We saw their stern distorted looks, from far, + And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten’d war: + A dreadful council, with their heads on high; + (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;) + Not yielding to the tow’ring tree of Jove, + Or tallest cypress of Diana’s grove. + New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail; + We tug at ev’ry oar, and hoist up ev’ry sail, + And take th’ advantage of the friendly gale. + Forewarn’d by Helenus, we strive to shun + Charybdis’ gulf, nor dare to Scylla run. + An equal fate on either side appears: + We, tacking to the left, are free from fears; + For, from Pelorus’ point, the North arose, + And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows. + His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way + By Thapsus and Megara’s winding bay. + This passage Achaemenides had shown, + Tracing the course which he before had run. + + “Right o’er against Plemmyrium’s wat’ry strand, + There lies an isle once call’d th’ Ortygian land. + Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found + From Greece a secret passage under ground, + By love to beauteous Arethusa led; + And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed. + As Helenus enjoin’d, we next adore + Diana’s name, protectress of the shore. + With prosp’rous gales we pass the quiet sounds + Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds. + Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey + The rocky shore extended to the sea. + The town of Camarine from far we see, + And fenny lake, undrain’d by fate’s decree. + In sight of the Geloan fields we pass, + And the large walls, where mighty Gela was; + Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown’d, + Long for the race of warlike steeds renown’d. + We pass’d Selinus, and the palmy land, + And widely shun the Lilybaean strand, + Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand. + At length on shore the weary fleet arriv’d, + Which Drepanum’s unhappy port receiv’d. + Here, after endless labours, often toss’d + By raging storms, and driv’n on ev’ry coast, + My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost: + Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain, + Sav’d thro’ a thousand toils, but sav’d in vain + The prophet, who my future woes reveal’d, + Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal’d; + And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill + Denounc’d all else, was silent of the ill. + This my last labour was. Some friendly god + From thence convey’d us to your blest abode.” + + Thus, to the list’ning queen, the royal guest + His wand’ring course and all his toils express’d; + And here concluding, he retir’d to rest. + + + + BOOK IV + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Aeneas, and her + thoughts of marrying him. She prepares a hunting match for his + entertainment. Juno, by Venus’ consent, raises a storm, which + separates the hunters, and drives Aeneas and Dido into the same + cave, where their marriage is supposed to be completed. Jupiter + despatches Mercury to Aeneas, to warn him from Carthage. Aeneas + secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido finds out his design, and, + to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister’s + entreaties, and discovers all the variety of passions that are + incident to a neglected lover. When nothing could prevail upon + him, she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes. + + + But anxious cares already seiz’d the queen: + She fed within her veins a flame unseen; + The hero’s valour, acts, and birth inspire + Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire. + His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart, + Improve the passion, and increase the smart. + Now, when the purple morn had chas’d away + The dewy shadows, and restor’d the day, + Her sister first with early care she sought, + And thus in mournful accents eas’d her thought: + + “My dearest Anna, what new dreams affright + My lab’ring soul! what visions of the night + Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast + With strange ideas of our Trojan guest! + His worth, his actions, and majestic air, + A man descended from the gods declare. + Fear ever argues a degenerate kind; + His birth is well asserted by his mind. + Then, what he suffer’d, when by Fate betray’d! + What brave attempts for falling Troy he made! + Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke, + That, were I not resolv’d against the yoke + Of hapless marriage, never to be curst + With second love, so fatal was my first, + To this one error I might yield again; + For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain, + This only man is able to subvert + The fix’d foundations of my stubborn heart. + And, to confess my frailty, to my shame, + Somewhat I find within, if not the same, + Too like the sparkles of my former flame. + But first let yawning earth a passage rend, + And let me thro’ the dark abyss descend; + First let avenging Jove, with flames from high, + Drive down this body to the nether sky, + Condemn’d with ghosts in endless night to lie, + Before I break the plighted faith I gave! + No! he who had my vows shall ever have; + For, whom I lov’d on earth, I worship in the grave.” + + She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes, + And stopp’d her speech. Her sister thus replies: + “O dearer than the vital air I breathe, + Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath, + Condemn’d to waste in woes your lonely life, + Without the joys of mother or of wife? + Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe, + Are known or valued by the ghosts below? + I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green, + It well became a woman, and a queen, + The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect, + To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject, + With all the Libyan lords of mighty name; + But will you fight against a pleasing flame! + This little spot of land, which Heav’n bestows, + On ev’ry side is hemm’d with warlike foes; + Gaetulian cities here are spread around, + And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound; + Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land, + And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand; + Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore, + And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more. + Propitious Heav’n, and gracious Juno, lead + This wand’ring navy to your needful aid: + How will your empire spread, your city rise, + From such a union, and with such allies? + Implore the favour of the pow’rs above, + And leave the conduct of the rest to love. + Continue still your hospitable way, + And still invent occasions of their stay, + Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat, + And planks and oars repair their shatter’d fleet.” + + These words, which from a friend and sister came, + With ease resolv’d the scruples of her fame, + And added fury to the kindled flame. + Inspir’d with hope, the project they pursue; + On ev’ry altar sacrifice renew: + A chosen ewe of two years old they pay + To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day; + Preferring Juno’s pow’r, for Juno ties + The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys. + The beauteous queen before her altar stands, + And holds the golden goblet in her hands. + A milk-white heifer she with flow’rs adorns, + And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns; + And, while the priests with pray’r the gods invoke, + She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke, + With hourly care the sacrifice renews, + And anxiously the panting entrails views. + What priestly rites, alas! what pious art, + What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart! + A gentle fire she feeds within her veins, + Where the soft god secure in silence reigns. + + Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves, + From street to street the raving Dido roves. + So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind, + Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind, + Distracted with her pain she flies the woods, + Bounds o’er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods, + With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart + Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart. + And now she leads the Trojan chief along + The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng; + Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town, + Which love, without his labour, makes his own. + This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand’ring guest; + Her falt’ring tongue forbids to speak the rest. + When day declines, and feasts renew the night, + Still on his face she feeds her famish’d sight; + She longs again to hear the prince relate + His own adventures and the Trojan fate. + He tells it o’er and o’er; but still in vain, + For still she begs to hear it once again. + The hearer on the speaker’s mouth depends, + And thus the tragic story never ends. + + Then, when they part, when Phoebe’s paler light + Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite, + She last remains, when ev’ry guest is gone, + Sits on the bed he press’d, and sighs alone; + Absent, her absent hero sees and hears; + Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears, + And seeks the father’s image in the child, + If love by likeness might be so beguil’d. + + Meantime the rising tow’rs are at a stand; + No labours exercise the youthful band, + Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know; + The mole is left unfinish’d to the foe; + The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie, + Short of their promis’d heighth, that seem’d to threat the sky, + + But when imperial Juno, from above, + Saw Dido fetter’d in the chains of love, + Hot with the venom which her veins inflam’d, + And by no sense of shame to be reclaim’d, + With soothing words to Venus she begun: + “High praises, endless honours, you have won, + And mighty trophies, with your worthy son! + Two gods a silly woman have undone! + Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect + This rising city, which my hands erect: + But shall celestial discord never cease? + ’Tis better ended in a lasting peace. + You stand possess’d of all your soul desir’d: + Poor Dido with consuming love is fir’d. + Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join; + So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine: + One common kingdom, one united line. + Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey, + And lofty Carthage for a dow’r convey.” + Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried, + Which would the scepter of the world misguide + To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied: + “Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose, + And such alliance and such gifts refuse, + If Fortune with our joint desires comply? + The doubt is all from Jove and destiny; + Lest he forbid, with absolute command, + To mix the people in one common land. + Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line + In lasting leagues and sure succession join? + But you, the partner of his bed and throne, + May move his mind; my wishes are your own.” + + “Mine,” said imperial Juno, “be the care; + Time urges, now, to perfect this affair: + Attend my counsel, and the secret share. + When next the Sun his rising light displays, + And gilds the world below with purple rays, + The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court + Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort. + There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around, + And cheerful horns from side to side resound, + A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain + With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain; + The fearful train shall take their speedy flight, + Dispers’d, and all involv’d in gloomy night; + One cave a grateful shelter shall afford + To the fair princess and the Trojan lord. + I will myself the bridal bed prepare, + If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there: + So shall their loves be crown’d with due delights, + And Hymen shall be present at the rites.” + The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles + At her vain project, and discover’d wiles. + + The rosy morn was risen from the main, + And horns and hounds awake the princely train: + They issue early thro’ the city gate, + Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait, + With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force + Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse. + The Tyrian peers and officers of state + For the slow queen in antechambers wait; + Her lofty courser, in the court below, + Who his majestic rider seems to know, + Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground, + And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around. + The queen at length appears; on either hand + The brawny guards in martial order stand. + A flow’r’d simar with golden fringe she wore, + And at her back a golden quiver bore; + Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains, + A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains. + Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, + Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase. + But far above the rest in beauty shines + The great Aeneas, the troop he joins; + Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost + Of wint’ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast, + When to his native Delos he resorts, + Ordains the dances, and renews the sports; + Where painted Scythians, mix’d with Cretan bands, + Before the joyful altars join their hands: + Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below + The merry madness of the sacred show. + Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose; + A golden fillet binds his awful brows; + His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen + In manly presence, or in lofty mien. + + Now had they reach’d the hills, and storm’d the seat + Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat. + The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound + From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground; + Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train, + In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain, + And a long chase in open view maintain. + The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides, + Spurs thro’ the vale, and these and those outrides. + His horse’s flanks and sides are forc’d to feel + The clanking lash, and goring of the steel. + Impatiently he views the feeble prey, + Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way, + And rather would the tusky boar attend, + Or see the tawny lion downward bend. + + Meantime, the gath’ring clouds obscure the skies: + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; + The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours + A wintry deluge down, and sounding show’rs. + The company, dispers’d, to converts ride, + And seek the homely cots, or mountain’s hollow side. + The rapid rains, descending from the hills, + To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills. + The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides, + One common cavern in her bosom hides. + Then first the trembling earth the signal gave, + And flashing fires enlighten all the cave; + Hell from below, and Juno from above, + And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love. + From this ill-omen’d hour in time arose + Debate and death, and all succeeding woes. + + The queen, whom sense of honour could not move, + No longer made a secret of her love, + But call’d it marriage, by that specious name + To veil the crime and sanctify the shame. + + The loud report thro’ Libyan cities goes. + Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows: + Swift from the first; and ev’ry moment brings + New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings. + Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size; + Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies. + Inrag’d against the gods, revengeful Earth + Produc’d her last of the Titanian birth. + Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste: + A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast. + As many plumes as raise her lofty flight, + So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight; + Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong, + And ev’ry mouth is furnish’d with a tongue, + And round with list’ning ears the flying plague is hung. + She fills the peaceful universe with cries; + No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes; + By day, from lofty tow’rs her head she shews, + And spreads thro’ trembling crowds disastrous news; + With court informers haunts, and royal spies; + Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with + lies. + + Talk is her business, and her chief delight + To tell of prodigies and cause affright. + She fills the people’s ears with Dido’s name, + Who, lost to honour and the sense of shame, + Admits into her throne and nuptial bed + A wand’ring guest, who from his country fled: + Whole days with him she passes in delights, + And wastes in luxury long winter nights, + Forgetful of her fame and royal trust, + Dissolv’d in ease, abandon’d to her lust. + + The goddess widely spreads the loud report, + And flies at length to King Hyarba’s court. + When first possess’d with this unwelcome news + Whom did he not of men and gods accuse? + This prince, from ravish’d Garamantis born, + A hundred temples did with spoils adorn, + In Ammon’s honour, his celestial sire; + A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire; + And, thro’ his vast dominions, priests ordain’d, + Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain’d. + The gates and columns were with garlands crown’d, + And blood of victim beasts enrich’d the ground. + + He, when he heard a fugitive could move + The Tyrian princess, who disdain’d his love, + His breast with fury burn’d, his eyes with fire, + Mad with despair, impatient with desire; + Then on the sacred altars pouring wine, + He thus with pray’rs implor’d his sire divine: + “Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race, + Who feast on painted beds, with off’rings grace + Thy temples, and adore thy pow’r divine + With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine, + Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain + Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign? + Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance? + Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance? + A wand’ring woman builds, within our state, + A little town, bought at an easy rate; + She pays me homage, and my grants allow + A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow; + Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led, + Admits a banish’d Trojan to her bed! + And now this other Paris, with his train + Of conquer’d cowards, must in Afric reign! + (Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess, + Their locks with oil perfum’d, their Lydian dress.) + He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame; + And I, rejected I, adore an empty name.” + + His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr’d, + And held his altar’s horns. The mighty Thund’rer heard; + Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found + The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown’d, + Lost in their loves, insensible of shame, + And both forgetful of their better fame. + He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends, + By whom his menacing command he sends: + “Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky; + Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly: + There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days + In slothful riot and inglorious ease, + Nor minds the future city, giv’n by fate. + To him this message from my mouth relate: + ‘Not so fair Venus hop’d, when twice she won + Thy life with pray’rs, nor promis’d such a son. + Hers was a hero, destin’d to command + A martial race, and rule the Latian land, + Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw, + And on the conquer’d world impose the law.’ + If glory cannot move a mind so mean, + Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean, + Yet why should he defraud his son of fame, + And grudge the Romans their immortal name! + What are his vain designs! what hopes he more + From his long ling’ring on a hostile shore, + Regardless to redeem his honour lost, + And for his race to gain th’ Ausonian coast! + Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake; + With this command the slumb’ring warrior wake.” + + Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds + His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: + And, whether o’er the seas or earth he flies, + With rapid force they bear him down the skies. + But first he grasps within his awful hand + The mark of sov’reign pow’r, his magic wand; + With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves; + With this he drives them down the Stygian waves; + With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, + And eyes, tho’ clos’d in death, restores to light. + Thus arm’d, the god begins his airy race, + And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space; + Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies, + Whose brawny back supports the starry skies; + Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown’d, + Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapours bound. + Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin + The founts of rolling streams their race begin; + A beard of ice on his large breast depends. + Here, pois’d upon his wings, the god descends: + Then, rested thus, he from the tow’ring height + Plung’d downward, with precipitated flight, + Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood. + As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food, + Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show; + By turns they dance aloft, and dive below: + Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies, + And near the surface of the water flies, + Till, having pass’d the seas, and cross’d the sands, + He clos’d his wings, and stoop’d on Libyan lands: + Where shepherds once were hous’d in homely sheds, + Now tow’rs within the clouds advance their heads. + Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince + New ramparts raising for the town’s defence. + A purple scarf, with gold embroider’d o’er, + (Queen Dido’s gift,) about his waist he wore; + A sword, with glitt’ring gems diversified, + For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side. + + Then thus, with winged words, the god began, + Resuming his own shape: “Degenerate man, + Thou woman’s property, what mak’st thou here, + These foreign walls and Tyrian tow’rs to rear, + Forgetful of thy own? All-pow’rful Jove, + Who sways the world below and heav’n above, + Has sent me down with this severe command: + What means thy ling’ring in the Libyan land? + If glory cannot move a mind so mean, + Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean, + Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir: + The promis’d crown let young Ascanius wear, + To whom th’ Ausonian scepter, and the state + Of Rome’s imperial name is ow’d by fate.” + So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight, + Involv’d in clouds, and vanish’d out of sight. + + The pious prince was seiz’d with sudden fear; + Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair. + Revolving in his mind the stern command, + He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land. + What should he say? or how should he begin? + What course, alas! remains to steer between + Th’ offended lover and the pow’rful queen? + This way and that he turns his anxious mind, + And all expedients tries, and none can find. + Fix’d on the deed, but doubtful of the means, + After long thought, to this advice he leans: + Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair + The fleet, and ship their men with silent care; + Some plausible pretence he bids them find, + To colour what in secret he design’d. + Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose, + Before the love-sick lady heard the news; + And move her tender mind, by slow degrees, + To suffer what the sov’reign pow’r decrees: + Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say. + They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey. + + But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise: + (What arts can blind a jealous woman’s eyes!) + She was the first to find the secret fraud, + Before the fatal news was blaz’d abroad. + Love the first motions of the lover hears, + Quick to presage, and ev’n in safety fears. + Nor impious Fame was wanting to report + The ships repair’d, the Trojans’ thick resort, + And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court. + Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound, + And impotent of mind, she roves the city round. + Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear, + When, from afar, their nightly god they hear, + And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear. + At length she finds the dear perfidious man; + Prevents his form’d excuse, and thus began: + “Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly, + And undiscover’d scape a lover’s eye? + Nor could my kindness your compassion move. + Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love? + Or is the death of a despairing queen + Not worth preventing, tho’ too well foreseen? + Ev’n when the wintry winds command your stay, + You dare the tempests, and defy the sea. + False as you are, suppose you were not bound + To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound; + Were Troy restor’d, and Priam’s happy reign, + Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main? + See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun? + Now, by those holy vows, so late begun, + By this right hand, (since I have nothing more + To challenge, but the faith you gave before;) + I beg you by these tears too truly shed, + By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed; + If ever Dido, when you most were kind, + Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch’d your mind; + By these my pray’rs, if pray’rs may yet have place, + Pity the fortunes of a falling race. + For you I have provok’d a tyrant’s hate, + Incens’d the Libyan and the Tyrian state; + For you alone I suffer in my fame, + Bereft of honour, and expos’d to shame. + Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest? + (That only name remains of all the rest!) + What have I left? or whither can I fly? + Must I attend Pygmalion’s cruelty, + Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead + A queen that proudly scorn’d his proffer’d bed? + Had you deferr’d, at least, your hasty flight, + And left behind some pledge of our delight, + Some babe to bless the mother’s mournful sight, + Some young Aeneas, to supply your place, + Whose features might express his father’s face; + I should not then complain to live bereft + Of all my husband, or be wholly left.” + + Here paus’d the queen. Unmov’d he holds his eyes, + By Jove’s command; nor suffer’d love to rise, + Tho’ heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies: + “Fair queen, you never can enough repeat + Your boundless favours, or I own my debt; + Nor can my mind forget Eliza’s name, + While vital breath inspires this mortal frame. + This only let me speak in my defence: + I never hop’d a secret flight from hence, + Much less pretended to the lawful claim + Of sacred nuptials, or a husband’s name. + For, if indulgent Heav’n would leave me free, + And not submit my life to fate’s decree, + My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore, + Those relics to review, their dust adore, + And Priam’s ruin’d palace to restore. + But now the Delphian oracle commands, + And fate invites me to the Latian lands. + That is the promis’d place to which I steer, + And all my vows are terminated there. + If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born, + With walls and tow’rs a Libyan town adorn, + Why may not we, like you, a foreign race, + Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place? + As often as the night obscures the skies + With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise, + Anchises’ angry ghost in dreams appears, + Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears; + And young Ascanius justly may complain + Of his defrauded and destin’d reign. + Ev’n now the herald of the gods appear’d: + Waking I saw him, and his message heard. + From Jove he came commission’d, heav’nly bright + With radiant beams, and manifest to sight + (The sender and the sent I both attest) + These walls he enter’d, and those words express’d. + Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command; + Forc’d by my fate, I leave your happy land.” + + Thus while he spoke, already she began, + With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man; + From head to foot survey’d his person o’er, + Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore: + “False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn! + Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born, + But hewn from harden’d entrails of a rock! + And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck! + Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear? + Did he once look, or lent a list’ning ear, + Sigh’d when I sobb’d, or shed one kindly tear? + All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind, + So foul, that, which is worse, ’tis hard to find. + Of man’s injustice why should I complain? + The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain + Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies, + Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes; + Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies! + Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more! + I sav’d the shipwreck’d exile on my shore; + With needful food his hungry Trojans fed; + I took the traitor to my throne and bed: + Fool that I was—— ’tis little to repeat + The rest, I stor’d and rigg’d his ruin’d fleet. + I rave, I rave! A god’s command he pleads, + And makes Heav’n accessary to his deeds. + Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god, + Now Hermes is employ’d from Jove’s abode, + To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state + Of heav’nly pow’rs were touch’d with human fate! + But go! thy flight no longer I detain; + Go seek thy promis’d kingdom thro’ the main! + Yet, if the heav’ns will hear my pious vow, + The faithless waves, not half so false as thou, + Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford + To thy proud vessels, and their perjur’d lord. + Then shalt thou call on injur’d Dido’s name: + Dido shall come in a black sulph’ry flame, + When death has once dissolv’d her mortal frame; + Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep: + Her angry ghost, arising from the deep, + Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep. + At least my shade thy punishment shall know, + And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below.” + + Abruptly here she stops; then turns away + Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day. + Amaz’d he stood, revolving in his mind + What speech to frame, and what excuse to find. + Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led, + And softly laid her on her ivory bed. + + But good Aeneas, tho’ he much desir’d + To give that pity which her grief requir’d; + Tho’ much he mourn’d, and labour’d with his love, + Resolv’d at length, obeys the will of Jove; + Reviews his forces: they with early care + Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare. + The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride, + And well-calk’d galleys in the harbour ride. + Then oaks for oars they fell’d; or, as they stood, + Of its green arms despoil’d the growing wood, + Studious of flight. The beach is cover’d o’er + With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore: + On ev’ry side are seen, descending down, + Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town. + Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants, + Fearful of winter, and of future wants, + T’ invade the corn, and to their cells convey + The plunder’d forage of their yellow prey. + The sable troops, along the narrow tracks, + Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs: + Some set their shoulders to the pond’rous grain; + Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train; + All ply their sev’ral tasks, and equal toil sustain. + + What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore, + When, from the tow’r, she saw the cover’d shore, + And heard the shouts of sailors from afar, + Mix’d with the murmurs of the wat’ry war! + All-pow’rful Love! what changes canst thou cause + In human hearts, subjected to thy laws! + Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends: + To pray’rs and mean submissions she descends. + No female arts or aids she left untried, + Nor counsels unexplor’d, before she died. + “Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea; + They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh. + The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind, + Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind. + Could I have thought this threat’ning blow so near, + My tender soul had been forewarn’d to bear. + But do not you my last request deny; + With yon perfidious man your int’rest try, + And bring me news, if I must live or die. + You are his fav’rite; you alone can find + The dark recesses of his inmost mind: + In all his trusted secrets you have part, + And know the soft approaches to his heart. + Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe; + Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go, + Nor did my fleet against his friends employ, + Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy, + Nor mov’d with hands profane his father’s dust: + Why should he then reject a suit so just! + Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly! + Can he this last, this only pray’r deny! + Let him at least his dang’rous flight delay, + Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea. + The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more: + Let him pursue the promis’d Latian shore. + A short delay is all I ask him now; + A pause of grief, an interval from woe, + Till my soft soul be temper’d to sustain + Accustom’d sorrows, and inur’d to pain. + If you in pity grant this one request, + My death shall glut the hatred of his breast.” + This mournful message pious Anna bears, + And seconds with her own her sister’s tears: + But all her arts are still employ’d in vain; + Again she comes, and is refus’d again. + His harden’d heart nor pray’rs nor threat’nings move; + Fate, and the god, had stopp’d his ears to love. + + As, when the winds their airy quarrel try, + Justling from ev’ry quarter of the sky, + This way and that the mountain oak they bend, + His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend; + With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground; + The hollow valleys echo to the sound: + Unmov’d, the royal plant their fury mocks, + Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks; + Far as he shoots his tow’ring head on high, + So deep in earth his fix’d foundations lie. + No less a storm the Trojan hero bears; + Thick messages and loud complaints he hears, + And bandied words, still beating on his ears. + Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains; + But the firm purpose of his heart remains. + + The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate, + Begins at length the light of heav’n to hate, + And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees, + To hasten on the death her soul decrees: + Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine, + She pours in sacrifice the purple wine, + The purple wine is turn’d to putrid blood, + And the white offer’d milk converts to mud. + This dire presage, to her alone reveal’d, + From all, and ev’n her sister, she conceal’d. + A marble temple stood within the grove, + Sacred to death, and to her murder’d love; + That honour’d chapel she had hung around + With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown’d: + Oft, when she visited this lonely dome, + Strange voices issued from her husband’s tomb; + She thought she heard him summon her away, + Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay. + Hourly ’tis heard, when with a boding note + The solitary screech owl strains her throat, + And, on a chimney’s top, or turret’s height, + With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night. + Besides, old prophecies augment her fears; + And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears, + Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone, + To wander in her sleep, thro’ ways unknown, + Guideless and dark; or, in a desert plain, + To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain: + Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, + He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear; + Or mad Orestes, when his mother’s ghost + Full in his face infernal torches toss’d, + And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight, + Flies o’er the stage, surpris’d with mortal fright; + The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight. + + Now, sinking underneath a load of grief, + From death alone she seeks her last relief; + The time and means resolv’d within her breast, + She to her mournful sister thus address’d + (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears, + And a false vigour in her eyes appears): + “Rejoice!” she said. “Instructed from above, + My lover I shall gain, or lose my love. + Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun, + Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run: + There a Massylian priestess I have found, + Honour’d for age, for magic arts renown’d: + Th’ Hesperian temple was her trusted care; + ’Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon’s fare. + She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep, + Reclaim’d his rage, and sooth’d him into sleep. + She watch’d the golden fruit; her charms unbind + The chains of love, or fix them on the mind: + She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry, + Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky. + The yawning earth rebellows to her call, + Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall. + Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part, + How loth I am to try this impious art! + Within the secret court, with silent care, + Erect a lofty pile, expos’d in air: + Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest, + Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest. + Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac’d, + Where I my ruin in his arms embrac’d: + All relics of the wretch are doom’d to fire; + For so the priestess and her charms require.” + + Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears; + A mortal paleness in her face appears: + Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find + The secret fun’ral in these rites design’d; + Nor thought so dire a rage possess’d her mind. + Unknowing of a train conceal’d so well, + She fear’d no worse than when Sichaeus fell; + Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear, + Within the secret court, expos’d in air. + The cloven holms and pines are heap’d on high, + And garlands on the hollow spaces lie. + Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath, + And ev’ry baleful green denoting death. + The queen, determin’d to the fatal deed, + The spoils and sword he left, in order spread, + And the man’s image on the nuptial bed. + + And now (the sacred altars plac’d around) + The priestess enters, with her hair unbound, + And thrice invokes the pow’rs below the ground. + Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims, + And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names, + And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round + With feign’d Avernian drops the hallow’d ground; + Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe’s light, + With brazen sickles reap’d at noon of night; + Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl, + And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal, + Robbing the mother’s love. The destin’d queen + Observes, assisting at the rites obscene; + A leaven’d cake in her devoted hands + She holds, and next the highest altar stands: + One tender foot was shod, her other bare; + Girt was her gather’d gown, and loose her hair. + Thus dress’d, she summon’d, with her dying breath, + The heav’ns and planets conscious of her death, + And ev’ry pow’r, if any rules above, + Who minds, or who revenges, injur’d love. + + “’Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close + Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose: + The winds no longer whisper thro’ the woods, + Nor murm’ring tides disturb the gentle floods. + The stars in silent order mov’d around; + And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground + The flocks and herds, and party-colour’d fowl, + Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool, + Stretch’d on the quiet earth, securely lay, + Forgetting the past labours of the day. + All else of nature’s common gift partake: + Unhappy Dido was alone awake. + Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find; + Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind. + Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart; + Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part. + + Then thus she said within her secret mind: + “What shall I do? what succour can I find? + Become a suppliant to Hyarba’s pride, + And take my turn, to court and be denied? + Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go, + Forsake an empire, and attend a foe? + Himself I refug’d, and his train reliev’d; + ’Tis true; but am I sure to be receiv’d? + Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place! + Laomedon still lives in all his race! + Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew, + Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue? + What force have I but those whom scarce before + I drew reluctant from their native shore? + Will they again embark at my desire, + Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre? + Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade, + And take the fortune thou thyself hast made. + Your pity, sister, first seduc’d my mind, + Or seconded too well what I design’d. + These dear-bought pleasures had I never known, + Had I continued free, and still my own; + Avoiding love, I had not found despair, + But shar’d with salvage beasts the common air. + Like them, a lonely life I might have led, + Not mourn’d the living, nor disturb’d the dead.” + These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast. + On board, the Trojan found more easy rest. + Resolv’d to sail, in sleep he pass’d the night; + And order’d all things for his early flight. + + To whom once more the winged god appears; + His former youthful mien and shape he wears, + And with this new alarm invades his ears: + “Sleep’st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown + Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town, + Beset with foes; nor hear’st the western gales + Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails? + She harbours in her heart a furious hate, + And thou shalt find the dire effects too late; + Fix’d on revenge, and obstinate to die. + Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow’r to fly. + The sea with ships will soon be cover’d o’er, + And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore. + Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies, + And sail before the purple morn arise. + Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring? + Woman’s a various and a changeful thing.” + Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight + Aloft in air unseen, and mix’d with night. + + Twice warn’d by the celestial messenger, + The pious prince arose with hasty fear; + Then rous’d his drowsy train without delay: + “Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh, + And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea. + A god commands: he stood before my sight, + And urg’d us once again to speedy flight. + O sacred pow’r, what pow’r soe’er thou art, + To thy blest orders I resign my heart. + Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands, + And prosper the design thy will commands.” + He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword, + His thund’ring arm divides the many-twisted cord. + An emulating zeal inspires his train: + They run; they snatch; they rush into the main. + With headlong haste they leave the desert shores, + And brush the liquid seas with lab’ring oars. + + Aurora now had left her saffron bed, + And beams of early light the heav’ns o’erspread, + When, from a tow’r, the queen, with wakeful eyes, + Saw day point upward from the rosy skies. + She look’d to seaward; but the sea was void, + And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried. + Stung with despite, and furious with despair, + She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair. + “And shall th’ ungrateful traitor go,” she said, + “My land forsaken, and my love betray’d? + Shall we not arm? not rush from ev’ry street, + To follow, sink, and burn his perjur’d fleet? + Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe! + Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row! + What have I said? where am I? Fury turns + My brain; and my distemper’d bosom burns. + Then, when I gave my person and my throne, + This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown. + See now the promis’d faith, the vaunted name, + The pious man, who, rushing thro’ the flame, + Preserv’d his gods, and to the Phrygian shore + The burthen of his feeble father bore! + I should have torn him piecemeal; strow’d in floods + His scatter’d limbs, or left expos’d in woods; + Destroy’d his friends and son; and, from the fire, + Have set the reeking boy before the sire. + Events are doubtful, which on battles wait: + Yet where’s the doubt, to souls secure of fate? + My Tyrians, at their injur’d queen’s command, + Had toss’d their fires amid the Trojan band; + At once extinguish’d all the faithless name; + And I myself, in vengeance of my shame, + Had fall’n upon the pile, to mend the fun’ral flame. + Thou Sun, who view’st at once the world below; + Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow; + Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes! + Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods, + All pow’rs invok’d with Dido’s dying breath, + Attend her curses and avenge her death! + If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands, + Th’ ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands, + Yet let a race untam’d, and haughty foes, + His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose: + Oppress’d with numbers in th’ unequal field, + His men discourag’d, and himself expell’d, + Let him for succour sue from place to place, + Torn from his subjects, and his son’s embrace. + First, let him see his friends in battle slain, + And their untimely fate lament in vain; + And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease, + On hard conditions may he buy his peace: + Nor let him then enjoy supreme command; + But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand, + And lie unburied on the barren sand! + These are my pray’rs, and this my dying will; + And you, my Tyrians, ev’ry curse fulfil. + Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim, + Against the prince, the people, and the name. + These grateful off’rings on my grave bestow; + Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know! + Now, and from hence, in ev’ry future age, + When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage + Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood, + With fire and sword pursue the perjur’d brood; + Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos’d to theirs; + And the same hate descend on all our heirs!” + + This said, within her anxious mind she weighs + The means of cutting short her odious days. + Then to Sichaeus’ nurse she briefly said + (For, when she left her country, hers was dead): + “Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care + The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare; + The sheep, and all th’ atoning off’rings bring, + Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring + With living drops; then let her come, and thou + With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow. + Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove, + And end the cares of my disastrous love; + Then cast the Trojan image on the fire, + And, as that burns, my passions shall expire.” + + The nurse moves onward, with officious care, + And all the speed her aged limbs can bear. + But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv’d, + Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv’d. + With livid spots distinguish’d was her face; + Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos’d her pace; + Ghastly she gaz’d, with pain she drew her breath, + And nature shiver’d at approaching death. + + Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass’d, + And mounts the fun’ral pile with furious haste; + Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind + (Not for so dire an enterprise design’d). + But when she view’d the garments loosely spread, + Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed, + She paus’d, and with a sigh the robes embrac’d; + Then on the couch her trembling body cast, + Repress’d the ready tears, and spoke her last: + “Dear pledges of my love, while Heav’n so pleas’d, + Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas’d: + My fatal course is finish’d; and I go, + A glorious name, among the ghosts below. + A lofty city by my hands is rais’d, + Pygmalion punish’d, and my lord appeas’d. + What could my fortune have afforded more, + Had the false Trojan never touch’d my shore!” + Then kiss’d the couch; and, “Must I die,” she said, + “And unreveng’d? ’Tis doubly to be dead! + Yet ev’n this death with pleasure I receive: + On any terms, ’tis better than to live. + These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view; + These boding omens his base flight pursue!” + + She said, and struck; deep enter’d in her side + The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed: + Clogg’d in the wound the cruel weapon stands; + The spouting blood came streaming on her hands. + Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke, + And with loud cries the sounding palace shook. + Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled, + And thro’ the town the dismal rumour spread. + First from the frighted court the yell began; + Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran: + The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries + Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies. + Not less the clamour, than if ancient Tyre, + Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire, + The rolling ruin, with their lov’d abodes, + Involv’d the blazing temples of their gods. + + Her sister hears; and, furious with despair, + She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair, + And, calling on Eliza’s name aloud, + Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd. + “Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar’d; + These fires, this fun’ral pile, these altars rear’d? + Was all this train of plots contriv’d,” said she, + “All only to deceive unhappy me? + Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend + To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend? + Thy summon’d sister, and thy friend, had come; + One sword had serv’d us both, one common tomb: + Was I to raise the pile, the pow’rs invoke, + Not to be present at the fatal stroke? + At once thou hast destroy’d thyself and me, + Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony! + Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death + Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.” + This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste, + And in her arms the gasping queen embrac’d; + Her temples chaf’d; and her own garments tore, + To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore. + Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head, + And, fainting thrice, fell grov’ling on the bed; + Thrice op’d her heavy eyes, and sought the light, + But, having found it, sicken’d at the sight, + And clos’d her lids at last in endless night. + + Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain + A death so ling’ring, and so full of pain, + Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife + Of lab’ring nature, and dissolve her life. + For since she died, not doom’d by Heav’n’s decree, + Or her own crime, but human casualty, + And rage of love, that plung’d her in despair, + The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair, + Which Proserpine and they can only know; + Nor made her sacred to the shades below. + Downward the various goddess took her flight, + And drew a thousand colours from the light; + Then stood above the dying lover’s head, + And said: “I thus devote thee to the dead. + This off’ring to th’ infernal gods I bear.” + Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair: + The struggling soul was loos’d, and life dissolv’d in air. + + + + BOOK V + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Aeneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the + coast of Sicily, where he is hospitably received by his friend + Acestes, king of part of the island, and born of Trojan + parentage. He applies himself to celebrate the memory of his + father with divine honours, and accordingly institues funeral + games, and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in them. + While the ceremonies are performing, Juno sends Iris to persuade + the Trojan woman to burn the ships, who, upon her instigation, + set fire to them: which burned four, and would have consumed the + rest, had not Jupiter, by a miraculous shower extinguished it. + Upon this, Aeneas, by the advice of one of his generals, and a + vision of his father, builds a city for the women, old men, and + others, who were either unfit for war, or weary of the voyage, + and sails for Italy. Venus procures of Neptune a safe voyage for + him and all his men, excepting only his pilot Palinurus, who was + unfortunately lost. + + + Meantime the Trojan cuts his wat’ry way, + Fix’d on his voyage, thro’ the curling sea; + Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze, + Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze. + The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind + The fate of Dido from the fire divin’d; + He knew the stormy souls of womankind, + What secret springs their eager passions move, + How capable of death for injur’d love. + Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw; + Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw. + Now seas and skies their prospect only bound; + An empty space above, a floating field around. + But soon the heav’ns with shadows were o’erspread; + A swelling cloud hung hov’ring o’er their head: + Livid it look’d, the threat’ning of a storm: + Then night and horror ocean’s face deform. + The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud: + “What gusts of weather from that gath’ring cloud + My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars, + Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars; + Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind.” + The frighted crew perform the task assign’d. + Then, to his fearless chief: “Not Heav’n,” said he, + “Tho’ Jove himself should promise Italy, + Can stem the torrent of this raging sea. + Mark how the shifting winds from west arise, + And what collected night involves the skies! + Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea, + Much less against the tempest force their way. + ’Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey. + Not far from hence, if I observ’d aright + The southing of the stars, and polar light, + Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores + In safety we may reach with struggling oars.” + Aeneas then replied: “Too sure I find + We strive in vain against the seas and wind: + Now shift your sails; what place can please me more + Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore, + Whose hallow’d earth Anchises’ bones contains, + And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?” + The course resolv’d, before the western wind + They scud amain, and make the port assign’d. + Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand, + Beheld the fleet descending on the land; + And, not unmindful of his ancient race, + Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace, + And held the hero in a strict embrace. + Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore, + And either hand a pointed jav’lin bore. + His mother was a dame of Dardan blood; + His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood. + He welcomes his returning friends ashore + With plenteous country cates and homely store. + + Now, when the following morn had chas’d away + The flying stars, and light restor’d the day, + Aeneas call’d the Trojan troops around, + And thus bespoke them from a rising ground: + “Offspring of heav’n, divine Dardanian race! + The sun, revolving thro’ th’ ethereal space, + The shining circle of the year has fill’d, + Since first this isle my father’s ashes held: + And now the rising day renews the year; + A day for ever sad, for ever dear. + This would I celebrate with annual games, + With gifts on altars pil’d, and holy flames, + Tho’ banish’d to Gaetulia’s barren sands, + Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands: + But since this happy storm our fleet has driv’n + (Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav’n) + Upon these friendly shores and flow’ry plains, + Which hide Anchises and his blest remains, + Let us with joy perform his honours due, + And pray for prosp’rous winds, our voyage to renew; + Pray, that in towns and temples of our own, + The name of great Anchises may be known, + And yearly games may spread the gods’ renown. + Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race, + With royal gifts ordain’d, is pleas’d to grace: + Two steers on ev’ry ship the king bestows; + His gods and ours shall share your equal vows. + Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn + Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn, + That day with solemn sports I mean to grace: + Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat’ry race; + Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend, + And others try the twanging bow to bend; + The strong, with iron gauntlets arm’d, shall stand + Oppos’d in combat on the yellow sand. + Let all be present at the games prepar’d, + And joyful victors wait the just reward. + But now assist the rites, with garlands crown’d.” + He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound. + Then Helymus, by his example led, + And old Acestes, each adorn’d his head; + Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace, + His temples tied, and all the Trojan race. + + Aeneas then advanc’d amidst the train, + By thousands follow’d thro’ the flow’ry plain, + To great Anchises’ tomb; which when he found, + He pour’d to Bacchus, on the hallow’d ground, + Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more, + And two from offer’d bulls of purple gore, + With roses then the sepulcher he strow’d + And thus his father’s ghost bespoke aloud: + “Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again, + Paternal ashes, now review’d in vain! + The gods permitted not, that you, with me, + Should reach the promis’d shores of Italy, + Or Tiber’s flood, what flood soe’er it be.” + Scarce had he finish’d, when, with speckled pride, + A serpent from the tomb began to glide; + His hugy bulk on sev’n high volumes roll’d; + Blue was his breadth of back, but streak’d with scaly gold: + Thus riding on his curls, he seem’d to pass + A rolling fire along, and singe the grass. + More various colours thro’ his body run, + Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun. + Betwixt the rising altars, and around, + The sacred monster shot along the ground; + With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass’d, + And with his lolling tongue assay’d the taste: + Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest + Within the hollow tomb retir’d to rest. + The pious prince, surpris’d at what he view’d, + The fun’ral honours with more zeal renew’d, + Doubtful if this place’s genius were, + Or guardian of his father’s sepulcher. + Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew; + As many swine, and steers of sable hue; + New gen’rous wine he from the goblets pour’d. + And call’d his father’s ghost, from hell restor’d. + The glad attendants in long order come, + Off’ring their gifts at great Anchises’ tomb: + Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil; + Some place the chargers on the grassy soil; + Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil. + + Now came the day desir’d. The skies were bright + With rosy luster of the rising light: + The bord’ring people, rous’d by sounding fame + Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes’ name, + The crowded shore with acclamations fill, + Part to behold, and part to prove their skill. + And first the gifts in public view they place, + Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors’ grace: + Within the circle, arms and tripods lie, + Ingots of gold and silver, heap’d on high, + And vests embroider’d, of the Tyrian dye. + The trumpet’s clangour then the feast proclaims, + And all prepare for their appointed games. + Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear, + Advancing, in the wat’ry lists appear. + The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind, + Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind: + Gyas the vast Chimaera’s bulk commands, + Which rising, like a tow’ring city stands; + Three Trojans tug at ev’ry lab’ring oar; + Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore; + Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar. + Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race, + In the great Centaur took the leading place; + Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood, + From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood. + + Far in the sea, against the foaming shore, + There stands a rock: the raging billows roar + Above his head in storms; but, when ’tis clear, + Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear. + In peace below the gentle waters run; + The cormorants above lie basking in the sun. + On this the hero fix’d an oak in sight, + The mark to guide the mariners aright. + To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars; + Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores. + The lots decide their place. Above the rest, + Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest; + The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs + Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows: + Besmear’d with oil, their naked shoulders shine. + All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign: + They gripe their oars; and ev’ry panting breast + Is rais’d by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress’d. + The clangour of the trumpet gives the sign; + At once they start, advancing in a line: + With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies; + Lash’d with their oars, the smoky billows rise; + Sparkles the briny main, and the vex’d ocean fries. + Exact in time, with equal strokes they row: + At once the brushing oars and brazen prow + Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below. + Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race, + Invade the field with half so swift a pace; + Not the fierce driver with more fury lends + The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends, + Low to the wheels his pliant body bends. + The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide, + And aid with eager shouts the favour’d side. + Cries, murmurs, clamours, with a mixing sound, + From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound. + + Amidst the loud applauses of the shore, + Gyas outstripp’d the rest, and sprung before: + Cloanthus, better mann’d, pursued him fast, + But his o’er-masted galley check’d his haste. + The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine + With equal oars, advancing in a line; + And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead, + And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead; + Now board to board the rival vessels row, + The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below. + They reach’d the mark; proud Gyas and his train + In triumph rode, the victors of the main; + But, steering round, he charg’d his pilot stand + More close to shore, and skim along the sand. + “Let others bear to sea!” Menoetes heard; + But secret shelves too cautiously he fear’d, + And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer’d. + With louder cries the captain call’d again: + “Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main.” + He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw + The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw. + Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood, + And in a closer compass plow’d the flood. + He pass’d the mark; and, wheeling, got before: + Gyas blasphem’d the gods, devoutly swore, + Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore. + Mindless of others’ lives (so high was grown + His rising rage) and careless of his own, + The trembling dotard to the deck he drew; + Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw: + This done, he seiz’d the helm; his fellows cheer’d, + Turn’d short upon the shelfs, and madly steer’d. + + Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears, + Clogg’d with his clothes, and cumber’d with his years: + Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain. + The crowd, that saw him fall and float again, + Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh’d, + To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught. + The following Centaur, and the Dolphin’s crew, + Their vanish’d hopes of victory renew; + While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race, + To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place; + Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind, + Comes up, not half his galley’s length behind; + Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear’d, + And thus their drooping courages he cheer’d: + “My friends, and Hector’s followers heretofore, + Exert your vigour; tug the lab’ring oar; + Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer’d crew, + Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew. + In this, our common int’rest, let me find + That strength of hand, that courage of the mind, + As when you stemm’d the strong Malean flood, + And o’er the Syrtes’ broken billows row’d. + I seek not now the foremost palm to gain; + Tho’ yet——But, ah! that haughty wish is vain! + Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain. + But to be last, the lags of all the race! + Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace.” + Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row + At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow. + The sea beneath ’em sinks; their lab’ring sides + Are swell’d, and sweat runs gutt’ring down in tides. + Chance aids their daring with unhop’d success; + Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press + Betwixt the rival galley and the rock, + Shuts up th’ unwieldly Centaur in the lock. + The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock, + Her oars she shiver’d, and her head she broke. + The trembling rowers from their banks arise, + And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize. + With iron poles they heave her off the shores, + And gather from the sea their floating oars. + The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds, + Urge their success, and call the willing winds; + Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way + In larger compass on the roomy sea. + As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes, + Rous’d in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes; + The cavern rings with clatt’ring; out she flies, + And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies: + At first she flutters; but at length she springs + To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings: + So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea; + And, flying with a force, that force assists his way. + Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass’d, + Wedg’d in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast. + In vain the victor he with cries implores, + And practices to row with shatter’d oars. + Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies: + The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize. + Unvanquish’d Scylla now alone remains; + Her he pursues, and all his vigour strains. + Shouts from the fav’ring multitude arise; + Applauding Echo to the shouts replies; + Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro’ the skies. + These clamours with disdain the Scylla heard, + Much grudg’d the praise, but more the robb’d reward: + Resolv’d to hold their own, they mend their pace, + All obstinate to die, or gain the race. + Rais’d with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran; + For they can conquer, who believe they can. + Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies, + And both perhaps had shar’d an equal prize; + When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands, + And succour from the wat’ry pow’rs demands: + “Gods of the liquid realms, on which I row! + If, giv’n by you, the laurel bind my brow, + Assist to make me guilty of my vow! + A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain; + His offer’d entrails cast into the main, + And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown, + Your grateful gift and my return shall own.” + The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below, + With virgin Panopea, heard his vow; + And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand, + Push’d on, and sped the galley to the land. + Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies, + And, darting to the port, obtains the prize. + + The herald summons all, and then proclaims + Cloanthus conqu’ror of the naval games. + The prince with laurel crowns the victor’s head, + And three fat steers are to his vessel led, + The ship’s reward; with gen’rous wine beside, + And sums of silver, which the crew divide. + The leaders are distinguish’d from the rest; + The victor honour’d with a nobler vest, + Where gold and purple strive in equal rows, + And needlework its happy cost bestows. + There Ganymede is wrought with living art, + Chasing thro’ Ida’s groves the trembling hart: + Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue; + When from aloft descends, in open view, + The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey, + With crooked talons bears the boy away. + In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes, + His guards behold him soaring thro’ the skies, + And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries. + + Mnestheus the second victor was declar’d; + And, summon’d there, the second prize he shar’d. + A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore, + More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore, + In single combat on the Trojan shore: + This was ordain’d for Mnestheus to possess; + In war for his defence, for ornament in peace. + Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold, + But yet so pond’rous with its plates of gold, + That scarce two servants could the weight sustain; + Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o’er the plain + Pursued and lightly seiz’d the Trojan train. + The third, succeeding to the last reward, + Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar’d, + With figures prominent, and richly wrought, + And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought. + + Thus all, rewarded by the hero’s hands, + Their conqu’ring temples bound with purple bands; + And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock, + Brought back his galley shatter’d with the shock. + Forlorn she look’d, without an aiding oar, + And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore. + As when a snake, surpris’d upon the road, + Is crush’d athwart her body by the load + Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound + Her belly bruis’d, and trodden to the ground: + In vain, with loosen’d curls, she crawls along; + Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue; + Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales; + But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails: + So slowly to the port the Centaur tends, + But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends. + Yet, for his galley sav’d, the grateful prince + Is pleas’d th’ unhappy chief to recompense. + Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care, + Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair. + + From thence his way the Trojan hero bent + Into the neighb’ring plain, with mountains pent, + Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood. + Full in the midst of this fair valley stood + A native theatre, which, rising slow + By just degrees, o’erlook’d the ground below. + High on a sylvan throne the leader sate; + A num’rous train attend in solemn state. + Here those that in the rapid course delight, + Desire of honour and the prize invite. + The rival runners without order stand; + The Trojans mix’d with the Sicilian band. + First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears; + Euryalus a boy of blooming years, + With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown’d; + Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown’d. + Diores next, of Priam’s royal race, + Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place; + But Patron in Arcadia had his birth, + And Salius his from Arcananian earth; + Then two Sicilian youths, the names of these, + Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes: + Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred, + And owning old Acestes for their head; + With sev’ral others of ignobler name, + Whom time has not deliver’d o’er to fame. + + To these the hero thus his thoughts explain’d, + In words which gen’ral approbation gain’d: + “One common largess is for all design’d, + The vanquish’d and the victor shall be join’d, + Two darts of polish’d steel and Gnosian wood, + A silver-studded ax alike bestow’d. + The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed: + The first of these obtains a stately steed, + Adorn’d with trappings; and the next in fame, + The quiver of an Amazonian dame, + With feather’d Thracian arrows well supplied: + A golden belt shall gird his manly side, + Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied. + The third this Grecian helmet shall content.” + He said. To their appointed base they went; + With beating hearts th’ expected sign receive, + And, starting all at once, the barrier leave. + Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew, + And seiz’d the distant goal with greedy view. + Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o’erpass’d; + Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste. + The next, but tho’ the next, yet far disjoin’d, + Came Salius, and Euryalus behind; + Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied, + Step after step, and almost side by side, + His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space, + Had won, or left at least a dubious race. + + Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last, + When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste, + Slipp’d first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain, + Soak’d with the blood of oxen newly slain. + The careless victor had not mark’d his way; + But, treading where the treach’rous puddle lay, + His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor + He fell, besmear’d with filth and holy gore. + Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee, + Nor of the sacred bonds of amity, + He strove th’ immediate rival’s hope to cross, + And caught the foot of Salius as he rose. + So Salius lay extended on the plain; + Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain, + And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend + The victor to the goal, who vanquish’d by his friend. + Next Helymus; and then Diores came, + By two misfortunes made the third in fame. + + But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud + For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd; + Urges his cause may in the court be heard; + And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr’d. + But favour for Euryalus appears; + His blooming beauty, with his tender tears, + Had brib’d the judges for the promis’d prize. + Besides, Diores fills the court with cries, + Who vainly reaches at the last reward, + If the first palm on Salius be conferr’d. + Then thus the prince: “Let no disputes arise: + Where fortune plac’d it, I award the prize. + But fortune’s errors give me leave to mend, + At least to pity my deserving friend.” + He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws + (Pond’rous with shaggy mane and golden paws) + A lion’s hide: to Salius this he gives. + Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves. + “If such rewards to vanquish’d men are due.” + He said, “and falling is to rise by you, + What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim, + Who merited the first rewards and fame? + In falling, both an equal fortune tried; + Would fortune for my fall so well provide!” + With this he pointed to his face, and show’d + His hand and all his habit smear’d with blood. + Th’ indulgent father of the people smil’d, + And caus’d to be produc’d an ample shield, + Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought, + Long since from Neptune’s bars in triumph brought. + This giv’n to Nisus, he divides the rest, + And equal justice in his gifts express’d. + + The race thus ended, and rewards bestow’d, + Once more the prince bespeaks th’ attentive crowd: + “If there be here, whose dauntless courage dare + In gauntlet fight, with limbs and body bare, + His opposite sustain in open view, + Stand forth the champion, and the games renew. + Two prizes I propose, and thus divide: + A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied, + Shall be the portion of the conqu’ring chief; + A sword and helm shall cheer the loser’s grief.” + + Then haughty Dares in the lists appears; + Stalking he strides, his head erected bears: + His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, + And loud applauses echo thro’ the field. + Dares alone in combat us’d to stand + The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand; + The same, at Hector’s fun’rals, undertook + Gigantic Butes, of th’ Amycian stock, + And, by the stroke of his resistless hand, + Stretch’d the vast bulk upon the yellow sand. + Such Dares was; and such he strode along, + And drew the wonder of the gazing throng. + His brawny back and ample breast he shows, + His lifted arms around his head he throws, + And deals in whistling air his empty blows. + His match is sought; but, thro’ the trembling band, + Not one dares answer to the proud demand. + Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes + Already he devours the promis’d prize. + He claims the bull with awless insolence, + And having seiz’d his horns, accosts the prince: + “If none my matchless valour dares oppose, + How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes? + Permit me, chief, permit without delay, + To lead this uncontended gift away.” + The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries + For the proud challenger demands the prize. + + Acestes, fir’d with just disdain, to see + The palm usurp’d without a victory, + Reproach’d Entellus thus, who sate beside, + And heard and saw, unmov’d, the Trojan’s pride: + “Once, but in vain, a champion of renown, + So tamely can you bear the ravish’d crown, + A prize in triumph borne before your sight, + And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight? + Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name, + The god who taught your thund’ring arm the game? + Where now your baffled honour? Where the spoil + That fill’d your house, and fame that fill’d our isle?” + Entellus, thus: “My soul is still the same, + Unmov’d with fear, and mov’d with martial fame; + But my chill blood is curdled in my veins, + And scarce the shadow of a man remains. + O could I turn to that fair prime again, + That prime of which this boaster is so vain, + The brave, who this decrepid age defies, + Should feel my force, without the promis’d prize.” + + He said; and, rising at the word, he threw + Two pond’rous gauntlets down in open view; + Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield, + And sheathe his hands with in the listed field. + With fear and wonder seiz’d, the crowd beholds + The gloves of death, with sev’n distinguish’d folds + Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread + With iron, or with loads of heavy lead: + Dares himself was daunted at the sight, + Renounc’d his challenge, and refus’d to fight. + Astonish’d at their weight, the hero stands, + And pois’d the pond’rous engines in his hands. + “What had your wonder,” said Entellus, “been, + Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen, + Or view’d the stern debate on this unhappy green! + These which I bear your brother Eryx bore, + Still mark’d with batter’d brains and mingled gore. + With these he long sustain’d th’ Herculean arm; + And these I wielded while my blood was warm, + This languish’d frame while better spirits fed, + Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o’ersnow’d my head. + But if the challenger these arms refuse, + And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use; + If great Aeneas and Acestes join + In his request, these gauntlets I resign; + Let us with equal arms perform the fight, + And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right.” + + This said, Entellus for the strife prepares; + Stripp’d of his quilted coat, his body bares; + Compos’d of mighty bones and brawn he stands, + A goodly tow’ring object on the sands. + Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied, + Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied. + Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent, + Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent; + Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar; + With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war. + One on his youth and pliant limbs relies; + One on his sinews and his giant size. + The last is stiff with age, his motion slow; + He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro, + And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow. + Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike; + Their ways are diff’rent, but their art alike. + Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around + Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound. + A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies, + And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes. + Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws + A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws. + Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground, + But with his warping body wards the wound. + His hand and watchful eye keep even pace; + While Dares traverses and shifts his place, + And, like a captain who beleaguers round + Some strong-built castle on a rising ground, + Views all th’ approaches with observing eyes: + This and that other part in vain he tries, + And more on industry than force relies. + With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe; + But Dares watch’d the motion from below, + And slipp’d aside, and shunn’d the long descending blow. + Entellus wastes his forces on the wind, + And, thus deluded of the stroke design’d, + Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast + And weighty limbs his ancient mother press’d. + So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood + On Ida’s height, or Erymanthus’ wood, + Torn from the roots. The diff’ring nations rise, + And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies, + Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise + The fall’n companion of his youthful days. + Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return’d; + With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn’d. + Disdain and conscious virtue fir’d his breast, + And with redoubled force his foe he press’d. + He lays on load with either hand, amain, + And headlong drives the Trojan o’er the plain; + Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows; + But storms of strokes descend about his brows, + A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows. + But now the prince, who saw the wild increase + Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, + And bounds Entellus’ wrath, and bids the peace. + First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, + And sooth’d his sorrow for the suffer’d shame. + “What fury seiz’d my friend? The gods,” said he, + “To him propitious, and averse to thee, + Have giv’n his arm superior force to thine. + ’Tis madness to contend with strength divine.” + The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore + His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore: + His mouth and nostrils pour’d a purple flood, + And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood. + Faintly he stagger’d thro’ the hissing throng, + And hung his head, and trail’d his legs along. + The sword and casque are carried by his train; + But with his foe the palm and ox remain. + + The champion, then, before Aeneas came, + Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame: + “O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host, + Mark with attention, and forgive my boast; + Learn what I was, by what remains; and know + From what impending fate you sav’d my foe.” + Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull; + And, on his ample forehead aiming full, + The deadly stroke, descending, pierc’d the skull. + Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound, + But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground. + Then, thus: “In Dares’ stead I offer this. + Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice; + Take the last gift my wither’d arms can yield: + Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field.” + + This done, Aeneas orders, for the close, + The strife of archers with contending bows. + The mast Sergesthus’ shatter’d galley bore + With his own hands he raises on the shore. + A flutt’ring dove upon the top they tie, + The living mark at which their arrows fly. + The rival archers in a line advance, + Their turn of shooting to receive from chance. + A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn: + On the first scroll was read Hippocoon. + The people shout. Upon the next was found + Young Mnestheus, late with naval honours crown’d. + The third contain’d Eurytion’s noble name, + Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame, + Whom Pallas urg’d the treaty to confound, + And send among the Greeks a feather’d wound. + Acestes in the bottom last remain’d, + Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain’d. + Soon all with vigour bend their trusty bows, + And from the quiver each his arrow chose. + Hippocoon’s was the first: with forceful sway + It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way. + Fix’d in the mast the feather’d weapon stands: + The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands, + And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries + Of the pleas’d people rend the vaulted skies. + Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove, + With lifted eyes, and took his aim above, + But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove; + Yet miss’d so narrow, that he cut the cord + Which fasten’d by the foot the flitting bird. + The captive thus releas’d, away she flies, + And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies. + His bow already bent, Eurytion stood; + And, having first invok’d his brother god, + His winged shaft with eager haste he sped. + The fatal message reach’d her as she fled: + She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground, + And renders back the weapon in the wound. + Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains, + Without a prize to gratify his pains. + Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show + An archer’s art, and boast his twanging bow. + The feather’d arrow gave a dire portent, + And latter augurs judge from this event. + Chaf’d by the speed, it fir’d; and, as it flew, + A trail of following flames ascending drew: + Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way; + Across the skies as falling meteors play, + And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay. + The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare, + And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray’r. + The Dardan prince put on a smiling face, + And strain’d Acestes with a close embrace; + Then, hon’ring him with gifts above the rest, + Turn’d the bad omen, nor his fears confess’d. + “The gods,” said he, “this miracle have wrought, + And order’d you the prize without the lot. + Accept this goblet, rough with figur’d gold, + Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old: + This pledge of ancient amity receive, + Which to my second sire I justly give.” + He said, and, with the trumpets’ cheerful sound, + Proclaim’d him victor, and with laurel-crown’d. + Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize, + Tho’ he transfix’d the pigeon in the skies. + Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac’d; + The third was his whose arrow pierc’d the mast. + + The chief, before the games were wholly done, + Call’d Periphantes, tutor to his son, + And whisper’d thus: “With speed Ascanius find; + And, if his childish troop be ready join’d, + On horseback let him grace his grandsire’s day, + And lead his equals arm’d in just array.” + He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears. + The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears. + And now the noble youths, of form divine, + Advance before their fathers, in a line; + The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine. + + Thus marching on in military pride, + Shouts of applause resound from side to side. + Their casques adorn’d with laurel wreaths they wear, + Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear. + Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; + Their chains of burnish’d gold hung down before. + Three graceful troops they form’d upon the green; + Three graceful leaders at their head were seen; + Twelve follow’d ev’ry chief, and left a space between. + The first young Priam led; a lovely boy, + Whose grandsire was th’ unhappy king of Troy; + His race in after times was known to fame, + New honours adding to the Latian name; + And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became. + White were the fetlocks of his feet before, + And on his front a snowy star he bore. + Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred, + Of equal age, the second squadron led. + The last in order, but the first in place, + First in the lovely features of his face, + Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed, + Queen Dido’s gift, and of the Tyrian breed. + Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains, + With golden bits adorn’d, and purple reins. + + The pleas’d spectators peals of shouts renew, + And all the parents in the children view; + Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace, + And hopes and fears alternate in their face. + + Th’ unfledg’d commanders and their martial train + First make the circuit of the sandy plain + Around their sires, and, at th’ appointed sign, + Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line. + The second signal sounds, the troop divides + In three distinguish’d parts, with three distinguish’d guides + Again they close, and once again disjoin; + In troop to troop oppos’d, and line to line. + They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar + With harmless rage and well-dissembled war. + Then in a round the mingled bodies run: + Flying they follow, and pursuing shun; + Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew + In other forms the military shew. + At last, in order, undiscern’d they join, + And march together in a friendly line. + And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old, + With wand’ring ways and many a winding fold, + Involv’d the weary feet, without redress, + In a round error, which denied recess; + So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play, + Turn’d and return’d, and still a diff’rent way. + Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase + In circles, when they swim around the wat’ry race. + This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught; + And, building Alba, to the Latins brought; + Shew’d what he learn’d: the Latin sires impart + To their succeeding sons the graceful art; + From these imperial Rome receiv’d the game, + Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name. + + Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate: + But Fortune soon resum’d her ancient hate; + For, while they pay the dead his annual dues, + Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views; + And sends the goddess of the various bow, + To try new methods of revenge below; + Supplies the winds to wing her airy way, + Where in the port secure the navy lay. + Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends, + And, undiscern’d, her fatal voyage ends. + She saw the gath’ring crowd; and, gliding thence, + The desert shore, and fleet without defence. + The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone, + With sighs and tears Anchises’ death bemoan; + Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes, + Their pity to themselves renews their cries. + “Alas!” said one, “what oceans yet remain + For us to sail! what labours to sustain!” + All take the word, and, with a gen’ral groan, + Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own. + + The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains, + And in a woman’s form her heav’nly limbs restrains. + In face and shape old Beroe she became, + Doryclus’ wife, a venerable dame, + Once blest with riches, and a mother’s name. + Thus chang’d, amidst the crying crowd she ran, + Mix’d with the matrons, and these words began: + “O wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow’r, + Nor flames, destroy’d, in Troy’s unhappy hour! + O wretched we, reserv’d by cruel fate, + Beyond the ruins of the sinking state! + Now sev’n revolving years are wholly run, + Since this improsp’rous voyage we begun; + Since, toss’d from shores to shores, from lands to lands, + Inhospitable rocks and barren sands, + Wand’ring in exile thro’ the stormy sea, + We search in vain for flying Italy. + Now cast by fortune on this kindred land, + What should our rest and rising walls withstand, + Or hinder here to fix our banish’d band? + O country lost, and gods redeem’d in vain, + If still in endless exile we remain! + Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew, + Or streams of some dissembled Simois view! + Haste, join with me, th’ unhappy fleet consume! + Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom. + In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands + (For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands: + ‘With these,’ said she, ‘these wand’ring ships destroy: + These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.’ + Time calls you now; the precious hour employ: + Slack not the good presage, while Heav’n inspires + Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires. + See! Neptune’s altars minister their brands: + The god is pleas’d; the god supplies our hands.” + Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew, + And, toss’d in air, amidst the galleys threw. + + Wrapp’d in amaze, the matrons wildly stare: + Then Pyrgo, reverenc’d for her hoary hair, + Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam’s num’rous race: + “No Beroe this, tho’ she belies her face! + What terrors from her frowning front arise! + Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes! + What rays around her heav’nly face are seen! + Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien! + Beroe but now I left, whom, pin’d with pain, + Her age and anguish from these rites detain,” + She said. The matrons, seiz’d with new amaze, + Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze. + They fear, and hope, and neither part obey: + They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way. + The goddess, having done her task below, + Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow. + Struck with the sight, and seiz’d with rage divine, + The matrons prosecute their mad design: + They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands, + The food of altars; fires and flaming brands. + Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste, + And smoking torches, on the ships they cast. + The flame, unstopp’d at first, more fury gains, + And Vulcan rides at large with loosen’d reins: + Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars, + And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars. + Eumelus was the first the news to bear, + While yet they crowd the rural theatre. + Then, what they hear, is witness’d by their eyes: + A storm of sparkles and of flames arise. + Ascanius took th’ alarm, while yet he led + His early warriors on his prancing steed, + And, spurring on, his equals soon o’erpass’d; + Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste. + Soon as the royal youth appear’d in view, + He sent his voice before him as he flew: + “What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy + The last remainders of unhappy Troy! + Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn, + And on your friends your fatal fury turn. + Behold your own Ascanius!” While he said, + He drew his glitt’ring helmet from his head, + In which the youths to sportful arms he led. + By this, Aeneas and his train appear; + And now the women, seiz’d with shame and fear, + Dispers’d, to woods and caverns take their flight, + Abhor their actions, and avoid the light; + Their friends acknowledge, and their error find, + And shake the goddess from their alter’d mind. + + Not so the raging fires their fury cease, + But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace, + Work on their way amid the smould’ring tow, + Sure in destruction, but in motion slow. + The silent plague thro’ the green timber eats, + And vomits out a tardy flame by fits. + Down to the keels, and upward to the sails, + The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails; + Nor buckets pour’d, nor strength of human hand, + Can the victorious element withstand. + + The pious hero rends his robe, and throws + To heav’n his hands, and with his hands his vows. + “O Jove,” he cried, “if pray’rs can yet have place; + If thou abhorr’st not all the Dardan race; + If any spark of pity still remain; + If gods are gods, and not invok’d in vain; + Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train! + Yet from the flames our burning vessels free, + Or let thy fury fall alone on me! + At this devoted head thy thunder throw, + And send the willing sacrifice below!” + + Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise: + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; + Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain; + Heav’n bellies downward, and descends in rain. + Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent, + Which, hissing thro’ the planks, the flames prevent, + And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone + Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone. + + But doubtful thoughts the hero’s heart divide; + If he should still in Sicily reside, + Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main, + In hope the promis’d Italy to gain. + Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone + The will of Heav’n by Pallas was foreshown; + Vers’d in portents, experienc’d, and inspir’d + To tell events, and what the fates requir’d; + Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin’d, + With cheerful words reliev’d his lab’ring mind: + “O goddess-born, resign’d in ev’ry state, + With patience bear, with prudence push your fate. + By suff’ring well, our Fortune we subdue; + Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue. + Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind; + To him disclose the secrets of your mind: + Trust in his hands your old and useless train; + Too num’rous for the ships which yet remain: + The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease, + The dames who dread the dangers of the seas, + With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand + The shock of battle with your foes by land. + Here you may build a common town for all, + And, from Acestes’ name, Acesta call.” + The reasons, with his friend’s experience join’d, + Encourag’d much, but more disturb’d his mind. + + ’Twas dead of night; when to his slumb’ring eyes + His father’s shade descended from the skies, + And thus he spoke: “O more than vital breath, + Lov’d while I liv’d, and dear ev’n after death; + O son, in various toils and troubles toss’d, + The King of Heav’n employs my careful ghost + On his commands: the god, who sav’d from fire + Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire. + The wholesome counsel of your friend receive, + And here the coward train and woman leave: + The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare, + Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war. + The stern Italians will their courage try; + Rough are their manners, and their minds are high. + But first to Pluto’s palace you shall go, + And seek my shade among the blest below: + For not with impious ghosts my soul remains, + Nor suffers with the damn’d perpetual pains, + But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains. + The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey, + And blood of offer’d victims free the way. + There shall you know what realms the gods assign, + And learn the fates and fortunes of your line. + But now, farewell! I vanish with the night, + And feel the blast of heav’n’s approaching light.” + He said, and mix’d with shades, and took his airy flight. + “Whither so fast?” the filial duty cried; + “And why, ah why, the wish’d embrace denied?” + + He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires, + He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires; + His country gods and Vesta then adores + With cakes and incense, and their aid implores. + Next, for his friends and royal host he sent, + Reveal’d his vision, and the gods’ intent, + With his own purpose. All, without delay, + The will of Jove, and his desires obey. + They list with women each degenerate name, + Who dares not hazard life for future fame. + These they cashier: the brave remaining few, + Oars, banks, and cables, half consum’d, renew. + The prince designs a city with the plow; + The lots their sev’ral tenements allow. + This part is nam’d from Ilium, that from Troy, + And the new king ascends the throne with joy; + A chosen senate from the people draws; + Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws. + Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin + A rising temple to the Paphian queen. + Anchises, last, is honour’d as a god; + A priest is added, annual gifts bestow’d, + And groves are planted round his blest abode. + Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown’d; + And fumes of incense in the fanes abound. + Then from the south arose a gentle breeze + That curl’d the smoothness of the glassy seas; + The rising winds a ruffling gale afford, + And call the merry mariners aboard. + + Now loud laments along the shores resound, + Of parting friends in close embraces bound. + The trembling women, the degenerate train, + Who shunn’d the frightful dangers of the main, + Ev’n those desire to sail, and take their share + Of the rough passage and the promis’d war: + Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends + To their new master’s care his fearful friends. + On Eryx’s altars three fat calves he lays; + A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas; + Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs. + High on the deck the godlike hero stands, + With olive crown’d, a charger in his hands; + Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine, + And pour’d the sacrifice of purple wine. + Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie, + And brush the buxom seas, and o’er the billows fly. + + Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears, + To Neptune thus address’d, with tender tears: + “The pride of Jove’s imperious queen, the rage, + The malice which no suff’rings can assuage, + Compel me to these pray’rs; since neither fate, + Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate: + Ev’n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife; + Still vanquish’d, yet she still renews the strife. + As if ’twere little to consume the town + Which aw’d the world, and wore th’ imperial crown, + She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains, + And gnaws, ev’n to the bones, the last remains. + Let her the causes of her hatred tell; + But you can witness its effects too well. + You saw the storm she rais’d on Libyan floods, + That mix’d the mounting billows with the clouds; + When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main, + And mov’d rebellion in your wat’ry reign. + With fury she possess’d the Dardan dames, + To burn their fleet with execrable flames, + And forc’d Aeneas, when his ships were lost, + To leave his foll’wers on a foreign coast. + For what remains, your godhead I implore, + And trust my son to your protecting pow’r. + If neither Jove’s nor Fate’s decree withstand, + Secure his passage to the Latian land.” + + Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main: + “What may not Venus hope from Neptune’s reign? + My kingdom claims your birth; my late defence + Of your indanger’d fleet may claim your confidence. + Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare + How much your lov’d Aeneas is my care. + Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest. + Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press’d, + And drove before him headlong on the plain, + And dash’d against the walls the trembling train; + When floods were fill’d with bodies of the slain; + When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way, + Stood up on ridges to behold the sea; + New heaps came tumbling in, and chok’d his way; + When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds + Of force unequal, and unequal gods; + I spread a cloud before the victor’s sight, + Sustain’d the vanquish’d, and secur’d his flight; + Ev’n then secur’d him, when I sought with joy + The vow’d destruction of ungrateful Troy. + My will’s the same: fair goddess, fear no more, + Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore; + Their lives are giv’n; one destin’d head alone + Shall perish, and for multitudes atone.” + Thus having arm’d with hopes her anxious mind, + His finny team Saturnian Neptune join’d, + Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws, + And to the loosen’d reins permits the laws. + High on the waves his azure car he guides; + Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides, + And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides. + The tempests fly before their father’s face, + Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace, + And monster whales before their master play, + And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat’ry way. + The marshal’d pow’rs in equal troops divide + To right and left; the gods his better side + Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride. + + Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude, + Within the hero’s mind his joys renew’d. + He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display; + The cheerful crew with diligence obey; + They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea. + Ahead of all the master pilot steers; + And, as he leads, the following navy veers. + The steeds of Night had travel’d half the sky, + The drowsy rowers on their benches lie, + When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight, + Descends, and draws behind a trail of light. + Thou, Palinurus, art his destin’d prey; + To thee alone he takes his fatal way. + Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears; + And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears. + Then thus the traitor god began his tale: + “The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale; + The ships, without thy care, securely sail. + Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I + Will take the rudder and thy room supply.” + To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep: + “Me dost thou bid to trust the treach’rous deep, + The harlot smiles of her dissembling face, + And to her faith commit the Trojan race? + Shall I believe the Siren South again, + And, oft betray’d, not know the monster main?” + He said: his fasten’d hands the rudder keep, + And, fix’d on heav’n, his eyes repel invading sleep. + The god was wroth, and at his temples threw + A branch in Lethe dipp’d, and drunk with Stygian dew: + The pilot, vanquish’d by the pow’r divine, + Soon clos’d his swimming eyes, and lay supine. + Scarce were his limbs extended at their length, + The god, insulting with superior strength, + Fell heavy on him, plung’d him in the sea, + And, with the stern, the rudder tore away. + Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main, + Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain. + The victor daemon mounts obscure in air, + While the ship sails without the pilot’s care. + On Neptune’s faith the floating fleet relies; + But what the man forsook, the god supplies, + And o’er the dang’rous deep secure the navy flies; + Glides by the Sirens’ cliffs, a shelfy coast, + Long infamous for ships and sailors lost, + And white with bones. Th’ impetuous ocean roars, + And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores. + The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found + The tossing vessel sail’d on shoaly ground. + Sure of his pilot’s loss, he takes himself + The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf. + Inly he griev’d, and, groaning from the breast, + Deplor’d his death; and thus his pain express’d: + “For faith repos’d on seas, and on the flatt’ring sky, + Thy naked corpse is doom’d on shores unknown to lie.” + + + + BOOK VI + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + The Sibyl foretells Aeneas the adventures he should meet with in + Italy. She attends him to hell; describing to him the various + scenes of that place, and conducting him to his father Anchises, + who instructs him in those sublime mysteries, of the soul of the + world, and the transmigration; and shows him that glorious race + of heroes, which was to descend from him and his posterity. + + + He said, and wept; then spread his sails before + The winds, and reach’d at length the Cumaean shore: + Their anchors dropp’d, his crew the vessels moor. + They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land, + And greet with greedy joy th’ Italian strand. + Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed; + Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed, + Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods, + Or trace thro’ valleys the discover’d floods. + Thus, while their sev’ral charges they fulfil, + The pious prince ascends the sacred hill + Where Phoebus is ador’d; and seeks the shade + Which hides from sight his venerable maid. + Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode; + Thence full of fate returns, and of the god. + Thro’ Trivia’s grove they walk; and now behold, + And enter now, the temple roof’d with gold. + When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore, + His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore, + (The first who sail’d in air,) ’tis sung by Fame, + To the Cumaean coast at length he came, + And here alighting, built this costly frame. + Inscrib’d to Phoebus, here he hung on high + The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky: + Then o’er the lofty gate his art emboss’d + Androgeos’ death, and off’rings to his ghost; + Sev’n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet + The fate appointed by revengeful Crete. + And next to those the dreadful urn was plac’d, + In which the destin’d names by lots were cast: + The mournful parents stand around in tears, + And rising Crete against their shore appears. + There too, in living sculpture, might be seen + The mad affection of the Cretan queen; + Then how she cheats her bellowing lover’s eye; + The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny, + The lower part a beast, a man above, + The monument of their polluted love. + Not far from thence he grav’d the wondrous maze, + A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways: + Here dwells the monster, hid from human view, + Not to be found, but by the faithful clue; + Till the kind artist, mov’d with pious grief, + Lent to the loving maid this last relief, + And all those erring paths describ’d so well + That Theseus conquer’d and the monster fell. + Here hapless Icarus had found his part, + Had not the father’s grief restrain’d his art. + He twice assay’d to cast his son in gold; + Twice from his hands he dropp’d the forming mould. + + All this with wond’ring eyes Aeneas view’d; + Each varying object his delight renew’d: + Eager to read the rest, Achates came, + And by his side the mad divining dame, + The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name. + “Time suffers not,” she said, “to feed your eyes + With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice. + Sev’n bullocks, yet unyok’d, for Phoebus choose, + And for Diana sev’n unspotted ewes.” + This said, the servants urge the sacred rites, + While to the temple she the prince invites. + A spacious cave, within its farmost part, + Was hew’d and fashion’d by laborious art + Thro’ the hill’s hollow sides: before the place, + A hundred doors a hundred entries grace; + As many voices issue, and the sound + Of Sybil’s words as many times rebound. + Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries: + “This is the time; enquire your destinies. + He comes; behold the god!” Thus while she said, + (And shiv’ring at the sacred entry stay’d,) + Her colour chang’d; her face was not the same, + And hollow groans from her deep spirit came. + Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess’d + Her trembling limbs, and heav’d her lab’ring breast. + Greater than humankind she seem’d to look, + And with an accent more than mortal spoke. + Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll; + When all the god came rushing on her soul. + Swiftly she turn’d, and, foaming as she spoke: + “Why this delay?” she cried; “the pow’rs invoke! + Thy pray’rs alone can open this abode; + Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.” + + She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear, + O’erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear. + The prince himself, with awful dread possess’d, + His vows to great Apollo thus address’d: + “Indulgent god, propitious pow’r to Troy, + Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy, + Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart + Pierc’d the proud Grecian’s only mortal part: + Thus far, by fate’s decrees and thy commands, + Thro’ ambient seas and thro’ devouring sands, + Our exil’d crew has sought th’ Ausonian ground; + And now, at length, the flying coast is found. + Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place, + With fury has pursued her wand’ring race. + Here cease, ye pow’rs, and let your vengeance end: + Troy is no more, and can no more offend. + And thou, O sacred maid, inspir’d to see + Th’ event of things in dark futurity; + Give me what Heav’n has promis’d to my fate, + To conquer and command the Latian state; + To fix my wand’ring gods, and find a place + For the long exiles of the Trojan race. + Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear + To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray’r; + And annual rites, and festivals, and games, + Shall be perform’d to their auspicious names. + Nor shalt thou want thy honours in my land; + For there thy faithful oracles shall stand, + Preserv’d in shrines; and ev’ry sacred lay, + Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey: + All shall be treasur’d by a chosen train + Of holy priests, and ever shall remain. + But O! commit not thy prophetic mind + To flitting leaves, the sport of ev’ry wind, + Lest they disperse in air our empty fate; + Write not, but, what the pow’rs ordain, relate.” + + Struggling in vain, impatient of her load, + And lab’ring underneath the pond’rous god, + The more she strove to shake him from her breast, + With more and far superior force he press’d; + Commands his entrance, and, without control, + Usurps her organs and inspires her soul. + Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors + Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars + Within the cave, and Sibyl’s voice restores: + “Escap’d the dangers of the wat’ry reign, + Yet more and greater ills by land remain. + The coast, so long desir’d (nor doubt th’ event), + Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach’d, repent. + Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood, + And Tiber rolling with a purple flood. + Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there: + A new Achilles shall in arms appear, + And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno’s hate, + Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate. + To what strange nations shalt not thou resort, + Driv’n to solicit aid at ev’ry court! + The cause the same which Ilium once oppress’d; + A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest. + But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes, + The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose. + The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown + From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town.” + + Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke, + And the resisting air the thunder broke; + The cave rebellow’d, and the temple shook. + Th’ ambiguous god, who rul’d her lab’ring breast, + In these mysterious words his mind express’d; + Some truths reveal’d, in terms involv’d the rest. + At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas’d, + And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas’d. + Then thus the chief: “No terror to my view, + No frightful face of danger can be new. + Inur’d to suffer, and resolv’d to dare, + The Fates, without my pow’r, shall be without my care. + This let me crave, since near your grove the road + To hell lies open, and the dark abode + Which Acheron surrounds, th’ innavigable flood; + Conduct me thro’ the regions void of light, + And lead me longing to my father’s sight. + For him, a thousand dangers I have sought, + And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought, + Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought. + He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried, + And wrath of Heav’n, my still auspicious guide, + And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied. + Oft, since he breath’d his last, in dead of night + His reverend image stood before my sight; + Enjoin’d to seek, below, his holy shade; + Conducted there by your unerring aid. + But you, if pious minds by pray’rs are won, + Oblige the father, and protect the son. + Yours is the pow’r; nor Proserpine in vain + Has made you priestess of her nightly reign. + If Orpheus, arm’d with his enchanting lyre, + The ruthless king with pity could inspire, + And from the shades below redeem his wife; + If Pollux, off’ring his alternate life, + Could free his brother, and can daily go + By turns aloft, by turns descend below: + Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend, + Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend? + Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came; + My mother greater, my descent the same.” + So pray’d the Trojan prince, and, while he pray’d, + His hand upon the holy altar laid. + + Then thus replied the prophetess divine: + “O goddess-born of great Anchises’ line, + The gates of hell are open night and day; + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: + But to return, and view the cheerful skies, + In this the task and mighty labour lies. + To few great Jupiter imparts this grace, + And those of shining worth and heav’nly race. + Betwixt those regions and our upper light, + Deep forests and impenetrable night + Possess the middle space: th’ infernal bounds + Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds. + But if so dire a love your soul invades, + As twice below to view the trembling shades; + If you so hard a toil will undertake, + As twice to pass th’ innavigable lake; + Receive my counsel. In the neighb’ring grove + There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove + Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night + Conceal the happy plant from human sight. + One bough it bears; but wondrous to behold! + The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold: + This from the vulgar branches must be torn, + And to fair Proserpine the present borne, + Ere leave be giv’n to tempt the nether skies. + The first thus rent a second will arise, + And the same metal the same room supplies. + Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see + The lurking gold upon the fatal tree: + Then rend it off, as holy rites command; + The willing metal will obey thy hand, + Following with ease, if favour’d by thy fate, + Thou art foredoom’d to view the Stygian state: + If not, no labour can the tree constrain; + And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain. + Besides, you know not, while you here attend, + Th’ unworthy fate of your unhappy friend: + Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost, + Depriv’d of fun’ral rites, pollutes your host. + Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead, + Two sable sheep around his hearse be led; + Then, living turfs upon his body lay: + This done, securely take the destin’d way, + To find the regions destitute of day.” + + She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went + Sad from the cave, and full of discontent, + Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant. + Achates, the companion of his breast, + Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress’d. + Walking, they talk’d, and fruitlessly divin’d + What friend the priestess by those words design’d. + But soon they found an object to deplore: + Misenus lay extended on the shore; + Son of the God of Winds: none so renown’d + The warrior trumpet in the field to sound; + With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms, + And rouse to dare their fate in honourable arms. + He serv’d great Hector, and was ever near, + Not with his trumpet only, but his spear. + But by Pelides’ arms when Hector fell, + He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well. + Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more, + He now provokes the sea gods from the shore; + With envy Triton heard the martial sound, + And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown’d; + Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand: + The gazing crowd around the body stand. + All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate, + And hastens to perform the funeral state. + In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear; + The basis broad below, and top advanc’d in air. + An ancient wood, fit for the work design’d, + (The shady covert of the salvage kind,) + The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied; + Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow’ring pride + Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, + And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. + Huge trunks of trees, fell’d from the steepy crown + Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down. + Arm’d like the rest the Trojan prince appears, + And by his pious labour urges theirs. + + Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind + The ways to compass what his wish design’d, + He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove, + And then with vows implor’d the Queen of Love: + “O may thy pow’r, propitious still to me, + Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree, + In this deep forest; since the Sibyl’s breath + Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus’ death.” + Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight, + Two doves, descending from their airy flight, + Secure upon the grassy plain alight. + He knew his mother’s birds; and thus he pray’d: + “Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid, + And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found, + Whose glitt’ring shadow gilds the sacred ground. + And thou, great parent, with celestial care, + In this distress be present to my pray’r!” + Thus having said, he stopp’d with watchful sight, + Observing still the motions of their flight, + What course they took, what happy signs they shew. + They fed, and, flutt’ring, by degrees withdrew + Still farther from the place, but still in view: + Hopping and flying, thus they led him on + To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun + They wing’d their flight aloft; then, stooping low, + Perch’d on the double tree that bears the golden bough. + Thro’ the green leafs the glitt’ring shadows glow; + As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe, + Where the proud mother views her precious brood, + And happier branches, which she never sow’d. + Such was the glitt’ring; such the ruddy rind, + And dancing leaves, that wanton’d in the wind. + He seiz’d the shining bough with griping hold, + And rent away, with ease, the ling’ring gold; + Then to the Sibyl’s palace bore the prize. + Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes, + To dead Misenus pay his obsequies. + First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear, + Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir: + The fabric’s front with cypress twigs they strew, + And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew. + The topmost part his glitt’ring arms adorn; + Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne, + Are pour’d to wash his body, joint by joint, + And fragrant oils the stiffen’d limbs anoint. + With groans and cries Misenus they deplore: + Then on a bier, with purple cover’d o’er, + The breathless body, thus bewail’d, they lay, + And fire the pile, their faces turn’d away: + Such reverend rites their fathers us’d to pay. + Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw, + And fat of victims, which his friends bestow. + These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour; + Then on the living coals red wine they pour; + And, last, the relics by themselves dispose, + Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose. + Old Corynaeus compass’d thrice the crew, + And dipp’d an olive branch in holy dew; + Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud + Invok’d the dead, and then dismissed the crowd. + But good Aeneas order’d on the shore + A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore, + A soldier’s falchion, and a seaman’s oar. + Thus was his friend interr’d; and deathless fame + Still to the lofty cape consigns his name. + These rites perform’d, the prince, without delay, + Hastes to the nether world his destin’d way. + Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went + From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent; + And here th’ access a gloomy grove defends, + And there th’ unnavigable lake extends, + O’er whose unhappy waters, void of light, + No bird presumes to steer his airy flight; + Such deadly stenches from the depths arise, + And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies. + From hence the Grecian bards their legends make, + And give the name Avernus to the lake. + Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught, + For sacrifice the pious hero brought. + The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns; + Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns, + Invoking Hecate hither to repair: + A pow’rful name in hell and upper air. + The sacred priests with ready knives bereave + The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive + The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night + (The sable wool without a streak of white) + Aeneas offers; and, by fate’s decree, + A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee, + With holocausts he Pluto’s altar fills; + Sev’n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills; + Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours; + Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours. + Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun, + Nor ended till the next returning sun. + Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance, + And howling dogs in glimm’ring light advance, + Ere Hecate came. “Far hence be souls profane!” + The Sibyl cried, “and from the grove abstain! + Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford; + Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword.” + She said, and pass’d along the gloomy space; + The prince pursued her steps with equal pace. + + Ye realms, yet unreveal’d to human sight, + Ye gods who rule the regions of the night, + Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate + The mystic wonders of your silent state! + + Obscure they went thro’ dreary shades, that led + Along the waste dominions of the dead. + Thus wander travelers in woods by night, + By the moon’s doubtful and malignant light, + When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies, + And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes. + + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, + Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell, + And pale Diseases, and repining Age, + Want, Fear, and Famine’s unresisted rage; + Here Toils, and Death, and Death’s half-brother, Sleep, + Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep; + With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind, + Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind; + The Furies’ iron beds; and Strife, that shakes + Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes. + Full in the midst of this infernal road, + An elm displays her dusky arms abroad: + The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head, + And empty dreams on ev’ry leaf are spread. + Of various forms unnumber’d spectres more, + Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door. + Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands, + And Briareus with all his hundred hands; + Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame; + And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame. + The chief unsheath’d his shining steel, prepar’d, + Tho’ seiz’d with sudden fear, to force the guard, + Off’ring his brandish’d weapon at their face; + Had not the Sibyl stopp’d his eager pace, + And told him what those empty phantoms were: + Forms without bodies, and impassive air. + Hence to deep Acheron they take their way, + Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay, + Are whirl’d aloft, and in Cocytus lost. + There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast: + A sordid god: down from his hoary chin + A length of beard descends, uncomb’d, unclean; + His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire; + A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire. + He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers; + The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears. + He look’d in years; yet in his years were seen + A youthful vigour and autumnal green. + An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, + Which fill’d the margin of the fatal flood: + Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids, + And mighty heroes’ more majestic shades, + And youths, intomb’d before their fathers’ eyes, + With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries. + Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods, + Or fowls, by winter forc’d, forsake the floods, + And wing their hasty flight to happier lands; + Such, and so thick, the shiv’ring army stands, + And press for passage with extended hands. + Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore: + The rest he drove to distance from the shore. + The hero, who beheld with wond’ring eyes + The tumult mix’d with shrieks, laments, and cries, + Ask’d of his guide, what the rude concourse meant; + Why to the shore the thronging people bent; + What forms of law among the ghosts were us’d; + Why some were ferried o’er, and some refus’d. + + “Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,” + The Sibyl said, “you see the Stygian floods, + The sacred stream which heav’n’s imperial state + Attests in oaths, and fears to violate. + The ghosts rejected are th’ unhappy crew + Depriv’d of sepulchers and fun’ral due: + The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host, + He ferries over to the farther coast; + Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves + With such whose bones are not compos’d in graves. + A hundred years they wander on the shore; + At length, their penance done, are wafted o’er.” + The Trojan chief his forward pace repress’d, + Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast, + He saw his friends, who, whelm’d beneath the waves, + Their fun’ral honours claim’d, and ask’d their quiet graves. + The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew, + And the brave leader of the Lycian crew, + Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met; + The sailors master’d, and the ship o’erset. + + Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press’d, + Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest, + Who, while he steering view’d the stars, and bore + His course from Afric to the Latian shore, + Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix’d his view, + And scarcely thro’ the gloom the sullen shadow knew. + Then thus the prince: “What envious pow’r, O friend, + Brought your lov’d life to this disastrous end? + For Phoebus, ever true in all he said, + Has in your fate alone my faith betray’d. + The god foretold you should not die, before + You reach’d, secure from seas, th’ Italian shore. + Is this th’ unerring pow’r?” The ghost replied; + “Nor Phoebus flatter’d, nor his answers lied; + Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep: + But, while the stars and course of heav’n I keep, + My wearied eyes were seiz’d with fatal sleep. + I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain’d + Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain’d. + Now by the winds and raging waves I swear, + Your safety, more than mine, was then my care; + Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost, + Your ship should run against the rocky coast. + Three blust’ring nights, borne by the southern blast, + I floated, and discover’d land at last: + High on a mounting wave my head I bore, + Forcing my strength, and gath’ring to the shore. + Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz’d + The craggy cliffs, and my tir’d members eas’d. + While, cumber’d with my dropping clothes, I lay, + The cruel nation, covetous of prey, + Stain’d with my blood th’ unhospitable coast; + And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss’d: + Which O avert, by yon ethereal light, + Which I have lost for this eternal night! + Or, if by dearer ties you may be won, + By your dead sire, and by your living son, + Redeem from this reproach my wand’ring ghost; + Or with your navy seek the Velin coast, + And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose; + Or, if a nearer way your mother shows, + Without whose aid you durst not undertake + This frightful passage o’er the Stygian lake, + Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o’er + To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore.” + Scarce had he said, the prophetess began: + “What hopes delude thee, miserable man? + Think’st thou, thus unintomb’d, to cross the floods, + To view the Furies and infernal gods, + And visit, without leave, the dark abodes? + Attend the term of long revolving years; + Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears. + This comfort of thy dire misfortune take: + The wrath of Heav’n, inflicted for thy sake, + With vengeance shall pursue th’ inhuman coast, + Till they propitiate thy offended ghost, + And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray’r; + And Palinurus’ name the place shall bear.” + This calm’d his cares; sooth’d with his future fame, + And pleas’d to hear his propagated name. + + Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw: + Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw; + Observ’d their passage thro’ the shady wood, + And mark’d their near approaches to the flood. + Then thus he call’d aloud, inflam’d with wrath: + “Mortal, whate’er, who this forbidden path + In arms presum’st to tread, I charge thee, stand, + And tell thy name, and bus’ness in the land. + Know this, the realm of night; the Stygian shore: + My boat conveys no living bodies o’er; + Nor was I pleas’d great Theseus once to bear, + Who forc’d a passage with his pointed spear, + Nor strong Alcides, men of mighty fame, + And from th’ immortal gods their lineage came. + In fetters one the barking porter tied, + And took him trembling from his sov’reign’s side: + Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride.” + To whom the Sibyl thus: “Compose thy mind; + Nor frauds are here contriv’d, nor force design’d. + Still may the dog the wand’ring troops constrain + Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train, + And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain. + The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove, + Much fam’d for arms, and more for filial love, + Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove. + If neither piety, nor Heav’n’s command, + Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand, + This fatal present shall prevail at least.” + Then shew’d the shining bough, conceal’d within her vest. + No more was needful: for the gloomy god + Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod; + Admir’d the destin’d off’ring to his queen; + A venerable gift, so rarely seen. + His fury thus appeas’d, he puts to land; + The ghosts forsake their seats at his command: + He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight; + The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight. + Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides; + The pressing water pours within her sides. + His passengers at length are wafted o’er, + Expos’d, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore. + + No sooner landed, in his den they found + The triple porter of the Stygian sound, + Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear + His crested snakes, and arm’d his bristling hair. + The prudent Sibyl had before prepar’d + A sop, in honey steep’d, to charm the guard; + Which, mix’d with pow’rful drugs, she cast before + His greedy grinning jaws, just op’d to roar. + With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight, + With hunger press’d, devours the pleasing bait. + Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave; + He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave. + The keeper charm’d, the chief without delay + Pass’d on, and took th’ irremeable way. + Before the gates, the cries of babes new born, + Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn, + Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws + Condemn’d to die, when traitors judg’d their cause. + Nor want they lots, nor judges to review + The wrongful sentence, and award a new. + Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears; + And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears. + Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls, + Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. + The next, in place and punishment, are they + Who prodigally throw their souls away; + Fools, who, repining at their wretched state, + And loathing anxious life, suborn’d their fate. + With late repentance now they would retrieve + The bodies they forsook, and wish to live; + Their pains and poverty desire to bear, + To view the light of heav’n, and breathe the vital air: + But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose, + And with circling streams the captive souls inclose. + + Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear + So call’d from lovers that inhabit there. + The souls whom that unhappy flame invades, + In secret solitude and myrtle shades + Make endless moans, and, pining with desire, + Lament too late their unextinguish’d fire. + Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found, + Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound + Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there, + With Phaedra’s ghost, a foul incestuous pair. + There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves, + Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves: + Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man, + But ending in the sex she first began. + Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood, + Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath’d in blood; + Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew, + Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view, + (Doubtful as he who sees, thro’ dusky night, + Or thinks he sees, the moon’s uncertain light,) + With tears he first approach’d the sullen shade; + And, as his love inspir’d him, thus he said: + “Unhappy queen! then is the common breath + Of rumour true, in your reported death, + And I, alas! the cause? By Heav’n, I vow, + And all the pow’rs that rule the realms below, + Unwilling I forsook your friendly state, + Commanded by the gods, and forc’d by fate. + Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might + Have sent me to these regions void of light, + Thro’ the vast empire of eternal night. + Nor dar’d I to presume, that, press’d with grief, + My flight should urge you to this dire relief. + Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows: + ’Tis the last interview that fate allows!” + In vain he thus attempts her mind to move + With tears, and pray’rs, and late-repenting love. + Disdainfully she look’d; then turning round, + But fix’d her eyes unmov’d upon the ground, + And what he says and swears, regards no more + Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; + But whirl’d away, to shun his hateful sight, + Hid in the forest and the shades of night; + Then sought Sichaeus thro’ the shady grove, + Who answer’d all her cares, and equal’d all her love. + + Some pious tears the pitying hero paid, + And follow’d with his eyes the flitting shade, + Then took the forward way, by fate ordain’d, + And, with his guide, the farther fields attain’d, + Where, sever’d from the rest, the warrior souls remain’d. + Tydeus he met, with Meleager’s race, + The pride of armies, and the soldiers’ grace; + And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face. + Of Trojan chiefs he view’d a num’rous train, + All much lamented, all in battle slain; + Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest, + Antenor’s sons, and Ceres’ sacred priest. + And proud Idaeus, Priam’s charioteer, + Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear. + The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend + And with unwearied eyes behold their friend; + Delight to hover near, and long to know + What bus’ness brought him to the realms below. + But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon’s train, + When his refulgent arms flash’d thro’ the shady plain, + Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear, + As when his thund’ring sword and pointed spear + Drove headlong to their ships, and glean’d the routed rear. + They rais’d a feeble cry, with trembling notes; + But the weak voice deceiv’d their gasping throats. + + Here Priam’s son, Deiphobus, he found, + Whose face and limbs were one continued wound: + Dishonest, with lopp’d arms, the youth appears, + Spoil’d of his nose, and shorten’d of his ears. + He scarcely knew him, striving to disown + His blotted form, and blushing to be known; + And therefore first began: “O Teucer’s race, + Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? + What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace? + ’Twas fam’d, that in our last and fatal night + Your single prowess long sustain’d the fight, + Till tir’d, not forc’d, a glorious fate you chose, + And fell upon a heap of slaughter’d foes. + But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, + A tomb and fun’ral honours I decreed; + Thrice call’d your manes on the Trojan plains: + The place your armour and your name retains. + Your body too I sought, and, had I found, + Design’d for burial in your native ground.” + + The ghost replied: “Your piety has paid + All needful rites, to rest my wand’ring shade; + But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, + To Grecian swords betray’d my sleeping life. + These are the monuments of Helen’s love: + The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. + You know in what deluding joys we pass’d + The night that was by Heav’n decreed our last: + For, when the fatal horse, descending down, + Pregnant with arms, o’erwhelm’d th’ unhappy town + She feign’d nocturnal orgies; left my bed, + And, mix’d with Trojan dames, the dances led + Then, waving high her torch, the signal made, + Which rous’d the Grecians from their ambuscade. + With watching overworn, with cares oppress’d, + Unhappy I had laid me down to rest, + And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess’d. + Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, + And from beneath my head my sword convey’d; + The door unlatch’d, and, with repeated calls, + Invites her former lord within my walls. + Thus in her crime her confidence she plac’d, + And with new treasons would redeem the past. + What need I more? Into the room they ran, + And meanly murder’d a defenceless man. + Ulysses, basely born, first led the way. + Avenging pow’rs! with justice if I pray, + That fortune be their own another day! + But answer you; and in your turn relate, + What brought you, living, to the Stygian state: + Driv’n by the winds and errors of the sea, + Or did you Heav’n’s superior doom obey? + Or tell what other chance conducts your way, + To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats, + Tumults and torments of th’ infernal seats.” + + While thus in talk the flying hours they pass, + The sun had finish’d more than half his race: + And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent + The little time of stay which Heav’n had lent; + But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay: + “Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day: + ’Tis here, in different paths, the way divides; + The right to Pluto’s golden palace guides; + The left to that unhappy region tends, + Which to the depth of Tartarus descends; + The seat of night profound, and punish’d fiends.” + Then thus Deiphobus: “O sacred maid, + Forbear to chide, and be your will obey’d! + Lo! to the secret shadows I retire, + To pay my penance till my years expire. + Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown’d, + And born to better fates than I have found.” + He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn’d + To secret shadows, and in silence mourn’d. + + The hero, looking on the left, espied + A lofty tow’r, and strong on ev’ry side + With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds, + Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds; + And, press’d betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds + Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais’d on high + With adamantine columns, threats the sky. + Vain is the force of man, and Heav’n’s as vain, + To crush the pillars which the pile sustain. + Sublime on these a tow’r of steel is rear’d; + And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward, + Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day, + Observant of the souls that pass the downward way. + From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains + Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains. + The Trojan stood astonish’d at their cries, + And ask’d his guide from whence those yells arise; + And what the crimes, and what the tortures were, + And loud laments that rent the liquid air. + + She thus replied: “The chaste and holy race + Are all forbidden this polluted place. + But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods, + Then led me trembling thro’ these dire abodes, + And taught the tortures of th’ avenging gods. + These are the realms of unrelenting fate; + And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state. + He hears and judges each committed crime; + Enquires into the manner, place, and time. + The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal, + Loth to confess, unable to conceal, + From the first moment of his vital breath, + To his last hour of unrepenting death. + Straight, o’er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes + The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes, + And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes. + Then, of itself, unfolds th’ eternal door; + With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar. + You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost + Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post. + More formidable Hydra stands within, + Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin. + The gaping gulf low to the centre lies, + And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. + The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, + Here, sing’d with lightning, roll within th’ unfathom’d space. + Here lie th’ Alaean twins, (I saw them both,) + Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth, + Who dar’d in fight the Thund’rer to defy, + Affect his heav’n, and force him from the sky. + Salmoneus, suff’ring cruel pains, I found, + For emulating Jove; the rattling sound + Of mimic thunder, and the glitt’ring blaze + Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. + Thro’ Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; + Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: + He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain, + Sought godlike worship from a servile train. + Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass + O’er hollow arches of resounding brass, + To rival thunder in its rapid course, + And imitate inimitable force! + But he, the King of Heav’n, obscure on high, + Bar’d his red arm, and, launching from the sky + His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, + Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook. + There Tityus was to see, who took his birth + From heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth. + Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, + Infold nine acres of infernal space. + A rav’nous vulture, in his open’d side, + Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried; + Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast; + The growing liver still supplied the feast; + Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains: + Th’ immortal hunger lasts, th’ immortal food remains. + Ixion and Perithous I could name, + And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame. + High o’er their heads a mould’ring rock is plac’d, + That promises a fall, and shakes at ev’ry blast. + They lie below, on golden beds display’d; + And genial feasts with regal pomp are made. + The Queen of Furies by their sides is set, + And snatches from their mouths th’ untasted meat, + Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, + Tossing her torch, and thund’ring in their ears. + Then they, who brothers’ better claim disown, + Expel their parents, and usurp the throne; + Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold, + Sit brooding on unprofitable gold; + Who dare not give, and ev’n refuse to lend + To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend. + Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train + Of lustful youths, for foul adult’ry slain: + Hosts of deserters, who their honour sold, + And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold. + All these within the dungeon’s depth remain, + Despairing pardon, and expecting pain. + Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know + Their process, or the forms of law below. + Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along, + And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung + Unhappy Theseus, doom’d for ever there, + Is fix’d by fate on his eternal chair; + And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries + (Could warning make the world more just or wise): + ‘Learn righteousness, and dread th’ avenging deities.’ + To tyrants others have their country sold, + Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold; + Some have old laws repeal’d, new statutes made, + Not as the people pleas’d, but as they paid; + With incest some their daughters’ bed profan’d: + All dar’d the worst of ills, and, what they dar’d, attain’d. + Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, + And throats of brass, inspir’d with iron lungs, + I could not half those horrid crimes repeat, + Nor half the punishments those crimes have met. + But let us haste our voyage to pursue: + The walls of Pluto’s palace are in view; + The gate, and iron arch above it, stands + On anvils labour’d by the Cyclops’ hands. + Before our farther way the Fates allow, + Here must we fix on high the golden bough.” + + She said, and thro’ the gloomy shades they pass’d, + And chose the middle path. Arriv’d at last, + The prince with living water sprinkled o’er + His limbs and body; then approach’d the door, + Possess’d the porch, and on the front above + He fix’d the fatal bough requir’d by Pluto’s love. + These holy rites perform’d, they took their way + Where long extended plains of pleasure lay: + The verdant fields with those of heav’n may vie, + With ether vested, and a purple sky; + The blissful seats of happy souls below. + Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; + Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, + And on the green contend the wrestler’s prize. + Some in heroic verse divinely sing; + Others in artful measures led the ring. + The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest, + There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest; + His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, + Strikes sev’n distinguish’d notes, and sev’n at once they fill. + Here found they Teucer’s old heroic race, + Born better times and happier years to grace. + Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy + Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy. + The chief beheld their chariots from afar, + Their shining arms, and coursers train’d to war: + Their lances fix’d in earth, their steeds around, + Free from their harness, graze the flow’ry ground. + The love of horses which they had, alive, + And care of chariots, after death survive. + Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain; + Some did the song, and some the choir maintain, + Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po + Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below. + Here patriots live, who, for their country’s good, + In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood: + Priests of unblemish’d lives here make abode, + And poets worthy their inspiring god; + And searching wits, of more mechanic parts, + Who grac’d their age with new-invented arts: + Those who to worth their bounty did extend, + And those who knew that bounty to commend. + The heads of these with holy fillets bound, + And all their temples were with garlands crown’d. + + To these the Sibyl thus her speech address’d, + And first to him surrounded by the rest + Tow’ring his height, and ample was his breast; + “Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say, + Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way + To find the hero, for whose only sake + We sought the dark abodes, and cross’d the bitter lake?” + To this the sacred poet thus replied: + “In no fix’d place the happy souls reside. + In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, + By crystal streams, that murmur thro’ the meads: + But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; + The path conducts you to your journey’s end.” + This said, he led them up the mountain’s brow, + And shews them all the shining fields below. + They wind the hill, and thro’ the blissful meadows go. + + But old Anchises, in a flow’ry vale, + Review’d his muster’d race, and took the tale: + Those happy spirits, which, ordain’d by fate, + For future beings and new bodies wait. + With studious thought observ’d th’ illustrious throng, + In nature’s order as they pass’d along: + Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care, + In peaceful senates and successful war. + He, when Aeneas on the plain appears, + Meets him with open arms, and falling tears. + “Welcome,” he said, “the gods’ undoubted race! + O long expected to my dear embrace! + Once more ’tis giv’n me to behold your face! + The love and pious duty which you pay + Have pass’d the perils of so hard a way. + ’Tis true, computing times, I now believ’d + The happy day approach’d; nor are my hopes deceiv’d. + What length of lands, what oceans have you pass’d; + What storms sustain’d, and on what shores been cast? + How have I fear’d your fate! but fear’d it most, + When love assail’d you, on the Libyan coast.” + To this, the filial duty thus replies: + “Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes + Appear’d, and often urg’d this painful enterprise. + After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea, + My navy rides at anchor in the bay. + But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun + The dear embraces of your longing son!” + He said; and falling tears his face bedew: + Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw; + And thrice the flitting shadow slipp’d away, + Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day. + + Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees + A sep’rate grove, thro’ which a gentle breeze + Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro’ the trees; + And, just before the confines of the wood, + The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood. + About the boughs an airy nation flew, + Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; + In summer’s heat on tops of lilies feed, + And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: + The winged army roams the fields around; + The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. + Aeneas wond’ring stood, then ask’d the cause + Which to the stream the crowding people draws. + Then thus the sire: “The souls that throng the flood + Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow’d: + In Lethe’s lake they long oblivion taste, + Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. + Long has my soul desir’d this time and place, + To set before your sight your glorious race, + That this presaging joy may fire your mind + To seek the shores by destiny design’d.” + “O father, can it be, that souls sublime + Return to visit our terrestrial clime, + And that the gen’rous mind, releas’d by death, + Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?” + + Anchises then, in order, thus begun + To clear those wonders to his godlike son: + “Know, first, that heav’n, and earth’s compacted frame, + And flowing waters, and the starry flame, + And both the radiant lights, one common soul + Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole. + This active mind, infus’d thro’ all the space, + Unites and mingles with the mighty mass. + Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain, + And birds of air, and monsters of the main. + Th’ ethereal vigour is in all the same, + And every soul is fill’d with equal flame; + As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay + Of mortal members, subject to decay, + Blunt not the beams of heav’n and edge of day. + From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts, + Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts, + And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind, + In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin’d, + Assert the native skies, or own its heav’nly kind: + Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains; + But long-contracted filth ev’n in the soul remains. + The relics of inveterate vice they wear, + And spots of sin obscene in ev’ry face appear. + For this are various penances enjoin’d; + And some are hung to bleach upon the wind, + Some plung’d in waters, others purg’d in fires, + Till all the dregs are drain’d, and all the rust expires. + All have their manes, and those manes bear: + The few, so cleans’d, to these abodes repair, + And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air. + Then are they happy, when by length of time + The scurf is worn away of each committed crime; + No speck is left of their habitual stains, + But the pure ether of the soul remains. + But, when a thousand rolling years are past, + (So long their punishments and penance last,) + Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god, + Compell’d to drink the deep Lethaean flood, + In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares + Of their past labours, and their irksome years, + That, unrememb’ring of its former pain, + The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.” + + Thus having said, the father spirit leads + The priestess and his son thro’ swarms of shades, + And takes a rising ground, from thence to see + The long procession of his progeny. + “Survey,” pursued the sire, “this airy throng, + As, offer’d to thy view, they pass along. + These are th’ Italian names, which fate will join + With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line. + Observe the youth who first appears in sight, + And holds the nearest station to the light, + Already seems to snuff the vital air, + And leans just forward, on a shining spear: + Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race, + But first in order sent, to fill thy place; + An Alban name, but mix’d with Dardan blood, + Born in the covert of a shady wood: + Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife, + Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life. + In Alba he shall fix his royal seat, + And, born a king, a race of kings beget. + Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name, + Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame. + A second Silvius after these appears; + Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears; + For arms and justice equally renown’d, + Who, late restor’d, in Alba shall be crown’d. + How great they look! how vig’rously they wield + Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield! + But they, who crown’d with oaken wreaths appear, + Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear; + Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found; + And raise Collatian tow’rs on rocky ground. + All these shall then be towns of mighty fame, + Tho’ now they lie obscure, and lands without a name. + See Romulus the great, born to restore + The crown that once his injur’d grandsire wore. + This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear, + And like his sire in arms he shall appear. + Two rising crests, his royal head adorn; + Born from a god, himself to godhead born: + His sire already signs him for the skies, + And marks the seat amidst the deities. + Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come, + Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome. + Rome, whose ascending tow’rs shall heav’n invade, + Involving earth and ocean in her shade; + High as the Mother of the Gods in place, + And proud, like her, of an immortal race. + Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round, + With golden turrets on her temples crown’d; + A hundred gods her sweeping train supply; + Her offspring all, and all command the sky. + + “Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see + Your Roman race, and Julian progeny. + The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour, + Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis’d pow’r. + But next behold the youth of form divine, + Caesar himself, exalted in his line; + Augustus, promis’d oft, and long foretold, + Sent to the realm that Saturn rul’d of old; + Born to restore a better age of gold. + Afric and India shall his pow’r obey; + He shall extend his propagated sway + Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, + Where Atlas turns the rolling heav’ns around, + And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown’d. + At his foreseen approach, already quake + The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake: + Their seers behold the tempest from afar, + And threat’ning oracles denounce the war. + Nile hears him knocking at his sev’nfold gates, + And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew’s fates. + Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew, + Not tho’ the brazen-footed hind he slew, + Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, + And dipp’d his arrows in Lernaean gore; + Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, + By tigers drawn triumphant in his car, + From Nisus’ top descending on the plains, + With curling vines around his purple reins. + And doubt we yet thro’ dangers to pursue + The paths of honour, and a crown in view? + But what’s the man, who from afar appears? + His head with olive crown’d, his hand a censer bears, + His hoary beard and holy vestments bring + His lost idea back: I know the Roman king. + He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain, + Call’d from his mean abode a scepter to sustain. + Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds, + An active prince, and prone to martial deeds. + He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare, + Disus’d to toils, and triumphs of the war. + By dint of sword his crown he shall increase, + And scour his armour from the rust of peace. + Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air, + But vain within, and proudly popular. + Next view the Tarquin kings, th’ avenging sword + Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor’d. + He first renews the rods and ax severe, + And gives the consuls royal robes to wear. + His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain, + And long for arbitrary lords again, + With ignominy scourg’d, in open sight, + He dooms to death deserv’d, asserting public right. + Unhappy man, to break the pious laws + Of nature, pleading in his children’s cause! + Howe’er the doubtful fact is understood, + ’Tis love of honour, and his country’s good: + The consul, not the father, sheds the blood. + Behold Torquatus the same track pursue; + And, next, the two devoted Decii view: + The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home + With standards well redeem’d, and foreign foes o’ercome + The pair you see in equal armour shine, + Now, friends below, in close embraces join; + But, when they leave the shady realms of night, + And, cloth’d in bodies, breathe your upper light, + With mortal hate each other shall pursue: + What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue! + From Alpine heights the father first descends; + His daughter’s husband in the plain attends: + His daughter’s husband arms his eastern friends. + Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more; + Nor stain your country with her children’s gore! + And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim, + Thou, of my blood, who bear’st the Julian name! + Another comes, who shall in triumph ride, + And to the Capitol his chariot guide, + From conquer’d Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils. + And yet another, fam’d for warlike toils, + On Argos shall impose the Roman laws, + And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause; + Shall drag in chains their Achillean race; + Shall vindicate his ancestors’ disgrace, + And Pallas, for her violated place. + Great Cato there, for gravity renown’d, + And conqu’ring Cossus goes with laurels crown’d. + Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare + The Scipios’ worth, those thunderbolts of war, + The double bane of Carthage? Who can see + Without esteem for virtuous poverty, + Severe Fabricius, or can cease t’ admire + The plowman consul in his coarse attire? + Tir’d as I am, my praise the Fabii claim; + And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name, + Ordain’d in war to save the sinking state, + And, by delays, to put a stop to fate! + Let others better mould the running mass + Of metals, and inform the breathing brass, + And soften into flesh a marble face; + Plead better at the bar; describe the skies, + And when the stars descend, and when they rise. + But, Rome, ’tis thine alone, with awful sway, + To rule mankind, and make the world obey, + Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way; + To tame the proud, the fetter’d slave to free: + These are imperial arts, and worthy thee.” + + He paus’d; and, while with wond’ring eyes they view’d + The passing spirits, thus his speech renew’d: + “See great Marcellus! how, untir’d in toils, + He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils! + He, when his country, threaten’d with alarms, + Requires his courage and his conqu’ring arms, + Shall more than once the Punic bands affright; + Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight; + Then to the Capitol in triumph move, + And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove.” + Aeneas here beheld, of form divine, + A godlike youth in glitt’ring armour shine, + With great Marcellus keeping equal pace; + But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face. + He saw, and, wond’ring, ask’d his airy guide, + What and of whence was he, who press’d the hero’s side: + “His son, or one of his illustrious name? + How like the former, and almost the same! + Observe the crowds that compass him around; + All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound: + But hov’ring mists around his brows are spread, + And night, with sable shades, involves his head.” + “Seek not to know,” the ghost replied with tears, + “The sorrows of thy sons in future years. + This youth (the blissful vision of a day) + Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch’d away. + The gods too high had rais’d the Roman state, + Were but their gifts as permanent as great. + What groans of men shall fill the Martian field! + How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield! + What fun’ral pomp shall floating Tiber see, + When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity! + No youth shall equal hopes of glory give, + No youth afford so great a cause to grieve; + The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast, + Admir’d when living, and ador’d when lost! + Mirror of ancient faith in early youth! + Undaunted worth, inviolable truth! + No foe, unpunish’d, in the fighting field + Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield; + Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force, + When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse. + Ah! couldst thou break thro’ fate’s severe decree, + A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! + Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, + Mix’d with the purple roses of the spring; + Let me with fun’ral flow’rs his body strow; + This gift which parents to their children owe, + This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!” + Thus having said, he led the hero round + The confines of the blest Elysian ground; + Which when Anchises to his son had shown, + And fir’d his mind to mount the promis’d throne, + He tells the future wars, ordain’d by fate; + The strength and customs of the Latian state; + The prince, and people; and forearms his care + With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear. + + Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; + Of polish’d ivory this, that of transparent horn: + True visions thro’ transparent horn arise; + Thro’ polish’d ivory pass deluding lies. + Of various things discoursing as he pass’d, + Anchises hither bends his steps at last. + Then, thro’ the gate of iv’ry, he dismiss’d + His valiant offspring and divining guest. + Straight to the ships Aeneas took his way, + Embark’d his men, and skimm’d along the sea, + Still coasting, till he gain’d Cajeta’s bay. + At length on oozy ground his galleys moor; + Their heads are turn’d to sea, their sterns to shore. + + + + BOOK VII + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + King Latinus entertains Aeneas, and promises him his only + daughter, Lavinia, the heiress of his crown. Turnus, being in + love with her, favoured by her mother, and by Juno and Alecto, + breaks the treaty which was made, and engages in his quarrel + Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and many other of the neighbouring + princes; whose forces, and the names of their commanders are + particularly related. + + + And thou, O matron of immortal fame, + Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name; + Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee, + The nurse of great Aeneas’ infancy. + Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; + Thy name (’tis all a ghost can have) remains. + + Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid, + He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d. + From land a gentle breeze arose by night, + Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, + And the sea trembled with her silver light. + Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run, + (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,) + A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days + In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: + In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night, + And cedar brands supply her father’s light. + From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main, + The roars of lions that refuse the chain, + The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, + And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears. + These from their caverns, at the close of night, + Fill the sad isle with horror and affright. + Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r, + (That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) + With words and wicked herbs from humankind + Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d. + Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host + Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast, + Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night + With rising gales that sped their happy flight. + Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore, + And hear the swelling surges vainly roar. + Now, when the rosy morn began to rise, + And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; + When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own, + And from her face the breathing winds were blown, + A sudden silence sate upon the sea, + And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way. + The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, + Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: + Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, + With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, + That drove the sand along, he took his way, + And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. + About him, and above, and round the wood, + The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, + That bath’d within, or basked upon his side, + To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied. + The captain gives command; the joyful train + Glide thro’ the gloomy shade, and leave the main. + + Now, Erato, thy poet’s mind inspire, + And fill his soul with thy celestial fire! + Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings; + Declare the past and present state of things, + When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought, + And how the rivals lov’d, and how they fought. + These are my theme, and how the war began, + And how concluded by the godlike man: + For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage, + Which princes and their people did engage; + And haughty souls, that, mov’d with mutual hate, + In fighting fields pursued and found their fate; + That rous’d the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms, + And peaceful Italy involv’d in arms. + A larger scene of action is display’d; + And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh’d. + + Latinus, old and mild, had long possess’d + The Latin scepter, and his people blest: + His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame + His mother; fair Marica was her name. + But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew + His birth from Saturn, if records be true. + Thus King Latinus, in the third degree, + Had Saturn author of his family. + But this old peaceful prince, as Heav’n decreed, + Was blest with no male issue to succeed: + His sons in blooming youth were snatch’d by fate; + One only daughter heir’d the royal state. + Fir’d with her love, and with ambition led, + The neighb’ring princes court her nuptial bed. + Among the crowd, but far above the rest, + Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address’d. + Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien, + Was first, and favour’d by the Latian queen; + With him she strove to join Lavinia’s hand, + But dire portents the purpos’d match withstand. + + Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood + A laurel’s trunk, a venerable wood; + Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair + Was kept and cut with superstitious care. + This plant Latinus, when his town he wall’d, + Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call’d; + And last, in honour of his new abode, + He vow’d the laurel to the laurel’s god. + It happen’d once (a boding prodigy!) + A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky, + Unknown from whence they took their airy flight, + Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight; + There with their clasping feet together clung, + And a long cluster from the laurel hung. + An ancient augur prophesied from hence: + “Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince! + From the same parts of heav’n his navy stands, + To the same parts on earth; his army lands; + The town he conquers, and the tow’r commands.” + + Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire + Before the gods, and stood beside her sire, + Strange to relate, the flames, involv’d in smoke + Of incense, from the sacred altar broke, + Caught her dishevel’d hair and rich attire; + Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire: + From thence the fuming trail began to spread + And lambent glories danc’d about her head. + This new portent the seer with wonder views, + Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews: + “The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around, + Shall shine with honour, shall herself be crown’d; + But, caus’d by her irrevocable fate, + War shall the country waste, and change the state.” + + Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent, + For counsel to his father Faunus went, + And sought the shades renown’d for prophecy + Which near Albunea’s sulph’rous fountain lie. + To these the Latian and the Sabine land + Fly, when distress’d, and thence relief demand. + The priest on skins of off’rings takes his ease, + And nightly visions in his slumber sees; + A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears, + And, flutt’ring round his temples, deafs his ears: + These he consults, the future fates to know, + From pow’rs above, and from the fiends below. + Here, for the gods’ advice, Latinus flies, + Off’ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice: + Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir’d, + He laid beneath him, and to rest retir’d. + No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound, + When, from above, a more than mortal sound + Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke: + “Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke + Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke. + A foreign son upon thy shore descends, + Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends. + His race, in arms and arts of peace renown’d, + Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound: + ’Tis theirs whate’er the sun surveys around.” + These answers, in the silent night receiv’d, + The king himself divulg’d, the land believ’d: + The fame thro’ all the neighb’ring nations flew, + When now the Trojan navy was in view. + + Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread + His table on the turf, with cakes of bread; + And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed. + They sate; and, (not without the god’s command,) + Their homely fare dispatch’d, the hungry band + Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour, + To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour. + Ascanius this observ’d, and smiling said: + “See, we devour the plates on which we fed.” + The speech had omen, that the Trojan race + Should find repose, and this the time and place. + Aeneas took the word, and thus replies, + Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes: + “All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods! + Behold the destin’d place of your abodes! + For thus Anchises prophesied of old, + And this our fatal place of rest foretold: + ‘When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat, + By famine forc’d, your trenchers you shall eat, + Then ease your weary Trojans will attend, + And the long labours of your voyage end. + Remember on that happy coast to build, + And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.’ + This was that famine, this the fatal place + Which ends the wand’ring of our exil’d race. + Then, on tomorrow’s dawn, your care employ, + To search the land, and where the cities lie, + And what the men; but give this day to joy. + Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest, + Call great Anchises to the genial feast: + Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught; + Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought.” + + Thus having said, the hero bound his brows + With leafy branches, then perform’d his vows; + Adoring first the genius of the place, + Then Earth, the mother of the heav’nly race, + The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown, + And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne, + And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove, + And last his sire below, and mother queen above. + Then heav’n’s high monarch thunder’d thrice aloud, + And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud. + Soon thro’ the joyful camp a rumour flew, + The time was come their city to renew. + Then ev’ry brow with cheerful green is crown’d, + The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round. + + When next the rosy morn disclos’d the day, + The scouts to sev’ral parts divide their way, + To learn the natives’ names, their towns explore, + The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore: + Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands; + Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands. + The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways + To found his empire, and his town to raise, + A hundred youths from all his train selects, + And to the Latian court their course directs, + (The spacious palace where their prince resides,) + And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides. + They go commission’d to require a peace, + And carry presents to procure access. + Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs + His new-elected seat, and draws the lines. + The Trojans round the place a rampire cast, + And palisades about the trenches plac’d. + + Meantime the train, proceeding on their way, + From far the town and lofty tow’rs survey; + At length approach the walls. Without the gate, + They see the boys and Latian youth debate + The martial prizes on the dusty plain: + Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein; + Some bend the stubborn bow for victory, + And some with darts their active sinews try. + A posting messenger, dispatch’d from hence, + Of this fair troop advis’d their aged prince, + That foreign men of mighty stature came; + Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name. + The king ordains their entrance, and ascends + His regal seat, surrounded by his friends. + + The palace built by Picus, vast and proud, + Supported by a hundred pillars stood, + And round incompass’d with a rising wood. + The pile o’erlook’d the town, and drew the sight; + Surpris’d at once with reverence and delight. + There kings receiv’d the marks of sov’reign pow’r; + In state the monarchs march’d; the lictors bore + Their awful axes and the rods before. + Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray’r, + And here the sacred senators repair; + All at large tables, in long order set, + A ram their off’ring, and a ram their meat. + Above the portal, carv’d in cedar wood, + Plac’d in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood; + Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high; + And Italus, that led the colony; + And ancient Janus, with his double face, + And bunch of keys, the porter of the place. + There good Sabinus, planter of the vines, + On a short pruning hook his head reclines, + And studiously surveys his gen’rous wines; + Then warlike kings, who for their country fought, + And honourable wounds from battle brought. + Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears, + And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars, + And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars. + Above the rest, as chief of all the band, + Was Picus plac’d, a buckler in his hand; + His other wav’d a long divining wand. + Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate, + Yet could not with his art avoid his fate: + For Circe long had lov’d the youth in vain, + Till love, refus’d, converted to disdain: + Then, mixing pow’rful herbs, with magic art, + She chang’d his form, who could not change his heart; + Constrain’d him in a bird, and made him fly, + With party-colour’d plumes, a chatt’ring pie. + + In this high temple, on a chair of state, + The seat of audience, old Latinus sate; + Then gave admission to the Trojan train; + And thus with pleasing accents he began: + “Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own, + Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown; + Say what you seek, and whither were you bound: + Were you by stress of weather cast aground? + Such dangers as on seas are often seen, + And oft befall to miserable men, + Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay, + Spent and disabled in so long a way? + Say what you want: the Latians you shall find + Not forc’d to goodness, but by will inclin’d; + For, since the time of Saturn’s holy reign, + His hospitable customs we retain. + I call to mind (but time the tale has worn) + Th’ Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho’ born + On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore, + And Samothracia, Samos call’d before. + From Tuscan Coritum he claim’d his birth; + But after, when exempt from mortal earth, + From thence ascended to his kindred skies, + A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice.” + + He said. Ilioneus made this reply: + “O king, of Faunus’ royal family! + Nor wintry winds to Latium forc’d our way, + Nor did the stars our wand’ring course betray. + Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound, + The port, so long desir’d, at length we found; + From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell’d; + Great as the greatest that the sun beheld. + The god began our line, who rules above; + And, as our race, our king descends from Jove: + And hither are we come, by his command, + To crave admission in your happy land. + How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour’d, + Our plains, our temples, and our town devour’d; + What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms + Shook Asia’s crown with European arms; + Ev’n such have heard, if any such there be, + Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea; + And such as, born beneath the burning sky + And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie. + From that dire deluge, thro’ the wat’ry waste, + Such length of years, such various perils past, + At last escap’d, to Latium we repair, + To beg what you without your want may spare: + The common water, and the common air; + Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes, + Fit to receive and serve our banish’d gods. + Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace, + Nor length of time our gratitude efface. + Besides, what endless honour you shall gain, + To save and shelter Troy’s unhappy train! + Now, by my sov’reign, and his fate, I swear, + Renown’d for faith in peace, for force in war; + Oft our alliance other lands desir’d, + And, what we seek of you, of us requir’d. + Despite not then, that in our hands we bear + These holy boughs, and sue with words of pray’r. + Fate and the gods, by their supreme command, + Have doom’d our ships to seek the Latian land. + To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends; + Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends; + Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force, + And where Numicus opes his holy source. + Besides, our prince presents, with his request, + Some small remains of what his sire possess’d. + This golden charger, snatch’d from burning Troy, + Anchises did in sacrifice employ; + This royal robe and this tiara wore + Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore + In full assemblies, and in solemn games; + These purple vests were weav’d by Dardan dames.” + + Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll’d around + His eyes, and fix’d a while upon the ground. + Intent he seem’d, and anxious in his breast; + Not by the scepter mov’d, or kingly vest, + But pond’ring future things of wondrous weight; + Succession, empire, and his daughter’s fate. + On these he mus’d within his thoughtful mind, + And then revolv’d what Faunus had divin’d. + This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed + To share his scepter, and Lavinia’s bed; + This was the race that sure portents foreshew + To sway the world, and land and sea subdue. + At length he rais’d his cheerful head, and spoke: + “The pow’rs,” said he, “the pow’rs we both invoke, + To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be, + And firm our purpose with their augury! + Have what you ask; your presents I receive; + Land, where and when you please, with ample leave; + Partake and use my kingdom as your own; + All shall be yours, while I command the crown: + And, if my wish’d alliance please your king, + Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring. + Then let him not a friend’s embraces fear; + The peace is made when I behold him here. + Besides this answer, tell my royal guest, + I add to his commands my own request: + One only daughter heirs my crown and state, + Whom not our oracles, nor Heav’n, nor fate, + Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join + With any native of th’ Ausonian line. + A foreign son-in-law shall come from far + (Such is our doom), a chief renown’d in war, + Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name, + And thro’ the conquer’d world diffuse our fame. + Himself to be the man the fates require, + I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire.” + + He said, and then on each bestow’d a steed. + Three hundred horses, in high stables fed, + Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress’d: + Of these he chose the fairest and the best, + To mount the Trojan troop. At his command + The steeds caparison’d with purple stand, + With golden trappings, glorious to behold, + And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold. + Then to his absent guest the king decreed + A pair of coursers born of heav’nly breed, + Who from their nostrils breath’d ethereal fire; + Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, + By substituting mares produc’d on earth, + Whose wombs conceiv’d a more than mortal birth. + These draw the chariot which Latinus sends, + And the rich present to the prince commends. + Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne, + To their expecting lord with peace return. + + But jealous Juno, from Pachynus’ height, + As she from Argos took her airy flight, + Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight. + She saw the Trojan and his joyful train + Descend upon the shore, desert the main, + Design a town, and, with unhop’d success, + Th’ embassadors return with promis’d peace. + Then, pierc’d with pain, she shook her haughty head, + Sigh’d from her inward soul, and thus she said: + “O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes! + O fates of Troy, which Juno’s fates oppose! + Could they not fall unpitied on the plain, + But slain revive, and, taken, scape again? + When execrable Troy in ashes lay, + Thro’ fires and swords and seas they forc’d their way. + Then vanquish’d Juno must in vain contend, + Her rage disarm’d, her empire at an end. + Breathless and tir’d, is all my fury spent? + Or does my glutted spleen at length relent? + As if ’twere little from their town to chase, + I thro’ the seas pursued their exil’d race; + Ingag’d the heav’ns, oppos’d the stormy main; + But billows roar’d, and tempests rag’d in vain. + What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done, + When these they overpass, and those they shun? + On Tiber’s shores they land, secure of fate, + Triumphant o’er the storms and Juno’s hate. + Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe, + And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia’s wrath, + Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon; + What great offence had either people done? + But I, the consort of the Thunderer, + Have wag’d a long and unsuccessful war, + With various arts and arms in vain have toil’d, + And by a mortal man at length am foil’d. + If native pow’r prevail not, shall I doubt + To seek for needful succour from without? + If Jove and Heav’n my just desires deny, + Hell shall the pow’r of Heav’n and Jove supply. + Grant that the Fates have firm’d, by their decree, + The Trojan race to reign in Italy; + At least I can defer the nuptial day, + And with protracted wars the peace delay: + With blood the dear alliance shall be bought, + And both the people near destruction brought; + So shall the son-in-law and father join, + With ruin, war, and waste of either line. + O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow’d + With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood! + Bellona leads thee to thy lover’s hand; + Another queen brings forth another brand, + To burn with foreign fires another land! + A second Paris, diff’ring but in name, + Shall fire his country with a second flame.” + + Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground, + With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound, + To rouse Alecto from th’ infernal seat + Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat. + This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose; + One who delights in wars and human woes. + Ev’n Pluto hates his own misshapen race; + Her sister Furies fly her hideous face; + So frightful are the forms the monster takes, + So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes. + Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite: + “O virgin daughter of eternal Night, + Give me this once thy labour, to sustain + My right, and execute my just disdain. + Let not the Trojans, with a feign’d pretence + Of proffer’d peace, delude the Latian prince. + Expel from Italy that odious name, + And let not Juno suffer in her fame. + ’Tis thine to ruin realms, o’erturn a state, + Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate, + And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate. + Thy hand o’er towns the fun’ral torch displays, + And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways. + Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds + Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds: + Confound the peace establish’d, and prepare + Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.” + + Smear’d as she was with black Gorgonian blood, + The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood; + And on her wicker wings, sublime thro’ night, + She to the Latian palace took her flight: + There sought the queen’s apartment, stood before + The peaceful threshold, and besieg’d the door. + Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast + Fir’d with disdain for Turnus dispossess’d, + And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest. + From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes + Her darling plague, the fav’rite of her snakes; + With her full force she threw the poisonous dart, + And fix’d it deep within Amata’s heart, + That, thus envenom’d, she might kindle rage, + And sacrifice to strife her house and husband’s age. + Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims + Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs; + His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides, + Now like a chain around her neck he rides, + Now like a fillet to her head repairs, + And with his circling volumes folds her hairs. + At first the silent venom slid with ease, + And seiz’d her cooler senses by degrees; + Then, ere th’ infected mass was fir’d too far, + In plaintive accents she began the war, + And thus bespoke her husband: “Shall,” she said, + “A wand’ring prince enjoy Lavinia’s bed? + If nature plead not in a parent’s heart, + Pity my tears, and pity her desert. + I know, my dearest lord, the time will come, + You’d in vain, reverse your cruel doom; + The faithless pirate soon will set to sea, + And bear the royal virgin far away! + A guest like him, a Trojan guest before, + In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore, + And ravish’d Helen from her husband bore. + Think on a king’s inviolable word; + And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord: + To this false foreigner you give your throne, + And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son. + Resume your ancient care; and, if the god + Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood, + Know all are foreign, in a larger sense, + Not born your subjects, or deriv’d from hence. + Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace, + He springs from Inachus of Argive race.” + + But when she saw her reasons idly spent, + And could not move him from his fix’d intent, + She flew to rage; for now the snake possess’d + Her vital parts, and poison’d all her breast; + She raves, she runs with a distracted pace, + And fills with horrid howls the public place. + And, as young striplings whip the top for sport, + On the smooth pavement of an empty court; + The wooden engine flies and whirls about, + Admir’d, with clamours, of the beardless rout; + They lash aloud; each other they provoke, + And lend their little souls at ev’ry stroke: + Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows + Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes. + Nor yet content, she strains her malice more, + And adds new ills to those contriv’d before: + She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng + Of madding matrons, bears the bride along, + Wand’ring thro’ woods and wilds, and devious ways, + And with these arts the Trojan match delays. + She feign’d the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud, + And to the buxom god the virgin vow’d. + “Evoe! O Bacchus!” thus began the song; + And “Evoe!” answer’d all the female throng. + “O virgin! worthy thee alone!” she cried; + “O worthy thee alone!” the crew replied. + “For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance, + And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance.” + Like fury seiz’d the rest; the progress known, + All seek the mountains, and forsake the town: + All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav’lin bear, + Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair, + And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff’ring air. + The queen herself, inspir’d with rage divine, + Shook high above her head a flaming pine; + Then roll’d her haggard eyes around the throng, + And sung, in Turnus’ name, the nuptial song: + “Io, ye Latian dames! if any here + Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear; + If there be here,” she said, “who dare maintain + My right, nor think the name of mother vain; + Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair, + And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.” + + Amata’s breast the Fury thus invades, + And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades; + Then, when she found her venom spread so far, + The royal house embroil’d in civil war, + Rais’d on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies, + And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies. + His town, as fame reports, was built of old + By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold, + Who fled her father’s rage, and, with a train + Of following Argives, thro’ the stormy main, + Driv’n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign. + ’Twas Ardua once; now Ardea’s name it bears; + Once a fair city, now consum’d with years. + Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay, + Betwixt the confines of the night and day, + Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside + Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried + The foulness of th’ infernal form to hide. + Propp’d on a staff, she takes a trembling mien: + Her face is furrow’d, and her front obscene; + Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws; + Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws; + Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound, + Her temples with an olive wreath are crown’d. + Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane + Of Juno, now she seem’d, and thus began, + Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man: + “Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain + In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain? + Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize, + Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories? + The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought, + The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought. + Go now, deluded man, and seek again + New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain. + Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize; + Protect the Latians in luxurious ease. + This dream all-pow’rful Juno sends; I bear + Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear. + Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain; + With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train: + Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie + In Tiber’s mouth, with fire and sword destroy. + The Latian king, unless he shall submit, + Own his old promise, and his new forget; + Let him, in arms, the pow’r of Turnus prove, + And learn to fear whom he disdains to love. + For such is Heav’n’s command.” The youthful prince + With scorn replied, and made this bold defence: + “You tell me, mother, what I knew before: + The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. + I neither fear nor will provoke the war; + My fate is Juno’s most peculiar care. + But time has made you dote, and vainly tell + Of arms imagin’d in your lonely cell. + Go; be the temple and the gods your care; + Permit to men the thought of peace and war.” + + These haughty words Alecto’s rage provoke, + And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. + Her eyes grow stiffen’d, and with sulphur burn; + Her hideous looks and hellish form return; + Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, + And open all the furies of her face: + Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes, + She cast him backward as he strove to rise, + And, ling’ring, sought to frame some new replies. + High on her head she rears two twisted snakes, + Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes; + And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks: + “Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell + Of arms imagin’d in her lonely cell! + Behold the Fates’ infernal minister! + War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear.” + + Thus having said, her smould’ring torch, impress’d + With her full force, she plung’d into his breast. + Aghast he wak’d; and, starting from his bed, + Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o’erspread. + “Arms! arms!” he cries: “my sword and shield prepare!” + He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war. + So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, + The bubbling waters from the bottom rise: + Above the brims they force their fiery way; + Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day. + + The peace polluted thus, a chosen band + He first commissions to the Latian land, + In threat’ning embassy; then rais’d the rest, + To meet in arms th’ intruding Trojan guest, + To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, + And Italy’s indanger’d peace restore. + Himself alone an equal match he boasts, + To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts. + The gods invok’d, the Rutuli prepare + Their arms, and warn each other to the war. + His beauty these, and those his blooming age, + The rest his house and his own fame engage. + + While Turnus urges thus his enterprise, + The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies; + New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand, + Which overlooks the vale with wide command; + Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train, + With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, + And pitch their toils around the shady plain. + The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent, + And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. + ’Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise + High o’er his front; his beams invade the skies. + From this light cause th’ infernal maid prepares + The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars. + + The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred, + Snatch’d from his dams, and the tame youngling fed. + Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring, + Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king: + Their sister Silvia cherish’d with her care + The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare + To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied + His tender neck, and comb’d his silken hide, + And bathed his body. Patient of command + In time he grew, and, growing us’d to hand, + He waited at his master’s board for food; + Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood, + Where grazing all the day, at night he came + To his known lodgings, and his country dame. + + This household beast, that us’d the woodland grounds, + Was view’d at first by the young hero’s hounds, + As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat + In the cool waters, and to quench his heat. + Ascanius young, and eager of his game, + Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim; + But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides, + Which pierc’d his bowels thro’ his panting sides. + The bleeding creature issues from the floods, + Possess’d with fear, and seeks his known abodes, + His old familiar hearth and household gods. + He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans, + Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans. + Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud + For succour from the clownish neighbourhood: + The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay + In the close woody covert, urg’d their way. + One with a brand yet burning from the flame, + Arm’d with a knotty club another came: + Whate’er they catch or find, without their care, + Their fury makes an instrument of war. + Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast, + Then clench’d a hatchet in his horny fist, + But held his hand from the descending stroke, + And left his wedge within the cloven oak, + To whet their courage and their rage provoke. + And now the goddess, exercis’d in ill, + Who watch’d an hour to work her impious will, + Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn, + Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne, + Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around, + And mountains, tremble at th’ infernal sound. + The sacred lake of Trivia from afar, + The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar, + Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war. + Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess’d, + And strain their helpless infants to their breast. + + The clowns, a boist’rous, rude, ungovern’d crew, + With furious haste to the loud summons flew. + The pow’rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain, + With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain: + Not theirs a raw and unexperienc’d train, + But a firm body of embattled men. + At first, while fortune favour’d neither side, + The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried; + But now, both parties reinforc’d, the fields + Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields. + A shining harvest either host displays, + And shoots against the sun with equal rays. + Thus, when a black-brow’d gust begins to rise, + White foam at first on the curl’d ocean fries; + Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies; + Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, + The muddy bottom o’er the clouds is thrown. + First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus’ eldest care, + Pierc’d with an arrow from the distant war: + Fix’d in his throat the flying weapon stood, + And stopp’d his breath, and drank his vital blood + Huge heaps of slain around the body rise: + Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies; + A good old man, while peace he preach’d in vain, + Amidst the madness of th’ unruly train: + Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill’d; + His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till’d. + + Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood + The Fury bath’d them in each other’s blood; + Then, having fix’d the fight, exulting flies, + And bears fulfill’d her promise to the skies. + To Juno thus she speaks: “Behold! It is done, + The blood already drawn, the war begun; + The discord is complete; nor can they cease + The dire debate, nor you command the peace. + Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood + Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood; + Speak, and my pow’r shall add this office more: + The neighbr’ing nations of th’ Ausonian shore + Shall hear the dreadful rumour, from afar, + Of arm’d invasion, and embrace the war.” + Then Juno thus: “The grateful work is done, + The seeds of discord sow’d, the war begun; + Frauds, fears, and fury have possess’d the state, + And fix’d the causes of a lasting hate. + A bloody Hymen shall th’ alliance join + Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line: + But thou with speed to night and hell repair; + For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear + Thy lawless wand’ring walks in upper air. + Leave what remains to me.” Saturnia said: + The sullen fiend her sounding wings display’d, + Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade. + + In midst of Italy, well known to fame, + There lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name, + Below the lofty mounts: on either side + Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide. + Full in the centre of the sacred wood + An arm arises of the Stygian flood, + Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound, + Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around. + Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell, + And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell. + To this infernal lake the Fury flies; + Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab’ring skies. + + Saturnian Juno now, with double care, + Attends the fatal process of the war. + The clowns, return’d, from battle bear the slain, + Implore the gods, and to their king complain. + The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; + Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town. + Ambitious Turnus in the press appears, + And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears; + Proclaims his private injuries aloud, + A solemn promise made, and disavow’d; + A foreign son is sought, and a mix’d mungril brood. + Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, + In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, + And lead his dances with dishevel’d hair, + Increase the clamour, and the war demand, + (Such was Amata’s int’rest in the land,) + Against the public sanctions of the peace, + Against all omens of their ill success. + With fates averse, the rout in arms resort, + To force their monarch, and insult the court. + But, like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves + The raging tempest and the rising waves, + Propp’d on himself he stands; his solid sides + Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides: + So stood the pious prince, unmov’d, and long + Sustain’d the madness of the noisy throng. + But, when he found that Juno’s pow’r prevail’d, + And all the methods of cool counsel fail’d, + He calls the gods to witness their offence, + Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence. + “Hurried by fate,” he cries, “and borne before + A furious wind, we have the faithful shore. + O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear + The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war: + Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate, + And pray to Heav’n for peace, but pray too late. + For me, my stormy voyage at an end, + I to the port of death securely tend. + The fun’ral pomp which to your kings you pay, + Is all I want, and all you take away.” + He said no more, but, in his walls confin’d, + Shut out the woes which he too well divin’d + Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive, + But left the helm, and let the vessel drive. + + A solemn custom was observ’d of old, + Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold, + Their standard when in fighting fields they rear + Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare + The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war; + Or from the boasting Parthians would regain + Their eagles, lost in Carrhae’s bloody plain. + Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear, + And still are worship’d with religious fear) + Before his temple stand: the dire abode, + And the fear’d issues of the furious god, + Are fenc’d with brazen bolts; without the gates, + The wary guardian Janus doubly waits. + Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars, + The Roman consul their decree declares, + And in his robes the sounding gates unbars. + The youth in military shouts arise, + And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies. + These rites, of old by sov’reign princes us’d, + Were the king’s office; but the king refus’d, + Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar + Of sacred peace, or loose th’ imprison’d war; + But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms, + Abhorr’d the wicked ministry of arms. + Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high: + At her approach the brazen hinges fly; + The gates are forc’d, and ev’ry falling bar; + And, like a tempest, issues out the war. + + The peaceful cities of th’ Ausonian shore, + Lull’d in their ease, and undisturb’d before, + Are all on fire; and some, with studious care, + Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare; + Some their soft limbs in painful marches try, + And war is all their wish, and arms the gen’ral cry. + Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part + New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart: + With joy they view the waving ensigns fly, + And hear the trumpet’s clangour pierce the sky. + Five cities forge their arms: th’ Atinian pow’rs, + Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow’rs, + Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town: + All these of old were places of renown. + Some hammer helmets for the fighting field; + Some twine young sallows to support the shield; + The croslet some, and some the cuishes mould, + With silver plated, and with ductile gold. + The rustic honours of the scythe and share + Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war. + Old falchions are new temper’d in the fires; + The sounding trumpet ev’ry soul inspires. + The word is giv’n; with eager speed they lace + The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace. + The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied; + The trusty weapon sits on ev’ry side. + + And now the mighty labour is begun + Ye Muses, open all your Helicon. + Sing you the chiefs that sway’d th’ Ausonian land, + Their arms, and armies under their command; + What warriors in our ancient clime were bred; + What soldiers follow’d, and what heroes led. + For well you know, and can record alone, + What fame to future times conveys but darkly down. + Mezentius first appear’d upon the plain: + Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain, + Defying earth and heav’n. Etruria lost, + He brings to Turnus’ aid his baffled host. + The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire, + Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire; + To Turnus only second in the grace + Of manly mien, and features of the face. + A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred, + With fates averse a thousand men he led: + His sire unworthy of so brave a son; + Himself well worthy of a happier throne. + + Next Aventinus drives his chariot round + The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown’d. + Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field; + His father’s hydra fills his ample shield: + A hundred serpents hiss about the brims; + The son of Hercules he justly seems + By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs; + Of heav’nly part, and part of earthly blood, + A mortal woman mixing with a god. + For strong Alcides, after he had slain + The triple Geryon, drove from conquer’d Spain + His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led, + On Tuscan Tiber’s flow’ry banks they fed. + Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove + The priestess Rhea found, and forc’d to love. + For arms, his men long piles and jav’lins bore; + And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. + Like Hercules himself his son appears, + In salvage pomp; a lion’s hide he wears; + About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; + The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. + Thus, like the god his father, homely dress’d, + He strides into the hall, a horrid guest. + + Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came, + (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,) + Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear: + Arm’d Argive horse they led, and in the front appear. + Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain’s height + With rapid course descending to the fight; + They rush along; the rattling woods give way; + The branches bend before their sweepy sway. + + Nor was Praeneste’s founder wanting there, + Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber: + Found in the fire, and foster’d in the plains, + A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, + And leads to Turnus’ aid his country swains. + His own Praeneste sends a chosen band, + With those who plow Saturnia’s Gabine land; + Besides the succour which cold Anien yields, + The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields, + Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene— + A num’rous rout, but all of naked men: + Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, + Nor drive the chariot thro’ the dusty field, + But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead, + And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head; + The left foot naked, when they march to fight, + But in a bull’s raw hide they sheathe the right. + Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) + Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, + In pomp appears, and with his ardour warms + A heartless train, unexercis’d in arms: + The just Faliscans he to battle brings, + And those who live where Lake Ciminius springs; + And where Feronia’s grove and temple stands, + Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands. + All these in order march, and marching sing + The warlike actions of their sea-born king; + Like a long team of snowy swans on high, + Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky, + When, homeward from their wat’ry pastures borne, + They sing, and Asia’s lakes their notes return. + Not one who heard their music from afar, + Would think these troops an army train’d to war, + But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, + With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore. + + Then Clausus came, who led a num’rous band + Of troops embodied from the Sabine land, + And, in himself alone, an army brought. + ’Twas he, the noble Claudian race begot, + The Claudian race, ordain’d, in times to come, + To share the greatness of imperial Rome. + He led the Cures forth, of old renown, + Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town, + And all th’ Eretian pow’rs; besides a band + That follow’d from Velinum’s dewy land, + And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame, + And mountaineers, that from Severus came, + And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica, + And those where yellow Tiber takes his way, + And where Himella’s wanton waters play. + Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie + By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli: + The warlike aids of Horta next appear, + And the cold Nursians come to close the rear, + Mix’d with the natives born of Latine blood, + Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood. + Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main, + When pale Orion sets in wintry rain; + Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise, + Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies, + Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around; + Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. + + High in his chariot then Halesus came, + A foe by birth to Troy’s unhappy name: + From Agamemnon born—to Turnus’ aid + A thousand men the youthful hero led, + Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown’d, + And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground, + And those who live by Sidicinian shores, + And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars, + Cales’ and Osca’s old inhabitants, + And rough Saticulans, inur’d to wants: + Light demi-lances from afar they throw, + Fasten’d with leathern thongs, to gall the foe. + Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear; + And on their warding arm light bucklers bear. + + Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung, + From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung, + Who then in Teleboan Capri reign’d; + But that short isle th’ ambitious youth disdain’d, + And o’er Campania stretch’d his ample sway, + Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea; + O’er Batulum, and where Abella sees, + From her high tow’rs, the harvest of her trees. + And these (as was the Teuton use of old) + Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold; + Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight; + Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light. + + Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went, + And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent. + The rude Equicolae his rule obey’d; + Hunting their sport, and plund’ring was their trade. + In arms they plow’d, to battle still prepar’d: + Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard. + + Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led, + By King Archippus sent to Turnus’ aid, + And peaceful olives crown’d his hoary head. + His wand and holy words, the viper’s rage, + And venom’d wounds of serpents could assuage. + He, when he pleas’d with powerful juice to steep + Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep. + But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art, + To cure the wound giv’n by the Dardan dart: + Yet his untimely fate th’ Angitian woods + In sighs remurmur’d to the Fucine floods. + + The son of fam’d Hippolytus was there, + Fam’d as his sire, and, as his mother, fair; + Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore, + And nurs’d his youth along the marshy shore, + Where great Diana’s peaceful altars flame, + In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name. + Hippolytus, as old records have said, + Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed; + But, when no female arts his mind could move, + She turn’d to furious hate her impious love. + Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore, + Another’s crimes th’ unhappy hunter bore, + Glutting his father’s eyes with guiltless gore. + But chaste Diana, who his death deplor’d, + With Aesculapian herbs his life restor’d. + Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain, + The dead inspir’d with vital breath again, + Struck to the centre, with his flaming dart, + Th’ unhappy founder of the godlike art. + But Trivia kept in secret shades alone + Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown; + And call’d him Virbius in th’ Egerian grove, + Where then he liv’d obscure, but safe from Jove. + For this, from Trivia’s temple and her wood + Are coursers driv’n, who shed their master’s blood, + Affrighted by the monsters of the flood. + His son, the second Virbius, yet retain’d + His father’s art, and warrior steeds he rein’d. + + Amid the troops, and like the leading god, + High o’er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode: + A triple of plumes his crest adorn’d, + On which with belching flames Chimaera burn’d: + The more the kindled combat rises high’r, + The more with fury burns the blazing fire. + Fair Io grac’d his shield; but Io now + With horns exalted stands, and seems to low— + A noble charge! Her keeper by her side, + To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied; + And on the brims her sire, the wat’ry god, + Roll’d from a silver urn his crystal flood. + A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields + With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt’ring shields; + Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands, + And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands; + Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields, + And the proud Labicans, with painted shields, + And those who near Numician streams reside, + And those whom Tiber’s holy forests hide, + Or Circe’s hills from the main land divide; + Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands, + Or the black water of Pomptina stands. + + Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came, + And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame; + Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill’d, + She chose the nobler Pallas of the field. + Mix’d with the first, the fierce Virago fought, + Sustain’d the toils of arms, the danger sought, + Outstripp’d the winds in speed upon the plain, + Flew o’er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain: + She swept the seas, and, as she skimm’d along, + Her flying feet unbath’d on billows hung. + Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise, + Where’er she passes, fix their wond’ring eyes: + Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight, + Devour her o’er and o’er with vast delight; + Her purple habit sits with such a grace + On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face; + Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown’d, + And in a golden caul the curls are bound. + She shakes her myrtle jav’lin; and, behind, + Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind. + + + + BOOK VIII + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + The war being now begun, both the generals make all possible + preparations. Turnus sends to Diomedes. Aeneas goes in person to + beg succours from Evander and the Tuscans. Evander receives him + kindly, furnishes him with men, and sends his son Pallas with + him. Vulcan, at the request of Venus, makes arms for her son + Aeneas, and draws on his shield the most memorable actions of his + posterity. + + + When Turnus had assembled all his pow’rs, + His standard planted on Laurentum’s tow’rs; + When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar, + Had giv’n the signal of approaching war, + Had rous’d the neighing steeds to scour the fields, + While the fierce riders clatter’d on their shields; + Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare + To join th’ allies, and headlong rush to war. + Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd, + With bold Mezentius, who blasphem’d aloud. + These thro’ the country took their wasteful course, + The fields to forage, and to gather force. + Then Venulus to Diomede they send, + To beg his aid Ausonia to defend, + Declare the common danger, and inform + The Grecian leader of the growing storm: + “Aeneas, landed on the Latian coast, + With banish’d gods, and with a baffled host, + Yet now aspir’d to conquest of the state, + And claim’d a title from the gods and fate; + What num’rous nations in his quarrel came, + And how they spread his formidable name. + What he design’d, what mischief might arise, + If fortune favour’d his first enterprise, + Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears, + And common interest, was involv’d in theirs.” + + While Turnus and th’ allies thus urge the war, + The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, + Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare. + This way and that he turns his anxious mind; + Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design’d; + Explores himself in vain, in ev’ry part, + And gives no rest to his distracted heart. + So, when the sun by day, or moon by night, + Strike on the polish’d brass their trembling light, + The glitt’ring species here and there divide, + And cast their dubious beams from side to side; + Now on the walls, now on the pavement play, + And to the ceiling flash the glaring day. + + ’Twas night; and weary nature lull’d asleep + The birds of air, and fishes of the deep, + And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief + Was laid on Tiber’s banks, oppress’d with grief, + And found in silent slumber late relief. + Then, thro’ the shadows of the poplar wood, + Arose the father of the Roman flood; + An azure robe was o’er his body spread, + A wreath of shady reeds adorn’d his head: + Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear’d, + And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer’d: + “Undoubted offspring of ethereal race, + O long expected in this promis’d place! + Who thro’ the foes hast borne thy banish’d gods, + Restor’d them to their hearths, and old abodes; + This is thy happy home, the clime where fate + Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state. + Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace, + And all the rage of haughty Juno cease. + And that this nightly vision may not seem + Th’ effect of fancy, or an idle dream, + A sow beneath an oak shall lie along, + All white herself, and white her thirty young. + When thirty rolling years have run their race, + Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space, + Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame, + Which from this omen shall receive the name. + Time shall approve the truth. For what remains, + And how with sure success to crown thy pains, + With patience next attend. A banish’d band, + Driv’n with Evander from th’ Arcadian land, + Have planted here, and plac’d on high their walls; + Their town the founder Pallanteum calls, + Deriv’d from Pallas, his great-grandsire’s name: + But the fierce Latians old possession claim, + With war infesting the new colony. + These make thy friends, and on their aid rely. + To thy free passage I submit my streams. + Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams; + And, when the setting stars are lost in day, + To Juno’s pow’r thy just devotion pay; + With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease: + Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease. + When thou return’st victorious from the war, + Perform thy vows to me with grateful care. + The god am I, whose yellow water flows + Around these fields, and fattens as it goes: + Tiber my name; among the rolling floods + Renown’d on earth, esteem’d among the gods. + This is my certain seat. In times to come, + My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome.” + + He said, and plung’d below. While yet he spoke, + His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook. + He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies + With purple blushing, and the day arise. + Then water in his hollow palm he took + From Tiber’s flood, and thus the pow’rs bespoke: + “Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed, + And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed + Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep. + Whatever fount, whatever holy deep, + Conceals thy wat’ry stores; where’er they rise, + And, bubbling from below, salute the skies; + Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn + Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn, + For this thy kind compassion of our woes, + Shalt share my morning song and ev’ning vows. + But, O be present to thy people’s aid, + And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!” + Thus having said, two galleys from his stores, + With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars. + Now on the shore the fatal swine is found. + Wond’rous to tell!—She lay along the ground: + Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung; + She white herself, and white her thirty young. + Aeneas takes the mother and her brood, + And all on Juno’s altar are bestow’d. + + The foll’wing night, and the succeeding day, + Propitious Tiber smooth’d his wat’ry way: + He roll’d his river back, and pois’d he stood, + A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood. + The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore, + Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar. + Shouts from the land give omen to their course, + And the pitch’d vessels glide with easy force. + The woods and waters wonder at the gleam + Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream. + One summer’s night and one whole day they pass + Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass. + The fiery sun had finish’d half his race, + Look’d back, and doubted in the middle space, + When they from far beheld the rising tow’rs, + The tops of sheds, and shepherds’ lowly bow’rs, + Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay, + Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway. + These cots (Evander’s kingdom, mean and poor) + The Trojan saw, and turn’d his ships to shore. + ’Twas on a solemn day: th’ Arcadian states, + The king and prince, without the city gates, + Then paid their off’rings in a sacred grove + To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove. + Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies, + And fat of entrails on his altar fries. + + But, when they saw the ships that stemm’d the flood, + And glitter’d thro’ the covert of the wood, + They rose with fear, and left th’ unfinish’d feast, + Till dauntless Pallas reassur’d the rest + To pay the rites. Himself without delay + A jav’lin seiz’d, and singly took his way; + Then gain’d a rising ground, and call’d from far: + “Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are; + Your bus’ness here; and bring you peace or war?” + High on the stern Aeneas took his stand, + And held a branch of olive in his hand, + While thus he spoke: “The Phrygians’ arms you see, + Expell’d from Troy, provok’d in Italy + By Latian foes, with war unjustly made; + At first affianc’d, and at last betray’d. + This message bear: ‘The Trojans and their chief + Bring holy peace, and beg the king’s relief.’ + Struck with so great a name, and all on fire, + The youth replies: “Whatever you require, + Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend. + A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend.” + He said, and, downward hasting to the strand, + Embrac’d the stranger prince, and join’d his hand. + + Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke + The silence first, and thus the king bespoke: + “Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate’s command, + I bear these peaceful branches in my hand, + Undaunted I approach you, tho’ I know + Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe; + From Atreus tho’ your ancient lineage came, + And both the brother kings your kindred claim; + Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown, + Your virtue, thro’ the neighb’ring nations blown, + Our fathers’ mingled blood, Apollo’s voice, + Have led me hither, less by need than choice. + Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung, + And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung: + Electra from the loins of Atlas came; + Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame. + Your sire is Mercury, whom long before + On cold Cyllene’s top fair Maia bore. + Maia the fair, on fame if we rely, + Was Atlas’ daughter, who sustains the sky. + Thus from one common source our streams divide; + Ours is the Trojan, yours th’ Arcadian side. + Rais’d by these hopes, I sent no news before, + Nor ask’d your leave, nor did your faith implore; + But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador. + The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue + The Trojan race, are equal foes to you. + Our host expell’d, what farther force can stay + The victor troops from universal sway? + Then will they stretch their pow’r athwart the land, + And either sea from side to side command. + Receive our offer’d faith, and give us thine; + Ours is a gen’rous and experienc’d line: + We want not hearts nor bodies for the war; + In council cautious, and in fields we dare.” + + He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes + Evander view’d the man with vast surprise, + Pleas’d with his action, ravish’d with his face: + Then answer’d briefly, with a royal grace: + “O valiant leader of the Trojan line, + In whom the features of thy father shine, + How I recall Anchises! how I see + His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee! + Long tho’ it be, ’tis fresh within my mind, + When Priam to his sister’s court design’d + A welcome visit, with a friendly stay, + And thro’ th’ Arcadian kingdom took his way. + Then, past a boy, the callow down began + To shade my chin, and call me first a man. + I saw the shining train with vast delight, + And Priam’s goodly person pleas’d my sight: + But great Anchises, far above the rest, + With awful wonder fir’d my youthful breast. + I long’d to join in friendship’s holy bands + Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands. + I first accosted him: I sued, I sought, + And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought. + He gave me, when at length constrain’d to go, + A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow, + A vest embroider’d, glorious to behold, + And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold, + Which my son’s coursers in obedience hold. + The league you ask, I offer, as your right; + And, when tomorrow’s sun reveals the light, + With swift supplies you shall be sent away. + Now celebrate with us this solemn day, + Whose holy rites admit no long delay. + Honour our annual feast; and take your seat, + With friendly welcome, at a homely treat.” + Thus having said, the bowls remov’d (for fear) + The youths replac’d, and soon restor’d the cheer. + On sods of turf he set the soldiers round: + A maple throne, rais’d higher from the ground, + Receiv’d the Trojan chief; and, o’er the bed, + A lion’s shaggy hide for ornament they spread. + The loaves were serv’d in canisters; the wine + In bowls; the priest renew’d the rites divine: + Broil’d entrails are their food, and beef’s continued chine. + + But when the rage of hunger was repress’d, + Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest: + “These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king, + From no vain fears or superstition spring, + Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance, + Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance; + But, sav’d from danger, with a grateful sense, + The labours of a god we recompense. + See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky, + About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie; + Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare, + How desert now it stands, expos’d in air! + ’Twas once a robber’s den, inclos’d around + With living stone, and deep beneath the ground. + The monster Cacus, more than half a beast, + This hold, impervious to the sun, possess’d. + The pavement ever foul with human gore; + Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door. + Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire, + Black clouds he belch’d, and flakes of livid fire. + Time, long expected, eas’d us of our load, + And brought the needful presence of a god. + Th’ avenging force of Hercules, from Spain, + Arriv’d in triumph, from Geryon slain: + Thrice liv’d the giant, and thrice liv’d in vain. + His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove + Near Tiber’s bank, to graze the shady grove. + Allur’d with hope of plunder, and intent + By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent, + The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray’d, + Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey’d; + And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen, + He dragg’d ’em backwards to his rocky den. + The tracks averse a lying notice gave, + And led the searcher backward from the cave. + + “Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place, + To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass. + The beasts, who miss’d their mates, fill’d all around + With bellowings, and the rocks restor’d the sound. + One heifer, who had heard her love complain, + Roar’d from the cave, and made the project vain. + Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook, + And toss’d about his head his knotted oak. + Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows’ flight, + He clomb, with eager haste, th’ aerial height. + Then first we saw the monster mend his pace; + Fear in his eyes, and paleness in his face, + Confess’d the god’s approach. Trembling he springs, + As terror had increas’d his feet with wings; + Nor stay’d for stairs; but down the depth he threw + His body, on his back the door he drew + (The door, a rib of living rock; with pains + His father hew’d it out, and bound with iron chains): + He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos’d, + And bars and levers to his foe oppos’d. + The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast; + The fierce avenger came with bounding haste; + Survey’d the mouth of the forbidden hold, + And here and there his raging eyes he roll’d. + He gnash’d his teeth; and thrice he compass’d round + With winged speed the circuit of the ground. + Thrice at the cavern’s mouth he pull’d in vain, + And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain. + A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black, + Grew gibbous from behind the mountain’s back; + Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night, + Here built their nests, and hither wing’d their flight. + The leaning head hung threat’ning o’er the flood, + And nodded to the left. The hero stood + Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right, + Tugg’d at the solid stone with all his might. + Thus heav’d, the fix’d foundations of the rock + Gave way; heav’n echo’d at the rattling shock. + Tumbling, it chok’d the flood: on either side + The banks leap backward, and the streams divide; + The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread, + And trembling Tiber div’d beneath his bed. + The court of Cacus stands reveal’d to sight; + The cavern glares with new-admitted light. + So the pent vapours, with a rumbling sound, + Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground; + A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high, + The gods with hate beheld the nether sky: + The ghosts repine at violated night, + And curse th’ invading sun, and sicken at the sight. + The graceless monster, caught in open day, + Inclos’d, and in despair to fly away, + Howls horrible from underneath, and fills + His hollow palace with unmanly yells. + The hero stands above, and from afar + Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war. + He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires + Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father’s fires, + Gath’ring, with each repeated blast, the night, + To make uncertain aim, and erring sight. + The wrathful god then plunges from above, + And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove, + There lights; and wades thro’ fumes, and gropes his way, + Half sing’d, half stifled, till he grasps his prey. + The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found; + He squeez’d his throat; he writh’d his neck around, + And in a knot his crippled members bound; + Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes: + Roll’d on a heap, the breathless robber lies. + The doors, unbarr’d, receive the rushing day, + And thoro’ lights disclose the ravish’d prey. + The bulls, redeem’d, breathe open air again. + Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den. + The wond’ring neighbourhood, with glad surprise, + Behold his shagged breast, his giant size, + His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish’d eyes. + From that auspicious day, with rites divine, + We worship at the hero’s holy shrine. + Potitius first ordain’d these annual vows: + As priests, were added the Pinarian house, + Who rais’d this altar in the sacred shade, + Where honours, ever due, for ever shall be paid. + For these deserts, and this high virtue shown, + Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown: + Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood, + And with deep draughts invoke our common god.” + + This said, a double wreath Evander twin’d, + And poplars black and white his temples bind. + Then brims his ample bowl. With like design + The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine. + Meantime the sun descended from the skies, + And the bright evening star began to rise. + And now the priests, Potitius at their head, + In skins of beasts involv’d, the long procession led; + Held high the flaming tapers in their hands, + As custom had prescrib’d their holy bands; + Then with a second course the tables load, + And with full chargers offer to the god. + The Salii sing, and cense his altars round + With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound + One choir of old, another of the young, + To dance, and bear the burthen of the song. + The lay records the labours, and the praise, + And all th’ immortal acts of Hercules: + First, how the mighty babe, when swath’d in bands, + The serpents strangled with his infant hands; + Then, as in years and matchless force he grew, + Th’ Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew. + Besides, a thousand hazards they relate, + Procur’d by Juno’s and Eurystheus’ hate: + “Thy hands, unconquer’d hero, could subdue + The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew: + Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood, + Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood. + The triple porter of the Stygian seat, + With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet, + And, seiz’d with fear, forgot his mangled meat. + Th’ infernal waters trembled at thy sight; + Thee, god, no face of danger could affright; + Not huge Typhoeus, nor th’ unnumber’d snake, + Increas’d with hissing heads, in Lerna’s lake. + Hail, Jove’s undoubted son! an added grace + To heav’n and the great author of thy race! + Receive the grateful off’rings which we pay, + And smile propitious on thy solemn day!” + In numbers thus they sung; above the rest, + The den and death of Cacus crown the feast. + The woods to hollow vales convey the sound, + The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound. + The rites perform’d, the cheerful train retire. + + Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire, + The Trojan pass’d, the city to survey, + And pleasing talk beguil’d the tedious way. + The stranger cast around his curious eyes, + New objects viewing still, with new surprise; + With greedy joy enquires of various things, + And acts and monuments of ancient kings. + Then thus the founder of the Roman tow’rs: + “These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow’rs, + Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took + Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak. + Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care + Of lab’ring oxen, or the shining share, + Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain’d to spare. + Their exercise the chase; the running flood + Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food. + Then Saturn came, who fled the pow’r of Jove, + Robb’d of his realms, and banish’d from above. + The men, dispers’d on hills, to towns he brought, + And laws ordain’d, and civil customs taught, + And Latium call’d the land where safe he lay + From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway. + With his mild empire, peace and plenty came; + And hence the golden times deriv’d their name. + A more degenerate and discolour’d age + Succeeded this, with avarice and rage. + Th’ Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came; + And Saturn’s empire often chang’d the name. + Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest, + With arbitrary sway the land oppress’d: + For Tiber’s flood was Albula before, + Till, from the tyrant’s fate, his name it bore. + I last arriv’d, driv’n from my native home + By fortune’s pow’r, and fate’s resistless doom. + Long toss’d on seas, I sought this happy land, + Warn’d by my mother nymph, and call’d by Heav’n’s command.” + + Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew’d the gate, + Since call’d Carmental by the Roman state; + Where stood an altar, sacred to the name + Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame, + Who to her son foretold th’ Aenean race, + Sublime in fame, and Rome’s imperial place: + Then shews the forest, which, in after times, + Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes + A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine + Where Pan below the rock had rites divine: + Then tells of Argus’ death, his murder’d guest, + Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest. + Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads; + Now roof’d with gold, then thatch’d with homely reeds. + A reverent fear (such superstition reigns + Among the rude) ev’n then possess’d the swains. + Some god, they knew—what god, they could not tell— + Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell. + Th’ Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw + The mighty Thund’rer with majestic awe, + Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around, + And scatter’d tempests on the teeming ground. + Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood + Two stately towns, on either side the flood,) + Saturnia’s and Janiculum’s remains; + And either place the founder’s name retains. + Discoursing thus together, they resort + Where poor Evander kept his country court. + They view’d the ground of Rome’s litigious hall; + (Once oxen low’d, where now the lawyers bawl;) + Then, stooping, thro’ the narrow gate they press’d, + When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest: + “Mean as it is, this palace, and this door, + Receiv’d Alcides, then a conqueror. + Dare to be poor; accept our homely food, + Which feasted him, and emulate a god.” + Then underneath a lowly roof he led + The weary prince, and laid him on a bed; + The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o’erspread. + Now night had shed her silver dews around, + And with her sable wings embrac’d the ground, + When love’s fair goddess, anxious for her son, + (New tumults rising, and new wars begun,) + Couch’d with her husband in his golden bed, + With these alluring words invokes his aid; + And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move, + Inspires each accent with the charms of love: + “While cruel fate conspir’d with Grecian pow’rs, + To level with the ground the Trojan tow’rs, + I ask’d not aid th’ unhappy to restore, + Nor did the succour of thy skill implore; + Nor urg’d the labours of my lord in vain, + A sinking empire longer to sustain, + Tho’ much I ow’d to Priam’s house, and more + The dangers of Aeneas did deplore. + But now, by Jove’s command, and fate’s decree, + His race is doom’d to reign in Italy: + With humble suit I beg thy needful art, + O still propitious pow’r, that rules my heart! + A mother kneels a suppliant for her son. + By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won + To forge impenetrable shields, and grace + With fated arms a less illustrious race. + Behold, what haughty nations are combin’d + Against the relics of the Phrygian kind, + With fire and sword my people to destroy, + And conquer Venus twice, in conqu’ring Troy.” + She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue, + About her unresolving husband threw. + Her soft embraces soon infuse desire; + His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire; + And all the godhead feels the wonted fire. + Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies, + Or forky lightnings flash along the skies. + The goddess, proud of her successful wiles, + And conscious of her form, in secret smiles. + + Then thus the pow’r, obnoxious to her charms, + Panting, and half dissolving in her arms: + “Why seek you reasons for a cause so just, + Or your own beauties or my love distrust? + Long since, had you requir’d my helpful hand, + Th’ artificer and art you might command, + To labour arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate, + Confin’d their empire to so short a date. + And, if you now desire new wars to wage, + My skill I promise, and my pains engage. + Whatever melting metals can conspire, + Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire, + Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove, + And think no task is difficult to love.” + Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms, + He snatch’d the willing goddess to his arms; + Till in her lap infus’d, he lay possess’d + Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest. + Now when the night her middle race had rode, + And his first slumber had refresh’d the god— + The time when early housewives leave the bed; + When living embers on the hearth they spread, + Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise;— + With yawning mouths, and with half-open’d eyes, + They ply the distaff by the winking light, + And to their daily labour add the night: + Thus frugally they earn their children’s bread, + And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed— + Not less concern’d, nor at a later hour, + Rose from his downy couch the forging pow’r. + + Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay, + Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare, + Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below, + In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow. + The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; + Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, + Are heard around; the boiling waters roar, + And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar. + Hither the Father of the Fire, by night, + Thro’ the brown air precipitates his flight. + On their eternal anvils here he found + The brethren beating, and the blows go round. + A load of pointless thunder now there lies + Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: + These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast; + Consum’d on mortals with prodigious waste. + Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, + Of winged southern winds and cloudy store + As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame; + And fears are added, and avenging flame. + Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair + His broken axletrees and blunted war, + And send him forth again with furbish’d arms, + To wake the lazy war with trumpets’ loud alarms. + The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold + The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold. + Full on the crest the Gorgon’s head they place, + With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face. + + “My sons,” said Vulcan, “set your tasks aside; + Your strength and master-skill must now be tried. + Arms for a hero forge; arms that require + Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire.” + He said. They set their former work aside, + And their new toils with eager haste divide. + A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold, + And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll’d; + Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare, + Alone sufficient to sustain the war. + Sev’n orbs within a spacious round they close: + One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows. + The hissing steel is in the smithy drown’d; + The grot with beaten anvils groans around. + By turns their arms advance, in equal time; + By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime. + They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs; + The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs. + + While, at the Lemnian god’s command, they urge + Their labours thus, and ply th’ Aeolian forge, + The cheerful morn salutes Evander’s eyes, + And songs of chirping birds invite to rise. + He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet + Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet: + He sets his trusty sword upon his side, + And o’er his shoulder throws a panther’s hide. + Two menial dogs before their master press’d. + Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest. + Mindful of promis’d aid, he mends his pace, + But meets Aeneas in the middle space. + Young Pallas did his father’s steps attend, + And true Achates waited on his friend. + They join their hands; a secret seat they choose; + Th’ Arcadian first their former talk renews: + “Undaunted prince, I never can believe + The Trojan empire lost, while you survive. + Command th’ assistance of a faithful friend; + But feeble are the succours I can send. + Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds; + That other side the Latian state surrounds, + Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds. + But mighty nations I prepare, to join + Their arms with yours, and aid your just design. + You come, as by your better genius sent, + And fortune seems to favour your intent. + Not far from hence there stands a hilly town, + Of ancient building, and of high renown, + Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race, + Who gave the name of Caere to the place, + Once Agyllina call’d. It flourish’d long, + In pride of wealth and warlike people strong, + Till curs’d Mezentius, in a fatal hour, + Assum’d the crown, with arbitrary pow’r. + What words can paint those execrable times, + The subjects’ suff’rings, and the tyrant’s crimes! + That blood, those murders, O ye gods, replace + On his own head, and on his impious race! + The living and the dead at his command + Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, + Till, chok’d with stench, in loath’d embraces tied, + The ling’ring wretches pin’d away and died. + Thus plung’d in ills, and meditating more— + The people’s patience, tir’d, no longer bore + The raging monster; but with arms beset + His house, and vengeance and destruction threat. + They fire his palace: while the flame ascends, + They force his guards, and execute his friends. + He cleaves the crowd, and, favour’d by the night, + To Turnus’ friendly court directs his flight. + By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire, + With arms, their king to punishment require: + Their num’rous troops, now muster’d on the strand, + My counsel shall submit to your command. + Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry + To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny. + An ancient augur, skill’d in future fate, + With these foreboding words restrains their hate: + ‘Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow’r + Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow’r, + Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms, + To seek your tyrant’s death by lawful arms; + Know this: no native of our land may lead + This pow’rful people; seek a foreign head.’ + Aw’d with these words, in camps they still abide, + And wait with longing looks their promis’d guide. + Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent + Their crown, and ev’ry regal ornament: + The people join their own with his desire; + And all my conduct, as their king, require. + But the chill blood that creeps within my veins, + And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains, + And a soul conscious of its own decay, + Have forc’d me to refuse imperial sway. + My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne, + And should, but he’s a Sabine mother’s son, + And half a native; but, in you, combine + A manly vigour, and a foreign line. + Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way, + Pursue the ready path to sov’reign sway. + The staff of my declining days, my son, + Shall make your good or ill success his own; + In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare, + And serve the hard apprenticeship of war; + Your matchless courage and your conduct view, + And early shall begin t’ admire and copy you. + Besides, two hundred horse he shall command; + Tho’ few, a warlike and well-chosen band. + These in my name are listed; and my son + As many more has added in his own.” + + Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest, + With downcast eyes, their silent grief express’d; + Who, short of succours, and in deep despair, + Shook at the dismal prospect of the war. + But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud, + To cheer her issue, thunder’d thrice aloud; + Thrice forky lightning flash’d along the sky, + And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high. + Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear; + And, in a heav’n serene, refulgent arms appear: + Redd’ning the skies, and glitt’ring all around, + The temper’d metals clash, and yield a silver sound. + The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine; + Aeneas only, conscious to the sign, + Presag’d th’ event, and joyful view’d, above, + Th’ accomplish’d promise of the Queen of Love. + Then, to th’ Arcadian king: “This prodigy + (Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me. + Heav’n calls me to the war: th’ expected sign + Is giv’n of promis’d aid, and arms divine. + My goddess mother, whose indulgent care + Foresaw the dangers of the growing war, + This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms, + Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms, + Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow’d + Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood. + Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn; + And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne, + Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms; + And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur’d arms.” + + He said, and, rising from his homely throne, + The solemn rites of Hercules begun, + And on his altars wak’d the sleeping fires; + Then cheerful to his household gods retires; + There offers chosen sheep. Th’ Arcadian king + And Trojan youth the same oblations bring. + Next, of his men and ships he makes review; + Draws out the best and ablest of the crew. + Down with the falling stream the refuse run, + To raise with joyful news his drooping son. + Steeds are prepar’d to mount the Trojan band, + Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land. + A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest, + The king himself presents his royal guest: + A lion’s hide his back and limbs infold, + Precious with studded work, and paws of gold. + Fame thro’ the little city spreads aloud + Th’ intended march, amid the fearful crowd: + The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears, + And double their devotion in their fears. + The war at hand appears with more affright, + And rises ev’ry moment to the sight. + + Then old Evander, with a close embrace, + Strain’d his departing friend; and tears o’erflow his face. + “Would Heav’n,” said he, “my strength and youth recall, + Such as I was beneath Praeneste’s wall; + Then when I made the foremost foes retire, + And set whole heaps of conquer’d shields on fire; + When Herilus in single fight I slew, + Whom with three lives Feronia did endue; + And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore, + Till the last ebbing soul return’d no more— + Such if I stood renew’d, not these alarms, + Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas’ arms; + Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish’d, boast + His rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast. + Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring + Relief, and hear a father and a king! + If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see + My son return with peace and victory; + If the lov’d boy shall bless his father’s sight; + If we shall meet again with more delight; + Then draw my life in length; let me sustain, + In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain. + But if your hard decrees—which, O! I dread— + Have doom’d to death his undeserving head; + This, O this very moment, let me die! + While hopes and fears in equal balance lie; + While, yet possess’d of all his youthful charms, + I strain him close within these aged arms; + Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!” + He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground. + His servants bore him off, and softly laid + His languish’d limbs upon his homely bed. + + The horsemen march; the gates are open’d wide; + Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side. + Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along; + Last follows in the rear th’ Arcadian throng. + Young Pallas shone conspicuous o’er the rest; + Gilded his arms, embroider’d was his vest. + So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head + The star by whom the lights of heav’n are led; + Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews, + Dispels the darkness, and the day renews. + The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd, + And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud, + Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far + The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war. + The troops, drawn up in beautiful array, + O’er heathy plains pursue the ready way. + Repeated peals of shouts are heard around; + The neighing coursers answer to the sound, + And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground. + + A greenwood shade, for long religion known, + Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town, + Incompass’d round with gloomy hills above, + Which add a holy horror to the grove. + The first inhabitants of Grecian blood, + That sacred forest to Silvanus vow’d, + The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay + Their due devotions on his annual day. + Not far from hence, along the river’s side, + In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide, + By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground, + Aeneas cast his wond’ring eyes around, + And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight, + Stretch’d on the spacious plain from left to right. + Thither his warlike train the Trojan led, + Refresh’d his men, and wearied horses fed. + + Meantime the mother goddess, crown’d with charms, + Breaks thro’ the clouds, and brings the fated arms. + Within a winding vale she finds her son, + On the cool river’s banks, retir’d alone. + She shews her heav’nly form without disguise, + And gives herself to his desiring eyes. + “Behold,” she said, “perform’d in ev’ry part, + My promise made, and Vulcan’s labour’d art. + Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy, + And haughty Turnus to the field defy.” + She said; and, having first her son embrac’d, + The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac’d, + Proud of the gift, he roll’d his greedy sight + Around the work, and gaz’d with vast delight. + He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires + The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires: + His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold, + One keen with temper’d steel, one stiff with gold: + Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright; + So shines a cloud, when edg’d with adverse light. + He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try + The plated cuishes on his manly thigh; + But most admires the shield’s mysterious mould, + And Roman triumphs rising on the gold: + For these, emboss’d, the heav’nly smith had wrought + (Not in the rolls of future fate untaught) + The wars in order, and the race divine + Of warriors issuing from the Julian line. + The cave of Mars was dress’d with mossy greens: + There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins. + Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung; + The foster dam loll’d out her fawning tongue: + They suck’d secure, while, bending back her head, + She lick’d their tender limbs, and form’d them as they fed. + Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games + Projected for the rape of Sabine dames. + The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds, + For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds. + Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend; + The Romans there with arms the prey defend. + Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease; + And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace. + The friendly chiefs before Jove’s altar stand, + Both arm’d, with each a charger in his hand: + A fatted sow for sacrifice is led, + With imprecations on the perjur’d head. + Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch’d between + Four fiery steeds, is dragg’d along the green, + By Tullus’ doom: the brambles drink his blood, + And his torn limbs are left the vulture’s food. + There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings, + And would by force restore the banish’d kings. + One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights; + The Roman youth assert their native rights. + Before the town the Tuscan army lies, + To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. + Their king, half-threat’ning, half-disdaining stood, + While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm’d the flood. + The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, + Scap’d from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide. + High on a rock heroic Manlius stood, + To guard the temple, and the temple’s god. + Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold + The palace thatch’d with straw, now roof’d with gold. + The silver goose before the shining gate + There flew, and, by her cackle, sav’d the state. + She told the Gauls’ approach; th’ approaching Gauls, + Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls. + The gold dissembled well their yellow hair, + And golden chains on their white necks they wear. + Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield, + And their left arm sustains a length of shield. + Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; + And naked thro’ the streets the mad Luperci dance, + In caps of wool; the targets dropp’d from heav’n. + Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv’n, + To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, + And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. + Far hence remov’d, the Stygian seats are seen; + Pains of the damn’d, and punish’d Catiline + Hung on a rock—the traitor; and, around, + The Furies hissing from the nether ground. + Apart from these, the happy souls he draws, + And Cato’s holy ghost dispensing laws. + + Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea; + But foaming surges there in silver play. + The dancing dolphins with their tails divide + The glitt’ring waves, and cut the precious tide. + Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage + Their brazen beaks, oppos’d with equal rage. + Actium surveys the well-disputed prize; + Leucate’s wat’ry plain with foamy billows fries. + Young Caesar, on the stern, in armour bright, + Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight: + His beamy temples shoot their flames afar, + And o’er his head is hung the Julian star. + Agrippa seconds him, with prosp’rous gales, + And, with propitious gods, his foes assails: + A naval crown, that binds his manly brows, + The happy fortune of the fight foreshows. + Rang’d on the line oppos’d, Antonius brings + Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings; + Th’ Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar, + Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war: + And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife, + His ill fate follows him—th’ Egyptian wife. + Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows + The froth is gather’d, and the water glows. + It seems, as if the Cyclades again + Were rooted up, and justled in the main; + Or floating mountains floating mountains meet; + Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet. + Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav’lins fly; + The fields of Neptune take a purple dye. + The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms, + With cymbals toss’d her fainting soldiers warms— + Fool as she was! who had not yet divin’d + Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind. + Her country gods, the monsters of the sky, + Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love’s Queen defy: + The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain, + Nor longer dares oppose th’ ethereal train. + Mars in the middle of the shining shield + Is grav’d, and strides along the liquid field. + The Dirae souse from heav’n with swift descent; + And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent, + Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads, + And shakes her iron rod above their heads. + This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height, + Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight + The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield, + And soft Sabaeans quit the wat’ry field. + The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails, + And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales. + Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath, + Panting, and pale with fear of future death. + The god had figur’d her as driv’n along + By winds and waves, and scudding thro’ the throng. + Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide + His arms and ample bosom to the tide, + And spreads his mantle o’er the winding coast, + In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host. + The victor to the gods his thanks express’d, + And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless’d. + Three hundred temples in the town he plac’d; + With spoils and altars ev’ry temple grac’d. + Three shining nights, and three succeeding days, + The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise, + The domes with songs, the theatres with plays. + All altars flame: before each altar lies, + Drench’d in his gore, the destin’d sacrifice. + Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne, + Before Apollo’s porch of Parian stone; + Accepts the presents vow’d for victory, + And hangs the monumental crowns on high. + Vast crowds of vanquish’d nations march along, + Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue. + Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place + For Carians, and th’ ungirt Numidian race; + Then ranks the Thracians in the second row, + With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow. + And here the tam’d Euphrates humbly glides, + And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides, + And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind; + The Danes’ unconquer’d offspring march behind, + And Morini, the last of humankind. + + These figures, on the shield divinely wrought, + By Vulcan labour’d, and by Venus brought, + With joy and wonder fill the hero’s thought. + Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace, + And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. + + + + BOOK IX + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Turnus takes advantage of Aeneas’s absence, fires some of his + ships (which are transformed into sea nymphs,) and assaults his + camp. The Trojans, reduced to the last extremities, send Ninus + and Euryalus to recall Aeneas; which furnishes the poet with that + admirable episode of their friendship, generosity, and the + conclusion of their adventure. + + + While these affairs in distant places pass’d, + The various Iris Juno sends with haste, + To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought, + The secret shade of his great grandsire sought. + Retir’d alone she found the daring man, + And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began: + “What none of all the gods could grant thy vows, + That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows. + Aeneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince, + Has left the Trojan camp without defence; + And, short of succours there, employs his pains + In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains. + Now snatch an hour that favours thy designs; + Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.” + This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, + And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight. + + The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes, + And thus invokes the goddess as she flies: + “Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine + Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? + See, they divide; immortal day appears, + And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres! + With joy, these happy omens I obey, + And follow to the war the god that leads the way.” + Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, + He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood; + Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws, + And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows. + + Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain, + Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. + Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear, + The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear. + In the main battle, with his flaming crest, + The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest. + Silent they move, majestically slow, + Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow. + The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far, + And the dark menace of the distant war. + Caicus from the rampire saw it rise, + Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. + Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls: + “What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls? + Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears + And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.” + + Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend + The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend: + For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care, + Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war, + Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance, + But close within their lines attend their chance. + Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command, + And sourly wait in arms the hostile band. + The fiery Turnus flew before the rest: + A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press’d; + His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest. + With twenty horse to second his designs, + An unexpected foe, he fac’d the lines. + “Is there,” he said, “in arms, who bravely dare + His leader’s honour and his danger share?” + Then spurring on, his brandish’d dart he threw, + In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue. + + Amaz’d to find a dastard race, that run + Behind the rampires and the battle shun, + He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes, + And stops at ev’ry post, and ev’ry passage tries. + So roams the nightly wolf about the fold: + Wet with descending show’rs, and stiff with cold, + He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain, + (His gnashing teeth are exercis’d in vain,) + And, impotent of anger, finds no way + In his distended paws to grasp the prey. + The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs + Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams. + Thus ranges eager Turnus o’er the plain. + Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain; + Surveys each passage with a piercing sight, + To force his foes in equal field to fight. + Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies, + Where, fenc’d with strong redoubts, their navy lies, + Close underneath the walls; the washing tide + Secures from all approach this weaker side. + He takes the wish’d occasion, fills his hand + With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand. + Urg’d by his presence, ev’ry soul is warm’d, + And ev’ry hand with kindled fires is arm’d. + From the fir’d pines the scatt’ring sparkles fly; + Fat vapours, mix’d with flames, involve the sky. + What pow’r, O Muses, could avert the flame + Which threaten’d, in the fleet, the Trojan name? + Tell: for the fact, thro’ length of time obscure, + Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure. + + ’Tis said that, when the chief prepar’d his flight, + And fell’d his timber from Mount Ida’s height, + The grandam goddess then approach’d her son, + And with a mother’s majesty begun: + “Grant me,” she said, “the sole request I bring, + Since conquer’d heav’n has own’d you for its king. + On Ida’s brows, for ages past, there stood, + With firs and maples fill’d, a shady wood; + And on the summit rose a sacred grove, + Where I was worship’d with religious love. + Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight, + I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight. + Now, fill’d with fear, on their behalf I come; + Let neither winds o’erset, nor waves intomb + The floating forests of the sacred pine; + But let it be their safety to be mine.” + Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls + The radiant stars, and heav’n and earth controls: + “How dare you, mother, endless date demand + For vessels moulded by a mortal hand? + What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride, + Of safety certain, on th’ uncertain tide? + Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o’er, + The chief is landed on the Latian shore, + Whatever ships escape the raging storms, + At my command shall change their fading forms + To nymphs divine, and plow the wat’ry way, + Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea.” + To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore, + The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore, + And Phlegethon’s innavigable flood, + And the black regions of his brother god. + He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod. + + And now at length the number’d hours were come, + Prefix’d by fate’s irrevocable doom, + When the great Mother of the Gods was free + To save her ships, and finish Jove’s decree. + First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung + A light that sign’d the heav’ns, and shot along; + Then from a cloud, fring’d round with golden fires, + Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs; + And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds, + Both hosts, in arms oppos’d, with equal horror wounds: + “O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear, + And know, my ships are my peculiar care. + With greater ease the bold Rutulian may, + With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea, + Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge, + Loos’d from your crooked anchors, launch at large, + Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand, + And swim the seas, at Cybele’s command.” + No sooner had the goddess ceas’d to speak, + When, lo! th’ obedient ships their haulsers break; + And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main + They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again: + As many beauteous maids the billows sweep, + As rode before tall vessels on the deep. + + The foes, surpris’d with wonder, stood aghast; + Messapus curb’d his fiery courser’s haste; + Old Tiber roar’d, and, raising up his head, + Call’d back his waters to their oozy bed. + Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock, + And with these words his trembling troops bespoke: + “These monsters for the Trojans’ fate are meant, + And are by Jove for black presages sent. + He takes the cowards’ last relief away; + For fly they cannot, and, constrain’d to stay, + Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey. + The liquid half of all the globe is lost; + Heav’n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast. + Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground + Which myriads of our martial men surround. + Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles. + ’Twas giv’n to Venus they should cross the seas, + And land secure upon the Latian plains: + Their promis’d hour is pass’d, and mine remains. + ’Tis in the fate of Turnus to destroy, + With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy. + Shall such affronts as these alone inflame + The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name? + My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife, + And final ruin, for a ravish’d wife. + Was ’t not enough, that, punish’d for the crime, + They fell; but will they fall a second time? + One would have thought they paid enough before, + To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more. + Can they securely trust their feeble wall, + A slight partition, a thin interval, + Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho’ built + By hands divine, yet perish’d by their guilt? + Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands, + To force from out their lines these dastard bands. + Less than a thousand ships will end this war, + Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare. + Let all the Tuscans, all th’ Arcadians, join! + Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design. + Let them not fear the treasons of the night, + The robb’d Palladium, the pretended flight: + Our onset shall be made in open light. + No wooden engine shall their town betray; + Fires they shall have around, but fires by day. + No Grecian babes before their camp appear, + Whom Hector’s arms detain’d to the tenth tardy year. + Now, since the sun is rolling to the west, + Give we the silent night to needful rest: + Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare; + The morn shall end the small remains of war.” + + The post of honour to Messapus falls, + To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls, + To pitch the fires at distances around, + And close the Trojans in their scanty ground. + Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand, + And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command; + All clad in shining arms the works invest, + Each with a radiant helm and waving crest. + Stretch’d at their length, they press the grassy ground; + They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,) + With lights and cheerful fires renew the day, + And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play. + + The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld, + And with arm’d legions all the rampires fill’d. + Seiz’d with affright, their gates they first explore; + Join works to works with bridges, tow’r to tow’r: + Thus all things needful for defence abound. + Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round, + Commission’d by their absent prince to share + The common danger, and divide the care. + The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall, + By turns relieve each other on the wall. + + Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance, + To watch the gate was warlike Nisus’ chance. + His father Hyrtacus of noble blood; + His mother was a huntress of the wood, + And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear + His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear, + But better skill’d unerring shafts to send. + Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend: + Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host + No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast. + Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun. + One was their care, and their delight was one: + One common hazard in the war they shar’d, + And now were both by choice upon the guard. + + Then Nisus thus: “Or do the gods inspire + This warmth, or make we gods of our desire? + A gen’rous ardour boils within my breast, + Eager of action, enemy to rest: + This urges me to fight, and fires my mind + To leave a memorable name behind. + Thou see’st the foe secure; how faintly shine + Their scatter’d fires! the most, in sleep supine + Along the ground, an easy conquest lie: + The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply; + All hush’d around. Now hear what I revolve— + A thought unripe—and scarcely yet resolve. + Our absent prince both camp and council mourn; + By message both would hasten his return: + If they confer what I demand on thee, + (For fame is recompense enough for me,) + Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied + A way that safely will my passage guide.” + + Euryalus stood list’ning while he spoke, + With love of praise and noble envy struck; + Then to his ardent friend expos’d his mind: + “All this, alone, and leaving me behind! + Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join’d? + Think’st thou I can my share of glory yield, + Or send thee unassisted to the field? + Not so my father taught my childhood arms; + Born in a siege, and bred among alarms! + Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend, + Nor of the heav’n-born hero I attend. + The thing call’d life, with ease I can disclaim, + And think it over-sold to purchase fame.” + + Then Nisus thus: “Alas! thy tender years + Would minister new matter to my fears. + So may the gods, who view this friendly strife, + Restore me to thy lov’d embrace with life, + Condemn’d to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,) + This thy request is cruel and unjust. + But if some chance—as many chances are, + And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war— + If one should reach my head, there let it fall, + And spare thy life; I would not perish all. + Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date: + Live thou to mourn thy love’s unhappy fate; + To bear my mangled body from the foe, + Or buy it back, and fun’ral rites bestow. + Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny, + Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply. + O let not me the widow’s tears renew! + Nor let a mother’s curse my name pursue: + Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee, + Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily, + Her age committing to the seas and wind, + When ev’ry weary matron stay’d behind.” + To this, Euryalus: “You plead in vain, + And but protract the cause you cannot gain. + No more delays, but haste!” With that, he wakes + The nodding watch; each to his office takes. + The guard reliev’d, the gen’rous couple went + To find the council at the royal tent. + + All creatures else forgot their daily care, + And sleep, the common gift of nature, share; + Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate + In nightly council for th’ indanger’d state. + They vote a message to their absent chief, + Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief. + Amid the camp a silent seat they chose, + Remote from clamour, and secure from foes. + On their left arms their ample shields they bear, + The right reclin’d upon the bending spear. + Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard, + And beg admission, eager to be heard: + Th’ affair important, not to be deferr’d. + Ascanius bids ’em be conducted in, + Ord’ring the more experienc’d to begin. + Then Nisus thus: “Ye fathers, lend your ears; + Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years. + The foe, securely drench’d in sleep and wine, + Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine; + And where the smoke in cloudy vapours flies, + Cov’ring the plain, and curling to the skies, + Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide, + Close by the sea, a passage we have spied, + Which will our way to great Aeneas guide. + Expect each hour to see him safe again, + Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain. + Snatch we the lucky minute while we may; + Nor can we be mistaken in the way; + For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen + The rising turrets, and the stream between, + And know the winding course, with ev’ry ford.” + + He ceas’d; and old Alethes took the word: + “Our country gods, in whom our trust we place, + Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race, + While we behold such dauntless worth appear + In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear.” + Then into tears of joy the father broke; + Each in his longing arms by turns he took; + Panted and paus’d; and thus again he spoke: + “Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we, + In recompense of such desert, decree? + The greatest, sure, and best you can receive, + The gods and your own conscious worth will give. + The rest our grateful gen’ral will bestow, + And young Ascanius till his manhood owe.” + + “And I, whose welfare in my father lies,” + Ascanius adds, “by the great deities, + By my dear country, by my household gods, + By hoary Vesta’s rites and dark abodes, + Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands; + That and my faith I plight into your hands,) + Make me but happy in his safe return, + Whose wanted presence I can only mourn; + Your common gift shall two large goblets be + Of silver, wrought with curious imagery, + And high emboss’d, which, when old Priam reign’d, + My conqu’ring sire at sack’d Arisba gain’d; + And more, two tripods cast in antique mould, + With two great talents of the finest gold; + Beside a costly bowl, ingrav’d with art, + Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart. + But, if in conquer’d Italy we reign, + When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain— + Thou saw’st the courser by proud Turnus press’d: + That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest, + And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share: + Twelve lab’ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair + All clad in rich attire, and train’d with care; + And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains, + And a large portion of the king’s domains. + But thou, whose years are more to mine allied, + No fate my vow’d affection shall divide + From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine; + Take full possession; all my soul is thine. + One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend; + My life’s companion, and my bosom friend: + My peace shall be committed to thy care, + And to thy conduct my concerns in war.” + + Then thus the young Euryalus replied: + “Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide, + The same shall be my age, as now my youth; + No time shall find me wanting to my truth. + This only from your goodness let me gain + (And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain) + Of Priam’s royal race my mother came— + And sure the best that ever bore the name— + Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold + From me departing, but, o’erspent and old, + My fate she follow’d. Ignorant of this + (Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss, + Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave, + And in this only act of all my life deceive. + By this right hand and conscious night I swear, + My soul so sad a farewell could not bear. + Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place + (Permit me to presume so great a grace) + Support her age, forsaken and distress’d. + That hope alone will fortify my breast + Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears.” + He said. The mov’d assistants melt in tears. + + Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see + That image of his filial piety: + “So great beginnings, in so green an age, + Exact the faith which I again engage. + Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim, + Creusa had, and only want the name. + Whate’er event thy bold attempt shall have, + ’Tis merit to have borne a son so brave. + Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear, + (My father us’d it,) what, returning here + Crown’d with success, I for thyself prepare, + That, if thou fail, shall thy lov’d mother share.” + + He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word, + From his broad belt he drew a shining sword, + Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made, + And in an ivory scabbard sheath’d the blade. + This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend + A lion’s hide, his body to defend; + And good Alethes furnish’d him, beside, + With his own trusty helm, of temper tried. + + Thus arm’d they went. The noble Trojans wait + Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate + With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears + Ascanius, manly far beyond his years, + And messages committed to their care, + Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air. + + The trenches first they pass’d; then took their way + Where their proud foes in pitch’d pavilions lay; + To many fatal, ere themselves were slain. + They found the careless host dispers’d upon the plain, + Who, gorg’d, and drunk with wine, supinely snore. + Unharness’d chariots stand along the shore: + Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by, + A medley of debauch and war, they lie. + Observing Nisus shew’d his friend the sight: + “Behold a conquest gain’d without a fight. + Occasion offers, and I stand prepar’d; + There lies our way; be thou upon the guard, + And look around, while I securely go, + And hew a passage thro’ the sleeping foe.” + Softly he spoke; then striding took his way, + With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay; + His head rais’d high on tapestry beneath, + And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath; + A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov’d: + But fate by prescience cannot be remov’d. + Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies + Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies. + His armour-bearer first, and next he kills + His charioteer, intrench’d betwixt the wheels + And his lov’d horses; last invades their lord; + Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword: + The gasping head flies off; a purple flood + Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood, + Which, by the spurning heels dispers’d around, + The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground. + Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong, + He slew, and then Serranus fair and young. + From dice and wine the youth retir’d to rest, + And puff’d the fumy god from out his breast: + Ev’n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play— + More lucky, had it lasted till the day. + The famish’d lion thus, with hunger bold, + O’erleaps the fences of the nightly fold, + And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe + Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw. + + Nor with less rage Euryalus employs + The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys; + But on th’ ignoble crowd his fury flew; + He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew. + Oppress’d with heavy sleep the former fell, + But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all: + Behind a spacious jar he slink’d for fear; + The fatal iron found and reach’d him there; + For, as he rose, it pierc’d his naked side, + And, reeking, thence return’d in crimson dyed. + The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood; + The purple soul comes floating in the flood. + + Now, where Messapus quarter’d, they arrive. + The fires were fainting there, and just alive; + The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed. + Nisus observ’d the discipline, and said: + “Our eager thirst of blood may both betray; + And see the scatter’d streaks of dawning day, + Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend; + Here let our glutted execution end. + A lane thro’ slaughter’d bodies we have made.” + The bold Euryalus, tho’ loth, obey’d. + Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find + A precious load; but these they leave behind. + Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay + To make the rich caparison his prey, + Which on the steed of conquer’d Rhamnes lay. + Nor did his eyes less longingly behold + The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish’d gold. + This present Caedicus the rich bestow’d + On Remulus, when friendship first they vow’d, + And, absent, join’d in hospitable ties: + He, dying, to his heir bequeath’d the prize; + Till, by the conqu’ring Ardean troops oppress’d, + He fell; and they the glorious gift possess’d. + These glitt’ring spoils (now made the victor’s gain) + He to his body suits, but suits in vain: + Messapus’ helm he finds among the rest, + And laces on, and wears the waving crest. + Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey, + They leave the camp, and take the ready way. + + But far they had not pass’d, before they spied + Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide. + The queen a legion to King Turnus sent; + But the swift horse the slower foot prevent, + And now, advancing, sought the leader’s tent. + They saw the pair; for, thro’ the doubtful shade, + His shining helm Euryalus betray’d, + On which the moon with full reflection play’d. + “’Tis not for naught,” cried Volscens from the crowd, + “These men go there;” then rais’d his voice aloud: + “Stand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent? + From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?” + Silent they scud away, and haste their flight + To neighb’ring woods, and trust themselves to night. + The speedy horse all passages belay, + And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way, + And watch each entrance of the winding wood. + Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood, + Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn; + Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn. + The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey, + And fear, misled the younger from his way. + But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste, + And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass’d, + And Alban plains, from Alba’s name so call’d, + Where King Latinus then his oxen stall’d; + Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground, + And miss’d his friend, and cast his eyes around: + “Ah wretch!” he cried, “where have I left behind + Th’ unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find? + Or what way take?” Again he ventures back, + And treads the mazes of his former track. + He winds the wood, and, list’ning, hears the noise + Of tramping coursers, and the riders’ voice. + The sound approach’d; and suddenly he view’d + The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued, + Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain + The shelter of the friendly shades to gain. + What should he next attempt? what arms employ, + What fruitless force, to free the captive boy? + Or desperate should he rush and lose his life, + With odds oppress’d, in such unequal strife? + + Resolv’d at length, his pointed spear he shook; + And, casting on the moon a mournful look: + “Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night, + Fair queen,” he said, “direct my dart aright. + If e’er my pious father, for my sake, + Did grateful off’rings on thy altars make, + Or I increas’d them with my sylvan toils, + And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils, + Give me to scatter these.” Then from his ear + He pois’d, and aim’d, and launch’d the trembling spear. + The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove, + Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove; + Pierc’d his thin armour, drank his vital blood, + And in his body left the broken wood. + He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death, + And with short sobs he gasps away his breath. + All stand amaz’d—a second jav’lin flies + With equal strength, and quivers thro’ the skies. + This thro’ thy temples, Tagus, forc’d the way, + And in the brainpan warmly buried lay. + Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, + Descried not him who gave the fatal wound, + Nor knew to fix revenge: “But thou,” he cries, + “Shalt pay for both,” and at the pris’ner flies + With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair, + That cruel sight the lover could not bear; + But from his covert rush’d in open view, + And sent his voice before him as he flew: + “Me! me!” he cried—“turn all your swords alone + On me—the fact confess’d, the fault my own. + He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth: + Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth! + His only crime (if friendship can offend) + Is too much love to his unhappy friend.” + Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides, + Driv’n with full force, had pierc’d his tender sides. + Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound + Gush’d out a purple stream, and stain’d the ground. + His snowy neck reclines upon his breast, + Like a fair flow’r by the keen share oppress’d; + Like a white poppy sinking on the plain, + Whose heavy head is overcharg’d with rain. + Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow’d, + Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd. + Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends: + Borne back and bor’d by his surrounding friends, + Onward he press’d, and kept him still in sight; + Then whirl’d aloft his sword with all his might: + Th’ unerring steel descended while he spoke, + Pierc’d his wide mouth, and thro’ his weazon broke. + Dying, he slew; and, stagg’ring on the plain, + With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain; + Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell, + Content, in death, to be reveng’d so well. + + O happy friends! for, if my verse can give + Immortal life, your fame shall ever live, + Fix’d as the Capitol’s foundation lies, + And spread, where’er the Roman eagle flies! + + The conqu’ring party first divide the prey, + Then their slain leader to the camp convey. + With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill’d, + To see such numbers whom so few had kill’d. + Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found: + Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround; + And the yet reeking blood o’erflows the ground. + All knew the helmet which Messapus lost, + But mourn’d a purchase that so dear had cost. + Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon’s bed, + And with the dawn of day the skies o’erspread; + Nor long the sun his daily course withheld, + But added colours to the world reveal’d: + When early Turnus, wak’ning with the light, + All clad in armour, calls his troops to fight. + His martial men with fierce harangue he fir’d, + And his own ardour in their souls inspir’d. + This done—to give new terror to his foes, + The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows, + Rais’d high on pointed spears—a ghastly sight: + Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight. + + Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls; + They line their trenches, and they man their walls. + In front extended to the left they stood; + Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood. + But, casting from their tow’rs a frightful view, + They saw the faces, which too well they knew, + Tho’ then disguis’d in death, and smear’d all o’er + With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore. + Soon hasty fame thro’ the sad city bears + The mournful message to the mother’s ears. + An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes; + Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes. + She runs the rampires round amidst the war, + Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair, + And fills with loud laments the liquid air. + “Thus, then, my lov’d Euryalus appears! + Thus looks the prop of my declining years! + Was’t on this face my famish’d eyes I fed? + Ah! how unlike the living is the dead! + And could’st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone? + Not one kind kiss from a departing son! + No look, no last adieu before he went, + In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent! + Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay, + To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey! + Nor was I near to close his dying eyes, + To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies, + To call about his corpse his crying friends, + Or spread the mantle (made for other ends) + On his dear body, which I wove with care, + Nor did my daily pains or nightly labour spare. + Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains + His trunk dismember’d, and his cold remains? + For this, alas! I left my needful ease, + Expos’d my life to winds and winter seas! + If any pity touch Rutulian hearts, + Here empty all your quivers, all your darts; + Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe, + And send me thunderstruck to shades below!” + Her shrieks and clamours pierce the Trojans’ ears, + Unman their courage, and augment their fears; + Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain, + Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain, + But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent, + To bear the madding mother to her tent. + + And now the trumpets terribly, from far, + With rattling clangour, rouse the sleepy war. + The soldiers’ shouts succeed the brazen sounds; + And heav’n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds. + The Volscians bear their shields upon their head, + And, rushing forward, form a moving shed. + These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down: + Some raise the ladders; others scale the town. + But, where void spaces on the walls appear, + Or thin defence, they pour their forces there. + With poles and missive weapons, from afar, + The Trojans keep aloof the rising war. + Taught, by their ten years’ siege, defensive fight, + They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight, + To break the penthouse with the pond’rous blow, + Which yet the patient Volscians undergo: + But could not bear th’ unequal combat long; + For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng, + The ruin falls: their shatter’d shields give way, + And their crush’d heads become an easy prey. + They shrink for fear, abated of their rage, + Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage; + Contented now to gall them from below + With darts and slings, and with the distant bow. + + Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view, + A blazing pine within the trenches threw. + But brave Messapus, Neptune’s warlike son, + Broke down the palisades, the trenches won, + And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town. + + Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine, + Inspire your poet in his high design, + To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made, + What souls he sent below the Stygian shade, + What fame the soldiers with their captain share, + And the vast circuit of the fatal war; + For you in singing martial facts excel; + You best remember, and alone can tell. + + There stood a tow’r, amazing to the sight, + Built up of beams, and of stupendous height: + Art, and the nature of the place, conspir’d + To furnish all the strength that war requir’d. + To level this, the bold Italians join; + The wary Trojans obviate their design; + With weighty stones o’erwhelm their troops below, + Shoot thro’ the loopholes, and sharp jav’lins throw. + Turnus, the chief, toss’d from his thund’ring hand + Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand: + It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high; + The planks were season’d, and the timber dry. + Contagion caught the posts; it spread along, + Scorch’d, and to distance drove the scatter’d throng. + The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain, + Still gath’ring fast upon the trembling train; + Till, crowding to the corners of the wall, + Down the defence and the defenders fall. + The mighty flaw makes heav’n itself resound: + The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground. + The tow’r, that follow’d on the fallen crew, + Whelm’d o’er their heads, and buried whom it slew: + Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent; + All the same equal ruin underwent. + + Young Lycus and Helenor only scape; + Sav’d—how, they know not—from the steepy leap. + Helenor, elder of the two: by birth, + On one side royal, one a son of earth, + Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare, + And sent her boasted bastard to the war + (A privilege which none but freemen share). + Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield: + No marks of honour charg’d its empty field. + Light as he fell, so light the youth arose, + And rising, found himself amidst his foes; + Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way. + Embolden’d by despair, he stood at bay; + And, like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds + Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds + Resolv’d on death, he dissipates his fears, + And bounds aloft against the pointed spears: + So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws + His dying body on his thickest foes. + But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far, + Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war; + Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind, + And snatches at the beam he first can find; + Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch, + In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach. + But Turnus follow’d hard his hunted prey + (His spear had almost reach’d him in the way, + Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind) + “Fool!” said the chief, “tho’ fleeter than the wind, + Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?” + He said, and downward by the feet he drew + The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls; + Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls. + Thus on some silver swan, or tim’rous hare, + Jove’s bird comes sousing down from upper air; + Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey: + Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way. + So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb, + In vain lamented by the bleating dam. + + Then rushing onward with a barb’rous cry, + The troops of Turnus to the combat fly. + The ditch with fagots fill’d, the daring foe + Toss’d firebrands to the steepy turrets throw. + + Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came + To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame, + Roll’d down the fragment of a rock so right, + It crush’d him double underneath the weight. + Two more young Liger and Asylas slew: + To bend the bow young Liger better knew; + Asylas best the pointed jav’lin threw. + Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain; + The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain. + By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall, + Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall. + From Capys’ arms his fate Privernus found: + Hurt by Themilla first—but slight the wound— + His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart, + He clapp’d his hand upon the wounded part: + The second shaft came swift and unespied, + And pierc’d his hand, and nail’d it to his side, + Transfix’d his breathing lungs and beating heart: + The soul came issuing out, and hiss’d against the dart. + + The son of Arcens shone amid the rest, + In glitt’ring armour and a purple vest, + (Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,) + Bred by his father in the Martian grove, + Where the fat altars of Palicus flame, + And send in arms to purchase early fame. + Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king + Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling, + Thrice whirl’d the thong around his head, and threw: + The heated lead half melted as it flew; + It pierc’d his hollow temples and his brain; + The youth came tumbling down, and spurn’d the plain. + + Then young Ascanius, who, before this day, + Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey, + First bent in martial strife the twanging bow, + And exercis’d against a human foe— + With this bereft Numanus of his life, + Who Turnus’ younger sister took to wife. + Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride, + Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen’d with a stride, + In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied: + + “Twice-conquer’d cowards, now your shame is shown— + Coop’d up a second time within your town! + Who dare not issue forth in open field, + But hold your walls before you for a shield. + Thus treat you war? thus our alliance force? + What gods, what madness, hither steer’d your course? + You shall not find the sons of Atreus here, + Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear. + Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood, + We bear our newborn infants to the flood; + There bath’d amid the stream, our boys we hold, + With winter harden’d, and inur’d to cold. + They wake before the day to range the wood, + Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer’d food. + No sports, but what belong to war, they know: + To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow. + Our youth, of labour patient, earn their bread; + Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed. + From plows and harrows sent to seek renown, + They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town. + No part of life from toils of war is free, + No change in age, or diff’rence in degree. + We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel, + Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel; + Th’ inverted lance makes furrows in the plain. + Ev’n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain: + The body, not the mind; nor can control + Th’ immortal vigour, or abate the soul. + Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray: + We live by plunder, and delight in prey. + Your vests embroider’d with rich purple shine; + In sloth you glory, and in dances join. + Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride + Your turbans underneath your chins are tied. + Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again! + Go, less than women, in the shapes of men! + Go, mix’d with eunuchs, in the Mother’s rites, + Where with unequal sound the flute invites; + Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida’s shade: + Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!” + + This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear + With patience, or a vow’d revenge forbear. + At the full stretch of both his hands he drew, + And almost join’d the horns of the tough yew. + But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood, + And thus with lifted hands invok’d the god: + “My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed! + An annual off’ring in thy grove shall bleed; + A snow-white steer, before thy altar led, + Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head, + Butts with his threat’ning brows, and bellowing stands, + And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands.” + + Jove bow’d the heav’ns, and lent a gracious ear, + And thunder’d on the left, amidst the clear. + Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies + The feather’d death, and hisses thro’ the skies. + The steel thro’ both his temples forc’d the way: + Extended on the ground, Numanus lay. + “Go now, vain boaster, and true valour scorn! + The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return.” + Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake + The heav’ns with shouting, and new vigour take. + + Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud, + To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd; + And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud: + “Advance, illustrious youth, increase in fame, + And wide from east to west extend thy name; + Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe + To thee a race of demigods below. + This is the way to heav’n: the pow’rs divine + From this beginning date the Julian line. + To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs, + The conquer’d war is due, and the vast world is theirs. + Troy is too narrow for thy name.” He said, + And plunging downward shot his radiant head; + Dispell’d the breathing air, that broke his flight: + Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight. + Old Butes’ form he took, Anchises’ squire, + Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire: + His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs, + His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears, + And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years: + “Suffice it thee, thy father’s worthy son, + The warlike prize thou hast already won. + The god of archers gives thy youth a part + Of his own praise, nor envies equal art. + Now tempt the war no more.” He said, and flew + Obscure in air, and vanish’d from their view. + The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know, + And hear the twanging of his heav’nly bow. + Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus’ name, + To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame. + Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun; + From wall to wall the shouts and clamours run. + They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around; + Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground; + And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound. + The combat thickens, like the storm that flies + From westward, when the show’ry Kids arise; + Or patt’ring hail comes pouring on the main, + When Jupiter descends in harden’d rain, + Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound, + And with an armed winter strew the ground. + + Pand’rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war, + Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare + On Ida’s top, two youths of height and size + Like firs that on their mother mountain rise, + Presuming on their force, the gates unbar, + And of their own accord invite the war. + With fates averse, against their king’s command, + Arm’d, on the right and on the left they stand, + And flank the passage: shining steel they wear, + And waving crests above their heads appear. + Thus two tall oaks, that Padus’ banks adorn, + Lift up to heav’n their leafy heads unshorn, + And, overpress’d with nature’s heavy load, + Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod. + In flows a tide of Latians, when they see + The gate set open, and the passage free; + Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on, + Equicolus, that in bright armour shone, + And Haemon first; but soon repuls’d they fly, + Or in the well-defended pass they die. + These with success are fir’d, and those with rage, + And each on equal terms at length engage. + Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain, + The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain. + + Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought, + When suddenly th’ unhop’d-for news was brought, + The foes had left the fastness of their place, + Prevail’d in fight, and had his men in chase. + He quits th’ attack, and, to prevent their fate, + Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate. + The first he met, Antiphates the brave, + But base-begotten on a Theban slave, + Sarpedon’s son, he slew: the deadly dart + Found passage thro’ his breast, and pierc’d his heart. + Fix’d in the wound th’ Italian cornel stood, + Warm’d in his lungs, and in his vital blood. + Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies, + And Meropes, and the gigantic size + Of Bitias, threat’ning with his ardent eyes. + Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress’d + (A dart were lost within that roomy breast), + But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong, + Which roar’d like thunder as it whirl’d along: + Not two bull hides th’ impetuous force withhold, + Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold. + Down sunk the monster bulk and press’d the ground; + His arms and clatt’ring shield on the vast body sound, + Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole, + Rais’d on the seas, the surges to control— + At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall; + Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall + Of the vast pile; the scatter’d ocean flies; + Black sands, discolour’d froth, and mingled mud arise: + The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores; + Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars: + Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove’s command, + Astonish’d at the flaw that shakes the land, + Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake, + With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back. + + The warrior god the Latian troops inspir’d, + New strung their sinews, and their courage fir’d, + But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright: + Then black despair precipitates their flight. + + When Pandarus beheld his brother kill’d, + The town with fear and wild confusion fill’d, + He turns the hinges of the heavy gate + With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight + Some happier friends within the walls inclos’d; + The rest shut out, to certain death expos’d: + Fool as he was, and frantic in his care, + T’ admit young Turnus, and include the war! + He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold, + Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold. + Too late his blazing buckler they descry, + And sparkling fires that shot from either eye, + His mighty members, and his ample breast, + His rattling armour, and his crimson crest. + + Far from that hated face the Trojans fly, + All but the fool who sought his destiny. + Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow’d + For Bitias’ death, and threatens thus aloud: + “These are not Ardea’s walls, nor this the town + Amata proffers with Lavinia’s crown: + ’Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft, + No means of safe return by flight are left.” + To whom, with count’nance calm, and soul sedate, + Thus Turnus: “Then begin, and try thy fate: + My message to the ghost of Priam bear; + Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there.” + + A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw, + Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew: + With his full force he whirl’d it first around; + But the soft yielding air receiv’d the wound: + Imperial Juno turn’d the course before, + And fix’d the wand’ring weapon in the door. + + “But hope not thou,” said Turnus, “when I strike, + To shun thy fate: our force is not alike, + Nor thy steel temper’d by the Lemnian god.” + Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood, + And aim’d from high: the full descending blow + Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two. + Down sinks the giant with a thund’ring sound: + His pond’rous limbs oppress the trembling ground; + Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound: + Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides, + And the shar’d visage hangs on equal sides. + The Trojans fly from their approaching fate; + And, had the victor then secur’d the gate, + And to his troops without unclos’d the bars, + One lucky day had ended all his wars. + But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood, + Push’d on his fury, to pursue the crowd. + Hamstring’d behind, unhappy Gyges died; + Then Phalaris is added to his side. + The pointed jav’lins from the dead he drew, + And their friends’ arms against their fellows threw. + Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies; + Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies. + Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall— + Engag’d against the foes who scal’d the wall: + But, whom they fear’d without, they found within. + At last, tho’ late, by Lynceus he was seen. + He calls new succours, and assaults the prince: + But weak his force, and vain is their defence. + Turn’d to the right, his sword the hero drew, + And at one blow the bold aggressor slew. + He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong, + The helm flies off, and bears the head along. + Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill’d, + In darts envenom’d and in poison skill’d. + Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear, + And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear: + He fought with courage, and he sung the fight; + Arms were his bus’ness, verses his delight. + + The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief, + Their slaughter’d friends, and hasten their relief. + Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train, + Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain. + To save the living, and revenge the dead, + Against one warrior’s arms all Troy they led. + “O, void of sense and courage!” Mnestheus cried, + “Where can you hope your coward heads to hide? + Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run? + One man, and in your camp inclos’d, you shun! + Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast, + And pass unpunish’d from a num’rous host? + Forsaking honour, and renouncing fame, + Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!” + This just reproach their virtue does excite: + They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight. + + Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield, + But with slow paces measures back the field, + And inches to the walls, where Tiber’s tide, + Washing the camp, defends the weaker side. + The more he loses, they advance the more, + And tread in ev’ry step he trod before. + They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might + They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight. + + As, compass’d with a wood of spears around, + The lordly lion still maintains his ground; + Grins horrible, retires, and turns again; + Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane; + He loses while in vain he presses on, + Nor will his courage let him dare to run: + So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight, + Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight. + Yet twice, enrag’d, the combat he renews, + Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues. + But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied, + Come rolling on, and rush from ev’ry side: + Nor Juno, who sustain’d his arms before, + Dares with new strength suffice th’ exhausted store; + For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down, + To force th’ invader from the frighted town. + + With labour spent, no longer can he wield + The heavy falchion, or sustain the shield, + O’erwhelm’d with darts, which from afar they fling: + The weapons round his hollow temples ring; + His golden helm gives way, with stony blows + Batter’d, and flat, and beaten to his brows. + His crest is rash’d away; his ample shield + Is falsified, and round with jav’lins fill’d. + + The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm; + And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm. + Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev’ry pore; + With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o’er; + Shorter and shorter ev’ry gasp he takes; + And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes. + Plung’d in the flood, and made the waters fly. + The yellow god the welcome burthen bore, + And wip’d the sweat, and wash’d away the gore; + Then gently wafts him to the farther coast, + And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host. + + + + BOOK X + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Jupiter, calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in + either party. At Aeneas’ return there is a bloody battle: Turnus + killing Pallas; Aeneas, Lausus, and Mezentius. Mezentius is + described as an atheist; Lausus as a pious and virtuous youth. + The different actions and death of these two are the subject of a + noble episode. + + + The gates of heav’n unfold: Jove summons all + The gods to council in the common hall. + Sublimely seated, he surveys from far + The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war, + And all th’ inferior world. From first to last, + The sov’reign senate in degrees are plac’d. + + Then thus th’ almighty sire began: “Ye gods, + Natives or denizens of blest abodes, + From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, + This backward fate from what was first design’d? + Why this protracted war, when my commands + Pronounc’d a peace, and gave the Latian lands? + What fear or hope on either part divides + Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides? + A lawful time of war at length will come, + (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom), + When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome, + Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, + And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains. + Then is your time for faction and debate, + For partial favour, and permitted hate. + Let now your immature dissension cease; + Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.” + + Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge; + But lovely Venus thus replies at large: + “O pow’r immense, eternal energy, + (For to what else protection can we fly?) + Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare + In fields, unpunish’d, and insult my care? + How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, + In shining arms, triumphant on the plain? + Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend, + And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: + The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats, + With a red deluge, their increasing moats. + Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence, + Has left a camp expos’d, without defence. + This endless outrage shall they still sustain? + Shall Troy renew’d be forc’d and fir’d again? + A second siege my banish’d issue fears, + And a new Diomede in arms appears. + One more audacious mortal will be found; + And I, thy daughter, wait another wound. + Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave, + The Latian lands my progeny receive, + Bear they the pains of violated law, + And thy protection from their aid withdraw. + But, if the gods their sure success foretell; + If those of heav’n consent with those of hell, + To promise Italy; who dare debate + The pow’r of Jove, or fix another fate? + What should I tell of tempests on the main, + Of Aeolus usurping Neptune’s reign? + Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat + T’ inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet? + Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends, + Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends. + That new example wanted yet above: + An act that well became the wife of Jove! + Alecto, rais’d by her, with rage inflames + The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames. + Imperial sway no more exalts my mind; + (Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav’n was kind;) + Now let my happier foes possess my place, + Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race; + And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace. + Since you can spare, from all your wide command, + No spot of earth, no hospitable land, + Which may my wand’ring fugitives receive; + (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;) + Then, father, (if I still may use that name,) + By ruin’d Troy, yet smoking from the flame, + I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care, + Be freed from danger, and dismiss’d the war: + Inglorious let him live, without a crown. + The father may be cast on coasts unknown, + Struggling with fate; but let me save the son. + Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow’rs: + In those recesses, and those sacred bow’rs, + Obscurely let him rest; his right resign + To promis’d empire, and his Julian line. + Then Carthage may th’ Ausonian towns destroy, + Nor fear the race of a rejected boy. + What profits it my son to scape the fire, + Arm’d with his gods, and loaded with his sire; + To pass the perils of the seas and wind; + Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind; + To reach th’ Italian shores; if, after all, + Our second Pergamus is doom’d to fall? + Much better had he curb’d his high desires, + And hover’d o’er his ill-extinguish’d fires. + To Simois’ banks the fugitives restore, + And give them back to war, and all the woes before.” + + Deep indignation swell’d Saturnia’s heart: + “And must I own,” she said, “my secret smart— + What with more decence were in silence kept, + And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept? + Did god or man your fav’rite son advise, + With war unhop’d the Latians to surprise? + By fate, you boast, and by the gods’ decree, + He left his native land for Italy! + Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more + Than Heav’n inspir’d, he sought a foreign shore! + Did I persuade to trust his second Troy + To the raw conduct of a beardless boy, + With walls unfinish’d, which himself forsakes, + And thro’ the waves a wand’ring voyage takes? + When have I urg’d him meanly to demand + The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land? + Did I or Iris give this mad advice, + Or made the fool himself the fatal choice? + You think it hard, the Latians should destroy + With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy! + Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw + Their native air, nor take a foreign law! + That Turnus is permitted still to live, + To whom his birth a god and goddess give! + But yet is just and lawful for your line + To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join; + Realms, not your own, among your clans divide, + And from the bridegroom tear the promis’d bride; + Petition, while you public arms prepare; + Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war! + ’Twas giv’n to you, your darling son to shroud, + To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd, + And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud. + From flaming fleets you turn’d the fire away, + And chang’d the ships to daughters of the sea. + But is my crime—the Queen of Heav’n offends, + If she presume to save her suff’ring friends! + Your son, not knowing what his foes decree, + You say, is absent: absent let him be. + Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow’rs, + The soft recesses, and the sacred bow’rs. + Why do you then these needless arms prepare, + And thus provoke a people prone to war? + Did I with fire the Trojan town deface, + Or hinder from return your exil’d race? + Was I the cause of mischief, or the man + Whose lawless lust the fatal war began? + Think on whose faith th’ adult’rous youth relied; + Who promis’d, who procur’d, the Spartan bride? + When all th’ united states of Greece combin’d, + To purge the world of the perfidious kind, + Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate: + Your quarrels and complaints are now too late.” + + Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix’d applause, + Just as they favour or dislike the cause. + So winds, when yet unfledg’d in woods they lie, + In whispers first their tender voices try, + Then issue on the main with bellowing rage, + And storms to trembling mariners presage. + + Then thus to both replied th’ imperial god, + Who shakes heav’n’s axles with his awful nod. + (When he begins, the silent senate stand + With rev’rence, list’ning to the dread command: + The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain; + And the hush’d waves lie flatted on the main.) + “Celestials, your attentive ears incline! + Since,” said the god, “the Trojans must not join + In wish’d alliance with the Latian line; + Since endless jarrings and immortal hate + Tend but to discompose our happy state; + The war henceforward be resign’d to fate: + Each to his proper fortune stand or fall; + Equal and unconcern’d I look on all. + Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me; + And both shall draw the lots their fates decree. + Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend; + And, if she favours those, let those defend: + The Fates will find their way.” The Thund’rer said, + And shook the sacred honours of his head, + Attesting Styx, th’ inviolable flood, + And the black regions of his brother god. + Trembled the poles of heav’n, and earth confess’d the nod. + This end the sessions had: the senate rise, + And to his palace wait their sov’reign thro’ the skies. + + Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes + Within their walls the Trojan host inclose: + They wound, they kill, they watch at ev’ry gate; + Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate. + + Th’ Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief, + Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief. + Thin on the tow’rs they stand; and ev’n those few + A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew. + Yet in the face of danger some there stood: + The two bold brothers of Sarpedon’s blood, + Asius and Acmon; both th’ Assaraci; + Young Haemon, and tho’ young, resolv’d to die. + With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join’d; + Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind. + From Acmon’s hands a rolling stone there came, + So large, it half deserv’d a mountain’s name: + Strong-sinew’d was the youth, and big of bone; + His brother Mnestheus could not more have done, + Or the great father of th’ intrepid son. + Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send; + And some with darts, and some with stones defend. + + Amid the press appears the beauteous boy, + The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy. + His lovely face unarm’d, his head was bare; + In ringlets o’er his shoulders hung his hair. + His forehead circled with a diadem; + Distinguish’d from the crowd, he shines a gem, + Enchas’d in gold, or polish’d iv’ry set, + Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet. + + Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war, + Directing pointed arrows from afar, + And death with poison arm’d—in Lydia born, + Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn; + Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands, + And leaves a rich manure of golden sands. + There Capys, author of the Capuan name, + And there was Mnestheus too, increas’d in fame, + Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame. + + Thus mortal war was wag’d on either side. + Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide: + For, anxious, from Evander when he went, + He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon’s tent; + Expos’d the cause of coming to the chief; + His name and country told, and ask’d relief; + Propos’d the terms; his own small strength declar’d; + What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar’d: + What Turnus, bold and violent, design’d; + Then shew’d the slipp’ry state of humankind, + And fickle fortune; warn’d him to beware, + And to his wholesome counsel added pray’r. + Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs, + And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins. + + They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand; + Their forces trusted with a foreign hand. + Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear + Two lions carv’d, which rising Ida bear— + Ida, to wand’ring Trojans ever dear. + Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate, + Revolving war’s events, and various fate. + His left young Pallas kept, fix’d to his side, + And oft of winds enquir’d, and of the tide; + Oft of the stars, and of their wat’ry way; + And what he suffer’d both by land and sea. + + Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring! + The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing, + Which follow’d great Aeneas to the war: + Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare. + + A thousand youths brave Massicus obey, + Borne in the Tiger thro’ the foaming sea; + From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care: + For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear. + Fierce Abas next: his men bright armour wore; + His stern Apollo’s golden statue bore. + Six hundred Populonia sent along, + All skill’d in martial exercise, and strong. + Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins, + An isle renown’d for steel, and unexhausted mines. + Asylas on his prow the third appears, + Who heav’n interprets, and the wand’ring stars; + From offer’d entrails prodigies expounds, + And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds. + A thousand spears in warlike order stand, + Sent by the Pisans under his command. + + Fair Astur follows in the wat’ry field, + Proud of his manag’d horse and painted shield. + Gravisca, noisome from the neighb’ring fen, + And his own Caere, sent three hundred men; + With those which Minio’s fields and Pyrgi gave, + All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave. + + Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew, + And brave Cupavo follow’d but by few; + Whose helm confess’d the lineage of the man, + And bore, with wings display’d, a silver swan. + Love was the fault of his fam’d ancestry, + Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly. + For Cycnus lov’d unhappy Phaeton, + And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone, + Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief. + Heav’n heard his song, and hasten’d his relief, + And chang’d to snowy plumes his hoary hair, + And wing’d his flight, to chant aloft in air. + His son Cupavo brush’d the briny flood: + Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood, + Who heav’d a rock, and, threat’ning still to throw, + With lifted hands alarm’d the seas below: + They seem’d to fear the formidable sight, + And roll’d their billows on, to speed his flight. + + Ocnus was next, who led his native train + Of hardy warriors thro’ the wat’ry plain: + The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream, + From whence the Mantuan town derives the name— + An ancient city, but of mix’d descent: + Three sev’ral tribes compose the government; + Four towns are under each; but all obey + The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway. + + Hate to Mezentius arm’d five hundred more, + Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore: + Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover’d o’er. + These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep + With stretching oars at once the glassy deep. + Him and his martial train the Triton bears; + High on his poop the sea-green god appears: + Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound, + And at the blast the billows dance around. + A hairy man above the waist he shows; + A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows; + And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides, + And froth and foam augment the murm’ring tides. + + Full thirty ships transport the chosen train + For Troy’s relief, and scour the briny main. + + Now was the world forsaken by the sun, + And Phoebe half her nightly race had run. + The careful chief, who never clos’d his eyes, + Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. + A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood, + Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida’s wood; + But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep, + As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep. + They know him from afar; and in a ring + Enclose the ship that bore the Trojan king. + Cymodoce, whose voice excell’d the rest, + Above the waves advanc’d her snowy breast; + Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides + The curling ocean, and corrects the tides. + She spoke for all the choir, and thus began + With pleasing words to warn th’ unknowing man: + “Sleeps our lov’d lord? O goddess-born, awake! + Spread ev’ry sail, pursue your wat’ry track, + And haste your course. Your navy once were we, + From Ida’s height descending to the sea; + Till Turnus, as at anchor fix’d we stood, + Presum’d to violate our holy wood. + Then, loos’d from shore, we fled his fires profane + (Unwillingly we broke our master’s chain), + And since have sought you thro’ the Tuscan main. + The mighty Mother chang’d our forms to these, + And gave us life immortal in the seas. + But young Ascanius, in his camp distress’d, + By your insulting foes is hardly press’d. + Th’ Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, + Advance in order on the Latian coast: + To cut their way the Daunian chief designs, + Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines. + Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light, + First arm thy soldiers for th’ ensuing fight: + Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield, + And bear aloft th’ impenetrable shield. + Tomorrow’s sun, unless my skill be vain, + Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain.” + Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force + Push’d on the vessel in her wat’ry course; + For well she knew the way. Impell’d behind, + The ship flew forward, and outstripp’d the wind. + The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause, + The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws. + + Then thus he pray’d, and fix’d on heav’n his eyes: + “Hear thou, great Mother of the deities. + With turrets crown’d! (on Ida’s holy hill + Fierce tigers, rein’d and curb’d, obey thy will.) + Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight; + And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right.” + + He said no more. And now renewing day + Had chas’d the shadows of the night away. + He charg’d the soldiers, with preventing care, + Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; + Warn’d of th’ ensuing fight, and bade ’em hope the war. + Now, his lofty poop, he view’d below + His camp incompass’d, and th’ inclosing foe. + His blazing shield, imbrac’d, he held on high; + The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply. + Hope arms their courage: from their tow’rs they throw + Their darts with double force, and drive the foe. + Thus, at the signal giv’n, the cranes arise + Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies. + + King Turnus wonder’d at the fight renew’d, + Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view’d, + The seas with swelling canvas cover’d o’er, + And the swift ships descending on the shore. + The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes, + The radiant crest that seem’d in flames to rise, + And dart diffusive fires around the field, + And the keen glitt’ring of the golden shield. + Thus threat’ning comets, when by night they rise, + Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies: + So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights, + Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright: + + Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent + To man the shores, and hinder their descent, + And thus awakes the courage of his friends: + “What you so long have wish’d, kind Fortune sends; + In ardent arms to meet th’ invading foe: + You find, and find him at advantage now. + Yours is the day: you need but only dare; + Your swords will make you masters of the war. + Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands, + And dearest wifes, are all within your hands. + Be mindful of the race from whence you came, + And emulate in arms your fathers’ fame. + Now take the time, while stagg’ring yet they stand + With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand: + Fortune befriends the bold.” Nor more he said, + But balanc’d whom to leave, and whom to lead; + Then these elects, the landing to prevent; + And those he leaves, to keep the city pent. + + Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore: + Some are by boats expos’d, by bridges more. + With lab’ring oars they bear along the strand, + Where the tide languishes, and leap a-land. + Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes, + And, where no ford he finds, no water fries, + Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar, + But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore, + That course he steer’d, and thus he gave command: + “Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land: + Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound + This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground. + Let me securely land—I ask no more; + Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore.” + + This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends: + They tug at ev’ry oar, and ev’ry stretcher bends; + They run their ships aground; the vessels knock, + (Thus forc’d ashore,) and tremble with the shock. + Tarchon’s alone was lost, that stranded stood, + Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood: + She breaks her back; the loosen’d sides give way, + And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea. + Their broken oars and floating planks withstand + Their passage, while they labour to the land, + And ebbing tides bear back upon th’ uncertain sand. + + Now Turnus leads his troops without delay, + Advancing to the margin of the sea. + The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail’d + The clowns new-rais’d and raw, and soon prevail’d. + Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight; + Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height. + He first in open field defied the prince: + But armour scal’d with gold was no defence + Against the fated sword, which open’d wide + His plated shield, and pierc’d his naked side. + Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born, + Was from his wretched mother ripp’d and torn; + Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee; + For his beginning life from biting steel was free. + Not far from him was Gyas laid along, + Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong: + Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail’d, + Nor valour nor Herculean arms avail’d, + Nor their fam’d father, wont in war to go + With great Alcides, while he toil’d below. + The noisy Pharos next receiv’d his death: + Aeneas writh’d his dart, and stopp’d his bawling breath. + Then wretched Cydon had receiv’d his doom, + Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom, + And sought with lust obscene polluted joys: + The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys, + Had not his sev’n bold brethren stopp’d the course + Of the fierce champions, with united force. + Sev’n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound + From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound: + The rest had reach’d him; but his mother’s care + Prevented those, and turn’d aside in air. + + The prince then call’d Achates, to supply + The spears that knew the way to victory— + “Those fatal weapons, which, inur’d to blood, + In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood: + Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain + Against our foes, on this contended plain.” + He said; then seiz’d a mighty spear, and threw; + Which, wing’d with fate, thro’ Maeon’s buckler flew, + Pierc’d all the brazen plates, and reach’d his heart: + He stagger’d with intolerable smart. + Alcanor saw; and reach’d, but reach’d in vain, + His helping hand, his brother to sustain. + A second spear, which kept the former course, + From the same hand, and sent with equal force, + His right arm pierc’d, and holding on, bereft + His use of both, and pinion’d down his left. + Then Numitor from his dead brother drew + Th’ ill-omen’d spear, and at the Trojan threw: + Preventing fate directs the lance awry, + Which, glancing, only mark’d Achates’ thigh. + + In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came, + And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim. + The spear flew hissing thro’ the middle space, + And pierc’d his throat, directed at his face; + It stopp’d at once the passage of his wind, + And the free soul to flitting air resign’d: + His forehead was the first that struck the ground; + Lifeblood and life rush’d mingled thro’ the wound. + He slew three brothers of the Borean race, + And three, whom Ismarus, their native place, + Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace. + Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads: + The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds, + Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand, + These fight to keep, and those to win, the land. + With mutual blood th’ Ausonian soil is dyed, + While on its borders each their claim decide. + As wintry winds, contending in the sky, + With equal force of lungs their titles try: + They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav’n + Stands without motion, and the tide undriv’n: + Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield, + They long suspend the fortune of the field. + Both armies thus perform what courage can; + Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man. + + But, in another part, th’ Arcadian horse + With ill success engage the Latin force: + For, where th’ impetuous torrent, rushing down, + Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown, + They left their coursers, and, unus’d to fight + On foot, were scatter’d in a shameful flight. + Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view’d + His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued, + Us’d threat’nings mix’d with pray’rs, his last resource, + With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force + “Which way, companions? whether would you run? + By you yourselves, and mighty battles won, + By my great sire, by his establish’d name, + And early promise of my future fame; + By my youth, emulous of equal right + To share his honours—shun ignoble flight! + Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way + Thro’ yon black body, and that thick array: + ’Tis thro’ that forward path that we must come; + There lies our way, and that our passage home. + Nor pow’rs above, nor destinies below + Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go, + With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe. + See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore, + The sea behind, our enemies before; + No passage left, unless we swim the main; + Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.” + This said, he strode with eager haste along, + And bore amidst the thickest of the throng. + Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe, + Had heav’d a stone of mighty weight, to throw: + Stooping, the spear descended on his chine, + Just where the bone distinguished either loin: + It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay, + That scarce the victor forc’d the steel away. + Hisbon came on: but, while he mov’d too slow + To wish’d revenge, the prince prevents his blow; + For, warding his at once, at once he press’d, + And plung’d the fatal weapon in his breast. + Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust, + Who stain’d his stepdam’s bed with impious lust. + And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain, + Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain; + So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size, + As caus’d an error in their parents’ eyes— + Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides + The nice distinction, and their fate divides: + For Thymbrus’ head was lopp’d; and Laris’ hand, + Dismember’d, sought its owner on the strand: + The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain, + And threaten still th’ intended stroke in vain. + + Now, to renew the charge, th’ Arcadians came: + Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame, + And grief, with anger mix’d, their minds inflame. + Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain, + Who chanc’d, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain: + The flying spear was after Ilus sent; + But Rhoeteus happen’d on a death unmeant: + From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled, + The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead: + Roll’d from his chariot with a mortal wound, + And intercepted fate, he spurn’d the ground. + As when, in summer, welcome winds arise, + The watchful shepherd to the forest flies, + And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads, + And catching flames infect the neighb’ring heads; + Around the forest flies the furious blast, + And all the leafy nation sinks at last, + And Vulcan rides in triumph o’er the waste; + The pastor, pleas’d with his dire victory, + Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky: + So Pallas’ troops their scatter’d strength unite, + And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight. + + Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood; + But first collected in his arms he stood: + Advancing then, he plied the spear so well, + Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell. + Around his head he toss’d his glitt’ring brand, + And from Strymonius hew’d his better hand, + Held up to guard his throat; then hurl’d a stone + At Thoas’ ample front, and pierc’d the bone: + It struck beneath the space of either eye; + And blood, and mingled brains, together fly. + Deep skill’d in future fates, Halesus’ sire + Did with the youth to lonely groves retire: + But, when the father’s mortal race was run, + Dire destiny laid hold upon the son, + And haul’d him to the war, to find, beneath + Th’ Evandrian spear, a memorable death. + Pallas th’ encounter seeks, but, ere he throws, + To Tuscan Tiber thus address’d his vows: + “O sacred stream, direct my flying dart, + And give to pass the proud Halesus’ heart! + His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear.” + Pleas’d with the bribe, the god receiv’d his pray’r: + For, while his shield protects a friend distress’d, + The dart came driving on, and pierc’d his breast. + + But Lausus, no small portion of the war, + Permits not panic fear to reign too far, + Caus’d by the death of so renown’d a knight; + But by his own example cheers the fight. + Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay + Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day. + The Phrygian troops escap’d the Greeks in vain: + They, and their mix’d allies, now load the plain. + To the rude shock of war both armies came; + Their leaders equal, and their strength the same. + The rear so press’d the front, they could not wield + Their angry weapons, to dispute the field. + Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there: + Of equal youth and beauty both appear, + But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air. + Their congress in the field great Jove withstands: + Both doom’d to fall, but fall by greater hands. + + Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief + Of Lausus’ danger, urging swift relief. + With his driv’n chariot he divides the crowd, + And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud: + “Let none presume his needless aid to join; + Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine: + To this right hand is Pallas only due; + O were his father here, my just revenge to view!” + From the forbidden space his men retir’d. + Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir’d; + Survey’d him o’er and o’er with wond’ring sight, + Struck with his haughty mien, and tow’ring height. + Then to the king: “Your empty vaunts forbear; + Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear; + Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name; + Jove is impartial, and to both the same.” + He said, and to the void advanc’d his pace: + Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face. + Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light, + Address’d himself on foot to single fight. + And, as a lion—when he spies from far + A bull that seems to meditate the war, + Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand— + Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand: + Imagine eager Turnus not more slow, + To rush from high on his unequal foe. + + Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance + Within due distance of his flying lance, + Prepares to charge him first, resolv’d to try + If fortune would his want of force supply; + And thus to Heav’n and Hercules address’d: + “Alcides, once on earth Evander’s guest, + His son adjures you by those holy rites, + That hospitable board, those genial nights; + Assist my great attempt to gain this prize, + And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes, + His ravish’d spoils.” ’Twas heard, the vain request; + Alcides mourn’d, and stifled sighs within his breast. + Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began: + “Short bounds of life are set to mortal man. + ’Tis virtue’s work alone to stretch the narrow span. + So many sons of gods, in bloody fight, + Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light: + My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe; + Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow. + Ev’n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath, + And stands already on the verge of death.” + This said, the god permits the fatal fight, + But from the Latian fields averts his sight. + + Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw, + And, having thrown, his shining falchion drew + The steel just graz’d along the shoulder joint, + And mark’d it slightly with the glancing point, + Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew, + And pois’d his pointed spear, before he threw: + Then, as the winged weapon whizz’d along, + “See now,” said he, “whose arm is better strung.” + The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay’d + By plates of ir’n, which o’er the shield were laid: + Thro’ folded brass and tough bull hides it pass’d, + His corslet pierc’d, and reach’d his heart at last. + In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood; + The soul comes issuing with the vital blood: + He falls; his arms upon his body sound; + And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground. + + Turnus bestrode the corpse: “Arcadians, hear,” + Said he; “my message to your master bear: + Such as the sire deserv’d, the son I send; + It costs him dear to be the Phrygians’ friend. + The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow, + Unask’d, to rest his wand’ring ghost below.” + He said, and trampled down with all the force + Of his left foot, and spurn’d the wretched corse; + Then snatch’d the shining belt, with gold inlaid; + The belt Eurytion’s artful hands had made, + Where fifty fatal brides, express’d to sight, + All in the compass of one mournful night, + Depriv’d their bridegrooms of returning light. + + In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore + Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore. + O mortals, blind in fate, who never know + To bear high fortune, or endure the low! + The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain, + Shall wish untouch’d the trophies of the slain; + Shall wish the fatal belt were far away, + And curse the dire remembrance of the day. + + The sad Arcadians, from th’ unhappy field, + Bear back the breathless body on a shield. + O grace and grief of war! at once restor’d, + With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor’d! + One day first sent thee to the fighting field, + Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill’d; + One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield. + This dismal news, not from uncertain fame, + But sad spectators, to the hero came: + His friends upon the brink of ruin stand, + Unless reliev’d by his victorious hand. + He whirls his sword around, without delay, + And hews thro’ adverse foes an ample way, + To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud: + Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow’d + To large deserts, are present to his eyes; + His plighted hand, and hospitable ties. + + Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred, + He took in fight, and living victims led, + To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire, + In sacrifice, before his fun’ral fire. + At Magus next he threw: he stoop’d below + The flying spear, and shunn’d the promis’d blow; + Then, creeping, clasp’d the hero’s knees, and pray’d: + “By young Iulus, by thy father’s shade, + O spare my life, and send me back to see + My longing sire, and tender progeny! + A lofty house I have, and wealth untold, + In silver ingots, and in bars of gold: + All these, and sums besides, which see no day, + The ransom of this one poor life shall pay. + If I survive, will Troy the less prevail? + A single soul’s too light to turn the scale.” + He said. The hero sternly thus replied: + “Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside, + Leave for thy children’s lot. Thy Turnus broke + All rules of war by one relentless stroke, + When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone + My father’s shadow, but my living son.” + Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft, + He seiz’d his helm, and dragg’d him with his left; + Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath’d, + Up to the hilts his shining falchion sheath’d. + + Apollo’s priest, Emonides, was near; + His holy fillets on his front appear; + Glitt’ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd; + Much of his god, more of his purple, proud. + Him the fierce Trojan follow’d thro’ the field: + The holy coward fell; and, forc’d to yield, + The prince stood o’er the priest, and, at one blow, + Sent him an off’ring to the shades below. + His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears, + Design’d a trophy to the God of Wars. + + Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight, + And Umbro, born upon the mountains’ height. + The champion cheers his troops t’ encounter those, + And seeks revenge himself on other foes. + At Anxur’s shield he drove; and, at the blow, + Both shield and arm to ground together go. + Anxur had boasted much of magic charms, + And thought he wore impenetrable arms, + So made by mutter’d spells; and, from the spheres, + Had life secur’d, in vain, for length of years. + Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod; + A nymph his mother, his sire a god. + Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince: + With his protended lance he makes defence; + Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on, + Arrests his better hand, and drags him down; + Stands o’er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay, + Vain tales inventing, and prepar’d to pray, + Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood, + Then sunk, and roll’d along the sand in blood. + The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain: + “Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain; + Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb, + Far from thy mother and thy native home, + Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey, + Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea.” + + On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran, + Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van. + They fled for fear; with these, he chas’d along + Camers the yellow-lock’d, and Numa strong; + Both great in arms, and both were fair and young. + Camers was son to Volscens lately slain, + In wealth surpassing all the Latian train, + And in Amycla fix’d his silent easy reign. + And, as Aegaeon, when with heav’n he strove, + Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove; + Mov’d all his hundred hands, provok’d the war, + Defied the forky lightning from afar; + At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires, + And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires; + In his right hand as many swords he wields, + And takes the thunder on as many shields: + With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood; + And soon the fields with falling corps were strow’d, + When once his falchion found the taste of blood. + With fury scarce to be conceiv’d, he flew + Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew. + They, when they see the fiery chief advance, + And pushing at their chests his pointed lance, + Wheel’d with so swift a motion, mad with fear, + They threw their master headlong from the chair. + They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before + They bear the bounding chariot to the shore. + + Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains, + With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins, + And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains: + Bold brethren both. The former wav’d in air + His flaming sword: Aeneas couch’d his spear, + Unus’d to threats, and more unus’d to fear. + Then Liger thus: “Thy confidence is vain + To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain: + Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode, + Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode; + Nor Venus’ veil is here, near Neptune’s shield; + Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field.” + Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer + Return’d his answer with his flying spear. + As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends, + Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends, + Prepar’d for fight; the fatal dart arrives, + And thro’ the borders of his buckler drives; + Pass’d thro’ and pierc’d his groin: the deadly wound, + Cast from his chariot, roll’d him on the ground. + Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite: + “Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight; + Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat; + But you yourself forsake your empty seat.” + He said, and seiz’d at once the loosen’d rein; + For Liger lay already on the plain, + By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands, + The recreant thus his wretched life demands: + “Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man! + By her and him from whom thy breath began, + Who form’d thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare + This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant’s pray’r.” + Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said; + But the stern hero turn’d aside his head, + And cut him short: “I hear another man; + You talk’d not thus before the fight began. + Now take your turn; and, as a brother should, + Attend your brother to the Stygian flood.” + Then thro’ his breast his fatal sword he sent, + And the soul issued at the gaping vent. + + As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground, + Thus rag’d the prince, and scatter’d deaths around. + At length Ascanius and the Trojan train + Broke from the camp, so long besieg’d in vain. + + Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man + Held conference with his queen, and thus began: + “My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife, + Still think you Venus’ aid supports the strife— + Sustains her Trojans—or themselves, alone, + With inborn valour force their fortune on? + How fierce in fight, with courage undecay’d! + Judge if such warriors want immortal aid.” + To whom the goddess with the charming eyes, + Soft in her tone, submissively replies: + “Why, O my sov’reign lord, whose frown I fear, + And cannot, unconcern’d, your anger bear; + Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still + (As once I was) were mistress of your will, + From your almighty pow’r your pleasing wife + Might gain the grace of length’ning Turnus’ life, + Securely snatch him from the fatal fight, + And give him to his aged father’s sight. + Now let him perish, since you hold it good, + And glut the Trojans with his pious blood. + Yet from our lineage he derives his name, + And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came; + Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine, + And offers daily incense at your shrine.” + + Then shortly thus the sov’reign god replied: + “Since in my pow’r and goodness you confide, + If for a little space, a lengthen’d span, + You beg reprieve for this expiring man, + I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence + From instant fate, and can so far dispense. + But, if some secret meaning lies beneath, + To save the short-liv’d youth from destin’d death, + Or if a farther thought you entertain, + To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain.” + To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes: + “And what if that request, your tongue denies, + Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve, + But length of certain life, to Turnus give? + Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth, + If my presaging soul divines with truth; + Which, O! I wish, might err thro’ causeless fears, + And you (for you have pow’r) prolong his years!” + + Thus having said, involv’d in clouds, she flies, + And drives a storm before her thro’ the skies. + Swift she descends, alighting on the plain, + Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain. + Of air condens’d a spectre soon she made; + And, what Aeneas was, such seem’d the shade. + Adorn’d with Dardan arms, the phantom bore + His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore; + This hand appear’d a shining sword to wield, + And that sustain’d an imitated shield. + With manly mien he stalk’d along the ground, + Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound. + (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight, + Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.) + The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare, + And flourishes his empty sword in air. + At this, advancing, Turnus hurl’d his spear: + The phantom wheel’d, and seem’d to fly for fear. + Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled, + And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed. + “Whether, O coward?” (thus he calls aloud, + Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas’d a cloud,) + “Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me + The fated land you sought so long by sea.” + He said, and, brandishing at once his blade, + With eager pace pursued the flying shade. + By chance a ship was fasten’d to the shore, + Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore: + The plank was ready laid for safe ascent; + For shelter there the trembling shadow bent, + And skipp’t and skulk’d, and under hatches went. + Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste, + Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass’d. + Scarce had he reach’d the prow: Saturnia’s hand + The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land. + With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea, + And measures back with speed her former way. + Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe, + And sends his slaughter’d troops to shades below. + + The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud, + And flew sublime, and vanish’d in a cloud. + Too late young Turnus the delusion found, + Far on the sea, still making from the ground. + Then, thankless for a life redeem’d by shame, + With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame, + Fearful besides of what in fight had pass’d, + His hands and haggard eyes to heav’n he cast; + “O Jove!” he cried, “for what offence have I + Deserv’d to bear this endless infamy? + Whence am I forc’d, and whether am I borne? + How, and with what reproach, shall I return? + Shall ever I behold the Latian plain, + Or see Laurentum’s lofty tow’rs again? + What will they say of their deserting chief + The war was mine: I fly from their relief; + I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave; + And ev’n from hence their dying groans receive. + Here, overmatch’d in fight, in heaps they lie; + There, scatter’d o’er the fields, ignobly fly. + Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive! + Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve! + On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive; + Or set me shipwreck’d on some desert shore, + Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more, + Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame, + Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim.” + + Thus Turnus rav’d, and various fates revolv’d: + The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv’d. + And now the sword, and now the sea took place, + That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace. + Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main, + By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain. + Thrice he the sword assay’d, and thrice the flood; + But Juno, mov’d with pity, both withstood. + And thrice repress’d his rage; strong gales supplied, + And push’d the vessel o’er the swelling tide. + At length she lands him on his native shores, + And to his father’s longing arms restores. + + Meantime, by Jove’s impulse, Mezentius arm’d, + Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warm’d + His fainting friends, reproach’d their shameful flight, + Repell’d the victors, and renew’d the fight. + Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire; + Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire + Of wish’d revenge: on him, and him alone, + All hands employ’d, and all their darts are thrown. + He, like a solid rock by seas inclos’d, + To raging winds and roaring waves oppos’d, + From his proud summit looking down, disdains + Their empty menace, and unmov’d remains. + + Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead, + Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled. + At Latagus a weighty stone he flung: + His face was flatted, and his helmet rung. + But Palmus from behind receives his wound; + Hamstring’d he falls, and grovels on the ground: + His crest and armour, from his body torn, + Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn. + Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew. + Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew, + Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire, + The queen produc’d young Paris to his sire: + But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain, + Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain. + + And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred, + With forest mast and fatt’ning marshes fed, + When once he sees himself in toils inclos’d, + By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos’d, + He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; + Th’ invaders dart their jav’lins from afar: + All keep aloof, and safely shout around; + But none presumes to give a nearer wound: + He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, + And shakes a grove of lances from his side: + Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir’d, + And just revenge against the tyrant fir’d, + Their darts with clamour at a distance drive, + And only keep the languish’d war alive. + + From Coritus came Acron to the fight, + Who left his spouse betroth’d, and unconsummate night. + Mezentius sees him thro’ the squadrons ride, + Proud of the purple favours of his bride. + Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds + A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds, + Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain— + He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane, + He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws; + The prey lies panting underneath his paws: + He fills his famish’d maw; his mouth runs o’er + With unchew’d morsels, while he churns the gore: + So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes, + And first unhappy Acron overthrows: + Stretch’d at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground; + The lance, besmear’d with blood, lies broken in the wound. + Then with disdain the haughty victor view’d + Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued, + Nor thought the dastard’s back deserv’d a wound, + But, running, gain’d th’ advantage of the ground: + Then turning short, he met him face to face, + To give his victory the better grace. + Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress’d: + Mezentius fix’d his foot upon his breast, + And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries: + “Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!” + The fields around with Io Paean! ring; + And peals of shouts applaud the conqu’ring king. + At this the vanquish’d, with his dying breath, + Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death: + “Nor thou, proud man, unpunish’d shalt remain: + Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.” + Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied: + “For what belongs to me, let Jove provide; + But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.” + He said, and from the wound the weapon drew. + A hov’ring mist came swimming o’er his sight, + And seal’d his eyes in everlasting night. + + By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain; + Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain; + Orses the strong to greater strength must yield; + He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill’d. + Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew, + Who from Lycaon’s blood his lineage drew. + But from his headstrong horse his fate he found, + Who threw his master, as he made a bound: + The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground; + Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails: + The Trojan sinks, and Neptune’s son prevails. + Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride, + To single fight the boldest foe defied; + Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o’ercame, + And not belied his mighty father’s fame. + Salius to death the great Antronius sent: + But the same fate the victor underwent, + Slain by Nealces’ hand, well-skill’d to throw + The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow. + + Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance; + By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance: + Victors and vanquish’d, in the various field, + Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield. + The gods from heav’n survey the fatal strife, + And mourn the miseries of human life. + Above the rest, two goddesses appear + Concern’d for each: here Venus, Juno there. + Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes + Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes. + + Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain, + Brandish’d his spear, and rush’d into the plain, + Where tow’ring in the midmost rank he stood, + Like tall Orion stalking o’er the flood. + (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves, + His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves), + Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread, + Deep fix’d in earth; in clouds he hides his head. + + The Trojan prince beheld him from afar, + And dauntless undertook the doubtful war. + Collected in his strength, and like a rock, + Pois’d on his base, Mezentius stood the shock. + He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes + The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries: + “My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke! + (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.) + His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn, + By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn.” + He said; and with his utmost force he threw + The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew, + Reach’d the celestial shield, that stopp’d the course; + But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force + Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt + The side and bowels fam’d Anthores fix’d. + Anthores had from Argos travel’d far, + Alcides’ friend, and brother of the war; + Till, tir’d with toils, fair Italy he chose, + And in Evander’s palace sought repose. + Now, falling by another’s wound, his eyes + He cast to heav’n, on Argos thinks, and dies. + + The pious Trojan then his jav’lin sent; + The shield gave way; thro’ treble plates it went + Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll’d, + And three bull hides which round the buckler fold. + All these it pass’d, resistless in the course, + Transpierc’d his thigh, and spent its dying force. + The gaping wound gush’d out a crimson flood. + The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood, + His falchion drew, to closer fight address’d, + And with new force his fainting foe oppress’d. + + His father’s peril Lausus view’d with grief; + He sigh’d, he wept, he ran to his relief. + And here, heroic youth, ’tis here I must + To thy immortal memory be just, + And sing an act so noble and so new, + Posterity will scarce believe ’tis true. + Pain’d with his wound, and useless for the fight, + The father sought to save himself by flight: + Encumber’d, slow he dragg’d the spear along, + Which pierc’d his thigh, and in his buckler hung. + The pious youth, resolv’d on death, below + The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe; + Protects his parent, and prevents the blow. + Shouts of applause ran ringing thro’ the field, + To see the son the vanquish’d father shield. + All, fir’d with gen’rous indignation, strive, + And with a storm of darts to distance drive + The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far, + On his Vulcanian orb sustain’d the war. + + As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind, + The plowman, passenger, and lab’ring hind + For shelter to the neighb’ring covert fly, + Or hous’d, or safe in hollow caverns lie; + But, that o’erblown, when heav’n above ’em smiles, + Return to travel, and renew their toils: + Aeneas thus, o’erwhelmed on ev’ry side, + The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide; + And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat’ning cried: + “Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage + In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age, + Betray’d by pious love?” Nor, thus forborne, + The youth desists, but with insulting scorn + Provokes the ling’ring prince, whose patience, tir’d, + Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir’d. + For now the Fates prepar’d their sharpen’d shears; + And lifted high the flaming sword appears, + Which, full descending with a frightful sway, + Thro’ shield and corslet forc’d th’ impetuous way, + And buried deep in his fair bosom lay. + The purple streams thro’ the thin armour strove, + And drench’d th’ imbroider’d coat his mother wove; + And life at length forsook his heaving heart, + Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart. + + But when, with blood and paleness all o’erspread, + The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead, + He griev’d; he wept; the sight an image brought + Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought: + Then stretch’d his hand to hold him up, and said: + “Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid + To love so great, to such transcendent store + Of early worth, and sure presage of more? + Accept whate’er Aeneas can afford; + Untouch’d thy arms, untaken be thy sword; + And all that pleas’d thee living, still remain + Inviolate, and sacred to the slain. + Thy body on thy parents I bestow, + To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know, + Or have a sense of human things below. + There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell: + ‘’Twas by the great Aeneas hand I fell.’” + With this, his distant friends he beckons near, + Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear: + Himself assists to lift him from the ground, + With clotted locks, and blood that well’d from out the wound. + + Meantime, his father, now no father, stood, + And wash’d his wounds by Tiber’s yellow flood: + Oppress’d with anguish, panting, and o’erspent, + His fainting limbs against an oak he leant. + A bough his brazen helmet did sustain; + His heavier arms lay scatter’d on the plain: + A chosen train of youth around him stand; + His drooping head was rested on his hand: + His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought; + And all on Lausus ran his restless thought. + Careful, concern’d his danger to prevent, + He much enquir’d, and many a message sent + To warn him from the field—alas! in vain! + Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain! + O’er his broad shield still gush’d the yawning wound, + And drew a bloody trail along the ground. + Far off he heard their cries, far off divin’d + The dire event, with a foreboding mind. + With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head; + Then both his lifted hands to heav’n he spread; + Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said: + “What joys, alas! could this frail being give, + That I have been so covetous to live? + To see my son, and such a son, resign + His life, a ransom for preserving mine! + And am I then preserv’d, and art thou lost? + How much too dear has that redemption cost! + ’Tis now my bitter banishment I feel: + This is a wound too deep for time to heal. + My guilt thy growing virtues did defame; + My blackness blotted thy unblemish’d name. + Chas’d from a throne, abandon’d, and exil’d + For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild: + I ow’d my people these, and, from their hate, + With less resentment could have borne my fate. + And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight + Of hated men, and of more hated light: + But will not long.” With that he rais’d from ground + His fainting limbs, that stagger’d with his wound; + Yet, with a mind resolv’d, and unappall’d + With pains or perils, for his courser call’d + Well-mouth’d, well-manag’d, whom himself did dress + With daily care, and mounted with success; + His aid in arms, his ornament in peace. + + Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke, + The steed seem’d sensible, while thus he spoke: + “O Rhoebus, we have liv’d too long for me— + If life and long were terms that could agree! + This day thou either shalt bring back the head + And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead; + This day thou either shalt revenge my woe, + For murder’d Lausus, on his cruel foe; + Or, if inexorable fate deny + Our conquest, with thy conquer’d master die: + For, after such a lord, I rest secure, + Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure.” + He said; and straight th’ officious courser kneels, + To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills + With pointed jav’lins; on his head he lac’d + His glitt’ring helm, which terribly was grac’d + With waving horsehair, nodding from afar; + Then spurr’d his thund’ring steed amidst the war. + Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought, + Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought + Of inborn worth, his lab’ring soul oppress’d, + Roll’d in his eyes, and rag’d within his breast. + Then loud he call’d Aeneas thrice by name: + The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came. + “Great Jove,” he said, “and the far-shooting god, + Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!” + He spoke no more; but hasten’d, void of fear, + And threaten’d with his long protended spear. + + To whom Mezentius thus: “Thy vaunts are vain. + My Lausus lies extended on the plain: + He’s lost! thy conquest is already won; + The wretched sire is murder’d in the son. + Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy. + Forbear thy threats: my bus’ness is to die; + But first receive this parting legacy.” + He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent; + Another after, and another went. + Round in a spacious ring he rides the field, + And vainly plies th’ impenetrable shield. + Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel’d, + Turn’d as he turn’d: the golden orb withstood + The strokes, and bore about an iron wood. + Impatient of delay, and weary grown, + Still to defend, and to defend alone, + To wrench the darts which in his buckler light, + Urg’d and o’er-labour’d in unequal fight; + At length resolv’d, he throws with all his force + Full at the temples of the warrior horse. + Just where the stroke was aim’d, th’ unerring spear + Made way, and stood transfix’d thro’ either ear. + Seiz’d with unwonted pain, surpris’d with fright, + The wounded steed curvets, and, rais’d upright, + Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind + Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind. + Down comes the rider headlong from his height: + His horse came after with unwieldy weight, + And, flound’ring forward, pitching on his head, + His lord’s encumber’d shoulder overlaid. + + From either host, the mingled shouts and cries + Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies. + Aeneas, hast’ning, wav’d his fatal sword + High o’er his head, with this reproachful word: + “Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain + Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?” + + Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies, + With scarce recover’d sight he thus replies: + “Why these insulting words, this waste of breath, + To souls undaunted, and secure of death? + ’Tis no dishonour for the brave to die, + Nor came I here with hope of victory; + Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design: + As I had us’d my fortune, use thou thine. + My dying son contracted no such band; + The gift is hateful from his murd’rer’s hand. + For this, this only favour let me sue, + If pity can to conquer’d foes be due: + Refuse it not; but let my body have + The last retreat of humankind, a grave. + Too well I know th’ insulting people’s hate; + Protect me from their vengeance after fate: + This refuge for my poor remains provide, + And lay my much-lov’d Lausus by my side.” + He said, and to the sword his throat applied. + The crimson stream distain’d his arms around, + And the disdainful soul came rushing thro’ the wound. + + + + BOOK XI + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Aeneas erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius, grants a truce + for burying the dead, and sends home the body of Pallas with + great solemnity. Latinus calls a council, to propose offers of + peace to Aeneas; which occasions great animosity betwixt Turnus + and Drances. In the mean time there is a sharp engagement of the + horse; wherein Camilla signalizes herself, is killed, and the + Latine troops are entirely defeated. + + + Scarce had the rosy Morning rais’d her head + Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed; + The pious chief, whom double cares attend + For his unburied soldiers and his friend, + Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: + He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs; + Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d, + Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d. + The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn, + Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, + Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar, + A trophy sacred to the God of War. + Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood, + Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood: + His brazen buckler on the left was seen; + Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between; + And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d; + And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword. + + A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man, + Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: + “Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success; + The greater part perform’d, achieve the less. + Now follow cheerful to the trembling town; + Press but an entrance, and presume it won. + Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, + As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice. + Turnus shall fall extended on the plain, + And, in this omen, is already slain. + Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance; + That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, + And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find + Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind. + Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare, + Due to your dead companions of the war: + The last respect the living can bestow, + To shield their shadows from contempt below. + That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought, + And which for us with their own blood they bought; + But first the corpse of our unhappy friend + To the sad city of Evander send, + Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom, + Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.” + + Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way, + Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay. + Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d + The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d + With equal faith, but less auspicious care. + Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share. + A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear, + And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. + Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry; + All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky. + They rear his drooping forehead from the ground; + But, when Aeneas view’d the grisly wound + Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore, + And the fair flesh distain’d with purple gore; + First, melting into tears, the pious man + Deplor’d so sad a sight, then thus began: + “Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest + Of my full wishes, she refus’d the best! + She came; but brought not thee along, to bless + My longing eyes, and share in my success: + She grudg’d thy safe return, the triumphs due + To prosp’rous valour, in the public view. + Not thus I promis’d, when thy father lent + Thy needless succour with a sad consent; + Embrac’d me, parting for th’ Etrurian land, + And sent me to possess a large command. + He warn’d, and from his own experience told, + Our foes were warlike, disciplin’d, and bold. + And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return, + Rich odors on his loaded altars burn, + While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare + To send him back his portion of the war, + A bloody breathless body, which can owe + No farther debt, but to the pow’rs below. + The wretched father, ere his race is run, + Shall view the fun’ral honours of his son. + These are my triumphs of the Latian war, + Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care! + And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see + A son whose death disgrac’d his ancestry; + Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev’d: + Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv’d. + He died no death to make thee wish, too late, + Thou hadst not liv’d to see his shameful fate: + But what a champion has th’ Ausonian coast, + And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!” + + Thus having mourn’d, he gave the word around, + To raise the breathless body from the ground; + And chose a thousand horse, the flow’r of all + His warlike troops, to wait the funeral, + To bear him back and share Evander’s grief: + A well-becoming, but a weak relief. + Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier, + Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear. + The body on this rural hearse is borne: + Strew’d leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn. + All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow’r, + New cropp’d by virgin hands, to dress the bow’r: + Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below, + No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe. + Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost, + Of purple woven, and with gold emboss’d, + For ornament the Trojan hero brought, + Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought. + One vest array’d the corpse; and one they spread + O’er his clos’d eyes, and wrapp’d around his head, + That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall, + The catching fire might burn the golden caul. + Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain, + When he descended on the Latian plain; + Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led + In long array—th’ achievements of the dead. + Then, pinion’d with their hands behind, appear + Th’ unhappy captives, marching in the rear, + Appointed off’rings in the victor’s name, + To sprinkle with their blood the fun’ral flame. + Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne; + Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn; + And fair inscriptions fix’d, and titles read + Of Latian leaders conquer’d by the dead. + + Acoetes on his pupil’s corpse attends, + With feeble steps, supported by his friends. + Pausing at ev’ry pace, in sorrow drown’d, + Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground; + Where grov’ling while he lies in deep despair, + He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair. + The champion’s chariot next is seen to roll, + Besmear’d with hostile blood, and honourably foul. + To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state, + Is led, the fun’rals of his lord to wait. + Stripp’d of his trappings, with a sullen pace + He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face. + The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest, + Are borne behind: the victor seiz’d the rest. + The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound; + The pikes and lances trail along the ground. + Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse + To Pallantean tow’rs direct their course, + In long procession rank’d, the pious chief + Stopp’d in the rear, and gave a vent to grief: + “The public care,” he said, “which war attends, + Diverts our present woes, at least suspends. + Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell! + Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!” + He said no more, but, inly thro’ he mourn’d, + Restrained his tears, and to the camp return’d. + + Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand + A truce, with olive branches in their hand; + Obtest his clemency, and from the plain + Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain. + They plead, that none those common rites deny + To conquer’d foes that in fair battle die. + All cause of hate was ended in their death; + Nor could he war with bodies void of breath. + A king, they hop’d, would hear a king’s request, + Whose son he once was call’d, and once his guest. + + Their suit, which was too just to be denied, + The hero grants, and farther thus replied: + “O Latian princes, how severe a fate + In causeless quarrels has involv’d your state, + And arm’d against an unoffending man, + Who sought your friendship ere the war began! + You beg a truce, which I would gladly give, + Not only for the slain, but those who live. + I came not hither but by Heav’n’s command, + And sent by fate to share the Latian land. + Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied + My proffer’d friendship, and my promis’d bride; + Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try + His cause in arms, to conquer or to die. + My right and his are in dispute: the slain + Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain. + In equal arms let us alone contend; + And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend. + This is the way (so tell him) to possess + The royal virgin, and restore the peace. + Bear this message back, with ample leave, + That your slain friends may fun’ral rites receive.” + + Thus having said—th’ embassadors, amaz’d, + Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz’d. + Drances, their chief, who harbour’d in his breast + Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess’d, + Broke silence first, and to the godlike man, + With graceful action bowing, thus began: + “Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name, + But yet whose actions far transcend your fame; + Would I your justice or your force express, + Thought can but equal; and all words are less. + Your answer we shall thankfully relate, + And favours granted to the Latian state. + If wish’d success our labour shall attend, + Think peace concluded, and the king your friend: + Let Turnus leave the realm to your command, + And seek alliance in some other land: + Build you the city which your fates assign; + We shall be proud in the great work to join.” + + Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade + The rest impower’d, that soon a truce is made. + Twelve days the term allow’d: and, during those, + Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes, + Mix’d in the woods, for fun’ral piles prepare + To fell the timber, and forget the war. + Loud axes thro’ the groaning groves resound; + Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground; + First fall from high; and some the trunks receive + In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave. + + And now the fatal news by Fame is blown + Thro’ the short circuit of th’ Arcadian town, + Of Pallas slain—by Fame, which just before + His triumphs on distended pinions bore. + Rushing from out the gate, the people stand, + Each with a fun’ral flambeau in his hand. + Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze: + The fields are lighten’d with a fiery blaze, + That cast a sullen splendour on their friends, + The marching troop which their dead prince attends. + Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry; + The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply, + And their mix’d mourning rends the vaulted sky. + The town is fill’d with tumult and with tears, + Till the loud clamours reach Evander’s ears: + Forgetful of his state, he runs along, + With a disorder’d pace, and cleaves the throng; + Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies, + With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes. + Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks + A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks: + + “O Pallas! thou hast fail’d thy plighted word, + To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword! + I warn’d thee, but in vain; for well I knew + What perils youthful ardour would pursue, + That boiling blood would carry thee too far, + Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war! + O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom, + Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come! + Hard elements of unauspicious war, + Vain vows to Heav’n, and unavailing care! + Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed, + Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled, + Prescious of ills, and leaving me behind, + To drink the dregs of life by fate assign’d! + Beyond the goal of nature I have gone: + My Pallas late set out, but reach’d too soon. + If, for my league against th’ Ausonian state, + Amidst their weapons I had found my fate, + (Deserv’d from them,) then I had been return’d + A breathless victor, and my son had mourn’d. + Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid, + Nor grudge th’ alliance I so gladly made. + ’Twas not his fault, my Pallas fell so young, + But my own crime, for having liv’d too long. + Yet, since the gods had destin’d him to die, + At least he led the way to victory: + First for his friends he won the fatal shore, + And sent whole herds of slaughter’d foes before; + A death too great, too glorious to deplore. + Nor will I add new honours to thy grave, + Content with those the Trojan hero gave: + That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design’d, + In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join’d. + Great spoils and trophies, gain’d by thee, they bear: + Then let thy own achievements be thy share. + Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood, + Whose mighty trunk had better grac’d the wood, + If Pallas had arriv’d, with equal length + Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength. + But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain + These troops, to view the tears thou shedd’st in vain? + Go, friends, this message to your lord relate: + Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate, + And, after Pallas’ death, live ling’ring on, + ’Tis to behold his vengeance for my son. + I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head + Is owing to the living and the dead. + My son and I expect it from his hand; + ’Tis all that he can give, or we demand. + Joy is no more; but I would gladly go, + To greet my Pallas with such news below.” + + The morn had now dispell’d the shades of night, + Restoring toils, when she restor’d the light. + The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command + To raise the piles along the winding strand. + Their friends convey the dead fun’ral fires; + Black smould’ring smoke from the green wood expires; + The light of heav’n is chok’d, and the new day retires. + Then thrice around the kindled piles they go + (For ancient custom had ordain’d it so) + Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led; + And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead. + Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground, + And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound. + Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw + The spoils, in battle taken from the foe: + Helms, bits emboss’d, and swords of shining steel; + One casts a target, one a chariot wheel; + Some to their fellows their own arms restore: + The falchions which in luckless fight they bore, + Their bucklers pierc’d, their darts bestow’d in vain, + And shiver’d lances gather’d from the plain. + Whole herds of offer’d bulls, about the fire, + And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire. + Around the piles a careful troop attends, + To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends; + Ling’ring along the shore, till dewy night + New decks the face of heav’n with starry light. + + The conquer’d Latians, with like pious care, + Piles without number for their dead prepare. + Part in the places where they fell are laid; + And part are to the neighb’ring fields convey’d. + The corps of kings, and captains of renown, + Borne off in state, are buried in the town; + The rest, unhonour’d, and without a name, + Are cast a common heap to feed the flame. + Trojans and Latians vie with like desires + To make the field of battle shine with fires, + And the promiscuous blaze to heav’n aspires. + + Now had the morning thrice renew’d the light, + And thrice dispell’d the shadows of the night, + When those who round the wasted fires remain, + Perform the last sad office to the slain. + They rake the yet warm ashes from below; + These, and the bones unburn’d, in earth bestow; + These relics with their country rites they grace, + And raise a mount of turf to mark the place. + + But, in the palace of the king, appears + A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears. + Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans; + Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons. + All in that universal sorrow share, + And curse the cause of this unhappy war: + A broken league, a bride unjustly sought, + A crown usurp’d, which with their blood is bought! + These are the crimes with which they load the name + Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim: + “Let him who lords it o’er th’ Ausonian land + Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand: + His is the gain; our lot is but to serve; + ’Tis just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve.” + This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite: + “His foe expects, and dares him to the fight.” + Nor Turnus wants a party, to support + His cause and credit in the Latian court. + His former acts secure his present fame, + And the queen shades him with her mighty name. + + While thus their factious minds with fury burn, + The legates from th’ Aetolian prince return: + Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost + And care employ’d, their embassy is lost; + That Diomedes refus’d his aid in war, + Unmov’d with presents, and as deaf to pray’r. + Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought, + Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought. + + Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late, + A foreign son is pointed out by fate; + And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed, + The wrath of Heav’n is hov’ring o’er his head. + The gods, he saw, espous’d the juster side, + When late their titles in the field were tried: + Witness the fresh laments, and fun’ral tears undried. + Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all + The Latian senate to the council hall. + The princes come, commanded by their head, + And crowd the paths that to the palace lead. + Supreme in pow’r, and reverenc’d for his years, + He takes the throne, and in the midst appears. + Majestically sad, he sits in state, + And bids his envoys their success relate. + + When Venulus began, the murmuring sound + Was hush’d, and sacred silence reign’d around. + “We have,” said he, “perform’d your high command, + And pass’d with peril a long tract of land: + We reach’d the place desir’d; with wonder fill’d, + The Grecian tents and rising tow’rs beheld. + Great Diomede has compass’d round with walls + The city, which Argyripa he calls, + From his own Argos nam’d. We touch’d, with joy, + The royal hand that raz’d unhappy Troy. + When introduc’d, our presents first we bring, + Then crave an instant audience from the king. + His leave obtain’d, our native soil we name, + And tell th’ important cause for which we came. + Attentively he heard us, while we spoke; + Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look, + Made this return: ‘Ausonian race, of old + Renown’d for peace, and for an age of gold, + What madness has your alter’d minds possess’d, + To change for war hereditary rest, + Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword, + A needless ill your ancestors abhorr’d? + We—for myself I speak, and all the name + Of Grecians, who to Troy’s destruction came, + (Omitting those who were in battle slain, + Or borne by rolling Simois to the main) + Not one but suffer’d, and too dearly bought + The prize of honour which in arms he sought; + Some doom’d to death, and some in exile driv’n. + Outcasts, abandon’d by the care of Heav’n; + So worn, so wretched, so despis’d a crew, + As ev’n old Priam might with pity view. + Witness the vessels by Minerva toss’d + In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast; + Th’ Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led + Our armies to revenge his injur’d bed, + In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men + Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops’ den. + Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain + Restor’d to scepters, and expell’d again? + Or young Achilles, by his rival slain? + Ev’n he, the King of Men, the foremost name + Of all the Greeks, and most renown’d by fame, + The proud revenger of another’s wife, + Yet by his own adult’ress lost his life; + Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy + The foul polluters of his bed enjoy. + The gods have envied me the sweets of life, + My much lov’d country, and my more lov’d wife: + Banish’d from both, I mourn; while in the sky, + Transform’d to birds, my lost companions fly: + Hov’ring about the coasts, they make their moan, + And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own. + What squalid spectres, in the dead of night, + Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight! + I might have promis’d to myself those harms, + Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms, + Presum’d against immortal pow’rs to move, + And violate with wounds the Queen of Love. + Such arms this hand shall never more employ; + No hate remains with me to ruin’d Troy. + I war not with its dust; nor am I glad + To think of past events, or good or bad. + Your presents I return: whate’er you bring + To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king. + We met in fight; I know him, to my cost: + With what a whirling force his lance he toss’d! + Heav’ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw! + How high he held his shield, and rose at ev’ry blow! + Had Troy produc’d two more his match in might, + They would have chang’d the fortune of the fight: + Th’ invasion of the Greeks had been return’d, + Our empire wasted, and our cities burn’d. + The long defence the Trojan people made, + The war protracted, and the siege delay’d, + Were due to Hector’s and this hero’s hand: + Both brave alike, and equal in command; + Aeneas, not inferior in the field, + In pious reverence to the gods excell’d. + Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care + Th’ impending dangers of a fatal war.’ + He said no more; but, with this cold excuse, + Refus’d th’ alliance, and advis’d a truce.” + + Thus Venulus concluded his report. + A jarring murmur fill’d the factious court: + As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force, + And dashes o’er the stones that stop the course, + The flood, constrain’d within a scanty space, + Roars horrible along th’ uneasy race; + White foam in gath’ring eddies floats around; + The rocky shores rebellow to the sound. + + The murmur ceas’d: then from his lofty throne + The king invok’d the gods, and thus begun: + “I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate + Had been resolv’d before it was too late. + Much better had it been for you and me, + Unforc’d by this our last necessity, + To have been earlier wise, than now to call + A council, when the foe surrounds the wall. + O citizens, we wage unequal war, + With men not only Heav’n’s peculiar care, + But Heav’n’s own race; unconquer’d in the field, + Or, conquer’d, yet unknowing how to yield. + What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down: + Our hopes must centre on ourselves alone. + Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain, + You see too well; nor need my words explain. + Vanquish’d without resource; laid flat by fate; + Factions within, a foe without the gate! + Not but I grant that all perform’d their parts + With manly force, and with undaunted hearts: + With our united strength the war we wag’d; + With equal numbers, equal arms, engag’d. + You see th’ event.—Now hear what I propose, + To save our friends, and satisfy our foes. + A tract of land the Latins have possess’d + Along the Tiber, stretching to the west, + Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, + And their mix’d cattle graze the fruitful hill. + Those mountains fill’d with firs, that lower land, + If you consent, the Trojan shall command, + Call’d into part of what is ours; and there, + On terms agreed, the common country share. + There let them build and settle, if they please; + Unless they choose once more to cross the seas, + In search of seats remote from Italy, + And from unwelcome inmates set us free. + Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed, + Or twice as many more, if more they need. + Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood + Runs equal with the margin of the flood: + Let them the number and the form assign; + The care and cost of all the stores be mine. + To treat the peace, a hundred senators + Shall be commission’d hence with ample pow’rs, + With olive the presents they shall bear, + A purple robe, a royal iv’ry chair, + And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear, + And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate + This great affair, and save the sinking state.” + + Then Drances took the word, who grudg’d, long since, + The rising glories of the Daunian prince. + Factious and rich, bold at the council board, + But cautious in the field, he shunn’d the sword; + A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord. + Noble his mother was, and near the throne; + But, what his father’s parentage, unknown. + He rose, and took th’ advantage of the times, + To load young Turnus with invidious crimes. + “Such truths, O king,” said he, “your words contain, + As strike the sense, and all replies are vain; + Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek + What common needs require, but fear to speak. + Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man, + Whose pride this unauspicious war began; + For whose ambition (let me dare to say, + Fear set apart, tho’ death is in my way) + The plains of Latium run with blood around. + So many valiant heroes bite the ground; + Dejected grief in ev’ry face appears; + A town in mourning, and a land in tears; + While he, th’ undoubted author of our harms, + The man who menaces the gods with arms, + Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight, + And sought his safety in ignoble flight. + Now, best of kings, since you propose to send + Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend; + Add yet a greater at our joint request, + One which he values more than all the rest: + Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride; + With that alliance let the league be tied, + And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide. + Let insolence no longer awe the throne; + But, with a father’s right, bestow your own. + For this maligner of the general good, + If still we fear his force, he must be woo’d; + His haughty godhead we with pray’rs implore, + Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore. + O cursed cause of all our ills, must we + Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee! + What right hast thou to rule the Latian state, + And send us out to meet our certain fate? + ’Tis a destructive war: from Turnus’ hand + Our peace and public safety we demand. + Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain; + If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain. + Turnus, I know you think me not your friend, + Nor will I much with your belief contend: + I beg your greatness not to give the law + In others’ realms, but, beaten, to withdraw. + Pity your own, or pity our estate; + Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate. + Your interest is, the war should never cease; + But we have felt enough to wish the peace: + A land exhausted to the last remains, + Depopulated towns, and driven plains. + Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow’r, + A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow’r, + So fire your mind, in arms assert your right, + And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight. + Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone; + We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne: + A base ignoble crowd, without a name, + Unwept, unworthy, of the fun’ral flame, + By duty bound to forfeit each his life, + That Turnus may possess a royal wife. + Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew + Should share such triumphs, and detain from you + The post of honour, your undoubted due. + Rather alone your matchless force employ, + To merit what alone you must enjoy.” + + These words, so full of malice mix’d with art, + Inflam’d with rage the youthful hero’s heart. + Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast, + He heav’d for wind, and thus his wrath express’d: + “You, Drances, never want a stream of words, + Then, when the public need requires our swords. + First in the council hall to steer the state, + And ever foremost in a tongue-debate, + While our strong walls secure us from the foe, + Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow: + But let the potent orator declaim, + And with the brand of coward blot my name; + Free leave is giv’n him, when his fatal hand + Has cover’d with more corps the sanguine strand, + And high as mine his tow’ring trophies stand. + If any doubt remains, who dares the most, + Let us decide it at the Trojan’s cost, + And issue both abreast, where honour calls— + (Foes are not far to seek without the walls) + Unless his noisy tongue can only fight, + And feet were giv’n him but to speed his flight. + I beaten from the field? I forc’d away? + Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say? + Had he but ev’n beheld the fight, his eyes + Had witness’d for me what his tongue denies: + What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain, + And how the bloody Tiber swell’d the main. + All saw, but he, th’ Arcadian troops retire + In scatter’d squadrons, and their prince expire. + The giant brothers, in their camp, have found, + I was not forc’d with ease to quit my ground. + Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos’d, + I singly their united arms oppos’d: + First forc’d an entrance thro’ their thick array; + Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way. + ’Tis a destructive war? So let it be, + But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee! + Meantime proceed to fill the people’s ears + With false reports, their minds with panic fears: + Extol the strength of a twice-conquer’d race; + Our foes encourage, and our friends debase. + Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town + Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o’erthrown; + Suppliant at Hector’s feet Achilles lies, + And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies. + Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread + Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head, + When the great Trojan on his bank appears; + For that’s as true as thy dissembled fears + Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity: + Thou, Drances, art below a death from me. + Let that vile soul in that vile body rest; + The lodging is well worthy of the guest. + + “Now, royal father, to the present state + Of our affairs, and of this high debate: + If in your arms thus early you diffide, + And think your fortune is already tried; + If one defeat has brought us down so low, + As never more in fields to meet the foe; + Then I conclude for peace: ’tis time to treat, + And lie like vassals at the victor’s feet. + But, O! if any ancient blood remains, + One drop of all our fathers’, in our veins, + That man would I prefer before the rest, + Who dar’d his death with an undaunted breast; + Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound, + To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw’d the ground. + But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, + If our confederates can afford us more; + If the contended field we bravely fought, + And not a bloodless victory was bought; + Their losses equal’d ours; and, for their slain, + With equal fires they fill’d the shining plain; + Why thus, unforc’d, should we so tamely yield, + And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field? + Good unexpected, evils unforeseen, + Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene: + Some, rais’d aloft, come tumbling down amain; + Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again. + If Diomede refuse his aid to lend, + The great Messapus yet remains our friend: + Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours; + Th’ Italian chiefs and princes join their pow’rs: + Nor least in number, nor in name the last, + Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac’d + Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon + Contains an army in herself alone, + And heads a squadron, terrible to sight, + With glitt’ring shields, in brazen armour bright. + Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, + And I alone the public peace withstand; + If you consent, he shall not be refus’d, + Nor find a hand to victory unus’d. + This new Achilles, let him take the field, + With fated armour, and Vulcanian shield! + For you, my royal father, and my fame, + I, Turnus, not the least of all my name, + Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand, + And I alone will answer his demand. + Drances shall rest secure, and neither share + The danger, nor divide the prize of war.” + + While they debate, nor these nor those will yield, + Aeneas draws his forces to the field, + And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed + Return, and thro’ the frighted city spread + Th’ unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried, + In battle marching by the river side, + And bending to the town. They take th’ alarm: + Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm. + Th’ impetuous youth press forward to the field; + They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield: + The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry; + Old feeble men with fainter groans reply; + A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky, + Like that of swans remurm’ring to the floods, + Or birds of diff’ring kinds in hollow woods. + + Turnus th’ occasion takes, and cries aloud: + “Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: + Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls, + And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls.” + He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace, + Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place: + “Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command + To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band. + Messapus and Catillus, post your force + Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse. + Some guard the passes, others man the wall; + Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call.” + + They swarm from ev’ry quarter of the town, + And with disorder’d haste the rampires crown. + Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late, + The gath’ring storm just breaking on the state, + Dismiss’d the council till a fitter time, + And own’d his easy temper as his crime, + Who, forc’d against his reason, had complied + To break the treaty for the promis’d bride. + + Some help to sink new trenches; others aid + To ram the stones, or raise the palisade. + Hoarse trumpets sound th’ alarm; around the walls + Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labour calls. + A sad procession in the streets is seen, + Of matrons, that attend the mother queen: + High in her chair she sits, and, at her side, + With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride. + They mount the cliff, where Pallas’ temple stands; + Pray’rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands, + With censers first they fume the sacred shrine, + Then in this common supplication join: + “O patroness of arms, unspotted maid, + Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid! + Break short the pirate’s lance; pronounce his fate, + And lay the Phrygian low before the gate.” + + Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast + Well-temper’d steel and scaly brass invest: + The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold + Are mingled metal damask’d o’er with gold. + His faithful falchion sits upon his side; + Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide: + But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends, + With godlike grace, he from the tow’r descends. + Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare + His absent rival, and to promise war. + Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins, + The wanton courser prances o’er the plains, + Or in the pride of youth o’erleaps the mounds, + And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds. + Or seeks his wat’ring in the well-known flood, + To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood: + He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain, + And o’er his shoulder flows his waving mane: + He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high; + Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly. + + Soon as the prince appears without the gate, + The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait + His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien, + Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen: + Her squadron imitates, and each descends; + Whose common suit Camilla thus commends: + “If sense of honour, if a soul secure + Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure, + Can promise aught, or on itself rely + Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die; + Then, I alone, sustain’d by these, will meet + The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat. + Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown: + You, gen’ral, stay behind, and guard the town.” + + Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise, + And on the fierce Virago fix’d his eyes; + Then thus return’d: “O grace of Italy, + With what becoming thanks can I reply? + Not only words lie lab’ring in my breast, + But thought itself is by thy praise oppress’d. + Yet rob me not of all; but let me join + My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine. + The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill’d, + Sends his light horse before to scour the field: + Himself, thro’ steep ascents and thorny brakes, + A larger compass to the city takes. + This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare + To foil his cunning, and his force to dare; + With chosen foot his passage to forelay, + And place an ambush in the winding way. + Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse; + The brave Messapus shall thy troops enforce + With those of Tibur, and the Latian band, + Subjected all to thy supreme command.” + This said, he warns Messapus to the war, + Then ev’ry chief exhorts with equal care. + All thus encourag’d, his own troops he joins, + And hastes to prosecute his deep designs. + + Inclos’d with hills, a winding valley lies, + By nature form’d for fraud, and fitted for surprise. + A narrow track, by human steps untrode, + Leads, thro’ perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode. + High o’er the vale a steepy mountain stands, + Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands. + The top is level, an offensive seat + Of war; and from the war a safe retreat: + For, on the right and left, is room to press + The foes at hand, or from afar distress; + To drive ’em headlong downward, and to pour + On their descending backs a stony show’r. + Thither young Turnus took the well-known way, + Possess’d the pass, and in blind ambush lay. + + Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies, + Beheld th’ approaching war with hateful eyes, + And call’d the light-foot Opis to her aid, + Her most belov’d and ever-trusty maid; + Then with a sigh began: “Camilla goes + To meet her death amidst her fatal foes: + The nymphs I lov’d of all my mortal train, + Invested with Diana’s arms, in vain. + Nor is my kindness for the virgin new: + ’Twas born with her; and with her years it grew. + Her father Metabus, when forc’d away + From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway, + Snatch’d up, and sav’d from his prevailing foes, + This tender babe, companion of his woes. + Casmilla was her mother; but he drown’d + One hissing letter in a softer sound, + And call’d Camilla. Thro’ the woods he flies; + Wrapp’d in his robe the royal infant lies. + His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace; + With shout and clamours they pursue the chase. + The banks of Amasene at length he gains: + + The raging flood his farther flight restrains, + Rais’d o’er the borders with unusual rains. + Prepar’d to plunge into the stream, he fears, + Not for himself, but for the charge he bears. + Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste; + Then, desp’rate in distress, resolves at last. + A knotty lance of well-boil’d oak he bore; + The middle part with cork he cover’d o’er: + He clos’d the child within the hollow space; + With twigs of bending osier bound the case; + Then pois’d the spear, heavy with human weight, + And thus invok’d my favour for the freight: + ‘Accept, great goddess of the woods,’ he said, + ‘Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid! + Thro’ air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine; + And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.’ + He said; and with full force the spear he threw: + Above the sounding waves Camilla flew. + Then, press’d by foes, he stemm’d the stormy tide, + And gain’d, by stress of arms, the farther side. + His fasten’d spear he pull’d from out the ground, + And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound; + Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose, + Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes; + But, rough, in open air he chose to lie; + Earth was his couch, his cov’ring was the sky. + On hills unshorn, or in a desert den, + He shunn’d the dire society of men. + A shepherd’s solitary life he led; + His daughter with the milk of mares he fed. + The dugs of bears, and ev’ry salvage beast, + He drew, and thro’ her lips the liquor press’d. + The little Amazon could scarcely go: + He loads her with a quiver and a bow; + And, that she might her stagg’ring steps command, + He with a slender jav’lin fills her hand. + Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound; + Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground. + Instead of these, a tiger’s hide o’erspread + Her back and shoulders, fasten’d to her head. + The flying dart she first attempts to fling, + And round her tender temples toss’d the sling; + Then, as her strength with years increas’d, began + To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan, + And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane. + The Tuscan matrons with each other vied, + To bless their rival sons with such a bride; + But she disdains their love, to share with me + The sylvan shades and vow’d virginity. + And, O! I wish, contented with my cares + Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars! + Then had she been of my celestial train, + And shunn’d the fate that dooms her to be slain. + But since, opposing Heav’n’s decree, she goes + To find her death among forbidden foes, + Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight. + Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight. + This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath, + This chosen arrow, to revenge her death: + By whate’er hand Camilla shall be slain, + Or of the Trojan or Italian train, + Let him not pass unpunish’d from the plain. + Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid + To bear the breathless body of my maid: + Unspoil’d shall be her arms, and unprofan’d + Her holy limbs with any human hand, + And in a marble tomb laid in her native land.” + + She said. The faithful nymph descends from high + With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky: + Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly. + + By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse, + Drawn up in squadrons, with united force, + Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound, + Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground. + Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far; + And the fields glitter with a waving war. + Oppos’d to these, come on with furious force + Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse; + These in the body plac’d, on either hand + Sustain’d and clos’d by fair Camilla’s band. + Advancing in a line, they couch their spears; + And less and less the middle space appears. + Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen + The neighing coursers, and the shouting men. + In distance of their darts they stop their course; + Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse. + The face of heav’n their flying jav’lins hide, + And deaths unseen are dealt on either side. + Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear, + By mettled coursers borne in full career, + Meet first oppos’d; and, with a mighty shock, + Their horses’ heads against each other knock. + Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast, + As with an engine’s force, or lightning’s blast: + He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last. + The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright, + And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight + Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew; + Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue, + And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase; + Till, seiz’d, with shame, they wheel about and face, + Receive their foes, and raise a threat’ning cry. + The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly. + So swelling surges, with a thund’ring roar, + Driv’n on each other’s backs, insult the shore, + Bound o’er the rocks, incroach upon the land, + And far upon the beach eject the sand; + Then backward, with a swing, they take their way, + Repuls’d from upper ground, and seek their mother sea; + With equal hurry quit th’ invaded shore, + And swallow back the sand and stones they spew’d before. + + Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field, + Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell’d. + Asham’d at length, to the third charge they ran; + Both hosts resolv’d, and mingled man to man. + Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow’d + With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood. + Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie: + Confus’d the fight, and more confus’d the cry. + Orsilochus, who durst not press too near + Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear, + And stuck the steel beneath his horse’s ear. + The fiery steed, impatient of the wound, + Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound, + His helpless lord cast backward on the ground. + Catillus pierc’d Iolas first; then drew + His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw, + The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew. + His neck and throat unarm’d, his head was bare, + But shaded with a length of yellow hair: + Secure, he fought, expos’d on ev’ry part, + A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart. + Across the shoulders came the feather’d wound; + Transfix’d he fell, and doubled to the ground. + The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed, + And death with honour sought on either side. + + Resistless thro’ the war Camilla rode, + In danger unappall’d, and pleas’d with blood. + One side was bare for her exerted breast; + One shoulder with her painted quiver press’d. + Now from afar her fatal jav’lins play; + Now with her ax’s edge she hews her way: + Diana’s arms upon her shoulder sound; + And when, too closely press’d, she quits the ground, + From her bent bow she sends a backward wound. + Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side, + Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride: + Italians all; in peace, their queen’s delight; + In war, the bold companions of the fight. + So march’d the Thracian Amazons of old, + When Thermodon with bloody billows roll’d: + Such troops as these in shining arms were seen, + When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen: + Such to the field Penthesilea led, + From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled; + With such, return’d triumphant from the war, + Her maids with cries attend the lofty car; + They clash with manly force their moony shields; + With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields. + + Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid, + On the cold earth were by thy courage laid? + Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first, + With fury driv’n, from side to side transpierc’d: + A purple stream came spouting from the wound; + Bath’d in his blood he lies, and bites the ground. + Liris and Pegasus at once she slew: + The former, as the slacken’d reins he drew + Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch’d + His arm to prop his friend, the jav’lin reach’d. + By the same weapon, sent from the same hand, + Both fall together, and both spurn the sand. + Amastrus next is added to the slain: + The rest in rout she follows o’er the plain: + Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon, + And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun. + Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost; + Each was attended with a Trojan ghost. + Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed, + Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed. + Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown: + O’er his broad back an ox’s hide was thrown; + His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread + A cov’ring for his cheeks, and grinn’d around his head, + He clench’d within his hand an iron prong, + And tower’d above the rest, conspicuous in the throng. + Him soon she singled from the flying train, + And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain: + “Vain hunter, didst thou think thro’ woods to chase + The savage herd, a vile and trembling race? + Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory: + A woman warrior was too strong for thee. + Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu’ror’s name, + Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame.” + Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew, + The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew; + But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends + Above the gorget, where his helmet ends, + And o’er the shield which his left side defends. + Orsilochus and she their courses ply: + He seems to follow, and she seems to fly; + But in a narrower ring she makes the race; + And then he flies, and she pursues the chase. + Gath’ring at length on her deluded foe, + She swings her ax, and rises to the blow + Full on the helm behind, with such a sway + The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way: + He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace; + Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face. + + Astonish’d Aunus just arrives by chance, + To see his fall; nor farther dares advance; + But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye, + He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly; + Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat, + (At least while fortune favour’d his deceit,) + Cries out aloud: “What courage have you shown, + Who trust your courser’s strength, and not your own? + Forego the vantage of your horse, alight, + And then on equal terms begin the fight: + It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can, + When, foot to foot, you combat with a man,” + He said. She glows with anger and disdain, + Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain, + And leaves her horse at large among her train; + With her drawn sword defies him to the field, + And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield. + The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed, + Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed; + Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides + The goring rowels in his bleeding sides. + “Vain fool, and coward!” cries the lofty maid, + “Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid! + On others practice thy Ligurian arts; + Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts + Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire, + With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire.” + At this, so fast her flying feet she sped, + That soon she strain’d beyond his horse’s head: + Then turning short, at once she seiz’d the rein, + And laid the boaster grov’ling on the plain. + Not with more ease the falcon, from above, + Trusses in middle air the trembling dove, + Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound: + The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground. + + Now mighty Jove, from his superior height, + With his broad eye surveys th’ unequal fight. + He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain, + And sends him to redeem th’ abandon’d plain. + Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides, + And these encourages, and those he chides; + Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight; + Renews their ardour, and restores the fight. + “What panic fear has seiz’d your souls? O shame, + O brand perpetual of th’ Etrurian name! + Cowards incurable, a woman’s hand + Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band! + Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield! + What use of weapons which you dare not wield? + Not thus you fly your female foes by night, + Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite; + When to fat off’rings the glad augur calls, + And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals. + These are your studied cares, your lewd delight: + Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight.” + Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes, + Not managing the life he meant to lose. + The first he found he seiz’d with headlong haste, + In his strong gripe, and clasp’d around the waist; + ’Twas Venulus, whom from his horse he tore, + And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore. + Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes, + And view th’ unusual sight with vast surprise. + The fiery Tarchon, flying o’er the plains, + Press’d in his arms the pond’rous prey sustains; + Then, with his shorten’d spear, explores around + His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound. + Nor less the captive struggles for his life: + He writhes his body to prolong the strife, + And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts + His utmost vigour, and the point averts. + So stoops the yellow eagle from on high, + And bears a speckled serpent thro’ the sky, + Fast’ning his crooked talons on the prey: + The pris’ner hisses thro’ the liquid way; + Resists the royal hawk; and, tho’ oppress’d, + She fights in volumes, and erects her crest: + Turn’d to her foe, she stiffens ev’ry scale, + And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat’ning tail. + Against the victor, all defence is weak: + Th’ imperial bird still plies her with his beak; + He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores; + Then claps his pinions, and securely soars. + Thus, thro’ the midst of circling enemies, + Strong Tarchon snatch’d and bore away his prize. + The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press + The Latins, and presume the like success. + + Then Aruns, doom’d to death, his arts assay’d, + To murder, unespied, the Volscian maid: + This way and that his winding course he bends, + And, whereso’er she turns, her steps attends. + When she retires victorious from the chase, + He wheels about with care, and shifts his place; + When, rushing on, she seeks her foes in fight, + He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight: + He threats, and trembles, trying ev’ry way, + Unseen to kill, and safely to betray. + Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far, + Glitt’ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war, + Was by the virgin view’d. The steed he press’d + Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest + With scales of gilded brass was cover’d o’er; + A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore. + With deadly wounds he gall’d the distant foe; + Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow: + A golden helm his front and head surrounds + A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds. + Gold, weav’d with linen, on his thighs he wore, + With flowers of needlework distinguish’d o’er, + With golden buckles bound, and gather’d up before. + Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes, + Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize, + Or that the temple might his trophies hold, + Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold. + Blind in her haste, she chases him alone. + And seeks his life, regardless of her own. + + This lucky moment the sly traitor chose: + Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose, + And threw, but first to Heav’n address’d his vows: + “O patron of Socrates’ high abodes, + Phoebus, the ruling pow’r among the gods, + Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine + Are fell’d for thee, and to thy glory shine; + By thee protected with our naked soles, + Thro’ flames unsing’d we march, and tread the kindled coals + Give me, propitious pow’r, to wash away + The stains of this dishonourable day: + Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim, + But with my future actions trust my fame. + Let me, by stealth, this female plague o’ercome, + And from the field return inglorious home.” + Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray’r, + Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss’d in empty air. + He gives the death desir’d; his safe return + By southern tempests to the seas is borne. + + Now, when the jav’lin whizz’d along the skies, + Both armies on Camilla turn’d their eyes, + Directed by the sound. Of either host, + Th’ unhappy virgin, tho’ concern’d the most, + Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent + On golden spoils, and on her prey intent; + Till in her pap the winged weapon stood + Infix’d, and deeply drunk the purple blood. + Her sad attendants hasten to sustain + Their dying lady, drooping on the plain. + Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies, + With beating heart, and fear confus’d with joys; + Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow, + Or ev’n to bear the sight of his expiring foe. + As, when the wolf has torn a bullock’s hide + At unawares, or ranch’d a shepherd’s side, + Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies, + And claps his quiv’ring tail between his thighs: + So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends, + But, spurring forward, herds among his friends. + + She wrench’d the jav’lin with her dying hands, + But wedg’d within her breast the weapon stands; + The wood she draws, the steely point remains; + She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains: + (A gath’ring mist o’erclouds her cheerful eyes, + And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies:) + Then turns to her, whom of her female train + She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain: + “Acca, ’tis past! he swims before my sight, + Inexorable Death; and claims his right. + Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed, + And bid him timely to my charge succeed, + Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve: + Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive.” + She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain: + Dying, her open’d hand forsakes the rein; + Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees + Her mind the passage from her body frees. + She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest, + Her drooping head declining on her breast: + In the last sigh her struggling soul expires, + And, murm’ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires. + + A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued; + Despair and rage the languish’d fight renew’d. + The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line, + Advance to charge; the mix’d Arcadians join. + + But Cynthia’s maid, high seated, from afar + Surveys the field, and fortune of the war, + Unmov’d a while, till, prostrate on the plain, + Welt’ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain, + And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train. + Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew + A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue: + “Too dear a fine, ah, much lamented maid, + For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid! + Nor aught avail’d, in this unhappy strife, + Diana’s sacred arms, to save thy life. + Yet unreveng’d thy goddess will not leave + Her vot’ry’s death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve. + Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr’d; + But after ages shall thy praise record. + Th’ inglorious coward soon shall press the plain: + Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain.” + + High o’er the field there stood a hilly mound, + Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around, + Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay, + A king that once in Latium bore the sway. + The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight, + To mark the traitor Aruns from the height. + Him in refulgent arms she soon espied, + Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried: + “Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late; + Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate. + Charg’d with my message, to Camilla go, + And say I sent thee to the shades below, + An honour undeserv’d from Cynthia’s bow.” + + She said, and from her quiver chose with speed + The winged shaft, predestin’d for the deed; + Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied, + Till the far distant horns approach’d on either side. + The bowstring touch’d her breast, so strong she drew; + Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew. + At once the twanging bow and sounding dart + The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart. + Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death, + His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath. + The conqu’ring damsel, with expanded wings, + The welcome message to her mistress brings. + + Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field, + And, unsustain’d, the chiefs of Turnus yield. + The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly, + More on their speed than on their strength rely. + Confus’d in flight, they bear each other down, + And spur their horses headlong to the town. + Driv’n by their foes, and to their fears resign’d, + Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind. + These drop the shield, and those the lance forego, + Or on their shoulders bear the slacken’d bow. + The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound, + Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground. + Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky, + And o’er the darken’d walls and rampires fly. + The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands, + Rend heav’n with female shrieks, and wring their hands. + All pressing on, pursuers and pursued, + Are crush’d in crowds, a mingled multitude. + Some happy few escape: the throng too late + Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate. + Ev’n in the sight of home, the wretched sire + Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire. + Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close, + But leave their friends excluded with their foes. + The vanquish’d cry; the victors loudly shout; + ’Tis terror all within, and slaughter all without. + Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall, + Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall. + + The Latian virgins, valiant with despair, + Arm’d on the tow’rs, the common danger share: + So much of zeal their country’s cause inspir’d; + So much Camilla’s great example fir’d. + Poles, sharpen’d in the flames, from high they throw, + With imitated darts, to gall the foe. + Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath, + And crowd each other to be first in death. + Meantime to Turnus, ambush’d in the shade, + With heavy tidings came th’ unhappy maid: + “The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill’d; + The foes, entirely masters of the field, + Like a resistless flood, come rolling on: + The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town.” + + Inflam’d with rage, (for so the Furies fire + The Daunian’s breast, and so the Fates require,) + He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain + Possess’d, and downward issues on the plain. + Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed + From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed. + Thro’ the black forest and the ferny brake, + Unknowingly secure, their way they take; + From the rough mountains to the plain descend, + And there, in order drawn, their line extend. + Both armies now in open fields are seen; + Nor far the distance of the space between. + Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees, + Thro’ smoking fields, his hast’ning enemies; + And Turnus views the Trojans in array, + And hears th’ approaching horses proudly neigh. + Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join’d; + But westward to the sea the sun declin’d. + Intrench’d before the town both armies lie, + While night with sable wings involves the sky. + + + + BOOK XII + + THE ARGUMENT. + + + Turnus challenges Aeneas to a single combat: articles are agreed + on, but broken by the Rutuli, who wound Aeneas. He is + miraculously cured by Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and + concludes the poem with his death. + + + When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field, + Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d, + Himself become the mark of public spite, + His honour question’d for the promis’d fight; + The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, + The more his fury boil’d within his breast: + He rous’d his vigour for the last debate, + And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate. + + As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase, + He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; + But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side, + The lordly beast returns with double pride: + He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain; + His sides he lashes, and erects his mane: + So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, + Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire. + + Trembling with rage, around the court he ran, + At length approach’d the king, and thus began: + “No more excuses or delays: I stand + In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, + This base deserter of his native land. + The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take + The same conditions which himself did make. + Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare, + And to my single virtue trust the war. + The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight; + This arm unaided shall assert your right: + Then, if my prostrate body press the plain, + To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.” + + To whom the king sedately thus replied: + “Brave youth, the more your valour has been tried, + The more becomes it us, with due respect, + To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect. + You want not wealth, or a successive throne, + Or cities which your arms have made your own: + My towns and treasures are at your command, + And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land; + Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees, + Unmarried, fair, of noble families. + Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, + Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear, + But sound advice, proceeding from a heart + Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art. + The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown, + No prince Italian born should heir my throne: + Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d, + And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d. + Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood, + Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood, + Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, + I promis’d my Lavinia for your bride: + Her from her plighted lord by force I took; + All ties of treaties, and of honour, broke: + On your account I wag’d an impious war— + With what success, ’tis needless to declare; + I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share. + Twice vanquish’d while in bloody fields we strive, + Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive: + The rolling flood runs warm with human gore; + The bones of Latians blanch the neighb’ring shore. + Why put I not an end to this debate, + Still unresolv’d, and still a slave to fate? + If Turnus’ death a lasting peace can give, + Why should I not procure it whilst you live? + Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray, + What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say? + And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav’n defend!) + How curse the cause which hasten’d to his end + The daughter’s lover and the father’s friend? + Weigh in your mind the various chance of war; + Pity your parent’s age, and ease his care.” + + Such balmy words he pour’d, but all in vain: + The proffer’d med’cine but provok’d the pain. + The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief, + With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief: + “The care, O best of fathers, which you take + For my concerns, at my desire forsake. + Permit me not to languish out my days, + But make the best exchange of life for praise. + This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize; + And the blood follows, where the weapon flies. + His goddess mother is not near, to shroud + The flying coward with an empty cloud.” + + But now the queen, who fear’d for Turnus’ life, + And loath’d the hard conditions of the strife, + Held him by force; and, dying in his death, + In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath: + “O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears, + And whate’er price Amata’s honour bears + Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope, + My sickly mind’s repose, my sinking age’s prop; + Since on the safety of thy life alone + Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne: + Refuse me not this one, this only pray’r, + To waive the combat, and pursue the war. + Whatever chance attends this fatal strife, + Think it includes, in thine, Amata’s life. + I cannot live a slave, or see my throne + Usurp’d by strangers or a Trojan son.” + + At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed; + A crimson blush her beauteous face o’erspread, + Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red. + The driving colours, never at a stay, + Run here and there, and flush, and fade away. + Delightful change! Thus Indian iv’ry shows, + Which with the bord’ring paint of purple glows; + Or lilies damask’d by the neighb’ring rose. + + The lover gaz’d, and, burning with desire, + The more he look’d, the more he fed the fire: + Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite, + Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight. + Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes, + Firm to his first intent, he thus replies: + “O mother, do not by your tears prepare + Such boding omens, and prejudge the war. + Resolv’d on fight, I am no longer free + To shun my death, if Heav’n my death decree.” + Then turning to the herald, thus pursues: + “Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news; + Denounce from me, that, when tomorrow’s light + Shall gild the heav’ns, he need not urge the fight; + The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more + Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore: + Our single swords the quarrel shall decide, + And to the victor be the beauteous bride.” + + He said, and striding on, with speedy pace, + He sought his coursers of the Thracian race. + At his approach they toss their heads on high, + And, proudly neighing, promise victory. + The sires of these Orythia sent from far, + To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war. + The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white, + Nor northern winds in fleetness match’d their flight. + Officious grooms stand ready by his side; + And some with combs their flowing manes divide, + And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride. + + He sheath’d his limbs in arms; a temper’d mass + Of golden metal those, and mountain brass. + Then to his head his glitt’ring helm he tied, + And girt his faithful falchion to his side. + In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire + That falchion labour’d for the hero’s sire; + Immortal keenness on the blade bestow’d, + And plung’d it hissing in the Stygian flood. + Propp’d on a pillar, which the ceiling bore, + Was plac’d the lance Auruncan Actor wore; + Which with such force he brandish’d in his hand, + The tough ash trembled like an osier wand: + Then cried: “O pond’rous spoil of Actor slain, + And never yet by Turnus toss’d in vain, + Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go, + Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe! + Give me to tear his corslet from his breast, + And from that eunuch head to rend the crest; + Dragg’d in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil, + Hot from the vexing ir’n, and smear’d with fragrant oil!” + + Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies + A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes. + So fares the bull in his lov’d female’s sight: + Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight; + He tries his goring horns against a tree, + And meditates his absent enemy; + He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand + With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand. + + Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms, + To future fight his manly courage warms: + He whets his fury, and with joy prepares + To terminate at once the ling’ring wars; + To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates + What Heav’n had promis’d, and expounds the fates. + Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease + The rage of arms, and ratify the peace. + + The morn ensuing, from the mountain’s height, + Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light; + Th’ ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea, + From out their flaming nostrils breath’d the day; + When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard, + In friendly labour join’d, the list prepar’d. + Beneath the walls they measure out the space; + Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass, + Where, with religious rites their common gods they place. + In purest white the priests their heads attire; + And living waters bear, and holy fire; + And, o’er their linen hoods and shaded hair, + Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear. + + In order issuing from the town appears + The Latin legion, arm’d with pointed spears; + And from the fields, advancing on a line, + The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join: + Their various arms afford a pleasing sight; + A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar’d for fight. + Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride, + Glitt’ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed; + Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line, + And there Messapus, born of seed divine. + The sign is giv’n; and, round the listed space, + Each man in order fills his proper place. + Reclining on their ample shields, they stand, + And fix their pointed lances in the sand. + Now, studious of the sight, a num’rous throng + Of either sex promiscuous, old and young, + Swarm the town: by those who rest behind, + The gates and walls and houses’ tops are lin’d. + Meantime the Queen of Heav’n beheld the sight, + With eyes unpleas’d, from Mount Albano’s height + (Since call’d Albano by succeeding fame, + But then an empty hill, without a name). + She thence survey’d the field, the Trojan pow’rs, + The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow’rs. + Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke, + With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake, + King Turnus’ sister, once a lovely maid, + Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray’d: + Compress’d by force, but, by the grateful god, + Now made the Nais of the neighb’ring flood. + “O nymph, the pride of living lakes,” said she, + “O most renown’d, and most belov’d by me, + Long hast thou known, nor need I to record, + The wanton sallies of my wand’ring lord. + Of ev’ry Latian fair whom Jove misled + To mount by stealth my violated bed, + To thee alone I grudg’d not his embrace, + But gave a part of heav’n, and an unenvied place. + Now learn from me thy near approaching grief, + Nor think my wishes want to thy relief. + While fortune favour’d, nor Heav’n’s King denied + To lend my succour to the Latian side, + I sav’d thy brother, and the sinking state: + But now he struggles with unequal fate, + And goes, with gods averse, o’ermatch’d in might, + To meet inevitable death in fight; + Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight. + Thou, if thou dar’st thy present aid supply; + It well becomes a sister’s care to try.” + + At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress’d, + Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast. + To whom Saturnia thus: “Thy tears are late: + Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch’d from fate: + New tumults kindle; violate the truce: + Who knows what changeful fortune may produce? + ’Tis not a crime t’ attempt what I decree; + Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me.” + She said, and, sailing on the winged wind, + Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind. + + And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear: + Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear; + Twelve golden beams around his temples play, + To mark his lineage from the God of Day. + Two snowy coursers Turnus’ chariot yoke, + And in his hand two massy spears he shook: + Then issued from the camp, in arms divine, + Aeneas, author of the Roman line; + And by his side Ascanius took his place, + The second hope of Rome’s immortal race. + Adorn’d in white, a rev’rend priest appears, + And off’rings to the flaming altars bears; + A porket, and a lamb that never suffer’d shears. + Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes, + And strews the beasts, design’d for sacrifice, + With salt and meal: with like officious care + He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair. + Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds; + With the same gen’rous juice the flame he feeds. + + Aeneas then unsheath’d his shining sword, + And thus with pious pray’rs the gods ador’d: + “All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil, + For which I have sustain’d so long a toil, + Thou, King of Heav’n, and thou, the Queen of Air, + Propitious now, and reconcil’d by pray’r; + Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway + The labours and events of arms obey; + Ye living fountains, and ye running floods, + All pow’rs of ocean, all ethereal gods, + Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field, + Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield, + My Trojans shall encrease Evander’s town; + Ascanius shall renounce th’ Ausonian crown: + All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease; + Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace. + But, if my juster arms prevail in fight, + (As sure they shall, if I divine aright,) + My Trojans shall not o’er th’ Italians reign: + Both equal, both unconquer’d shall remain, + Join’d in their laws, their lands, and their abodes; + I ask but altars for my weary gods. + The care of those religious rites be mine; + The crown to King Latinus I resign: + His be the sov’reign sway. Nor will I share + His pow’r in peace, or his command in war. + For me, my friends another town shall frame, + And bless the rising tow’rs with fair Lavinia’s name.” + + Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands, + The Latian king before his altar stands. + “By the same heav’n,” said he, “and earth, and main, + And all the pow’rs that all the three contain; + By hell below, and by that upper god + Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod; + So let Latona’s double offspring hear, + And double-fronted Janus, what I swear: + I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames, + And all those pow’rs attest, and all their names; + Whatever chance befall on either side, + No term of time this union shall divide: + No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind, + Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind; + Not tho’ the circling seas should break their bound, + O’erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground; + Not tho’ the lamps of heav’n their spheres forsake, + Hurl’d down, and hissing in the nether lake: + Ev’n as this royal scepter” (for he bore + A scepter in his hand) “shall never more + Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth: + An orphan now, cut from the mother earth + By the keen ax, dishonour’d of its hair, + And cas’d in brass, for Latian kings to bear.” + + When thus in public view the peace was tied + With solemn vows, and sworn on either side, + All dues perform’d which holy rites require; + The victim beasts are slain before the fire, + The trembling entrails from their bodies torn, + And to the fatten’d flames in chargers borne. + + Already the Rutulians deem their man + O’ermatch’d in arms, before the fight began. + First rising fears are whisper’d thro’ the crowd; + Then, gath’ring sound, they murmur more aloud. + Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes + The champions’ bulk, their sinews, and their size: + The nearer they approach, the more is known + Th’ apparent disadvantage of their own. + Turnus himself appears in public sight + Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight. + Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands + With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands; + And, while he mutters undistinguish’d pray’rs, + A livid deadness in his cheeks appears. + + With anxious pleasure when Juturna view’d + Th’ increasing fright of the mad multitude, + When their short sighs and thick’ning sobs she heard, + And found their ready minds for change prepar’d; + Dissembling her immortal form, she took + Camertus’ mien, his habit, and his look; + A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known + Was his great sire, and he his greater son. + His shape assum’d, amid the ranks she ran, + And humoring their first motions, thus began: + “For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight + Of one expos’d for all, in single fight? + Can we, before the face of heav’n, confess + Our courage colder, or our numbers less? + View all the Trojan host, th’ Arcadian band, + And Tuscan army; count ’em as they stand: + Undaunted to the battle if we go, + Scarce ev’ry second man will share a foe. + Turnus, ’tis true, in this unequal strife, + Shall lose, with honour, his devoted life, + Or change it rather for immortal fame, + Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came: + But you, a servile and inglorious band, + For foreign lords shall sow your native land, + Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain’d, + Which have so long their lazy sons sustain’d.” + With words like these, she carried her design: + A rising murmur runs along the line. + Then ev’n the city troops, and Latians, tir’d + With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir’d: + Their champion’s fate with pity they lament, + And of the league, so lately sworn, repent. + + Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage + With lying wonders, and a false presage; + But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes, + Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise. + For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, + Appears in pomp th’ imperial bird of Jove: + A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, + And o’er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; + Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, + In his strong talons truss’d a silver swan. + Th’ Italians wonder at th’ unusual sight; + But, while he lags, and labours in his flight, + Behold, the dastard fowl return anew, + And with united force the foe pursue: + Clam’rous around the royal hawk they fly, + And, thick’ning in a cloud, o’ershade the sky. + They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course; + Nor can th’ incumber’d bird sustain their force; + But vex’d, not vanquish’d, drops the pond’rous prey, + And, lighten’d of his burthen, wings his way. + + Th’ Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight, + Eager of action, and demand the fight. + Then King Tolumnius, vers’d in augurs’ arts, + Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts: + “At length ’tis granted, what I long desir’d! + This, this is what my frequent vows requir’d. + Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey. + Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way. + These are the foreign foes, whose impious band, + Like that rapacious bird, infest our land: + But soon, like him, they shall be forc’d to sea + By strength united, and forego the prey. + Your timely succour to your country bring, + Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king.” + + He said; and, pressing onward thro’ the crew, + Pois’d in his lifted arm, his lance he threw. + The winged weapon, whistling in the wind, + Came driving on, nor miss’d the mark design’d. + At once the cornel rattled in the skies; + At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise. + Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood, + Born of Arcadian mix’d with Tuscan blood, + Gylippus’ sons: the fatal jav’lin flew, + Aim’d at the midmost of the friendly crew. + A passage thro’ the jointed arms it found, + Just where the belt was to the body bound, + And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground. + Then, fir’d with pious rage, the gen’rous train + Run madly forward to revenge the slain. + And some with eager haste their jav’lins throw; + And some with sword in hand assault the foe. + + The wish’d insult the Latine troops embrace, + And meet their ardour in the middle space. + The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line, + With equal courage obviate their design. + Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate + Both armies urges to their mutual fate. + With impious haste their altars are o’erturn’d, + The sacrifice half-broil’d, and half-unburn’d. + Thick storms of steel from either army fly, + And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky; + Brands from the fire are missive weapons made, + With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade. + Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray, + And bears his unregarded gods away. + These on their horses vault; those yoke the car; + The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war. + + Messapus, eager to confound the peace, + Spurr’d his hot courser thro’ the fighting press, + At King Aulestes, by his purple known + A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown; + And, with a shock encount’ring, bore him down. + Backward he fell; and, as his fate design’d, + The ruins of an altar were behind: + There, pitching on his shoulders and his head, + Amid the scatt’ring fires he lay supinely spread. + The beamy spear, descending from above, + His cuirass pierc’d, and thro’ his body drove. + Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries: + “The gods have found a fitter sacrifice.” + Greedy of spoils, th’ Italians strip the dead + Of his rich armour, and uncrown his head. + + Priest Corynaeus, arm’d his better hand, + From his own altar, with a blazing brand; + And, as Ebusus with a thund’ring pace + Advanc’d to battle, dash’d it on his face: + His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires; + The crackling crop a noisome scent expires. + Following the blow, he seiz’d his curling crown + With his left hand; his other cast him down. + The prostrate body with his knees he press’d, + And plung’d his holy poniard in his breast. + + While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued + The shepherd Alsus thro’ the flying crowd, + Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow + Full on the front of his unwary foe. + The broad ax enters with a crashing sound, + And cleaves the chin with one continued wound; + Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around + An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress’d, + And seal’d their heavy lids in endless rest. + + But good Aeneas rush’d amid the bands; + Bare was his head, and naked were his hands, + In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud: + “What sudden rage, what new desire of blood, + Inflames your alter’d minds? O Trojans, cease + From impious arms, nor violate the peace! + By human sanctions, and by laws divine, + The terms are all agreed; the war is mine. + Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue; + This hand alone shall right the gods and you: + Our injur’d altars, and their broken vow, + To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe.” + + Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defence, + A winged arrow struck the pious prince. + But, whether from some human hand it came, + Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame: + No human hand or hostile god was found, + To boast the triumph of so base a wound. + + When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain, + His chiefs dismay’d, his troops a fainting train, + Th’ unhop’d event his heighten’d soul inspires: + At once his arms and coursers he requires; + Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains, + And with a ready hand assumes the reins. + He drives impetuous, and, where’er he goes, + He leaves behind a lane of slaughter’d foes. + These his lance reaches; over those he rolls + His rapid car, and crushes out their souls: + In vain the vanquish’d fly; the victor sends + The dead men’s weapons at their living friends. + Thus, on the banks of Hebrus’ freezing flood, + The God of Battles, in his angry mood, + Clashing his sword against his brazen shield, + Let loose the reins, and scours along the field: + Before the wind his fiery coursers fly; + Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky. + Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair + (Dire faces, and deform’d) surround the car; + Friends of the god, and followers of the war. + With fury not unlike, nor less disdain, + Exulting Turnus flies along the plain: + His smoking horses, at their utmost speed, + He lashes on, and urges o’er the dead. + Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound, + The gore and gath’ring dust are dash’d around. + Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war, + He kill’d at hand, but Sthenelus afar: + From far the sons of Imbracus he slew, + Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew; + Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join’d, + Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind. + + Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field, + New fir’d the Trojans, and their foes repell’d. + This son of Dolon bore his grandsire’s name, + But emulated more his father’s fame; + His guileful father, sent a nightly spy, + The Grecian camp and order to descry: + Hard enterprise! and well he might require + Achilles’ car and horses, for his hire: + But, met upon the scout, th’ Aetolian prince + In death bestow’d a juster recompense. + Fierce Turnus view’d the Trojan from afar, + And launch’d his jav’lin from his lofty car; + Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow, + And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe, + Wrench’d from his feeble hold the shining sword, + And plung’d it in the bosom of its lord. + “Possess,” said he, “the fruit of all thy pains, + And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains. + Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand; + Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!” + + Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew, + Whom o’er his neck his flound’ring courser threw. + As when loud Boreas, with his blust’ring train, + Stoops from above, incumbent on the main; + Where’er he flies, he drives the rack before, + And rolls the billows on th’ Aegaean shore: + So, where resistless Turnus takes his course, + The scatter’d squadrons bend before his force; + His crest of horses’ hair is blown behind + By adverse air, and rustles in the wind. + + This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain, + And, as the chariot roll’d along the plain, + Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz’d the rein. + Thus hung in air, he still retain’d his hold, + The coursers frighted, and their course controll’d. + The lance of Turnus reach’d him as he hung, + And pierc’d his plated arms, but pass’d along, + And only raz’d the skin. He turn’d, and held + Against his threat’ning foe his ample shield; + Then call’d for aid: but, while he cried in vain, + The chariot bore him backward on the plain. + He lies revers’d; the victor king descends, + And strikes so justly where his helmet ends, + He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk + With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk. + + While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield, + The wounded prince is forc’d to leave the field: + Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried, + And young Ascanius, weeping by his side, + Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear + His limbs from earth, supported on his spear. + Resolv’d in mind, regardless of the smart, + He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart. + The steel remains. No readier way he found + To draw the weapon, than t’ inlarge the wound. + Eager of fight, impatient of delay, + He begs; and his unwilling friends obey. + + Iapis was at hand to prove his art, + Whose blooming youth so fir’d Apollo’s heart, + That, for his love, he proffer’d to bestow + His tuneful harp and his unerring bow. + The pious youth, more studious how to save + His aged sire, now sinking to the grave, + Preferr’d the pow’r of plants, and silent praise + Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays. + + Propp’d on his lance the pensive hero stood, + And heard and saw, unmov’d, the mourning crowd. + The fam’d physician tucks his robes around + With ready hands, and hastens to the wound. + With gentle touches he performs his part, + This way and that, soliciting the dart, + And exercises all his heav’nly art. + All soft’ning simples, known of sov’reign use, + He presses out, and pours their noble juice. + These first infus’d, to lenify the pain, + He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain. + Then to the patron of his art he pray’d: + The patron of his art refus’d his aid. + + Meantime the war approaches to the tents; + Th’ alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments: + The driving dust proclaims the danger near; + And first their friends, and then their foes appear: + Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear. + The camp is fill’d with terror and affright: + The hissing shafts within the trench alight; + An undistinguish’d noise ascends the sky, + The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die. + + But now the goddess mother, mov’d with grief, + And pierc’d with pity, hastens her relief. + A branch of healing dittany she brought, + Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought: + Rough is the stem, which woolly leafs surround; + The leafs with flow’rs, the flow’rs with purple crown’d, + Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief + To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief. + This Venus brings, in clouds involv’d, and brews + Th’ extracted liquor with ambrosian dews, + And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands, + Temp’ring the mixture with her heav’nly hands, + And pours it in a bowl, already crown’d + With juice of med’c’nal herbs prepar’d to bathe the wound. + The leech, unknowing of superior art + Which aids the cure, with this foments the part; + And in a moment ceas’d the raging smart. + Stanch’d is the blood, and in the bottom stands: + The steel, but scarcely touch’d with tender hands, + Moves up, and follows of its own accord, + And health and vigour are at once restor’d. + Iapis first perceiv’d the closing wound, + And first the footsteps of a god he found. + “Arms! arms!” he cries; “the sword and shield prepare, + And send the willing chief, renew’d, to war. + This is no mortal work, no cure of mine, + Nor art’s effect, but done by hands divine. + Some god our general to the battle sends; + Some god preserves his life for greater ends.” + + The hero arms in haste; his hands infold + His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold: + Inflam’d to fight, and rushing to the field, + That hand sustaining the celestial shield, + This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes, + That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes. + Then with a close embrace he strain’d his son, + And, kissing thro’ his helmet, thus begun: + “My son, from my example learn the war, + In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare; + But happier chance than mine attend thy care! + This day my hand thy tender age shall shield, + And crown with honours of the conquer’d field: + Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth + To toils of war, be mindful of my worth; + Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known, + For Hector’s nephew, and Aeneas’ son.” + He said; and, striding, issued on the plain. + Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num’rous train, + Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take, + And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake. + A cloud of blinding dust is rais’d around, + Labours beneath their feet the trembling ground. + + Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far + Beheld the progress of the moving war: + With him the Latins view’d the cover’d plains, + And the chill blood ran backward in their veins. + Juturna saw th’ advancing troops appear, + And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear. + Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train, + Clos’d in their ranks, and pouring on the plain. + As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore + From the mid ocean, drives the waves before; + The painful hind with heavy heart foresees + The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees; + With like impetuous rage the prince appears + Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears. + And now both armies shock in open field; + Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill’d. + Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain + (All fam’d in arms, and of the Latian train) + By Gyas’, Mnestheus’, and Achates’ hand. + The fatal augur falls, by whose command + The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued + With Trojan blood, th’ unhappy fight renew’d. + Loud shouts and clamours rend the liquid sky, + And o’er the field the frighted Latins fly. + The prince disdains the dastards to pursue, + Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few; + Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain, + He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain. + Juturna heard, and, seiz’d with mortal fear, + Forc’d from the beam her brother’s charioteer; + Assumes his shape, his armour, and his mien, + And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen. + + As the black swallow near the palace plies; + O’er empty courts, and under arches, flies; + Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood, + To furnish her loquacious nest with food: + So drives the rapid goddess o’er the plains; + The smoking horses run with loosen’d reins. + She steers a various course among the foes; + Now here, now there, her conqu’ring brother shows; + Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight, + She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight. + Aeneas, fir’d with fury, breaks the crowd, + And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud: + He runs within a narrower ring, and tries + To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies. + If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears, + And far away the Daunian hero bears. + + What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail; + And various cares in vain his mind assail. + The great Messapus, thund’ring thro’ the field, + In his left hand two pointed jav’lins held: + Encount’ring on the prince, one dart he drew, + And with unerring aim and utmost vigour threw. + Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low + Beneath his buckler, shunn’d the threat’ning blow. + The weapon hiss’d above his head, and tore + The waving plume which on his helm he wore. + Forced by this hostile act, and fir’d with spite, + That flying Turnus still declin’d the fight, + The Prince, whose piety had long repell’d + His inborn ardour, now invades the field; + Invokes the pow’rs of violated peace, + Their rites and injur’d altars to redress; + Then, to his rage abandoning the rein, + With blood and slaughter’d bodies fills the plain. + + What god can tell, what numbers can display, + The various labours of that fatal day; + What chiefs and champions fell on either side, + In combat slain, or by what deaths they died; + Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill’d; + Who shar’d the fame and fortune of the field! + Jove, could’st thou view, and not avert thy sight, + Two jarring nations join’d in cruel fight, + Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite! + + Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found, + Whose valour made the Trojans quit their ground; + Betwixt his ribs the jav’lin drove so just, + It reach’d his heart, nor needs a second thrust. + Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew; + First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw: + Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail’d + Diores, and in equal fight prevail’d. + Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place; + Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace. + + Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw, + Whom without respite at one charge he slew: + Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress’d, + And sad Onythes, added to the rest, + Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore. + + Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore, + And from Apollo’s fane to battle sent, + O’erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent. + Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill’d, + Who long had shunn’d the dangers of the field: + On Lerna’s lake a silent life he led, + And with his nets and angle earn’d his bread; + Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew, + But wisely from th’ infectious world withdrew: + Poor was his house; his father’s painful hand + Discharg’d his rent, and plow’d another’s land. + + As flames among the lofty woods are thrown + On diff’rent sides, and both by winds are blown; + The laurels crackle in the sputt’ring fire; + The frighted sylvans from their shades retire: + Or as two neighb’ring torrents fall from high; + Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry; + They roll to sea with unresisted force, + And down the rocks precipitate their course: + Not with less rage the rival heroes take + Their diff’rent ways, nor less destruction make. + With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike; + And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike. + Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field; + And hearts are pierc’d, unknowing how to yield: + They blow for blow return, and wound for wound; + And heaps of bodies raise the level ground. + + Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs + From a long royal race of Latian kings, + Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown, + Crush’d with the weight of an unwieldy stone: + Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore + His living load, his dying body tore. + His starting steeds, to shun the glitt’ring sword, + Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord. + + Fierce Hyllus threaten’d high, and, face to face, + Affronted Turnus in the middle space: + The prince encounter’d him in full career, + And at his temples aim’d the deadly spear; + So fatally the flying weapon sped, + That thro’ his brazen helm it pierc’d his head. + Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus’ hand, + In vain the strongest of th’ Arcadian band: + Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford + Availing aid against th’ Aenean sword, + Which to his naked heart pursued the course; + Nor could his plated shield sustain the force. + + Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow’rs, + Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow’rs, + Were doom’d to kill, while Heav’n prolong’d his date; + But who can pass the bounds, prefix’d by fate? + In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held + Two palaces, and was from each expell’d: + Of all the mighty man, the last remains + A little spot of foreign earth contains. + + And now both hosts their broken troops unite + In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight. + Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join + The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line: + Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads + The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads. + They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space, + Resolv’d on death, impatient of disgrace; + And, where one falls, another fills his place. + + The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son + To leave th’ unfinish’d fight, and storm the town: + For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain + In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain, + He views th’ unguarded city from afar, + In careless quiet, and secure of war. + Occasion offers, and excites his mind + To dare beyond the task he first design’d. + Resolv’d, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight: + Attended thus, he takes a neighb’ring height; + The crowding troops about their gen’ral stand, + All under arms, and wait his high command. + Then thus the lofty prince: “Hear and obey, + Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay + Jove is with us; and what I have decreed + Requires our utmost vigour, and our speed. + Your instant arms against the town prepare, + The source of mischief, and the seat of war. + This day the Latian tow’rs, that mate the sky, + Shall level with the plain in ashes lie: + The people shall be slaves, unless in time + They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime. + Twice have our foes been vanquish’d on the plain: + Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain? + Your force against the perjur’d city bend. + There it began, and there the war shall end. + The peace profan’d our rightful arms requires; + Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires.” + + He finish’d; and, one soul inspiring all, + Form’d in a wedge, the foot approach the wall. + Without the town, an unprovided train + Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain. + Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear, + And those they toss aloft, and these they rear: + The flames now launch’d, the feather’d arrows fly, + And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky. + Advancing to the front, the hero stands, + And, stretching out to heav’n his pious hands, + Attests the gods, asserts his innocence, + Upbraids with breach of faith th’ Ausonian prince; + Declares the royal honour doubly stain’d, + And twice the rites of holy peace profan’d. + + Dissenting clamours in the town arise; + Each will be heard, and all at once advise. + One part for peace, and one for war contends; + Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends. + The helpless king is hurried in the throng, + And, whate’er tide prevails, is borne along. + Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock, + Invades the bees with suffocating smoke, + They run around, or labour on their wings, + Disus’d to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings; + To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try; + Black vapours, issuing from the vent, involve the sky. + + But fate and envious fortune now prepare + To plunge the Latins in the last despair. + The queen, who saw the foes invade the town, + And brands on tops of burning houses thrown, + Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear— + No troops of Turnus in the field appear. + Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain, + And then concludes the royal youth is slain. + Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear + The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air. + She calls herself the cause of all this ill, + And owns the dire effects of her ungovern’d will; + She raves against the gods; she beats her breast; + She tears with both her hands her purple vest: + Then round a beam a running noose she tied, + And, fasten’d by the neck, obscenely died. + + Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown, + And to her dames and to her daughter known, + The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair + And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share: + With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair. + The spreading rumour fills the public place: + Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace, + And silent shame, are seen in ev’ry face. + Latinus tears his garments as he goes, + Both for his public and his private woes; + With filth his venerable beard besmears, + And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs. + And much he blames the softness of his mind, + Obnoxious to the charms of womankind, + And soon seduc’d to change what he so well design’d; + To break the solemn league so long desir’d, + Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir’d. + + Now Turnus rolls aloof o’er empty plains, + And here and there some straggling foes he gleans. + His flying coursers please him less and less, + Asham’d of easy fight and cheap success. + Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind, + The distant cries come driving in the wind, + Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown’d; + A jarring mixture, and a boding sound. + “Alas!” said he, “what mean these dismal cries? + What doleful clamours from the town arise?” + Confus’d, he stops, and backward pulls the reins. + She who the driver’s office now sustains, + Replies: “Neglect, my lord, these new alarms; + Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms: + There want not others to defend the wall. + If by your rival’s hand th’ Italians fall, + So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress, + In honour equal, equal in success.” + + To this, the prince: “O sister—for I knew + The peace infring’d proceeded first from you; + I knew you, when you mingled first in fight; + And now in vain you would deceive my sight— + Why, goddess, this unprofitable care? + Who sent you down from heav’n, involv’d in air, + Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain, + And see your brother bleeding on the plain? + For to what pow’r can Turnus have recourse, + Or how resist his fate’s prevailing force? + These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground: + Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound. + I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath, + My name invoking to revenge his death. + Brave Ufens fell with honour on the place, + To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace. + On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies; + His vest and armour are the victor’s prize. + Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame, + Which only wanted, to complete my shame? + How will the Latins hoot their champion’s flight! + How Drances will insult and point them to the sight! + Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below, + (Since those above so small compassion show,) + Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame, + Which not belies my great forefather’s name!” + + He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed + Came Sages urging on his foamy steed: + Fix’d on his wounded face a shaft he bore, + And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before: + “Turnus, on you, on you alone, depends + Our last relief: compassionate your friends! + Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on, + With arms invests, with flames invades the town: + The brands are toss’d on high; the winds conspire + To drive along the deluge of the fire. + All eyes are fix’d on you: your foes rejoice; + Ev’n the king staggers, and suspends his choice; + Doubts to deliver or defend the town, + Whom to reject, or whom to call his son. + The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac’d, + Herself suborning death, has breath’d her last. + ’Tis true, Messapus, fearless of his fate, + With fierce Atinas’ aid, defends the gate: + On ev’ry side surrounded by the foe, + The more they kill, the greater numbers grow; + An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow. + You, far aloof from your forsaken bands, + Your rolling chariot drive o’er empty sands. + + Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin’d, + And various cares revolving in his mind: + Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast, + And sorrow mix’d with shame, his soul oppress’d; + And conscious worth lay lab’ring in his thought, + And love by jealousy to madness wrought. + By slow degrees his reason drove away + The mists of passion, and resum’d her sway. + Then, rising on his car, he turn’d his look, + And saw the town involv’d in fire and smoke. + A wooden tow’r with flames already blaz’d, + Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais’d; + And bridges laid above to join the space, + And wheels below to roll from place to place. + “Sister, the Fates have vanquish’d: let us go + The way which Heav’n and my hard fortune show. + The fight is fix’d; nor shall the branded name + Of a base coward blot your brother’s fame. + Death is my choice; but suffer me to try + My force, and vent my rage before I die.” + He said; and, leaping down without delay, + Thro’ crowds of scatter’d foes he freed his way. + Striding he pass’d, impetuous as the wind, + And left the grieving goddess far behind. + As when a fragment, from a mountain torn + By raging tempests, or by torrents borne, + Or sapp’d by time, or loosen’d from the roots— + Prone thro’ the void the rocky ruin shoots, + Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep; + Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep: + Involv’d alike, they rush to nether ground; + Stunn’d with the shock they fall, and stunn’d from earth rebound: + So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town, + Should’ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down. + Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew, + Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew, + And sanguine streams the slipp’ry ground embrue. + First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace, + He cries aloud, to make the combat cease: + “Rutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire! + The fight is mine; and me the gods require. + ’Tis just that I should vindicate alone + The broken truce, or for the breach atone. + This day shall free from wars th’ Ausonian state, + Or finish my misfortunes in my fate.” + + Both armies from their bloody work desist, + And, bearing backward, form a spacious list. + The Trojan hero, who receiv’d from fame + The welcome sound, and heard the champion’s name, + Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls, + Greedy of war where greater glory calls. + He springs to fight, exulting in his force + His jointed armour rattles in the course. + Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows, + Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows, + His head divine obscure in clouds he hides, + And shakes the sounding forest on his sides. + The nations, overaw’d, surcease the fight; + Immovable their bodies, fix’d their sight. + Ev’n death stands still; nor from above they throw + Their darts, nor drive their batt’ring-rams below. + In silent order either army stands, + And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands. + Th’ Ausonian king beholds, with wond’ring sight, + Two mighty champions match’d in single fight, + Born under climes remote, and brought by fate, + With swords to try their titles to the state. + + Now, in clos’d field, each other from afar + They view; and, rushing on, begin the war. + They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet; + The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet: + Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high, + And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly. + Courage conspires with chance, and both engage + With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage. + As when two bulls for their fair female fight + In Sila’s shades, or on Taburnus’ height; + With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies; + Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes, + And wait th’ event; which victor they shall bear, + And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year: + With rage of love the jealous rivals burn, + And push for push, and wound for wound return; + Their dewlaps gor’d, their sides are lav’d in blood; + Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro’ the wood: + Such was the combat in the listed ground; + So clash their swords, and so their shields resound. + + Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays + The champions’ fate, and each exactly weighs. + On this side, life and lucky chance ascends; + Loaded with death, that other scale descends. + Rais’d on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow + Full on the helm of his unguarded foe: + Shrill shouts and clamours ring on either side, + As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide. + But all in pieces flies the traitor sword, + And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord. + Now is but death, or flight; disarm’d he flies, + When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies. + Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join’d, + Hurrying to war, disorder’d in his mind, + Snatch’d the first weapon which his haste could find. + ’Twas not the fated sword his father bore, + But that his charioteer Metiscus wore. + This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held; + But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield, + The mortal-temper’d steel deceiv’d his hand: + The shiver’d fragments shone amid the sand. + + Surpris’d with fear, he fled along the field, + And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel’d; + For here the Trojan troops the list surround, + And there the pass is clos’d with pools and marshy ground. + Aeneas hastens, tho’ with heavier pace— + His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase, + And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse— + Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues. + + Thus, when a fearful stag is clos’d around + With crimson toils, or in a river found, + High on the bank the deep-mouth’d hound appears, + Still opening, following still, where’er he steers; + The persecuted creature, to and fro, + Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe: + Steep is th’ ascent, and, if he gains the land, + The purple death is pitch’d along the strand. + His eager foe, determin’d to the chase, + Stretch’d at his length, gains ground at ev’ry pace; + Now to his beamy head he makes his way, + And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey: + Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear; + He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air: + The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries; + The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies. + Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames + His tardy troops, and, calling by their names, + Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats + The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats + To lay in ashes, if they dare supply + With arms or aid his vanquish’d enemy: + Thus menacing, he still pursues the course, + With vigour, tho’ diminish’d of his force. + Ten times already round the listed place + One chief had fled, and t’ other giv’n the chase: + No trivial prize is play’d; for on the life + Or death of Turnus now depends the strife. + + Within the space, an olive tree had stood, + A sacred shade, a venerable wood, + For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins’ guardian god. + Here hung the vests, and tablets were engrav’d, + Of sinking mariners from shipwreck sav’d. + With heedless hands the Trojans fell’d the tree, + To make the ground enclos’d for combat free. + Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance, + Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance; + Then stoop’d, and tugg’d with force immense, to free + Th’ incumber’d spear from the tenacious tree; + That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain, + His flying weapon might from far attain. + + Confus’d with fear, bereft of human aid, + Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray’d: + “O Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth, + Where I thy foster son receiv’d my birth, + Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand + Your plant has honour’d, which your foes profan’d, + Propitious hear my pious pray’r!” He said, + Nor with successless vows invok’d their aid. + Th’ incumbent hero wrench’d, and pull’d, and strain’d; + But still the stubborn earth the steel detain’d. + Juturna took her time; and, while in vain + He strove, assum’d Meticus’ form again, + And, in that imitated shape, restor’d + To the despairing prince his Daunian sword. + The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief, + Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief, + T’ assert her offspring with a greater deed, + From the tough root the ling’ring weapon freed. + + Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance: + One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance; + And both resolv’d alike to try their fatal chance. + + Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke, + Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock: + “What new arrest, O Queen of Heav’n, is sent + To stop the Fates now lab’ring in th’ event? + What farther hopes are left thee to pursue? + Divine Aeneas, (and thou know’st it too,) + Foredoom’d, to these celestial seats are due. + What more attempts for Turnus can be made, + That thus thou ling’rest in this lonely shade? + Is it becoming of the due respect + And awful honour of a god elect, + A wound unworthy of our state to feel, + Patient of human hands and earthly steel? + Or seems it just, the sister should restore + A second sword, when one was lost before, + And arm a conquer’d wretch against his conqueror? + For what, without thy knowledge and avow, + Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do? + At last, in deference to my love, forbear + To lodge within thy soul this anxious care; + Reclin’d upon my breast, thy grief unload: + Who should relieve the goddess, but the god? + Now all things to their utmost issue tend, + Push’d by the Fates to their appointed end. + While leave was giv’n thee, and a lawful hour + For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow’r, + Toss’d on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress, + And, driv’n ashore, with hostile arms oppress; + Deform the royal house; and, from the side + Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride: + Now cease at my command.” The Thund’rer said; + And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made: + “Because your dread decree too well I knew, + From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew. + Else should you not behold me here, alone, + Involv’d in empty clouds, my friends bemoan, + But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight + Engag’d against my foes in mortal fight. + ’Tis true, Juturna mingled in the strife + By my command, to save her brother’s life, + At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake, + (The most religious oath the gods can take,) + With this restriction, not to bend the bow, + Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw. + And now, resign’d to your superior might, + And tir’d with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight. + This let me beg (and this no fates withstand) + Both for myself and for your father’s land, + That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace, + (Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,) + The laws of either nation be the same; + But let the Latins still retain their name, + Speak the same language which they spoke before, + Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore. + Call them not Trojans: perish the renown + And name of Troy, with that detested town. + Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign + And Rome’s immortal majesty remain.” + + Then thus the founder of mankind replies + (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes) + “Can Saturn’s issue, and heav’n’s other heir, + Such endless anger in her bosom bear? + Be mistress, and your full desires obtain; + But quench the choler you foment in vain. + From ancient blood th’ Ausonian people sprung, + Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue. + The Trojans to their customs shall be tied: + I will, myself, their common rites provide; + The natives shall command, the foreigners subside. + All shall be Latium; Troy without a name; + And her lost sons forget from whence they came. + From blood so mix’d, a pious race shall flow, + Equal to gods, excelling all below. + No nation more respect to you shall pay, + Or greater off’rings on your altars lay.” + Juno consents, well pleas’d that her desires + Had found success, and from the cloud retires. + + The peace thus made, the Thund’rer next prepares + To force the wat’ry goddess from the wars. + Deep in the dismal regions void of light, + Three daughters at a birth were born to Night: + These their brown mother, brooding on her care, + Indued with windy wings to flit in air, + With serpents girt alike, and crown’d with hissing hair. + In heav’n the Dirae call’d, and still at hand, + Before the throne of angry Jove they stand, + His ministers of wrath, and ready still + The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, + Whene’er the moody sire, to wreak his hate + On realms or towns deserving of their fate, + Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care, + And terrifies the guilty world with war. + One sister plague if these from heav’n he sent, + To fright Juturna with a dire portent. + The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow + Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, + Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, + And drench’d in pois’nous juice, the sure destruction flies. + With such a sudden and unseen a flight + Shot thro’ the clouds the daughter of the night. + Soon as the field inclos’d she had in view, + And from afar her destin’d quarry knew, + Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, + Which haunts the ruin’d piles and hallow’d urns, + And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, + Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings. + Thus lessen’d in her form, with frightful cries + The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, + Flaps on his shield, and flutters o’er his eyes. + + A lazy chillness crept along his blood; + Chok’d was his voice; his hair with horror stood. + Juturna from afar beheld her fly, + And knew th’ ill omen, by her screaming cry + And stridor of her wings. Amaz’d with fear, + Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair. + + “Ah me!” she cries, “in this unequal strife + What can thy sister more to save thy life? + Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend + In arms with that inexorable fiend? + Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright + My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night; + The lashing of your wings I know too well, + The sounding flight, and fun’ral screams of hell! + These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove, + The worthy recompense of ravish’d love! + Did he for this exempt my life from fate? + O hard conditions of immortal state, + Tho’ born to death, not privileg’d to die, + But forc’d to bear impos’d eternity! + Take back your envious bribes, and let me go + Companion to my brother’s ghost below! + The joys are vanish’d: nothing now remains, + Of life immortal, but immortal pains. + What earth will open her devouring womb, + To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!” + She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said, + But in her azure mantle wrapp’d her head, + Then plung’d into her stream, with deep despair, + And her last sobs came bubbling up in air. + + Now stern Aeneas waves his weighty spear + Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear: + “What farther subterfuge can Turnus find? + What empty hopes are harbour’d in his mind? + ’Tis not thy swiftness can secure thy flight; + Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight. + Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare + What skill and courage can attempt in war; + Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky; + Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!” + The champion shook his head, and made this short reply: + “No threats of thine my manly mind can move; + ’Tis hostile heav’n I dread, and partial Jove.” + He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress’d + The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast. + + Then, as he roll’d his troubled eyes around, + An antique stone he saw, the common bound + Of neighb’ring fields, and barrier of the ground; + So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days + Th’ enormous weight from earth could hardly raise. + He heav’d it at a lift, and, pois’d on high, + Ran stagg’ring on against his enemy, + But so disorder’d, that he scarcely knew + His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw. + His knocking knees are bent beneath the load, + And shiv’ring cold congeals his vital blood. + The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short + For want of vigour, mocks his vain effort. + And as, when heavy sleep has clos’d the sight, + The sickly fancy labours in the night; + We seem to run; and, destitute of force, + Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course: + In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry; + The nerves, unbrac’d, their usual strength deny; + And on the tongue the falt’ring accents die: + So Turnus far’d; whatever means he tried, + All force of arms and points of art employ’d, + The Fury flew athwart, and made th’ endeavor void. + + A thousand various thoughts his soul confound; + He star’d about, nor aid nor issue found; + His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround. + Once more he pauses, and looks out again, + And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain. + Trembling he views the thund’ring chief advance, + And brandishing aloft the deadly lance: + Amaz’d he cow’rs beneath his conqu’ring foe, + Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow. + Astonish’d while he stands, and fix’d with fear, + Aim’d at his shield he sees th’ impending spear. + + The hero measur’d first, with narrow view, + The destin’d mark; and, rising as he threw, + With its full swing the fatal weapon flew. + Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls, + Or stones from batt’ring-engines break the walls: + Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong, + The lance drove on, and bore the death along. + Naught could his sev’nfold shield the prince avail, + Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail: + It pierc’d thro’ all, and with a grisly wound + Transfix’d his thigh, and doubled him to ground. + With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky: + Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply. + + Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid, + With eyes cast upward, and with arms display’d, + And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray’d: + “I know my death deserv’d, nor hope to live: + Use what the gods and thy good fortune give. + Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown, + Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son. + Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave; + And for Anchises’ sake old Daunus save! + Or, if thy vow’d revenge pursue my death, + Give to my friends my body void of breath! + The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life; + Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife: + Against a yielded man, ’tis mean ignoble strife.” + + In deep suspense the Trojan seem’d to stand, + And, just prepar’d to strike, repress’d his hand. + He roll’d his eyes, and ev’ry moment felt + His manly soul with more compassion melt; + When, casting down a casual glance, he spied + The golden belt that glitter’d on his side, + The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore + From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore. + Then, rous’d anew to wrath, he loudly cries + (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes) + “Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, + Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend? + To his sad soul a grateful off’ring go! + ’Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow.” + He rais’d his arm aloft, and, at the word, + Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword. + The streaming blood distain’d his arms around; + And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Aeneid</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Virgil</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: John Dryden</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March, 1995 [eBook #228]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 3, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Anonymous Volunteers and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEID ***</div> + +<h1>THE AENEID</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Virgil</h2> + +<h3>Translated by John Dryden</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">BOOK I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">BOOK II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">BOOK III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">BOOK IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">BOOK V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">BOOK VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">BOOK VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">BOOK VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">BOOK IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">BOOK X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">BOOK XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">BOOK XII</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>BOOK I</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + The Trojans, after a seven years’ voyage, set sail for Italy, but are + overtaken by a dreadful storm, which Aeolus raises at the request of Juno. The + tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest. Neptune drives off the winds, and calms + the sea. Aeneas, with his own ship and six more, arrives safe at an African port. + Venus complains to Jupiter of her son’s misfortunes. Jupiter comforts her, + and sends Mercury to procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. + Aeneas, going out to discover the country, meets his mother in the shape of a + huntress, who conveys him in a cloud to Carthage, where he sees his friends + whom he thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, + by device of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some discourse + with him, desires the history of his adventures since the siege of Troy, + which is the subject of the two following books. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rms, and the man I sing, who, forc’d by fate,<br /> + And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate,<br /> + Expell’d and exil’d, left the Trojan shore.<br /> + Long labours, both by sea and land, he bore,<br /> + And in the doubtful war, before he won<br /> + The Latian realm, and built the destin’d town;<br /> + His banish’d gods restor’d to rites divine,<br /> + And settled sure succession in his line,<br /> + From whence the race of Alban fathers come,<br /> + And the long glories of majestic Rome.<br /> + O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;<br /> + What goddess was provok’d, and whence her hate;<br /> + For what offence the Queen of Heav’n began<br /> + To persecute so brave, so just a man;<br /> + Involv’d his anxious life in endless cares,<br /> + Expos’d to wants, and hurried into wars!<br /> + Can heav’nly minds such high resentment show,<br /> + Or exercise their spite in human woe?<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Against the Tiber’s mouth, but far away,<br /> + An ancient town was seated on the sea;<br /> + A Tyrian colony; the people made<br /> + Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:<br /> + Carthage the name; belov’d by Juno more<br /> + Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.<br /> + Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav’n were kind,<br /> + The seat of awful empire she design’d.<br /> + Yet she had heard an ancient rumour fly,<br /> + (Long cited by the people of the sky,)<br /> + That times to come should see the Trojan race<br /> + Her Carthage ruin, and her tow’rs deface;<br /> + Nor thus confin’d, the yoke of sov’reign sway<br /> + Should on the necks of all the nations lay.<br /> + She ponder’d this, and fear’d it was in fate;<br /> + Nor could forget the war she wag’d of late<br /> + For conqu’ring Greece against the Trojan state.<br /> + Besides, long causes working in her mind,<br /> + And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;<br /> + Deep graven in her heart the doom remain’d<br /> + Of partial Paris, and her form disdain’d;<br /> + The grace bestow’d on ravish’d Ganymed,<br /> + Electra’s glories, and her injur’d bed.<br /> + Each was a cause alone; and all combin’d<br /> + To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.<br /> + For this, far distant from the Latian coast<br /> + She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;<br /> + And sev’n long years th’ unhappy wand’ring train<br /> + Were toss’d by storms, and scatter’d thro’ the main.<br /> + Such time, such toil, requir’d the Roman name,<br /> + Such length of labour for so vast a frame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,<br /> + Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,<br /> + Ent’ring with cheerful shouts the wat’ry reign,<br /> + And plowing frothy furrows in the main;<br /> + When, lab’ring still with endless discontent,<br /> + The Queen of Heav’n did thus her fury vent:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Then am I vanquish’d? must I yield?” said she,<br /> + “And must the Trojans reign in Italy?<br /> + So Fate will have it, and Jove adds his force;<br /> + Nor can my pow’r divert their happy course.<br /> + Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,<br /> + The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?<br /> + She, for the fault of one offending foe,<br /> + The bolts of Jove himself presum’d to throw:<br /> + With whirlwinds from beneath she toss’d the ship,<br /> + And bare expos’d the bosom of the deep;<br /> + Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game,<br /> + The wretch, yet hissing with her father’s flame,<br /> + She strongly seiz’d, and with a burning wound<br /> + Transfix’d, and naked, on a rock she bound.<br /> + But I, who walk in awful state above,<br /> + The majesty of heav’n, the sister wife of Jove,<br /> + For length of years my fruitless force employ<br /> + Against the thin remains of ruin’d Troy!<br /> + What nations now to Juno’s pow’r will pray,<br /> + Or off’rings on my slighted altars lay?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus rag’d the goddess; and, with fury fraught.<br /> + The restless regions of the storms she sought,<br /> + Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,<br /> + The tyrant Aeolus, from his airy throne,<br /> + With pow’r imperial curbs the struggling winds,<br /> + And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.<br /> + This way and that th’ impatient captives tend,<br /> + And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.<br /> + High in his hall th’ undaunted monarch stands,<br /> + And shakes his scepter, and their rage commands;<br /> + Which did he not, their unresisted sway<br /> + Would sweep the world before them in their way;<br /> + Earth, air, and seas thro’ empty space would roll,<br /> + And heav’n would fly before the driving soul.<br /> + In fear of this, the Father of the Gods<br /> + Confin’d their fury to those dark abodes,<br /> + And lock’d ’em safe within, oppress’d with mountain loads;<br /> + Impos’d a king, with arbitrary sway,<br /> + To loose their fetters, or their force allay.<br /> + To whom the suppliant queen her pray’rs address’d,<br /> + And thus the tenor of her suit express’d:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “O Aeolus! for to thee the King of Heav’n<br /> + The pow’r of tempests and of winds has giv’n;<br /> + Thy force alone their fury can restrain,<br /> + And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main.<br /> + A race of wand’ring slaves, abhorr’d by me,<br /> + With prosp’rous passage cut the Tuscan sea;<br /> + To fruitful Italy their course they steer,<br /> + And for their vanquish’d gods design new temples there.<br /> + Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies;<br /> + Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.<br /> + Twice sev’n, the charming daughters of the main,<br /> + Around my person wait, and bear my train:<br /> + Succeed my wish, and second my design;<br /> + The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,<br /> + And make thee father of a happy line.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To this the god: “’Tis yours, O queen, to will<br /> + The work which duty binds me to fulfil.<br /> + These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,<br /> + Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:<br /> + Yours is my sov’reign’s grace; and, as your guest,<br /> + I sit with gods at their celestial feast;<br /> + Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue;<br /> + Dispose of empire, which I hold from you.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and hurl’d against the mountain side<br /> + His quiv’ring spear, and all the god applied.<br /> + The raging winds rush thro’ the hollow wound,<br /> + And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;<br /> + Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep,<br /> + Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.<br /> + South, East, and West with mix’d confusion roar,<br /> + And roll the foaming billows to the shore.<br /> + The cables crack; the sailors’ fearful cries<br /> + Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;<br /> + And heav’n itself is ravish’d from their eyes.<br /> + Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue;<br /> + Then flashing fires the transient light renew;<br /> + The face of things a frightful image bears,<br /> + And present death in various forms appears.<br /> + Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,<br /> + With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;<br /> + And, “Thrice and four times happy those,” he cried,<br /> + “That under Ilian walls before their parents died!<br /> + Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!<br /> + Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,<br /> + And lie by noble Hector on the plain,<br /> + Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields<br /> + Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields<br /> + Of heroes, whose dismember’d hands yet bear<br /> + The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,<br /> + Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,<br /> + And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,<br /> + And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:<br /> + Nor can the shiv’ring oars sustain the blow;<br /> + The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;<br /> + While those astern, descending down the steep,<br /> + Thro’ gaping waves behold the boiling deep.<br /> + Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,<br /> + And on the secret shelves with fury cast.<br /> + Those hidden rocks th’ Ausonian sailors knew:<br /> + They call’d them Altars, when they rose in view,<br /> + And show’d their spacious backs above the flood.<br /> + Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,<br /> + Dash’d on the shallows of the moving sand,<br /> + And in mid ocean left them moor’d a-land.<br /> + Orontes’ bark, that bore the Lycian crew,<br /> + (A horrid sight!) ev’n in the hero’s view,<br /> + From stem to stern by waves was overborne:<br /> + The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,<br /> + Was headlong hurl’d; thrice round the ship was toss’d,<br /> + Then bulg’d at once, and in the deep was lost;<br /> + And here and there above the waves were seen<br /> + Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.<br /> + The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,<br /> + And suck’d thro’ loosen’d planks the rushing sea.<br /> + Ilioneus was her chief: Alethes old,<br /> + Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,<br /> + Endur’d not less; their ships, with gaping seams,<br /> + Admit the deluge of the briny streams.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound<br /> + Of raging billows breaking on the ground.<br /> + Displeas’d, and fearing for his wat’ry reign,<br /> + He rear’d his awful head above the main,<br /> + Serene in majesty; then roll’d his eyes<br /> + Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.<br /> + He saw the Trojan fleet dispers’d, distress’d,<br /> + By stormy winds and wintry heav’n oppress’d.<br /> + Full well the god his sister’s envy knew,<br /> + And what her aims and what her arts pursue.<br /> + He summon’d Eurus and the western blast,<br /> + And first an angry glance on both he cast;<br /> + Then thus rebuk’d: “Audacious winds! from whence<br /> + This bold attempt, this rebel insolence?<br /> + Is it for you to ravage seas and land,<br /> + Unauthoriz’d by my supreme command?<br /> + To raise such mountains on the troubled main?<br /> + Whom I—but first ’tis fit the billows to restrain;<br /> + And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.<br /> + Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear,<br /> + The realms of ocean and the fields of air<br /> + Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me<br /> + The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.<br /> + His pow’r to hollow caverns is confin’d:<br /> + There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,<br /> + With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,<br /> + And boast and bluster in his empty hall.”<br /> + He spoke; and, while he spoke, he smooth’d the sea,<br /> + Dispell’d the darkness, and restor’d the day.<br /> + Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train<br /> + Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main,<br /> + Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:<br /> + The god himself with ready trident stands,<br /> + And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;<br /> + Then heaves them off the shoals. Where’er he guides<br /> + His finny coursers and in triumph rides,<br /> + The waves unruffle and the sea subsides.<br /> + As, when in tumults rise th’ ignoble crowd,<br /> + Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;<br /> + And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,<br /> + And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:<br /> + If then some grave and pious man appear,<br /> + They hush their noise, and lend a list’ning ear;<br /> + He soothes with sober words their angry mood,<br /> + And quenches their innate desire of blood:<br /> + So, when the Father of the Flood appears,<br /> + And o’er the seas his sov’reign trident rears,<br /> + Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,<br /> + High on his chariot, and, with loosen’d reins,<br /> + Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.<br /> + The weary Trojans ply their shatter’d oars<br /> + To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Within a long recess there lies a bay:<br /> + An island shades it from the rolling sea,<br /> + And forms a port secure for ships to ride;<br /> + Broke by the jutting land, on either side,<br /> + In double streams the briny waters glide.<br /> + Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene<br /> + Appears above, and groves for ever green:<br /> + A grot is form’d beneath, with mossy seats,<br /> + To rest the Nereids, and exclude the heats.<br /> + Down thro’ the crannies of the living walls<br /> + The crystal streams descend in murm’ring falls:<br /> + No haulsers need to bind the vessels here,<br /> + Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.<br /> + Sev’n ships within this happy harbour meet,<br /> + The thin remainders of the scatter’d fleet.<br /> + The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,<br /> + Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wish’d repose.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + First, good Achates, with repeated strokes<br /> + Of clashing flints, their hidden fire provokes:<br /> + Short flame succeeds; a bed of wither’d leaves<br /> + The dying sparkles in their fall receives:<br /> + Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,<br /> + And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.<br /> + The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around<br /> + The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground:<br /> + Some dry their corn, infected with the brine,<br /> + Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.<br /> + Aeneas climbs the mountain’s airy brow,<br /> + And takes a prospect of the seas below,<br /> + If Capys thence, or Antheus he could spy,<br /> + Or see the streamers of Caicus fly.<br /> + No vessels were in view; but, on the plain,<br /> + Three beamy stags command a lordly train<br /> + Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng<br /> + Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.<br /> + He stood; and, while secure they fed below,<br /> + He took the quiver and the trusty bow<br /> + Achates us’d to bear: the leaders first<br /> + He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc’d;<br /> + Nor ceas’d his arrows, till the shady plain<br /> + Sev’n mighty bodies with their blood distain.<br /> + For the sev’n ships he made an equal share,<br /> + And to the port return’d, triumphant from the war.<br /> + The jars of gen’rous wine (Acestes’ gift,<br /> + When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)<br /> + He set abroach, and for the feast prepar’d,<br /> + In equal portions with the ven’son shar’d.<br /> + Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief<br /> + With cheerful words allay’d the common grief:<br /> + “Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose<br /> + To future good our past and present woes.<br /> + With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;<br /> + Th’ inhuman Cyclops and his den defied.<br /> + What greater ills hereafter can you bear?<br /> + Resume your courage and dismiss your care,<br /> + An hour will come, with pleasure to relate<br /> + Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.<br /> + Thro’ various hazards and events, we move<br /> + To Latium and the realms foredoom’d by Jove.<br /> + Call’d to the seat (the promise of the skies)<br /> + Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,<br /> + Endure the hardships of your present state;<br /> + Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;<br /> + His outward smiles conceal’d his inward smart.<br /> + The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,<br /> + The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.<br /> + Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;<br /> + The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil;<br /> + Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil.<br /> + Stretch’d on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,<br /> + Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with wine.<br /> + Their hunger thus appeas’d, their care attends<br /> + The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:<br /> + Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,<br /> + Whether to deem ’em dead, or in distress.<br /> + Above the rest, Aeneas mourns the fate<br /> + Of brave Orontes, and th’ uncertain state<br /> + Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.<br /> + The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys<br /> + Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas,<br /> + At length on Libyan realms he fix’d his eyes:<br /> + Whom, pond’ring thus on human miseries,<br /> + When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,<br /> + Not free from tears, her heav’nly sire bespoke:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “O King of Gods and Men! whose awful hand<br /> + Disperses thunder on the seas and land,<br /> + Disposing all with absolute command;<br /> + How could my pious son thy pow’r incense?<br /> + Or what, alas! is vanish’d Troy’s offence?<br /> + Our hope of Italy not only lost,<br /> + On various seas by various tempests toss’d,<br /> + But shut from ev’ry shore, and barr’d from ev’ry coast.<br /> + You promis’d once, a progeny divine<br /> + Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,<br /> + In after times should hold the world in awe,<br /> + And to the land and ocean give the law.<br /> + How is your doom revers’d, which eas’d my care<br /> + When Troy was ruin’d in that cruel war?<br /> + Then fates to fates I could oppose; but now,<br /> + When Fortune still pursues her former blow,<br /> + What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?<br /> + What end of labours has your will decreed?<br /> + Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,<br /> + Could pass secure, and pierce th’ Illyrian coasts,<br /> + Where, rolling down the steep, Timavus raves<br /> + And thro’ nine channels disembogues his waves.<br /> + At length he founded Padua’s happy seat,<br /> + And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;<br /> + There fix’d their arms, and there renew’d their name,<br /> + And there in quiet rules, and crown’d with fame.<br /> + But we, descended from your sacred line,<br /> + Entitled to your heav’n and rites divine,<br /> + Are banish’d earth; and, for the wrath of one,<br /> + Remov’d from Latium and the promis’d throne.<br /> + Are these our scepters? these our due rewards?<br /> + And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To whom the Father of th’ immortal race,<br /> + Smiling with that serene indulgent face,<br /> + With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,<br /> + First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Daughter, dismiss thy fears; to thy desire<br /> + The fates of thine are fix’d, and stand entire.<br /> + Thou shalt behold thy wish’d Lavinian walls;<br /> + And, ripe for heav’n, when fate Aeneas calls,<br /> + Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:<br /> + No councils have revers’d my firm decree.<br /> + And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,<br /> + Know, I have search’d the mystic rolls of Fate:<br /> + Thy son (nor is th’ appointed season far)<br /> + In Italy shall wage successful war,<br /> + Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,<br /> + And sov’reign laws impose, and cities build,<br /> + Till, after ev’ry foe subdued, the sun<br /> + Thrice thro’ the signs his annual race shall run:<br /> + This is his time prefix’d. Ascanius then,<br /> + Now call’d Iulus, shall begin his reign.<br /> + He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,<br /> + Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,<br /> + And, with hard labour, Alba Longa build.<br /> + The throne with his succession shall be fill’d<br /> + Three hundred circuits more: then shall be seen<br /> + Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen,<br /> + Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,<br /> + Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.<br /> + The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain:<br /> + Then Romulus his grandsire’s throne shall gain,<br /> + Of martial tow’rs the founder shall become,<br /> + The people Romans call, the city Rome.<br /> + To them no bounds of empire I assign,<br /> + Nor term of years to their immortal line.<br /> + Ev’n haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,<br /> + Earth, seas, and heav’n, and Jove himself turmoils;<br /> + At length aton’d, her friendly pow’r shall join,<br /> + To cherish and advance the Trojan line.<br /> + The subject world shall Rome’s dominion own,<br /> + And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.<br /> + An age is ripening in revolving fate<br /> + When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,<br /> + And sweet revenge her conqu’ring sons shall call,<br /> + To crush the people that conspir’d her fall.<br /> + Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise,<br /> + Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies<br /> + Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils,<br /> + Our heav’n, the just reward of human toils,<br /> + Securely shall repay with rites divine;<br /> + And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.<br /> + Then dire debate and impious war shall cease,<br /> + And the stern age be soften’d into peace:<br /> + Then banish’d Faith shall once again return,<br /> + And Vestal fires in hallow’d temples burn;<br /> + And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain<br /> + The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.<br /> + Janus himself before his fane shall wait,<br /> + And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,<br /> + With bolts and iron bars: within remains<br /> + Imprison’d Fury, bound in brazen chains;<br /> + High on a trophy rais’d, of useless arms,<br /> + He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and sent Cyllenius with command<br /> + To free the ports, and ope the Punic land<br /> + To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,<br /> + The queen might force them from her town and state.<br /> + Down from the steep of heav’n Cyllenius flies,<br /> + And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.<br /> + Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,<br /> + Performs his message, and displays his rod:<br /> + The surly murmurs of the people cease;<br /> + And, as the fates requir’d, they give the peace:<br /> + The queen herself suspends the rigid laws,<br /> + The Trojans pities, and protects their cause.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime, in shades of night Aeneas lies:<br /> + Care seiz’d his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.<br /> + But, when the sun restor’d the cheerful day,<br /> + He rose, the coast and country to survey,<br /> + Anxious and eager to discover more.<br /> + It look’d a wild uncultivated shore;<br /> + But, whether humankind, or beasts alone<br /> + Possess’d the new-found region, was unknown.<br /> + Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleet he hides:<br /> + Tall trees surround the mountain’s shady sides;<br /> + The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.<br /> + Arm’d with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends,<br /> + And true Achates on his steps attends.<br /> + Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,<br /> + Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:<br /> + A huntress in her habit and her mien;<br /> + Her dress a maid, her air confess’d a queen.<br /> + Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind;<br /> + Loose was her hair, and wanton’d in the wind;<br /> + Her hand sustain’d a bow; her quiver hung behind.<br /> + She seem’d a virgin of the Spartan blood:<br /> + With such array Harpalyce bestrode<br /> + Her Thracian courser and outstripp’d the rapid flood.<br /> + “Ho, strangers! have you lately seen,” she said,<br /> + “One of my sisters, like myself array’d,<br /> + Who cross’d the lawn, or in the forest stray’d?<br /> + A painted quiver at her back she bore;<br /> + Varied with spots, a lynx’s hide she wore;<br /> + And at full cry pursued the tusky boar.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Venus: thus her son replied again:<br /> + “None of your sisters have we heard or seen,<br /> + O virgin! or what other name you bear<br /> + Above that style; O more than mortal fair!<br /> + Your voice and mien celestial birth betray!<br /> + If, as you seem, the sister of the day,<br /> + Or one at least of chaste Diana’s train,<br /> + Let not an humble suppliant sue in vain;<br /> + But tell a stranger, long in tempests toss’d,<br /> + What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?<br /> + Then on your name shall wretched mortals call,<br /> + And offer’d victims at your altars fall.”<br /> + “I dare not,” she replied, “assume the name<br /> + Of goddess, or celestial honours claim:<br /> + For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,<br /> + And purple buskins o’er their ankles wear.<br /> + Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are:<br /> + A people rude in peace, and rough in war.<br /> + The rising city, which from far you see,<br /> + Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.<br /> + Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,<br /> + Who fled from Tyre, to shun her brother’s hate.<br /> + Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;<br /> + Which I will sum in short. Sichaeus, known<br /> + For wealth, and brother to the Punic throne,<br /> + Possess’d fair Dido’s bed; and either heart<br /> + At once was wounded with an equal dart.<br /> + Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;<br /> + Pygmalion then the Tyrian scepter sway’d:<br /> + One who condemn’d divine and human laws.<br /> + Then strife ensued, and cursed gold the cause.<br /> + The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,<br /> + With steel invades his brother’s life by stealth;<br /> + Before the sacred altar made him bleed,<br /> + And long from her conceal’d the cruel deed.<br /> + Some tale, some new pretence, he daily coin’d,<br /> + To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.<br /> + At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears<br /> + Of her unhappy lord: the spectre stares,<br /> + And, with erected eyes, his bloody bosom bares.<br /> + The cruel altars and his fate he tells,<br /> + And the dire secret of his house reveals,<br /> + Then warns the widow, with her household gods,<br /> + To seek a refuge in remote abodes.<br /> + Last, to support her in so long a way,<br /> + He shows her where his hidden treasure lay.<br /> + Admonish’d thus, and seiz’d with mortal fright,<br /> + The queen provides companions of her flight:<br /> + They meet, and all combine to leave the state,<br /> + Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.<br /> + They seize a fleet, which ready rigg’d they find;<br /> + Nor is Pygmalion’s treasure left behind.<br /> + The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea<br /> + With prosp’rous winds; a woman leads the way.<br /> + I know not, if by stress of weather driv’n,<br /> + Or was their fatal course dispos’d by Heav’n;<br /> + At last they landed, where from far your eyes<br /> + May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;<br /> + There bought a space of ground, which Byrsa call’d,<br /> + From the bull’s hide, they first inclos’d, and wall’d.<br /> + But whence are you? what country claims your birth?<br /> + What seek you, strangers, on our Libyan earth?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,<br /> + And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:<br /> + “Could you with patience hear, or I relate,<br /> + O nymph, the tedious annals of our fate!<br /> + Thro’ such a train of woes if I should run,<br /> + The day would sooner than the tale be done!<br /> + From ancient Troy, by force expell’d, we came,<br /> + If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.<br /> + On various seas by various tempests toss’d,<br /> + At length we landed on your Libyan coast.<br /> + The good Aeneas am I call’d, a name,<br /> + While Fortune favour’d, not unknown to fame.<br /> + My household gods, companions of my woes,<br /> + With pious care I rescued from our foes.<br /> + To fruitful Italy my course was bent;<br /> + And from the King of Heav’n is my descent.<br /> + With twice ten sail I cross’d the Phrygian sea;<br /> + Fate and my mother goddess led my way.<br /> + Scarce sev’n, the thin remainders of my fleet,<br /> + From storms preserv’d, within your harbour meet.<br /> + Myself distress’d, an exile, and unknown,<br /> + Debarr’d from Europe, and from Asia thrown,<br /> + In Libyan deserts wander thus alone.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + His tender parent could no longer bear;<br /> + But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.<br /> + “Whoe’er you are, not unbelov’d by Heav’n,<br /> + Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv’n:<br /> + Have courage: to the gods permit the rest,<br /> + And to the queen expose your just request.<br /> + Now take this earnest of success, for more:<br /> + Your scatter’d fleet is join’d upon the shore;<br /> + The winds are chang’d, your friends from danger free;<br /> + Or I renounce my skill in augury.<br /> + Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,<br /> + And stoop with closing pinions from above;<br /> + Whom late the bird of Jove had driv’n along,<br /> + And thro’ the clouds pursued the scatt’ring throng:<br /> + Now, all united in a goodly team,<br /> + They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream.<br /> + As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,<br /> + And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;<br /> + Not otherwise your ships, and ev’ry friend,<br /> + Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.<br /> + No more advice is needful; but pursue<br /> + The path before you, and the town in view.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, she turn’d, and made appear<br /> + Her neck refulgent, and dishevel’d hair,<br /> + Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach’d the ground.<br /> + And widely spread ambrosial scents around:<br /> + In length of train descends her sweeping gown;<br /> + And, by her graceful walk, the Queen of Love is known.<br /> + The prince pursued the parting deity<br /> + With words like these: “Ah! whither do you fly?<br /> + Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son<br /> + In borrow’d shapes, and his embrace to shun;<br /> + Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;<br /> + And still to speak in accents not your own.”<br /> + Against the goddess these complaints he made,<br /> + But took the path, and her commands obey’d.<br /> + They march, obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds<br /> + With mists their persons, and involves in clouds,<br /> + That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,<br /> + Or force to tell the causes of their way.<br /> + This part perform’d, the goddess flies sublime<br /> + To visit Paphos and her native clime;<br /> + Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,<br /> + With vows are offer’d, and with solemn pray’r:<br /> + A hundred altars in her temple smoke;<br /> + A thousand bleeding hearts her pow’r invoke.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,<br /> + Now at a nearer distance view the town.<br /> + The prince with wonder sees the stately tow’rs,<br /> + Which late were huts and shepherds’ homely bow’rs,<br /> + The gates and streets; and hears, from ev’ry part,<br /> + The noise and busy concourse of the mart.<br /> + The toiling Tyrians on each other call<br /> + To ply their labour: some extend the wall;<br /> + Some build the citadel; the brawny throng<br /> + Or dig, or push unwieldly stones along.<br /> + Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,<br /> + Which, first design’d, with ditches they surround.<br /> + Some laws ordain; and some attend the choice<br /> + Of holy senates, and elect by voice.<br /> + Here some design a mole, while others there<br /> + Lay deep foundations for a theatre;<br /> + From marble quarries mighty columns hew,<br /> + For ornaments of scenes, and future view.<br /> + Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,<br /> + As exercise the bees in flow’ry plains,<br /> + When winter past, and summer scarce begun,<br /> + Invites them forth to labour in the sun;<br /> + Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense<br /> + Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense;<br /> + Some at the gate stand ready to receive<br /> + The golden burthen, and their friends relieve;<br /> + All with united force, combine to drive<br /> + The lazy drones from the laborious hive:<br /> + With envy stung, they view each other’s deeds;<br /> + The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.<br /> + “Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!”<br /> + Aeneas said, and view’d, with lifted eyes,<br /> + Their lofty tow’rs; then, ent’ring at the gate,<br /> + Conceal’d in clouds (prodigious to relate)<br /> + He mix’d, unmark’d, among the busy throng,<br /> + Borne by the tide, and pass’d unseen along.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Full in the centre of the town there stood,<br /> + Thick set with trees, a venerable wood.<br /> + The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,<br /> + And digging here, a prosp’rous omen found:<br /> + From under earth a courser’s head they drew,<br /> + Their growth and future fortune to foreshew.<br /> + This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,<br /> + Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.<br /> + Sidonian Dido here with solemn state<br /> + Did Juno’s temple build, and consecrate,<br /> + Enrich’d with gifts, and with a golden shrine;<br /> + But more the goddess made the place divine.<br /> + On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,<br /> + And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose:<br /> + The rafters are with brazen cov’rings crown’d;<br /> + The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.<br /> + What first Aeneas in this place beheld,<br /> + Reviv’d his courage, and his fear expell’d.<br /> + For while, expecting there the queen, he rais’d<br /> + His wond’ring eyes, and round the temple gaz’d,<br /> + Admir’d the fortune of the rising town,<br /> + The striving artists, and their arts’ renown;<br /> + He saw, in order painted on the wall,<br /> + Whatever did unhappy Troy befall:<br /> + The wars that fame around the world had blown,<br /> + All to the life, and ev’ry leader known.<br /> + There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,<br /> + And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.<br /> + He stopp’d, and weeping said: “O friend! ev’n here<br /> + The monuments of Trojan woes appear!<br /> + Our known disasters fill ev’n foreign lands:<br /> + See there, where old unhappy Priam stands!<br /> + Ev’n the mute walls relate the warrior’s fame,<br /> + And Trojan griefs the Tyrians’ pity claim.”<br /> + He said, his tears a ready passage find,<br /> + Devouring what he saw so well design’d,<br /> + And with an empty picture fed his mind:<br /> + For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,<br /> + And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,<br /> + Pursued by fierce Achilles thro’ the plain,<br /> + On his high chariot driving o’er the slain.<br /> + The tents of Rhesus next, his grief renew,<br /> + By their white sails betray’d to nightly view;<br /> + And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword<br /> + The sentries slew, nor spar’d their slumb’ring lord,<br /> + Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food<br /> + Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.<br /> + Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied<br /> + Achilles, and unequal combat tried;<br /> + Then, where the boy disarm’d, with loosen’d reins,<br /> + Was by his horses hurried o’er the plains,<br /> + Hung by the neck and hair, and dragg’d around:<br /> + The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,<br /> + With tracks of blood inscrib’d the dusty ground.<br /> + Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress’d with woe,<br /> + To Pallas’ fane in long procession go,<br /> + In hopes to reconcile their heav’nly foe.<br /> + They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair,<br /> + And rich embroider’d vests for presents bear;<br /> + But the stern goddess stands unmov’d with pray’r.<br /> + Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew<br /> + The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.<br /> + Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,<br /> + The lifeless body of his son is sold.<br /> + So sad an object, and so well express’d,<br /> + Drew sighs and groans from the griev’d hero’s breast,<br /> + To see the figure of his lifeless friend,<br /> + And his old sire his helpless hand extend.<br /> + Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train,<br /> + Mix’d in the bloody battle on the plain;<br /> + And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,<br /> + His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.<br /> + Penthisilea there, with haughty grace,<br /> + Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:<br /> + In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;<br /> + The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.<br /> + Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,<br /> + Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,<br /> + And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,<br /> + Fix’d on the walls with wonder and surprise,<br /> + The beauteous Dido, with a num’rous train<br /> + And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.<br /> + Such on Eurotas’ banks, or Cynthus’ height,<br /> + Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,<br /> + When in the dance the graceful goddess leads<br /> + The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:<br /> + Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,<br /> + She walks majestic, and she looks their queen;<br /> + Latona sees her shine above the rest,<br /> + And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.<br /> + Such Dido was; with such becoming state,<br /> + Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.<br /> + Their labour to her future sway she speeds,<br /> + And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;<br /> + Then mounts the throne, high plac’d before the shrine:<br /> + In crowds around, the swarming people join.<br /> + She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,<br /> + Hears and determines ev’ry private cause;<br /> + Their tasks in equal portions she divides,<br /> + And, where unequal, there by lots decides.<br /> + Another way by chance Aeneas bends<br /> + His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,<br /> + Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,<br /> + And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,<br /> + Whom late the tempest on the billows toss’d,<br /> + And widely scatter’d on another coast.<br /> + The prince, unseen, surpris’d with wonder stands,<br /> + And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;<br /> + But, doubtful of the wish’d event, he stays,<br /> + And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,<br /> + Impatient till they told their present state,<br /> + And where they left their ships, and what their fate,<br /> + And why they came, and what was their request;<br /> + For these were sent, commission’d by the rest,<br /> + To sue for leave to land their sickly men,<br /> + And gain admission to the gracious queen.<br /> + Ent’ring, with cries they fill’d the holy fane;<br /> + Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “O Queen! indulg’d by favour of the gods<br /> + To found an empire in these new abodes,<br /> + To build a town, with statutes to restrain<br /> + The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,<br /> + We wretched Trojans, toss’d on ev’ry shore,<br /> + From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.<br /> + Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!<br /> + Receive th’ unhappy fugitives to grace,<br /> + And spare the remnant of a pious race!<br /> + We come not with design of wasteful prey,<br /> + To drive the country, force the swains away:<br /> + Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;<br /> + The vanquish’d dare not to such thoughts aspire.<br /> + A land there is, Hesperia nam’d of old;<br /> + The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold<br /> + Th’ Oenotrians held it once, by common fame<br /> + Now call’d Italia, from the leader’s name.<br /> + To that sweet region was our voyage bent,<br /> + When winds and ev’ry warring element<br /> + Disturb’d our course, and, far from sight of land,<br /> + Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand:<br /> + The sea came on; the South, with mighty roar,<br /> + Dispers’d and dash’d the rest upon the rocky shore.<br /> + Those few you see escap’d the storm, and fear,<br /> + Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.<br /> + What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,<br /> + What laws, what barb’rous customs of the place,<br /> + Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,<br /> + And drive us to the cruel seas again?<br /> + If our hard fortune no compassion draws,<br /> + Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,<br /> + The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.<br /> + Aeneas was our prince: a juster lord,<br /> + Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword;<br /> + Observant of the right, religious of his word.<br /> + If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,<br /> + Nor we, his friends, of safety shall despair;<br /> + Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,<br /> + Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.<br /> + We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,<br /> + Where King Acestes Trojan lineage boasts.<br /> + Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,<br /> + Refitted from your woods with planks and oars,<br /> + That, if our prince be safe, we may renew<br /> + Our destin’d course, and Italy pursue.<br /> + But if, O best of men, the Fates ordain<br /> + That thou art swallow’d in the Libyan main,<br /> + And if our young Iulus be no more,<br /> + Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,<br /> + That we to good Acestes may return,<br /> + And with our friends our common losses mourn.”<br /> + Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew<br /> + With cries and clamours his request renew.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The modest queen a while, with downcast eyes,<br /> + Ponder’d the speech; then briefly thus replies:<br /> + “Trojans, dismiss your fears; my cruel fate,<br /> + And doubts attending an unsettled state,<br /> + Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.<br /> + Who has not heard the story of your woes,<br /> + The name and fortune of your native place,<br /> + The fame and valour of the Phrygian race?<br /> + We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,<br /> + Nor so remote from Phoebus’ influence.<br /> + Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,<br /> + Or, driv’n by tempests from your first intent,<br /> + You seek the good Acestes’ government,<br /> + Your men shall be receiv’d, your fleet repair’d,<br /> + And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard:<br /> + Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow’rs<br /> + To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow’rs,<br /> + My wealth, my city, and myself are yours.<br /> + And would to Heav’n, the Storm, you felt, would bring<br /> + On Carthaginian coasts your wand’ring king.<br /> + My people shall, by my command, explore<br /> + The ports and creeks of ev’ry winding shore,<br /> + And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest<br /> + Of so renown’d and so desir’d a guest.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Rais’d in his mind the Trojan hero stood,<br /> + And long’d to break from out his ambient cloud:<br /> + Achates found it, and thus urg’d his way:<br /> + “From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?<br /> + What more can you desire, your welcome sure,<br /> + Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?<br /> + One only wants; and him we saw in vain<br /> + Oppose the Storm, and swallow’d in the main.<br /> + Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid;<br /> + The rest agrees with what your mother said.”<br /> + Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,<br /> + The mists flew upward and dissolv’d in day.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Trojan chief appear’d in open sight,<br /> + August in visage, and serenely bright.<br /> + His mother goddess, with her hands divine,<br /> + Had form’d his curling locks, and made his temples shine,<br /> + And giv’n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,<br /> + And breath’d a youthful vigour on his face;<br /> + Like polish’d ivory, beauteous to behold,<br /> + Or Parian marble, when enchas’d in gold:<br /> + Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke,<br /> + And thus with manly modesty he spoke:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss’d,<br /> + And sav’d from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;<br /> + Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,<br /> + A prince that owes his life to you alone.<br /> + Fair majesty, the refuge and redress<br /> + Of those whom fate pursues, and wants oppress,<br /> + You, who your pious offices employ<br /> + To save the relics of abandon’d Troy;<br /> + Receive the shipwreck’d on your friendly shore,<br /> + With hospitable rites relieve the poor;<br /> + Associate in your town a wand’ring train,<br /> + And strangers in your palace entertain:<br /> + What thanks can wretched fugitives return,<br /> + Who, scatter’d thro’ the world, in exile mourn?<br /> + The gods, if gods to goodness are inclin’d;<br /> + If acts of mercy touch their heav’nly mind,<br /> + And, more than all the gods, your gen’rous heart.<br /> + Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!<br /> + In you this age is happy, and this earth,<br /> + And parents more than mortal gave you birth.<br /> + While rolling rivers into seas shall run,<br /> + And round the space of heav’n the radiant sun;<br /> + While trees the mountain tops with shades supply,<br /> + Your honour, name, and praise shall never die.<br /> + Whate’er abode my fortune has assign’d,<br /> + Your image shall be present in my mind.”<br /> + Thus having said, he turn’d with pious haste,<br /> + And joyful his expecting friends embrac’d:<br /> + With his right hand Ilioneus was grac’d,<br /> + Serestus with his left; then to his breast<br /> + Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press’d;<br /> + And so by turns descended to the rest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Tyrian queen stood fix’d upon his face,<br /> + Pleas’d with his motions, ravish’d with his grace;<br /> + Admir’d his fortunes, more admir’d the man;<br /> + Then recollected stood, and thus began:<br /> + “What fate, O goddess-born; what angry pow’rs<br /> + Have cast you shipwreck’d on our barren shores?<br /> + Are you the great Aeneas, known to fame,<br /> + Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The same Aeneas whom fair Venus bore<br /> + To fam’d Anchises on th’ Idaean shore?<br /> + It calls into my mind, tho’ then a child,<br /> + When Teucer came, from Salamis exil’d,<br /> + And sought my father’s aid, to be restor’d:<br /> + My father Belus then with fire and sword<br /> + Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,<br /> + And, conqu’ring, finish’d the successful war.<br /> + From him the Trojan siege I understood,<br /> + The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.<br /> + Your foe himself the Dardan valour prais’d,<br /> + And his own ancestry from Trojans rais’d.<br /> + Enter, my noble guest, and you shall find,<br /> + If not a costly welcome, yet a kind:<br /> + For I myself, like you, have been distress’d,<br /> + Till Heav’n afforded me this place of rest;<br /> + Like you, an alien in a land unknown,<br /> + I learn to pity woes so like my own.”<br /> + She said, and to the palace led her guest;<br /> + Then offer’d incense, and proclaim’d a feast.<br /> + Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,<br /> + Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends;<br /> + Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,<br /> + With bleating cries, attend their milky dams;<br /> + And jars of gen’rous wine and spacious bowls<br /> + She gives, to cheer the sailors’ drooping souls.<br /> + Now purple hangings clothe the palace walls,<br /> + And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls:<br /> + On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;<br /> + With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine,<br /> + And antique vases, all of gold emboss’d<br /> + (The gold itself inferior to the cost),<br /> + Of curious work, where on the sides were seen<br /> + The fights and figures of illustrious men,<br /> + From their first founder to the present queen.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The good Aeneas, whose paternal care<br /> + Iulus’ absence could no longer bear,<br /> + Dispatch’d Achates to the ships in haste,<br /> + To give a glad relation of the past,<br /> + And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,<br /> + Snatch’d from the ruins of unhappy Troy:<br /> + A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;<br /> + An upper vest, once Helen’s rich attire,<br /> + From Argos by the fam’d adultress brought,<br /> + With golden flow’rs and winding foliage wrought,<br /> + Her mother Leda’s present, when she came<br /> + To ruin Troy and set the world on flame;<br /> + The scepter Priam’s eldest daughter bore,<br /> + Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore<br /> + Of double texture, glorious to behold,<br /> + One order set with gems, and one with gold.<br /> + Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,<br /> + And in his diligence his duty shows.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But Venus, anxious for her son’s affairs,<br /> + New counsels tries, and new designs prepares:<br /> + That Cupid should assume the shape and face<br /> + Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;<br /> + Should bring the presents, in her nephew’s stead,<br /> + And in Eliza’s veins the gentle poison shed:<br /> + For much she fear’d the Tyrians, double-tongued,<br /> + And knew the town to Juno’s care belong’d.<br /> + These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke,<br /> + And thus alarm’d, to winged Love she spoke:<br /> + “My son, my strength, whose mighty pow’r alone<br /> + Controls the Thund’rer on his awful throne,<br /> + To thee thy much-afflicted mother flies,<br /> + And on thy succour and thy faith relies.<br /> + Thou know’st, my son, how Jove’s revengeful wife,<br /> + By force and fraud, attempts thy brother’s life;<br /> + And often hast thou mourn’d with me his pains.<br /> + Him Dido now with blandishment detains;<br /> + But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.<br /> + For this ’tis needful to prevent her art,<br /> + And fire with love the proud Phoenician’s heart:<br /> + A love so violent, so strong, so sure,<br /> + As neither age can change, nor art can cure.<br /> + How this may be perform’d, now take my mind:<br /> + Ascanius by his father is design’d<br /> + To come, with presents laden, from the port,<br /> + To gratify the queen, and gain the court.<br /> + I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,<br /> + And, ravish’d, in Idalian bow’rs to keep,<br /> + Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit<br /> + May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.<br /> + Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace<br /> + But only for a night’s revolving space:<br /> + Thyself a boy, assume a boy’s dissembled face;<br /> + That when, amidst the fervour of the feast,<br /> + The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,<br /> + And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains,<br /> + Thou may’st infuse thy venom in her veins.”<br /> + The God of Love obeys, and sets aside<br /> + His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride;<br /> + He walks Iulus in his mother’s sight,<br /> + And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,<br /> + And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes:<br /> + Lull’d in her lap, amidst a train of Loves,<br /> + She gently bears him to her blissful groves,<br /> + Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,<br /> + And softly lays him on a flow’ry bed.<br /> + Cupid meantime assum’d his form and face,<br /> + Foll’wing Achates with a shorter pace,<br /> + And brought the gifts. The queen already sate<br /> + Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,<br /> + High on a golden bed: her princely guest<br /> + Was next her side; in order sate the rest.<br /> + Then canisters with bread are heap’d on high;<br /> + Th’ attendants water for their hands supply,<br /> + And, having wash’d, with silken towels dry.<br /> + Next fifty handmaids in long order bore<br /> + The censers, and with fumes the gods adore:<br /> + Then youths, and virgins twice as many, join<br /> + To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.<br /> + The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,<br /> + Approach, and on the painted couches rest.<br /> + All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,<br /> + But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,<br /> + His rosy-colour’d cheeks, his radiant eyes,<br /> + His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god’s disguise;<br /> + Nor pass unprais’d the vest and veil divine,<br /> + Which wand’ring foliage and rich flow’rs entwine.<br /> + But, far above the rest, the royal dame,<br /> + (Already doom’d to love’s disastrous flame,)<br /> + With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,<br /> + Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.<br /> + The guileful god about the hero long,<br /> + With children’s play, and false embraces, hung;<br /> + Then sought the queen: she took him to her arms<br /> + With greedy pleasure, and devour’d his charms.<br /> + Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,<br /> + How dire a god, she drew so near her breast;<br /> + But he, not mindless of his mother’s pray’r,<br /> + Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,<br /> + And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care.<br /> + The dead is to the living love resign’d;<br /> + And all Aeneas enters in her mind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas’d,<br /> + The meat remov’d, and ev’ry guest was pleas’d,<br /> + The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown’d,<br /> + And thro’ the palace cheerful cries resound.<br /> + From gilded roofs depending lamps display<br /> + Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.<br /> + A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,<br /> + The queen commanded to be crown’d with wine:<br /> + The bowl that Belus us’d, and all the Tyrian line.<br /> + Then, silence thro’ the hall proclaim’d, she spoke:<br /> + “O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke,<br /> + With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow’r;<br /> + Bless to both nations this auspicious hour!<br /> + So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line<br /> + In lasting concord from this day combine.<br /> + Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,<br /> + And gracious Juno, both be present here!<br /> + And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address<br /> + To Heav’n with mine, to ratify the peace.”<br /> + The goblet then she took, with nectar crown’d<br /> + (Sprinkling the first libations on the ground,)<br /> + And rais’d it to her mouth with sober grace;<br /> + Then, sipping, offer’d to the next in place.<br /> + ’Twas Bitias whom she call’d, a thirsty soul;<br /> + He took the challenge, and embrac’d the bowl,<br /> + With pleasure swill’d the gold, nor ceas’d to draw,<br /> + Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.<br /> + The goblet goes around: Iopas brought<br /> + His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught:<br /> + The various labours of the wand’ring moon,<br /> + And whence proceed th’ eclipses of the sun;<br /> + Th’ original of men and beasts; and whence<br /> + The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense,<br /> + And fix’d and erring stars dispose their influence;<br /> + What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays<br /> + The summer nights and shortens winter days.<br /> + With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song:<br /> + Those peals are echo’d by the Trojan throng.<br /> + Th’ unhappy queen with talk prolong’d the night,<br /> + And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;<br /> + Of Priam much enquir’d, of Hector more;<br /> + Then ask’d what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,<br /> + What troops he landed on the Trojan shore;<br /> + The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,<br /> + And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force;<br /> + At length, as fate and her ill stars requir’d,<br /> + To hear the series of the war desir’d.<br /> + “Relate at large, my godlike guest,” she said,<br /> + “The Grecian stratagems, the town betray’d:<br /> + The fatal issue of so long a war,<br /> + Your flight, your wand’rings, and your woes, declare;<br /> + For, since on ev’ry sea, on ev’ry coast,<br /> + Your men have been distress’d, your navy toss’d,<br /> + Sev’n times the sun has either tropic view’d,<br /> + The winter banish’d, and the spring renew’d.” + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>BOOK II</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Aeneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years’ siege, + by the treachery of Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden horse. He declares + the fixed resolution he had taken not to survive the ruin of his country, and + the various adventures he met with in defence of it. At last, having been before + advised by Hector’s ghost, and now by the appearance of his mother Venus, + he is prevailed upon to leave the town, and settle his household gods in another + country. In order to this, he carries off his father on his shoulders, and leads + his little son by the hand, his wife following behind. When he comes to the + place appointed for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of + people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to him, and tells + him the land which was designed for him. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ll were attentive to the godlike man,<br /> + When from his lofty couch he thus began:<br /> + “Great queen, what you command me to relate<br /> + Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:<br /> + An empire from its old foundations rent,<br /> + And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;<br /> + A peopled city made a desert place;<br /> + All that I saw, and part of which I was:<br /> + Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,<br /> + Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.<br /> + And now the latter watch of wasting night,<br /> + And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;<br /> + But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,<br /> + And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,<br /> + I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell<br /> + What in our last and fatal night befell.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “By destiny compell’d, and in despair,<br /> + The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,<br /> + And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,<br /> + Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d:<br /> + The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made<br /> + For their return, and this the vow they paid.<br /> + Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side<br /> + Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:<br /> + With inward arms the dire machine they load,<br /> + And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.<br /> + In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle<br /> + (While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)<br /> + Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,<br /> + Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay.<br /> + There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece<br /> + Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.<br /> + The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,<br /> + Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,<br /> + Like swarming bees, and with delight survey<br /> + The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:<br /> + The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;<br /> + Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;<br /> + Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.<br /> + Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ:<br /> + The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.<br /> + Thymoetes first (’tis doubtful whether hir’d,<br /> + Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)<br /> + Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,<br /> + To lodge the monster fabric in the town.<br /> + But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,<br /> + The fatal present to the flames designed,<br /> + Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore<br /> + The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.<br /> + The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,<br /> + With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.<br /> + Laocoon, follow’d by a num’rous crowd,<br /> + Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:<br /> + ‘O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?<br /> + What more than madness has possess’d your brains?<br /> + Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?<br /> + And are Ulysses’ arts no better known?<br /> + This hollow fabric either must inclose,<br /> + Within its blind recess, our secret foes;<br /> + Or ’tis an engine rais’d above the town,<br /> + T’ o’erlook the walls, and then to batter down.<br /> + Somewhat is sure design’d, by fraud or force:<br /> + Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.’<br /> + Thus having said, against the steed he threw<br /> + His forceful spear, which, hissing as it flew,<br /> + Pierc’d thro’ the yielding planks of jointed wood,<br /> + And trembling in the hollow belly stood.<br /> + The sides, transpierc’d, return a rattling sound,<br /> + And groans of Greeks inclos’d come issuing thro’ the wound<br /> + And, had not Heav’n the fall of Troy design’d,<br /> + Or had not men been fated to be blind,<br /> + Enough was said and done t’inspire a better mind.<br /> + Then had our lances pierc’d the treach’rous wood,<br /> + And Ilian tow’rs and Priam’s empire stood.<br /> + Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring<br /> + A captive Greek, in bands, before the king;<br /> + Taken to take; who made himself their prey,<br /> + T’ impose on their belief, and Troy betray;<br /> + Fix’d on his aim, and obstinately bent<br /> + To die undaunted, or to circumvent.<br /> + About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;<br /> + All press to see, and some insult the foe.<br /> + Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis’d;<br /> + Behold a nation in a man compris’d.<br /> + Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm’d and bound;<br /> + He star’d, and roll’d his haggard eyes around,<br /> + Then said: ‘Alas! what earth remains, what sea<br /> + Is open to receive unhappy me?<br /> + What fate a wretched fugitive attends,<br /> + Scorn’d by my foes, abandon’d by my friends?’<br /> + He said, and sigh’d, and cast a rueful eye:<br /> + Our pity kindles, and our passions die.<br /> + We cheer the youth to make his own defence,<br /> + And freely tell us what he was, and whence:<br /> + What news he could impart, we long to know,<br /> + And what to credit from a captive foe.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “His fear at length dismiss’d, he said: ‘Whate’er<br /> + My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere:<br /> + I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim;<br /> + Greece is my country, Sinon is my name.<br /> + Tho’ plung’d by Fortune’s pow’r in misery,<br /> + ’Tis not in Fortune’s pow’r to make me lie.<br /> + If any chance has hither brought the name<br /> + Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,<br /> + Who suffer’d from the malice of the times,<br /> + Accus’d and sentenc’d for pretended crimes,<br /> + Because these fatal wars he would prevent;<br /> + Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament;<br /> + Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare<br /> + Of other means, committed to his care,<br /> + His kinsman and companion in the war.<br /> + While Fortune favour’d, while his arms support<br /> + The cause, and rul’d the counsels, of the court,<br /> + I made some figure there; nor was my name<br /> + Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.<br /> + But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,<br /> + Had made impression in the people’s hearts,<br /> + And forg’d a treason in my patron’s name<br /> + (I speak of things too far divulg’d by fame),<br /> + My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,<br /> + In private mourn’d his loss, and left the court.<br /> + Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate<br /> + With silent grief, but loudly blam’d the state,<br /> + And curs’d the direful author of my woes.<br /> + ’Twas told again; and hence my ruin rose.<br /> + I threaten’d, if indulgent Heav’n once more<br /> + Would land me safely on my native shore,<br /> + His death with double vengeance to restore.<br /> + This mov’d the murderer’s hate; and soon ensued<br /> + Th’ effects of malice from a man so proud.<br /> + Ambiguous rumours thro’ the camp he spread,<br /> + And sought, by treason, my devoted head;<br /> + New crimes invented; left unturn’d no stone,<br /> + To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;<br /> + Till Calchas was by force and threat’ning wrought:<br /> + But why—why dwell I on that anxious thought?<br /> + If on my nation just revenge you seek,<br /> + And ’tis t’ appear a foe, t’ appear a Greek;<br /> + Already you my name and country know;<br /> + Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow:<br /> + My death will both the kingly brothers please,<br /> + And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.’<br /> + This fair unfinish’d tale, these broken starts,<br /> + Rais’d expectations in our longing hearts:<br /> + Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.<br /> + His former trembling once again renew’d,<br /> + With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘Long had the Grecians (tir’d with fruitless care,<br /> + And wearied with an unsuccessful war)<br /> + Resolv’d to raise the siege, and leave the town;<br /> + And, had the gods permitted, they had gone;<br /> + But oft the wintry seas and southern winds<br /> + Withstood their passage home, and chang’d their minds.<br /> + Portents and prodigies their souls amaz’d;<br /> + But most, when this stupendous pile was rais’d:<br /> + Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,<br /> + And thunders rattled thro’ a sky serene.<br /> + Dismay’d, and fearful of some dire event,<br /> + Eurypylus t’ enquire their fate was sent.<br /> + He from the gods this dreadful answer brought:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought,<br /> + Your passage with a virgin’s blood was bought:<br /> + So must your safe return be bought again,<br /> + And Grecian blood once more atone the main.”<br /> + The spreading rumour round the people ran;<br /> + All fear’d, and each believ’d himself the man.<br /> + Ulysses took th’ advantage of their fright;<br /> + Call’d Calchas, and produc’d in open sight:<br /> + Then bade him name the wretch, ordain’d by fate<br /> + The public victim, to redeem the state.<br /> + Already some presag’d the dire event,<br /> + And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.<br /> + For twice five days the good old seer withstood<br /> + Th’ intended treason, and was dumb to blood,<br /> + Till, tir’d, with endless clamours and pursuit<br /> + Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute;<br /> + But, as it was agreed, pronounc’d that I<br /> + Was destin’d by the wrathful gods to die.<br /> + All prais’d the sentence, pleas’d the storm should fall<br /> + On one alone, whose fury threaten’d all.<br /> + The dismal day was come; the priests prepare<br /> + Their leaven’d cakes, and fillets for my hair.<br /> + I follow’d nature’s laws, and must avow<br /> + I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow.<br /> + Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay,<br /> + Secure of safety when they sail’d away.<br /> + But now what further hopes for me remain,<br /> + To see my friends, or native soil, again;<br /> + My tender infants, or my careful sire,<br /> + Whom they returning will to death require;<br /> + Will perpetrate on them their first design,<br /> + And take the forfeit of their heads for mine?<br /> + Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move,<br /> + If there be faith below, or gods above,<br /> + If innocence and truth can claim desert,<br /> + Ye Trojans, from an injur’d wretch avert.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “False tears true pity move; the king commands<br /> + To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands:<br /> + Then adds these friendly words: ‘Dismiss thy fears;<br /> + Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs.<br /> + But truly tell, was it for force or guile,<br /> + Or some religious end, you rais’d the pile?’<br /> + Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts,<br /> + This well-invented tale for truth imparts:<br /> + ‘Ye lamps of heav’n!’ he said, and lifted high<br /> + His hands now free, ‘thou venerable sky!<br /> + Inviolable pow’rs, ador’d with dread!<br /> + Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head!<br /> + Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled!<br /> + Be all of you adjur’d; and grant I may,<br /> + Without a crime, th’ ungrateful Greeks betray,<br /> + Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,<br /> + And justly punish whom I justly hate!<br /> + But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,<br /> + If I, to save myself, your empire save.<br /> + The Grecian hopes, and all th’ attempts they made,<br /> + Were only founded on Minerva’s aid.<br /> + But from the time when impious Diomede,<br /> + And false Ulysses, that inventive head,<br /> + Her fatal image from the temple drew,<br /> + The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,<br /> + Her virgin statue with their bloody hands<br /> + Polluted, and profan’d her holy bands;<br /> + From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,<br /> + And ebb’d much faster than it flow’d before:<br /> + Their courage languish’d, as their hopes decay’d;<br /> + And Pallas, now averse, refus’d her aid.<br /> + Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare<br /> + Her alter’d mind and alienated care.<br /> + When first her fatal image touch’d the ground,<br /> + She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,<br /> + That sparkled as they roll’d, and seem’d to threat:<br /> + Her heav’nly limbs distill’d a briny sweat.<br /> + Thrice from the ground she leap’d, was seen to wield<br /> + Her brandish’d lance, and shake her horrid shield.<br /> + Then Calchas bade our host for flight<br /> + And hope no conquest from the tedious war,<br /> + Till first they sail’d for Greece; with pray’rs besought<br /> + Her injur’d pow’r, and better omens brought.<br /> + And now their navy plows the wat’ry main,<br /> + Yet soon expect it on your shores again,<br /> + With Pallas pleas’d; as Calchas did ordain.<br /> + But first, to reconcile the blue-ey’d maid<br /> + For her stol’n statue and her tow’r betray’d,<br /> + Warn’d by the seer, to her offended name<br /> + We rais’d and dedicate this wondrous frame,<br /> + So lofty, lest thro’ your forbidden gates<br /> + It pass, and intercept our better fates:<br /> + For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;<br /> + And Troy may then a new Palladium boast;<br /> + For so religion and the gods ordain,<br /> + That, if you violate with hands profane<br /> + Minerva’s gift, your town in flames shall burn,<br /> + (Which omen, O ye gods, on Grecia turn!)<br /> + But if it climb, with your assisting hands,<br /> + The Trojan walls, and in the city stands;<br /> + Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn,<br /> + And the reverse of fate on us return.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “With such deceits he gain’d their easy hearts,<br /> + Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.<br /> + What Diomede, nor Thetis’ greater son,<br /> + A thousand ships, nor ten years’ siege, had done:<br /> + False tears and fawning words the city won.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “A greater omen, and of worse portent,<br /> + Did our unwary minds with fear torment,<br /> + Concurring to produce the dire event.<br /> + Laocoon, Neptune’s priest by lot that year,<br /> + With solemn pomp then sacrific’d a steer;<br /> + When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied<br /> + Two serpents, rank’d abreast, the seas divide,<br /> + And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.<br /> + Their flaming crests above the waves they show;<br /> + Their bellies seem to burn the seas below;<br /> + Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,<br /> + And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.<br /> + And now the strand, and now the plain they held;<br /> + Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill’d;<br /> + Their nimble tongues they brandish’d as they came,<br /> + And lick’d their hissing jaws, that sputter’d flame.<br /> + We fled amaz’d; their destin’d way they take,<br /> + And to Laocoon and his children make;<br /> + And first around the tender boys they wind,<br /> + Then with their sharpen’d fangs their limbs and bodies grind.<br /> + The wretched father, running to their aid<br /> + With pious haste, but vain, they next invade;<br /> + Twice round his waist their winding volumes roll’d;<br /> + And twice about his gasping throat they fold.<br /> + The priest thus doubly chok’d, their crests divide,<br /> + And tow’ring o’er his head in triumph ride.<br /> + With both his hands he labours at the knots;<br /> + His holy fillets the blue venom blots;<br /> + His roaring fills the flitting air around.<br /> + Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,<br /> + He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,<br /> + And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.<br /> + Their tasks perform’d, the serpents quit their prey,<br /> + And to the tow’r of Pallas make their way:<br /> + Couch’d at her feet, they lie protected there<br /> + By her large buckler and protended spear.<br /> + Amazement seizes all; the gen’ral cry<br /> + Proclaims Laocoon justly doom’d to die,<br /> + Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,<br /> + And dared to violate the sacred wood.<br /> + All vote t’ admit the steed, that vows be paid<br /> + And incense offer’d to th’ offended maid.<br /> + A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;<br /> + Some hoisting levers, some the wheels prepare<br /> + And fasten to the horse’s feet; the rest<br /> + With cables haul along th’ unwieldly beast.<br /> + Each on his fellow for assistance calls;<br /> + At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,<br /> + Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown’d,<br /> + And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.<br /> + Thus rais’d aloft, and then descending down,<br /> + It enters o’er our heads, and threats the town.<br /> + O sacred city, built by hands divine!<br /> + O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!<br /> + Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound<br /> + Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.<br /> + Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,<br /> + We haul along the horse in solemn state;<br /> + Then place the dire portent within the tow’r.<br /> + Cassandra cried, and curs’d th’ unhappy hour;<br /> + Foretold our fate; but, by the god’s decree,<br /> + All heard, and none believ’d the prophecy.<br /> + With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,<br /> + In jollity, the day ordain’d to be the last.<br /> + Meantime the rapid heav’ns roll’d down the light,<br /> + And on the shaded ocean rush’d the night;<br /> + Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,<br /> + But easy sleep their weary limbs compell’d.<br /> + The Grecians had embark’d their naval pow’rs<br /> + From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,<br /> + Safe under covert of the silent night,<br /> + And guided by th’ imperial galley’s light;<br /> + When Sinon, favour’d by the partial gods,<br /> + Unlock’d the horse, and op’d his dark abodes;<br /> + Restor’d to vital air our hidden foes,<br /> + Who joyful from their long confinement rose.<br /> + Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,<br /> + And dire Ulysses down the cable slide:<br /> + Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;<br /> + Nor was the Podalirian hero last,<br /> + Nor injur’d Menelaus, nor the fam’d<br /> + Epeus, who the fatal engine fram’d.<br /> + A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join<br /> + T’ invade the town, oppress’d with sleep and wine.<br /> + Those few they find awake first meet their fate;<br /> + Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “’Twas in the dead of night, when sleep repairs<br /> + Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,<br /> + When Hector’s ghost before my sight appears:<br /> + A bloody shroud he seem’d, and bath’d in tears;<br /> + Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain,<br /> + Thessalian coursers dragg’d him o’er the plain.<br /> + Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust<br /> + Thro’ the bor’d holes; his body black with dust;<br /> + Unlike that Hector who return’d from toils<br /> + Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils,<br /> + Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire,<br /> + And launch’d against their navy Phrygian fire.<br /> + His hair and beard stood stiffen’d with his gore;<br /> + And all the wounds he for his country bore<br /> + Now stream’d afresh, and with new purple ran.<br /> + I wept to see the visionary man,<br /> + And, while my trance continued, thus began:<br /> + ‘O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,<br /> + Thy father’s champion, and thy country’s joy!<br /> + O, long expected by thy friends! from whence<br /> + Art thou so late return’d for our defence?<br /> + Do we behold thee, wearied as we are<br /> + With length of labours, and with toils of war?<br /> + After so many fun’rals of thy own<br /> + Art thou restor’d to thy declining town?<br /> + But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace<br /> + Deforms the manly features of thy face?’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “To this the spectre no reply did frame,<br /> + But answer’d to the cause for which he came,<br /> + And, groaning from the bottom of his breast,<br /> + This warning in these mournful words express’d:<br /> + ‘O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight,<br /> + The flames and horrors of this fatal night.<br /> + The foes already have possess’d the wall;<br /> + Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.<br /> + Enough is paid to Priam’s royal name,<br /> + More than enough to duty and to fame.<br /> + If by a mortal hand my father’s throne<br /> + Could be defended, ’twas by mine alone.<br /> + Now Troy to thee commends her future state,<br /> + And gives her gods companions of thy fate:<br /> + From their assistance walls expect,<br /> + Which, wand’ring long, at last thou shalt erect.’<br /> + He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes,<br /> + The venerable statues of the gods,<br /> + With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir,<br /> + The wreaths and relics of th’ immortal fire.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Now peals of shouts come thund’ring from afar,<br /> + Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war:<br /> + The noise approaches, tho’ our palace stood<br /> + Aloof from streets, encompass’d with a wood.<br /> + Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th’ alarms<br /> + Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms.<br /> + Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay,<br /> + But mount the terrace, thence the town survey,<br /> + And hearken what the frightful sounds convey.<br /> + Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne,<br /> + Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn;<br /> + Or deluges, descending on the plains,<br /> + Sweep o’er the yellow ear, destroy the pains<br /> + Of lab’ring oxen and the peasant’s gains;<br /> + Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away<br /> + Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguish’d prey:<br /> + The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far<br /> + The wasteful ravage of the wat’ry war.<br /> + Then Hector’s faith was manifestly clear’d,<br /> + And Grecian frauds in open light appear’d.<br /> + The palace of Deiphobus ascends<br /> + In smoky flames, and catches on his friends.<br /> + Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright<br /> + With splendour not their own, and shine with Trojan light.<br /> + New clamours and new clangours now arise,<br /> + The sound of trumpets mix’d with fighting cries.<br /> + With frenzy seiz’d, I run to meet th’ alarms,<br /> + Resolv’d on death, resolv’d to die in arms,<br /> + But first to gather friends, with them t’ oppose<br /> + If fortune favour’d, and repel the foes;<br /> + Spurr’d by my courage, by my country fir’d,<br /> + With sense of honour and revenge inspir’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Pantheus, Apollo’s priest, a sacred name,<br /> + Had scap’d the Grecian swords, and pass’d the flame:<br /> + With relics loaden, to my doors he fled,<br /> + And by the hand his tender grandson led.<br /> + ‘What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run?<br /> + Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?’<br /> + Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan:<br /> + ‘Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!<br /> + The fatal day, th’ appointed hour, is come,<br /> + When wrathful Jove’s irrevocable doom<br /> + Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.<br /> + The fire consumes the town, the foe commands;<br /> + And armed hosts, an unexpected force,<br /> + Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.<br /> + Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about<br /> + The flames; and foes for entrance press without,<br /> + With thousand others, whom I fear to name,<br /> + More than from Argos or Mycenae came.<br /> + To sev’ral posts their parties they divide;<br /> + Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide:<br /> + The bold they kill, th’ unwary they surprise;<br /> + Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.<br /> + The warders of the gate but scarce maintain<br /> + Th’ unequal combat, and resist in vain.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “I heard; and Heav’n, that well-born souls inspires,<br /> + Prompts me thro’ lifted swords and rising fires<br /> + To run where clashing arms and clamour calls,<br /> + And rush undaunted to defend the walls.<br /> + Ripheus and Iph’itas by my side engage,<br /> + For valour one renown’d, and one for age.<br /> + Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew<br /> + My motions and my mien, and to my party drew;<br /> + With young Coroebus, who by love was led<br /> + To win renown and fair Cassandra’s bed,<br /> + And lately brought his troops to Priam’s aid,<br /> + Forewarn’d in vain by the prophetic maid.<br /> + Whom when I saw resolv’d in arms to fall,<br /> + And that one spirit animated all:<br /> + ‘Brave souls!’ said I, ‘but brave, alas! in vain:<br /> + Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.<br /> + You see the desp’rate state of our affairs,<br /> + And heav’n’s protecting pow’rs are deaf to pray’rs.<br /> + The passive gods behold the Greeks defile<br /> + Their temples, and abandon to the spoil<br /> + Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire<br /> + To save a sinking town, involv’d in fire.<br /> + Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:<br /> + Despair of life the means of living shows.’<br /> + So bold a speech incourag’d their desire<br /> + Of death, and added fuel to their fire.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “As hungry wolves, with raging appetite,<br /> + Scour thro’ the fields, nor fear the stormy night;<br /> + Their whelps at home expect the promis’d food,<br /> + And long to temper their dry chaps in blood:<br /> + So rush’d we forth at once; resolv’d to die,<br /> + Resolv’d, in death, the last extremes to try.<br /> + We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare<br /> + Th’ unequal combat in the public square:<br /> + Night was our friend; our leader was despair.<br /> + What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?<br /> + What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?<br /> + An ancient and imperial city falls:<br /> + The streets are fill’d with frequent funerals;<br /> + Houses and holy temples float in blood,<br /> + And hostile nations make a common flood.<br /> + Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn,<br /> + The vanquish’d triumph, and the victors mourn.<br /> + Ours take new courage from despair and night:<br /> + Confus’d the fortune is, confus’d the fight.<br /> + All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;<br /> + And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.<br /> + Androgeos fell among us, with his band,<br /> + Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.<br /> + ‘From whence,’ said he, ‘my friends, this long delay?<br /> + You loiter, while the spoils are borne away:<br /> + Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;<br /> + And you, like truants, come too late ashore.’<br /> + He said, but soon corrected his mistake,<br /> + Found, by the doubtful answers which we make:<br /> + Amaz’d, he would have shunn’d th’ unequal fight;<br /> + But we, more num’rous, intercept his flight.<br /> + As when some peasant, in a bushy brake,<br /> + Has with unwary footing press’d a snake;<br /> + He starts aside, astonish’d, when he spies<br /> + His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;<br /> + So from our arms surpris’d Androgeos flies.<br /> + In vain; for him and his we compass’d round,<br /> + Possess’d with fear, unknowing of the ground,<br /> + And of their lives an easy conquest found.<br /> + Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil’d.<br /> + Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguil’d,<br /> + Swoln with success, and a daring mind,<br /> + This new invention fatally design’d.<br /> + ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘since Fortune shows the way,<br /> + ’Tis fit we should th’ auspicious guide obey.<br /> + For what has she these Grecian arms bestow’d,<br /> + But their destruction, and the Trojans’ good?<br /> + Then change we shields, and their devices bear:<br /> + Let fraud supply the want of force in war.<br /> + They find us arms.’ This said, himself he dress’d<br /> + In dead Androgeos’ spoils, his upper vest,<br /> + His painted buckler, and his plumy crest.<br /> + Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train,<br /> + Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain.<br /> + Mix’d with the Greeks, we go with ill presage,<br /> + Flatter’d with hopes to glut our greedy rage;<br /> + Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet,<br /> + And strew with Grecian carcasses the street.<br /> + Thus while their straggling parties we defeat,<br /> + Some to the shore and safer ships retreat;<br /> + And some, oppress’d with more ignoble fear,<br /> + Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “But, ah! what use of valour can be made,<br /> + When heav’n’s propitious pow’rs refuse their aid!<br /> + Behold the royal prophetess, the fair<br /> + Cassandra, dragg’d by her dishevel’d hair,<br /> + Whom not Minerva’s shrine, nor sacred bands,<br /> + In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands:<br /> + On heav’n she cast her eyes, she sigh’d, she cried,<br /> + (’Twas all she could) her tender arms were tied.<br /> + So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear;<br /> + But, fir’d with rage, distracted with despair,<br /> + Amid the barb’rous ravishers he flew:<br /> + Our leader’s rash example we pursue.<br /> + But storms of stones, from the proud temple’s height,<br /> + Pour down, and on our batter’d helms alight:<br /> + We from our friends receiv’d this fatal blow,<br /> + Who thought us Grecians, as we seem’d in show.<br /> + They aim at the mistaken crests, from high;<br /> + And ours beneath the pond’rous ruin lie.<br /> + Then, mov’d with anger and disdain, to see<br /> + Their troops dispers’d, the royal virgin free,<br /> + The Grecians rally, and their pow’rs unite,<br /> + With fury charge us, and renew the fight.<br /> + The brother kings with Ajax join their force,<br /> + And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try,<br /> + Contending for the kingdom of the sky,<br /> + South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne;<br /> + The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn:<br /> + Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise,<br /> + And, mix’d with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.<br /> + The troops we squander’d first again appear<br /> + From several quarters, and enclose the rear.<br /> + They first observe, and to the rest betray,<br /> + Our diff’rent speech; our borrow’d arms survey.<br /> + Oppress’d with odds, we fall; Coroebus first,<br /> + At Pallas’ altar, by Peneleus pierc’d.<br /> + Then Ripheus follow’d, in th’ unequal fight;<br /> + Just of his word, observant of the right:<br /> + Heav’n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends,<br /> + With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends.<br /> + Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy mitre, nor the bands<br /> + Of awful Phoebus, sav’d from impious hands.<br /> + Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear,<br /> + What I perform’d, and what I suffer’d there;<br /> + No sword avoiding in the fatal strife,<br /> + Expos’d to death, and prodigal of life;<br /> + Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault:<br /> + I strove to have deserv’d the death I sought.<br /> + But, when I could not fight, and would have died,<br /> + Borne off to distance by the growing tide,<br /> + Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence,<br /> + With Pelias wounded, and without defence.<br /> + New clamours from th’ invested palace ring:<br /> + We run to die, or disengage the king.<br /> + So hot th’ assault, so high the tumult rose,<br /> + While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose<br /> + As all the Dardan and Argolic race<br /> + Had been contracted in that narrow space;<br /> + Or as all Ilium else were void of fear,<br /> + And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there.<br /> + Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes,<br /> + Secure advancing, to the turrets rose:<br /> + Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold,<br /> + Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold;<br /> + Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th’ ascent,<br /> + While with their right they seize the battlement.<br /> + From their demolish’d tow’rs the Trojans throw<br /> + Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe;<br /> + And heavy beams and rafters from the sides<br /> + (Such arms their last necessity provides)<br /> + And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high,<br /> + The marks of state and ancient royalty.<br /> + The guards below, fix’d in the pass, attend<br /> + The charge undaunted, and the gate defend.<br /> + Renew’d in courage with recover’d breath,<br /> + A second time we ran to tempt our death,<br /> + To clear the palace from the foe, succeed<br /> + The weary living, and revenge the dead.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “A postern door, yet unobserv’d and free,<br /> + Join’d by the length of a blind gallery,<br /> + To the king’s closet led: a way well known<br /> + To Hector’s wife, while Priam held the throne,<br /> + Thro’ which she brought Astyanax, unseen,<br /> + To cheer his grandsire and his grandsire’s queen.<br /> + Thro’ this we pass, and mount the tow’r, from whence<br /> + With unavailing arms the Trojans make defence.<br /> + From this the trembling king had oft descried<br /> + The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride.<br /> + Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew,<br /> + Then, wrenching with our hands, th’ assault renew;<br /> + And, where the rafters on the columns meet,<br /> + We push them headlong with our arms and feet.<br /> + The lightning flies not swifter than the fall,<br /> + Nor thunder louder than the ruin’d wall:<br /> + Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath<br /> + Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death.<br /> + Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent;<br /> + We cease not from above, nor they below relent.<br /> + Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threat’ning loud,<br /> + With glitt’ring arms conspicuous in the crowd.<br /> + So shines, renew’d in youth, the crested snake,<br /> + Who slept the winter in a thorny brake,<br /> + And, casting off his slough when spring returns,<br /> + Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns;<br /> + Restor’d with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides<br /> + Reflect the sun; and rais’d on spires he rides;<br /> + High o’er the grass, hissing he rolls along,<br /> + And brandishes by fits his forky tongue.<br /> + Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon,<br /> + His father’s charioteer, together run<br /> + To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry<br /> + Rush on in crowds, and the barr’d passage free.<br /> + Ent’ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend;<br /> + And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend.<br /> + Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows,<br /> + And with his ax repeated strokes bestows<br /> + On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply,<br /> + Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly.<br /> + He hews apace; the double bars at length<br /> + Yield to his ax and unresisted strength.<br /> + A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceal’d<br /> + Appear, and all the palace is reveal’d;<br /> + The halls of audience, and of public state,<br /> + And where the lonely queen in secret sate.<br /> + Arm’d soldiers now by trembling maids are seen,<br /> + With not a door, and scarce a space, between.<br /> + The house is fill’d with loud laments and cries,<br /> + And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies;<br /> + The fearful matrons run from place to place,<br /> + And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace.<br /> + The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies,<br /> + And all his father sparkles in his eyes;<br /> + Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain:<br /> + The bars are broken, and the guards are slain.<br /> + In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill;<br /> + Those few defendants whom they find, they kill.<br /> + Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood<br /> + Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood;<br /> + Bears down the dams with unresisted sway,<br /> + And sweeps the cattle and the cots away.<br /> + These eyes beheld him when he march’d between<br /> + The brother kings: I saw th’ unhappy queen,<br /> + The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood,<br /> + To stain his hallow’d altar with his brood.<br /> + The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he,<br /> + So large a promise, of a progeny),<br /> + The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils,<br /> + Fell the reward of the proud victor’s toils.<br /> + Where’er the raging fire had left a space,<br /> + The Grecians enter and possess the place.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Perhaps you may of Priam’s fate enquire.<br /> + He, when he saw his regal town on fire,<br /> + His ruin’d palace, and his ent’ring foes,<br /> + On ev’ry side inevitable woes,<br /> + In arms, disus’d, invests his limbs, decay’d,<br /> + Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.<br /> + His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain;<br /> + Loaded, not arm’d, he creeps along with pain,<br /> + Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain!<br /> + Uncover’d but by heav’n, there stood in view<br /> + An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew,<br /> + Dodder’d with age, whose boughs encompass round<br /> + The household gods, and shade the holy ground.<br /> + Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train<br /> + Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain.<br /> + Driv’n like a flock of doves along the sky,<br /> + Their images they hug, and to their altars fly.<br /> + The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord,<br /> + And hanging by his side a heavy sword,<br /> + ‘What rage,’ she cried, ‘has seiz’d my husband’s mind?<br /> + What arms are these, and to what use design’d?<br /> + These times want other aids! Were Hector here,<br /> + Ev’n Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear.<br /> + With us, one common shelter thou shalt find,<br /> + Or in one common fate with us be join’d.’<br /> + She said, and with a last salute embrac’d<br /> + The poor old man, and by the laurel plac’d.<br /> + Behold! Polites, one of Priam’s sons,<br /> + Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs.<br /> + Thro’ swords and foes, amaz’d and hurt, he flies<br /> + Thro’ empty courts and open galleries.<br /> + Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues,<br /> + And often reaches, and his thrusts renews.<br /> + The youth, transfix’d, with lamentable cries,<br /> + Expires before his wretched parent’s eyes:<br /> + Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw,<br /> + The fear of death gave place to nature’s law;<br /> + And, shaking more with anger than with age,<br /> + ‘The gods,’ said he, ‘requite thy brutal rage!<br /> + As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,<br /> + If there be gods in heav’n, and gods be just:<br /> + Who tak’st in wrongs an insolent delight;<br /> + With a son’s death t’ infect a father’s sight.<br /> + Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire<br /> + To call thee his; not he, thy vaunted sire,<br /> + Thus us’d my wretched age: the gods he fear’d,<br /> + The laws of nature and of nations heard.<br /> + He cheer’d my sorrows, and, for sums of gold,<br /> + The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold;<br /> + Pitied the woes a parent underwent,<br /> + And sent me back in safety from his tent.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw,<br /> + Which, flutt’ring, seem’d to loiter as it flew:<br /> + Just, and but barely, to the mark it held,<br /> + And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Then Pyrrhus thus: ‘Go thou from me to fate,<br /> + And to my father my foul deeds relate.<br /> + Now die!’ With that he dragg’d the trembling sire,<br /> + Slidd’ring thro’ clotter’d blood and holy mire,<br /> + (The mingled paste his murder’d son had made,)<br /> + Haul’d from beneath the violated shade,<br /> + And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid.<br /> + His right hand held his bloody falchion bare,<br /> + His left he twisted in his hoary hair;<br /> + Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found:<br /> + The lukewarm blood came rushing thro’ the wound,<br /> + And sanguine streams distain’d the sacred ground.<br /> + Thus Priam fell, and shar’d one common fate<br /> + With Troy in ashes, and his ruin’d state:<br /> + He, who the scepter of all Asia sway’d,<br /> + Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey’d.<br /> + On the bleak shore now lies th’ abandon’d king,<br /> + A headless carcass, and a nameless thing.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Then, not before, I felt my curdled blood<br /> + Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood:<br /> + My father’s image fill’d my pious mind,<br /> + Lest equal years might equal fortune find.<br /> + Again I thought on my forsaken wife,<br /> + And trembled for my son’s abandon’d life.<br /> + I look’d about, but found myself alone,<br /> + Deserted at my need! My friends were gone.<br /> + Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress’d,<br /> + Leap’d headlong from the heights; the flames consum’d the rest.<br /> + Thus, wand’ring in my way, without a guide,<br /> + The graceless Helen in the porch I spied<br /> + Of Vesta’s temple; there she lurk’d alone;<br /> + Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown:<br /> + But, by the flames that cast their blaze around,<br /> + That common bane of Greece and Troy I found.<br /> + For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword;<br /> + More dreads the vengeance of her injur’d lord;<br /> + Ev’n by those gods who refug’d her abhorr’d.<br /> + Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard,<br /> + Resolv’d to give her guilt the due reward:<br /> + ‘Shall she triumphant sail before the wind,<br /> + And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind?<br /> + Shall she her kingdom and her friends review,<br /> + In state attended with a captive crew,<br /> + While unreveng’d the good old Priam falls,<br /> + And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls?<br /> + For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood<br /> + Were swell’d with bodies, and were drunk with blood?<br /> + ’Tis true, a soldier can small honour gain,<br /> + And boast no conquest, from a woman slain:<br /> + Yet shall the fact not pass without applause,<br /> + Of vengeance taken in so just a cause;<br /> + The punish’d crime shall set my soul at ease,<br /> + And murm’ring manes of my friends appease.’<br /> + Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light<br /> + Spread o’er the place; and, shining heav’nly bright,<br /> + My mother stood reveal’d before my sight<br /> + Never so radiant did her eyes appear;<br /> + Not her own star confess’d a light so clear:<br /> + Great in her charms, as when on gods above<br /> + She looks, and breathes herself into their love.<br /> + She held my hand, the destin’d blow to break;<br /> + Then from her rosy lips began to speak:<br /> + ‘My son, from whence this madness, this neglect<br /> + Of my commands, and those whom I protect?<br /> + Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind<br /> + Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind.<br /> + Look if your helpless father yet survive,<br /> + Or if Ascanius or Creusa live.<br /> + Around your house the greedy Grecians err;<br /> + And these had perish’d in the nightly war,<br /> + But for my presence and protecting care.<br /> + Not Helen’s face, nor Paris, was in fault;<br /> + But by the gods was this destruction brought.<br /> + Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve<br /> + The mists and films that mortal eyes involve,<br /> + Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see<br /> + The shape of each avenging deity.<br /> + Enlighten’d thus, my just commands fulfil,<br /> + Nor fear obedience to your mother’s will.<br /> + Where yon disorder’d heap of ruin lies,<br /> + Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise,<br /> + Amid that smother Neptune holds his place,<br /> + Below the wall’s foundation drives his mace,<br /> + And heaves the building from the solid base.<br /> + Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands<br /> + Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands,<br /> + Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands.<br /> + See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud,<br /> + Bestrides the tow’r, refulgent thro’ the cloud:<br /> + See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies,<br /> + And arms against the town the partial deities.<br /> + Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labour end:<br /> + Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend:<br /> + Haste; and a mother’s care your passage shall befriend.’<br /> + She said, and swiftly vanish’d from my sight,<br /> + Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night.<br /> + I look’d, I listen’d; dreadful sounds I hear;<br /> + And the dire forms of hostile gods appear.<br /> + Troy sunk in flames I saw, nor could prevent;<br /> + And Ilium from its old foundations rent;<br /> + Rent like a mountain ash, which dar’d the winds,<br /> + And stood the sturdy strokes of lab’ring hinds.<br /> + About the roots the cruel ax resounds;<br /> + The stumps are pierc’d with oft-repeated wounds:<br /> + The war is felt on high; the nodding crown<br /> + Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down.<br /> + To their united force it yields, tho’ late,<br /> + And mourns with mortal groans th’ approaching fate:<br /> + The roots no more their upper load sustain;<br /> + But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro’ the plain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Descending thence, I scape thro’ foes and fire:<br /> + Before the goddess, foes and flames retire.<br /> + Arriv’d at home, he, for whose only sake,<br /> + Or most for his, such toils I undertake,<br /> + The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight,<br /> + I purpos’d to secure on Ida’s height,<br /> + Refus’d the journey, resolute to die<br /> + And add his fun’rals to the fate of Troy,<br /> + Rather than exile and old age sustain.<br /> + ‘Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev’ry vein.<br /> + Had Heav’n decreed that I should life enjoy,<br /> + Heav’n had decreed to save unhappy Troy.<br /> + ’Tis, sure, enough, if not too much, for one,<br /> + Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.<br /> + Make haste to save the poor remaining crew,<br /> + And give this useless corpse a long adieu.<br /> + These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath;<br /> + At least the pitying foes will aid my death,<br /> + To take my spoils, and leave my body bare:<br /> + As for my sepulcher, let Heav’n take care.<br /> + ’Tis long since I, for my celestial wife<br /> + Loath’d by the gods, have dragg’d a ling’ring life;<br /> + Since ev’ry hour and moment I expire,<br /> + Blasted from heav’n by Jove’s avenging fire.’<br /> + This oft repeated, he stood fix’d to die:<br /> + Myself, my wife, my son, my family,<br /> + Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry.<br /> + ‘What, will he still persist, on death resolve,<br /> + And in his ruin all his house involve!’<br /> + He still persists his reasons to maintain;<br /> + Our pray’rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Urg’d by despair, again I go to try<br /> + The fate of arms, resolv’d in fight to die:<br /> + ‘What hope remains, but what my death must give?<br /> + Can I, without so dear a father, live?<br /> + You term it prudence, what I baseness call:<br /> + Could such a word from such a parent fall?<br /> + If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,<br /> + That nothing should of ruin’d Troy remain,<br /> + And you conspire with Fortune to be slain,<br /> + The way to death is wide, th’ approaches near:<br /> + For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,<br /> + Reeking with Priam’s blood: the wretch who slew<br /> + The son (inhuman) in the father’s view,<br /> + And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.<br /> + O goddess mother, give me back to Fate;<br /> + Your gift was undesir’d, and came too late!<br /> + Did you, for this, unhappy me convey<br /> + Thro’ foes and fires, to see my house a prey?<br /> + Shall I my father, wife, and son behold,<br /> + Welt’ring in blood, each other’s arms infold?<br /> + Haste! gird my sword, tho’ spent and overcome:<br /> + ’Tis the last summons to receive our doom.<br /> + I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call!<br /> + Not unreveng’d the foe shall see my fall.<br /> + Restore me to the yet unfinish’d fight:<br /> + My death is wanting to conclude the night.’<br /> + Arm’d once again, my glitt’ring sword I wield,<br /> + While th’ other hand sustains my weighty shield,<br /> + And forth I rush to seek th’ abandon’d field.<br /> + I went; but sad Creusa stopp’d my way,<br /> + And cross the threshold in my passage lay,<br /> + Embrac’d my knees, and, when I would have gone,<br /> + Shew’d me my feeble sire and tender son:<br /> + ‘If death be your design, at least,’ said she,<br /> + ‘Take us along to share your destiny.<br /> + If any farther hopes in arms remain,<br /> + This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.<br /> + To whom do you expose your father’s life,<br /> + Your son’s, and mine, your now forgotten wife!’<br /> + While thus she fills the house with clam’rous cries,<br /> + Our hearing is diverted by our eyes:<br /> + For, while I held my son, in the short space<br /> + Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace;<br /> + Strange to relate, from young Iulus’ head<br /> + A lambent flame arose, which gently spread<br /> + Around his brows, and on his temples fed.<br /> + Amaz’d, with running water we prepare<br /> + To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair;<br /> + But old Anchises, vers’d in omens, rear’d<br /> + His hands to heav’n, and this request preferr’d:<br /> + ‘If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend<br /> + Thy will; if piety can pray’rs commend,<br /> + Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas’d to send.’<br /> + Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear<br /> + A peal of rattling thunder roll in air:<br /> + There shot a streaming lamp along the sky,<br /> + Which on the winged lightning seem’d to fly;<br /> + From o’er the roof the blaze began to move,<br /> + And, trailing, vanish’d in th’ Idaean grove.<br /> + It swept a path in heav’n, and shone a guide,<br /> + Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “The good old man with suppliant hands implor’d<br /> + The gods’ protection, and their star ador’d.<br /> + ‘Now, now,’ said he, ‘my son, no more delay!<br /> + I yield, I follow where Heav’n shews the way.<br /> + Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place,<br /> + And guard this relic of the Trojan race,<br /> + This tender child! These omens are your own,<br /> + And you can yet restore the ruin’d town.<br /> + At least accomplish what your signs foreshow:<br /> + I stand resign’d, and am prepar’d to go.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “He said. The crackling flames appear on high.<br /> + And driving sparkles dance along the sky.<br /> + With Vulcan’s rage the rising winds conspire,<br /> + And near our palace roll the flood of fire.<br /> + ‘Haste, my dear father, (’tis no time to wait,)<br /> + And load my shoulders with a willing freight.<br /> + Whate’er befalls, your life shall be my care;<br /> + One death, or one deliv’rance, we will share.<br /> + My hand shall lead our little son; and you,<br /> + My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.<br /> + Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands:<br /> + Without the walls a ruin’d temple stands,<br /> + To Ceres hallow’d once; a cypress nigh<br /> + Shoots up her venerable head on high,<br /> + By long religion kept; there bend your feet,<br /> + And in divided parties let us meet.<br /> + Our country gods, the relics, and the bands,<br /> + Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands:<br /> + In me ’tis impious holy things to bear,<br /> + Red as I am with slaughter, new from war,<br /> + Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt<br /> + Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.’<br /> + Thus, ord’ring all that prudence could provide,<br /> + I clothe my shoulders with a lion’s hide<br /> + And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back,<br /> + The welcome load of my dear father take;<br /> + While on my better hand Ascanius hung,<br /> + And with unequal paces tripp’d along.<br /> + Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray<br /> + Thro’ ev’ry dark and ev’ry devious way.<br /> + I, who so bold and dauntless just before,<br /> + The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore,<br /> + At ev’ry shadow now am seiz’d with fear,<br /> + Not for myself, but for the charge I bear;<br /> + Till, near the ruin’d gate arriv’d at last,<br /> + Secure, and deeming all the danger past,<br /> + A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.<br /> + My father, looking thro’ the shades, with fear,<br /> + Cried out: ‘Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh;<br /> + Their swords and shining armour I descry.’<br /> + Some hostile god, for some unknown offence,<br /> + Had sure bereft my mind of better sense;<br /> + For, while thro’ winding ways I took my flight,<br /> + And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,<br /> + Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell<br /> + If by her fatal destiny she fell,<br /> + Or weary sate, or wander’d with affright;<br /> + But she was lost for ever to my sight.<br /> + I knew not, or reflected, till I meet<br /> + My friends, at Ceres’ now deserted seat.<br /> + We met: not one was wanting; only she<br /> + Deceiv’d her friends, her son, and wretched me.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “What mad expressions did my tongue refuse!<br /> + Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse!<br /> + This was the fatal blow, that pain’d me more<br /> + Than all I felt from ruin’d Troy before.<br /> + Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,<br /> + Abandoning my now forgotten care,<br /> + Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,<br /> + My sire, my son, my country gods I left.<br /> + In shining armour once again I sheathe<br /> + My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.<br /> + Then headlong to the burning walls I run,<br /> + And seek the danger I was forc’d to shun.<br /> + I tread my former tracks; thro’ night explore<br /> + Each passage, ev’ry street I cross’d before.<br /> + All things were full of horror and affright,<br /> + And dreadful ev’n the silence of the night.<br /> + Then to my father’s house I make repair,<br /> + With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.<br /> + Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met;<br /> + The house was fill’d with foes, with flames beset.<br /> + Driv’n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,<br /> + Thro’ air transported, to the roofs aspire.<br /> + From thence to Priam’s palace I resort,<br /> + And search the citadel and desert court.<br /> + Then, unobserv’d, I pass by Juno’s church:<br /> + A guard of Grecians had possess’d the porch;<br /> + There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey,<br /> + And thither all the wealth of Troy convey:<br /> + The spoils which they from ransack’d houses brought,<br /> + And golden bowls from burning altars caught,<br /> + The tables of the gods, the purple vests,<br /> + The people’s treasure, and the pomp of priests.<br /> + A rank of wretched youths, with pinion’d hands,<br /> + And captive matrons, in long order stands.<br /> + Then, with ungovern’d madness, I proclaim,<br /> + Thro’ all the silent street, Creusa’s name:<br /> + Creusa still I call; at length she hears,<br /> + And sudden thro’ the shades of night appears.<br /> + Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife,<br /> + But a pale spectre, larger than the life.<br /> + Aghast, astonish’d, and struck dumb with fear,<br /> + I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen’d hair.<br /> + Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief<br /> + ‘Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief.<br /> + Desist, my much-lov’d lord, t’ indulge your pain;<br /> + You bear no more than what the gods ordain.<br /> + My fates permit me not from hence to fly;<br /> + Nor he, the great controller of the sky.<br /> + Long wand’ring ways for you the pow’rs decree;<br /> + On land hard labours, and a length of sea.<br /> + Then, after many painful years are past,<br /> + On Latium’s happy shore you shall be cast,<br /> + Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds<br /> + The flow’ry meadows, and the feeding folds.<br /> + There end your toils; and there your fates provide<br /> + A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride:<br /> + There fortune shall the Trojan line restore,<br /> + And you for lost Creusa weep no more.<br /> + Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame,<br /> + Th’ imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame;<br /> + Or, stooping to the victor’s lust, disgrace<br /> + My goddess mother, or my royal race.<br /> + And now, farewell! The parent of the gods<br /> + Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes:<br /> + I trust our common issue to your care.’<br /> + She said, and gliding pass’d unseen in air.<br /> + I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue;<br /> + And thrice about her neck my arms I flung,<br /> + And, thrice deceiv’d, on vain embraces hung.<br /> + Light as an empty dream at break of day,<br /> + Or as a blast of wind, she rush’d away.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Thus having pass’d the night in fruitless pain,<br /> + I to my longing friends return again,<br /> + Amaz’d th’ augmented number to behold,<br /> + Of men and matrons mix’d, of young and old;<br /> + A wretched exil’d crew together brought,<br /> + With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,<br /> + Resolv’d, and willing, under my command,<br /> + To run all hazards both of sea and land.<br /> + The Morn began, from Ida, to display<br /> + Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day:<br /> + Before the gates the Grecians took their post,<br /> + And all pretence of late relief was lost.<br /> + I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,<br /> + And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.” + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>BOOK III</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Aeneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet with which + he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to Thrace. From thence he + directs his course to Delos and asks the oracle what place the gods had + appointed for his habitation. By a mistake of the oracle’s answer, he + settles in Crete. His household gods give him the true sense of the oracle + in a dream. He follows their advice, and makes the best of his way for Italy. + He is cast on several shores, and meets with very surprising adventures, till + at length he lands on Sicily, where his father Anchises dies. This is the place + which he was sailing from, when the tempest rose, and threw him upon the + Carthaginian coast. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Heav’n had overturn’d the Trojan state<br /> + And Priam’s throne, by too severe a fate;<br /> + When ruin’d Troy became the Grecians’ prey,<br /> + And Ilium’s lofty tow’rs in ashes lay;<br /> + Warn’d by celestial omens, we retreat,<br /> + To seek in foreign lands a happier seat.<br /> + Near old Antandros, and at Ida’s foot,<br /> + The timber of the sacred groves we cut,<br /> + And build our fleet; uncertain yet to find<br /> + What place the gods for our repose assign’d.<br /> + Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring<br /> + Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,<br /> + When old Anchises summon’d all to sea:<br /> + The crew my father and the Fates obey.<br /> + With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,<br /> + And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.<br /> + My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,<br /> + All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Against our coast appears a spacious land,<br /> + Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,<br /> + Thracia the name; the people bold in war;<br /> + Vast are their fields, and tillage is their care,<br /> + A hospitable realm while Fate was kind,<br /> + With Troy in friendship and religion join’d.<br /> + I land; with luckless omens, then adore<br /> + Their gods, and draw a line along the shore;<br /> + I lay the deep foundations of a wall,<br /> + And Aenos, nam’d from me, the city call.<br /> + To Dionaean Venus vows are paid,<br /> + And all the pow’rs that rising labours aid;<br /> + A bull on Jove’s imperial altar laid.<br /> + Not far, a rising hillock stood in view;<br /> + Sharp myrtles on the sides, and cornels grew.<br /> + There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,<br /> + And shade our altar with their leafy greens,<br /> + I pull’d a plant; with horror I relate<br /> + A prodigy so strange and full of fate.<br /> + The rooted fibers rose, and from the wound<br /> + Black bloody drops distill’d upon the ground.<br /> + Mute and amaz’d, my hair with terror stood;<br /> + Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal’d my blood.<br /> + Mann’d once again, another plant I try:<br /> + That other gush’d with the same sanguine dye.<br /> + Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,<br /> + With pray’rs and vows the Dryads I atone,<br /> + With all the sisters of the woods, and most<br /> + The God of Arms, who rules the Thracian coast,<br /> + That they, or he, these omens would avert,<br /> + Release our fears, and better signs impart.<br /> + Clear’d, as I thought, and fully fix’d at length<br /> + To learn the cause, I tugged with all my strength:<br /> + I bent my knees against the ground; once more<br /> + The violated myrtle ran with gore.<br /> + Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb<br /> + Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,<br /> + A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew’d<br /> + My fright, and then these dreadful words ensued:<br /> + ‘Why dost thou thus my buried body rend?<br /> + O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!<br /> + Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood:<br /> + The tears distil not from the wounded wood;<br /> + But ev’ry drop this living tree contains<br /> + Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.<br /> + O fly from this unhospitable shore,<br /> + Warn’d by my fate; for I am Polydore!<br /> + Here loads of lances, in my blood embrued,<br /> + Again shoot upward, by my blood renew’d.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “My falt’ring tongue and shiv’ring limbs declare<br /> + My horror, and in bristles rose my hair.<br /> + When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,<br /> + Old Priam, fearful of the war’s event,<br /> + This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:<br /> + Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far<br /> + From noise and tumults, and destructive war,<br /> + Committed to the faithless tyrant’s care;<br /> + Who, when he saw the pow’r of Troy decline,<br /> + Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join;<br /> + Broke ev’ry bond of nature and of truth,<br /> + And murder’d, for his wealth, the royal youth.<br /> + O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!<br /> + What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?<br /> + Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,<br /> + I call my father and the Trojan peers;<br /> + Relate the prodigies of Heav’n, require<br /> + What he commands, and their advice desire.<br /> + All vote to leave that execrable shore,<br /> + Polluted with the blood of Polydore;<br /> + But, ere we sail, his fun’ral rites prepare,<br /> + Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.<br /> + In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,<br /> + With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown’d,<br /> + With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.<br /> + Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,<br /> + And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,<br /> + But southern gales invite us to the main,<br /> + We launch our vessels, with a prosp’rous wind,<br /> + And leave the cities and the shores behind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “An island in th’ Aegaean main appears;<br /> + Neptune and wat’ry Doris claim it theirs.<br /> + It floated once, till Phoebus fix’d the sides<br /> + To rooted earth, and now it braves the tides.<br /> + Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,<br /> + With needful ease our weary limbs restore,<br /> + And the Sun’s temple and his town adore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown’d,<br /> + His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,<br /> + Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,<br /> + Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;<br /> + Invites him to his palace; and, in sign<br /> + Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.<br /> + Then to the temple of the god I went,<br /> + And thus, before the shrine, my vows present:<br /> + ‘Give, O Thymbraeus, give a resting place<br /> + To the sad relics of the Trojan race;<br /> + A seat secure, a region of their own,<br /> + A lasting empire, and a happier town.<br /> + Where shall we fix? where shall our labours end?<br /> + Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?<br /> + Let not my pray’rs a doubtful answer find;<br /> + But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.’<br /> + Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,<br /> + The laurels, and the lofty hills around;<br /> + And from the tripos rush’d a bellowing sound.<br /> + Prostrate we fell; confess’d the present god,<br /> + Who gave this answer from his dark abode:<br /> + ‘Undaunted youths, go, seek that mother earth<br /> + From which your ancestors derive their birth.<br /> + The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race<br /> + In her old bosom shall again embrace.<br /> + Through the wide world th’ Aeneian house shall reign,<br /> + And children’s children shall the crown sustain.’<br /> + Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose:<br /> + A mighty tumult, mix’d with joy, arose.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “All are concern’d to know what place the god<br /> + Assign’d, and where determin’d our abode.<br /> + My father, long revolving in his mind<br /> + The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,<br /> + Thus answer’d their demands: ‘Ye princes, hear<br /> + Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear.<br /> + The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,<br /> + Sacred of old to Jove’s imperial name,<br /> + In the mid ocean lies, with large command,<br /> + And on its plains a hundred cities stand.<br /> + Another Ida rises there, and we<br /> + From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.<br /> + From thence, as ’tis divulg’d by certain fame,<br /> + To the Rhoetean shores old Teucrus came;<br /> + There fix’d, and there the seat of empire chose,<br /> + Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow’rs arose.<br /> + In humble vales they built their soft abodes,<br /> + Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,<br /> + With tinkling cymbals charm’d th’ Idaean woods,<br /> + She secret rites and ceremonies taught,<br /> + And to the yoke the savage lions brought.<br /> + Let us the land which Heav’n appoints, explore;<br /> + Appease the winds, and seek the Gnossian shore.<br /> + If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,<br /> + The third propitious dawn discovers Crete.’<br /> + Thus having said, the sacrifices, laid<br /> + On smoking altars, to the gods he paid:<br /> + A bull, to Neptune an oblation due,<br /> + Another bull to bright Apollo slew;<br /> + A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please,<br /> + And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas.<br /> + Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread<br /> + That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,<br /> + Expell’d and exil’d; that the coast was free<br /> + From foreign or domestic enemy.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea.<br /> + By Naxos, fam’d for vintage, make our way;<br /> + Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight<br /> + Of Paros’ isle, with marble quarries white.<br /> + We pass the scatter’d isles of Cyclades,<br /> + That, scarce distinguish’d, seem to stud the seas.<br /> + The shouts of sailors double near the shores;<br /> + They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.<br /> + ‘All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!’ they cry,<br /> + And swiftly thro’ the foamy billows fly.<br /> + Full on the promis’d land at length we bore,<br /> + With joy descending on the Cretan shore.<br /> + With eager haste a rising town I frame,<br /> + Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:<br /> + The name itself was grateful; I exhort<br /> + To found their houses, and erect a fort.<br /> + Our ships are haul’d upon the yellow strand;<br /> + The youth begin to till the labour’d land;<br /> + And I myself new marriages promote,<br /> + Give laws, and dwellings I divide by lot;<br /> + When rising vapours choke the wholesome air,<br /> + And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year;<br /> + The trees devouring caterpillars burn;<br /> + Parch’d was the grass, and blighted was the corn:<br /> + Nor ’scape the beasts; for Sirius, from on high,<br /> + With pestilential heat infects the sky:<br /> + My men, some fall, the rest in fevers fry.<br /> + Again my father bids me seek the shore<br /> + Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,<br /> + To learn what end of woes we might expect,<br /> + And to what clime our weary course direct.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “’Twas night, when ev’ry creature, void of cares,<br /> + The common gift of balmy slumber shares:<br /> + The statues of my gods (for such they seem’d),<br /> + Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem’d,<br /> + Before me stood, majestically bright,<br /> + Full in the beams of Phoebe’s ent’ring light.<br /> + Then thus they spoke, and eas’d my troubled mind:<br /> + ‘What from the Delian god thou go’st to find,<br /> + He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.<br /> + Those pow’rs are we, companions of thy fate,<br /> + Who from the burning town by thee were brought,<br /> + Thy fortune follow’d, and thy safety wrought.<br /> + Thro’ seas and lands as we thy steps attend,<br /> + So shall our care thy glorious race befriend.<br /> + An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,<br /> + A town that o’er the conquer’d world shall reign.<br /> + Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;<br /> + Nor let thy weary mind to labours yield:<br /> + But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,<br /> + Nor we, have giv’n thee Crete for our abode.<br /> + A land there is, Hesperia call’d of old,<br /> + The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold.<br /> + Th’ Oenotrians held it once, by later fame<br /> + Now call’d Italia, from the leader’s name.<br /> + Jasius there and Dardanus were born;<br /> + From thence we came, and thither must return.<br /> + Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.<br /> + Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Astonish’d at their voices and their sight,<br /> + (Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night;<br /> + I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,<br /> + In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied;)<br /> + I started from my couch; a clammy sweat<br /> + On all my limbs and shiv’ring body sate.<br /> + To heav’n I lift my hands with pious haste,<br /> + And sacred incense in the flames I cast.<br /> + Thus to the gods their perfect honours done,<br /> + More cheerful, to my good old sire I run,<br /> + And tell the pleasing news. In little space<br /> + He found his error of the double race;<br /> + Not, as before he deem’d, deriv’d from Crete;<br /> + No more deluded by the doubtful seat:<br /> + Then said: ‘O son, turmoil’d in Trojan fate!<br /> + Such things as these Cassandra did relate.<br /> + This day revives within my mind what she<br /> + Foretold of Troy renew’d in Italy,<br /> + And Latian lands; but who could then have thought<br /> + That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,<br /> + Or who believ’d what mad Cassandra taught?<br /> + Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “He said; and we with glad consent obey,<br /> + Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind,<br /> + We spread our sails before the willing wind.<br /> + Now from the sight of land our galleys move,<br /> + With only seas around and skies above;<br /> + When o’er our heads descends a burst of rain,<br /> + And night with sable clouds involves the main;<br /> + The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise;<br /> + The scatter’d fleet is forc’d to sev’ral ways;<br /> + The face of heav’n is ravish’d from our eyes,<br /> + And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.<br /> + Cast from our course, we wander in the dark.<br /> + No stars to guide, no point of land to mark.<br /> + Ev’n Palinurus no distinction found<br /> + Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign’d around.<br /> + Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,<br /> + Without distinction, and three sunless days;<br /> + The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds,<br /> + We view a rising land, like distant clouds;<br /> + The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,<br /> + And curling smoke ascending from their height.<br /> + The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;<br /> + From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.<br /> + At length I land upon the Strophades,<br /> + Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.<br /> + Those isles are compass’d by th’ Ionian main,<br /> + The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,<br /> + Forc’d by the winged warriors to repair<br /> + To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.<br /> + Monsters more fierce offended Heav’n ne’er sent<br /> + From hell’s abyss, for human punishment:<br /> + With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,<br /> + Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;<br /> + With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “We landed at the port, and soon beheld<br /> + Fat herds of oxen graze the flow’ry field,<br /> + And wanton goats without a keeper stray’d.<br /> + With weapons we the welcome prey invade,<br /> + Then call the gods for partners of our feast,<br /> + And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.<br /> + We spread the tables on the greensward ground;<br /> + We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;<br /> + When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,<br /> + And clatt’ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;<br /> + They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,<br /> + And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.<br /> + Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,<br /> + New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,<br /> + Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,<br /> + Where tufted trees a native arbour made.<br /> + Again the holy fires on altars burn;<br /> + And once again the rav’nous birds return,<br /> + Or from the dark recesses where they lie,<br /> + Or from another quarter of the sky;<br /> + With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,<br /> + And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.<br /> + I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,<br /> + And with the hellish nation wage the war.<br /> + They, as commanded, for the fight provide,<br /> + And in the grass their glitt’ring weapons hide;<br /> + Then, when along the crooked shore we hear<br /> + Their clatt’ring wings, and saw the foes appear,<br /> + Misenus sounds a charge: we take th’ alarm,<br /> + And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm.<br /> + In this new kind of combat all employ<br /> + Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy.<br /> + In vain, the fated skin is proof to wounds;<br /> + And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.<br /> + At length rebuff’d, they leave their mangled prey,<br /> + And their stretch’d pinions to the skies display.<br /> + Yet one remain’d, the messenger of Fate:<br /> + High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,<br /> + And thus her dismal errand did relate:<br /> + ‘What! not contented with our oxen slain,<br /> + Dare you with Heav’n an impious war maintain,<br /> + And drive the Harpies from their native reign?<br /> + Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind<br /> + What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design’d,<br /> + And I, the Furies’ queen, from both relate:<br /> + You seek th’ Italian shores, foredoom’d by fate:<br /> + Th’ Italian shores are granted you to find,<br /> + And a safe passage to the port assign’d.<br /> + But know, that ere your promis’d walls you build,<br /> + My curses shall severely be fulfill’d.<br /> + Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed,<br /> + Reduc’d to grind the plates on which you feed.’<br /> + She said, and to the neighb’ring forest flew.<br /> + Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.<br /> + Hopeless to win by war, to pray’rs we fall,<br /> + And on th’ offended Harpies humbly call,<br /> + And whether gods or birds obscene they were,<br /> + Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.<br /> + But old Anchises, off’ring sacrifice,<br /> + And lifting up to heav’n his hands and eyes,<br /> + Ador’d the greater gods: ‘Avert,’ said he,<br /> + ‘These omens; render vain this prophecy,<br /> + And from th’ impending curse a pious people free!’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;<br /> + We loose from shore our haulsers, and obey,<br /> + And soon with swelling sails pursue the wat’ry way.<br /> + Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear;<br /> + And next by rocky Neritos we steer:<br /> + We fly from Ithaca’s detested shore,<br /> + And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.<br /> + At length Leucate’s cloudy top appears,<br /> + And the Sun’s temple, which the sailor fears.<br /> + Resolv’d to breathe a while from labour past,<br /> + Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast,<br /> + And joyful to the little city haste.<br /> + Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay<br /> + To Jove, the guide and patron of our way.<br /> + The customs of our country we pursue,<br /> + And Trojan games on Actian shores renew.<br /> + Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil,<br /> + And exercise the wrastlers’ noble toil;<br /> + Pleas’d to have sail’d so long before the wind,<br /> + And left so many Grecian towns behind.<br /> + The sun had now fulfill’d his annual course,<br /> + And Boreas on the seas display’d his force:<br /> + I fix’d upon the temple’s lofty door<br /> + The brazen shield which vanquish’d Abas bore;<br /> + The verse beneath my name and action speaks:<br /> + ‘These arms Aeneas took from conqu’ring Greeks.’<br /> + Then I command to weigh; the seamen ply<br /> + Their sweeping oars; the smoking billows fly.<br /> + The sight of high Phaeacia soon we lost,<br /> + And skimm’d along Epirus’ rocky coast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Then to Chaonia’s port our course we bend,<br /> + And, landed, to Buthrotus’ heights ascend.<br /> + Here wondrous things were loudly blaz’d fame:<br /> + How Helenus reviv’d the Trojan name,<br /> + And reign’d in Greece; that Priam’s captive son<br /> + Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;<br /> + And fair Andromache, restor’d by fate,<br /> + Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.<br /> + I leave my galleys riding in the port,<br /> + And long to see the new Dardanian court.<br /> + By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,<br /> + Then solemniz’d her former husband’s fate.<br /> + Green altars, rais’d of turf, with gifts she crown’d,<br /> + And sacred priests in order stand around,<br /> + And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.<br /> + The grove itself resembles Ida’s wood;<br /> + And Simois seem’d the well-dissembled flood.<br /> + But when at nearer distance she beheld<br /> + My shining armour and my Trojan shield,<br /> + Astonish’d at the sight, the vital heat<br /> + Forsakes her limbs; her veins no longer beat:<br /> + She faints, she falls, and scarce recov’ring strength,<br /> + Thus, with a falt’ring tongue, she speaks at length:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘Are you alive, O goddess-born?’ she said,<br /> + ‘Or if a ghost, then where is Hector’s shade?’<br /> + At this, she cast a loud and frightful cry.<br /> + With broken words I made this brief reply:<br /> + ‘All of me that remains appears in sight;<br /> + I live, if living be to loathe the light.<br /> + No phantom; but I drag a wretched life,<br /> + My fate resembling that of Hector’s wife.<br /> + What have you suffer’d since you lost your lord?<br /> + By what strange blessing are you now restor’d?<br /> + Still are you Hector’s? or is Hector fled,<br /> + And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus’ bed?’<br /> + With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,<br /> + After a modest pause she thus begun:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘O only happy maid of Priam’s race,<br /> + Whom death deliver’d from the foes’ embrace!<br /> + Commanded on Achilles’ tomb to die,<br /> + Not forc’d, like us, to hard captivity,<br /> + Or in a haughty master’s arms to lie.<br /> + In Grecian ships unhappy we were borne,<br /> + Endur’d the victor’s lust, sustain’d the scorn:<br /> + Thus I submitted to the lawless pride<br /> + Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.<br /> + Cloy’d with possession, he forsook my bed,<br /> + And Helen’s lovely daughter sought to wed;<br /> + Then me to Trojan Helenus resign’d,<br /> + And his two slaves in equal marriage join’d;<br /> + Till young Orestes, pierc’d with deep despair,<br /> + And longing to redeem the promis’d fair,<br /> + Before Apollo’s altar slew the ravisher.<br /> + By Pyrrhus’ death the kingdom we regain’d:<br /> + At least one half with Helenus remain’d.<br /> + Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,<br /> + And names from Pergamus his rising walls.<br /> + But you, what fates have landed on our coast?<br /> + What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss’d?<br /> + Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,<br /> + Sav’d from the ruins of unhappy Troy?<br /> + O tell me how his mother’s loss he bears,<br /> + What hopes are promis’d from his blooming years,<br /> + How much of Hector in his face appears?’<br /> + She spoke; and mix’d her speech with mournful cries,<br /> + And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “At length her lord descends upon the plain,<br /> + In pomp, attended with a num’rous train;<br /> + Receives his friends, and to the city leads,<br /> + And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.<br /> + Proceeding on, another Troy I see,<br /> + Or, in less compass, Troy’s epitome.<br /> + A riv’let by the name of Xanthus ran,<br /> + And I embrace the Scaean gate again.<br /> + My friends in porticoes were entertain’d,<br /> + And feasts and pleasures thro’ the city reign’d.<br /> + The tables fill’d the spacious hall around,<br /> + And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown’d.<br /> + Two days we pass’d in mirth, till friendly gales,<br /> + Blown from the south supplied our swelling sails.<br /> + Then to the royal seer I thus began:<br /> + ‘O thou, who know’st, beyond the reach of man,<br /> + The laws of heav’n, and what the stars decree;<br /> + Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,<br /> + From his own tripod, and his holy tree;<br /> + Skill’d in the wing’d inhabitants of air,<br /> + What auspices their notes and flights declare:<br /> + O say; for all religious rites portend<br /> + A happy voyage, and a prosp’rous end;<br /> + And ev’ry power and omen of the sky<br /> + Direct my course for destin’d Italy;<br /> + But only dire Celaeno, from the gods,<br /> + A dismal famine fatally forebodes:<br /> + O say what dangers I am first to shun,<br /> + What toils vanquish, and what course to run.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “The prophet first with sacrifice adores<br /> + The greater gods; their pardon then implores;<br /> + Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;<br /> + To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,<br /> + Full of religious doubts and awful dread.<br /> + Then, with his god possess’d, before the shrine,<br /> + These words proceeded from his mouth divine:<br /> + ‘O goddess-born, (for Heav’n’s appointed will,<br /> + With greater auspices of good than ill,<br /> + Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs;<br /> + Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects,)<br /> + Of many things some few I shall explain,<br /> + Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,<br /> + And how at length the promis’d shore to gain.<br /> + The rest the fates from Helenus conceal,<br /> + And Juno’s angry pow’r forbids to tell.<br /> + First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh,<br /> + Will far from your deluded wishes fly;<br /> + Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:<br /> + For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,<br /> + And stem the currents with your struggling oars;<br /> + Then round th’ Italian coast your navy steer;<br /> + And, after this, to Circe’s island veer;<br /> + And, last, before your new foundations rise,<br /> + Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies.<br /> + Now mark the signs of future ease and rest,<br /> + And bear them safely treasur’d in thy breast.<br /> + When, in the shady shelter of a wood,<br /> + And near the margin of a gentle flood,<br /> + Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,<br /> + With thirty sucking young encompass’d round;<br /> + The dam and offspring white as falling snow:<br /> + These on thy city shall their name bestow,<br /> + And there shall end thy labours and thy woe.<br /> + Nor let the threaten’d famine fright thy mind,<br /> + For Phoebus will assist, and Fate the way will find.<br /> + Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,<br /> + Which fronts from far th’ Epirian continent:<br /> + Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess’d;<br /> + The salvage Locrians here the shores infest;<br /> + There fierce Idomeneus his city builds,<br /> + And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;<br /> + And on the mountain’s brow Petilia stands,<br /> + Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.<br /> + Ev’n when thy fleet is landed on the shore,<br /> + And priests with holy vows the gods adore,<br /> + Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,<br /> + Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.<br /> + These rites and customs to the rest commend,<br /> + That to your pious race they may descend.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + ‘When, parted hence, the wind, that ready waits<br /> + For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits<br /> + Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,<br /> + Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:<br /> + Veer starboard sea and land. Th’ Italian shore<br /> + And fair Sicilia’s coast were one, before<br /> + An earthquake caus’d the flaw: the roaring tides<br /> + The passage broke that land from land divides;<br /> + And where the lands retir’d, the rushing ocean rides.<br /> + Distinguish’d by the straits, on either hand,<br /> + Now rising cities in long order stand,<br /> + And fruitful fields: so much can time invade<br /> + The mould’ring work that beauteous Nature made.<br /> + Far on the right, her dogs foul Scylla hides:<br /> + Charybdis roaring on the left presides,<br /> + And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides;<br /> + Then spouts them from below: with fury driv’n,<br /> + The waves mount up and wash the face of heav’n.<br /> + But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,<br /> + The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,<br /> + Then dashes on the rocks. A human face,<br /> + And virgin bosom, hides her tail’s disgrace:<br /> + Her parts obscene below the waves descend,<br /> + With dogs inclos’d, and in a dolphin end.<br /> + ’Tis safer, then, to bear aloof to sea,<br /> + And coast Pachynus, tho’ with more delay,<br /> + Than once to view misshapen Scylla near,<br /> + And the loud yell of wat’ry wolves to hear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,<br /> + And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,<br /> + Do not this precept of your friend forget,<br /> + Which therefore more than once I must repeat:<br /> + Above the rest, great Juno’s name adore;<br /> + Pay vows to Juno; Juno’s aid implore.<br /> + Let gifts be to the mighty queen design’d,<br /> + And mollify with pray’rs her haughty mind.<br /> + Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,<br /> + And you shall safe descend on Italy.<br /> + Arriv’d at Cumae, when you view the flood<br /> + Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,<br /> + The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,<br /> + Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin’d.<br /> + She sings the fates, and, in her frantic fits,<br /> + The notes and names, inscrib’d, to leafs commits.<br /> + What she commits to leafs, in order laid,<br /> + Before the cavern’s entrance are display’d:<br /> + Unmov’d they lie; but, if a blast of wind<br /> + Without, or vapours issue from behind,<br /> + The leafs are borne aloft in liquid air,<br /> + And she resumes no more her museful care,<br /> + Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter’d verse,<br /> + Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.<br /> + Thus, many not succeeding, most upbraid<br /> + The madness of the visionary maid,<br /> + And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘Think it not loss of time a while to stay,<br /> + Tho’ thy companions chide thy long delay;<br /> + Tho’ summon’d to the seas, tho’ pleasing gales<br /> + Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails:<br /> + But beg the sacred priestess to relate<br /> + With willing words, and not to write thy fate.<br /> + The fierce Italian people she will show,<br /> + And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,<br /> + And what thou may’st avoid, and what must undergo.<br /> + She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,<br /> + And teach thee how the happy shores to find.<br /> + This is what Heav’n allows me to relate:<br /> + Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,<br /> + And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “This when the priest with friendly voice declar’d,<br /> + He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar’d:<br /> + Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want<br /> + With heavy gold, and polish’d elephant;<br /> + Then Dodonaean caldrons put on board,<br /> + And ev’ry ship with sums of silver stor’d.<br /> + A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,<br /> + Thrice chain’d with gold, for use and ornament;<br /> + The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,<br /> + That flourish’d with a plume and waving crest.<br /> + Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends;<br /> + And large recruits he to my navy sends:<br /> + Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores;<br /> + Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.<br /> + Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails,<br /> + Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “The prophet bless’d the parting crew, and last,<br /> + With words like these, his ancient friend embrac’d:<br /> + ‘Old happy man, the care of gods above,<br /> + Whom heav’nly Venus honour’d with her love,<br /> + And twice preserv’d thy life, when Troy was lost,<br /> + Behold from far the wish’d Ausonian coast:<br /> + There land; but take a larger compass round,<br /> + For that before is all forbidden ground.<br /> + The shore that Phoebus has design’d for you,<br /> + At farther distance lies, conceal’d from view.<br /> + Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,<br /> + Blest in a son, and favour’d by the gods:<br /> + For I with useless words prolong your stay,<br /> + When southern gales have summon’d you away.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor’d,<br /> + Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.<br /> + A noble present to my son she brought,<br /> + A robe with flow’rs on golden tissue wrought,<br /> + A phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside<br /> + Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.<br /> + ‘Accept,’ she said, ‘these monuments of love,<br /> + Which in my youth with happier hands I wove:<br /> + Regard these trifles for the giver’s sake;<br /> + ’Tis the last present Hector’s wife can make.<br /> + Thou call’st my lost Astyanax to mind;<br /> + In thee his features and his form I find:<br /> + His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;<br /> + Such were his motions; such was all his frame;<br /> + And ah! had Heav’n so pleas’d, his years had been the same.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “With tears I took my last adieu, and said:<br /> + ‘Your fortune, happy pair, already made,<br /> + Leaves you no farther wish. My diff’rent state,<br /> + Avoiding one, incurs another fate.<br /> + To you a quiet seat the gods allow:<br /> + You have no shores to search, no seas to plow,<br /> + Nor fields of flying Italy to chase:<br /> + (Deluding visions, and a vain embrace!)<br /> + You see another Simois, and enjoy<br /> + The labour of your hands, another Troy,<br /> + With better auspice than her ancient tow’rs,<br /> + And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow’rs.<br /> + If e’er the gods, whom I with vows adore,<br /> + Conduct my steps to Tiber’s happy shore;<br /> + If ever I ascend the Latian throne,<br /> + And build a city I may call my own;<br /> + As both of us our birth from Troy derive,<br /> + So let our kindred lines in concord live,<br /> + And both in acts of equal friendship strive.<br /> + Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:<br /> + The double Troy shall differ but in name;<br /> + That what we now begin may never end,<br /> + But long to late posterity descend.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore;<br /> + The shortest passage to th’ Italian shore.<br /> + Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light,<br /> + And hills were hid in dusky shades of night:<br /> + We land, and, on the bosom of the ground,<br /> + A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.<br /> + Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep<br /> + Their watches, and the rest securely sleep.<br /> + The night, proceeding on with silent pace,<br /> + Stood in her noon, and view’d with equal face<br /> + Her steepy rise and her declining race.<br /> + Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy<br /> + The face of heav’n, and the nocturnal sky;<br /> + And listen’d ev’ry breath of air to try;<br /> + Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course,<br /> + The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat’ry force;<br /> + And both the Bears is careful to behold,<br /> + And bright Orion, arm’d with burnish’d gold.<br /> + Then, when he saw no threat’ning tempest nigh,<br /> + But a sure promise of a settled sky,<br /> + He gave the sign to weigh; we break our sleep,<br /> + Forsake the pleasing shore, and plow the deep.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “And now the rising morn with rosy light<br /> + Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight;<br /> + When we from far, like bluish mists, descry<br /> + The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.<br /> + Achates first pronounc’d the joyful sound;<br /> + Then, ‘Italy!’ the cheerful crew rebound.<br /> + My sire Anchises crown’d a cup with wine,<br /> + And, off’ring, thus implor’d the pow’rs divine:<br /> + ‘Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,<br /> + And you who raging winds and waves appease,<br /> + Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp’rous wind,<br /> + And smooth our passage to the port assign’d!’<br /> + The gentle gales their flagging force renew,<br /> + And now the happy harbour is in view.<br /> + Minerva’s temple then salutes our sight,<br /> + Plac’d, as a landmark, on the mountain’s height.<br /> + We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore;<br /> + The curling waters round the galleys roar.<br /> + The land lies open to the raging east,<br /> + Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress’d,<br /> + Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,<br /> + And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.<br /> + The port lies hid within; on either side<br /> + Two tow’ring rocks the narrow mouth divide.<br /> + The temple, which aloft we view’d before,<br /> + To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.<br /> + Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld<br /> + Were four white steeds that cropp’d the flow’ry field.<br /> + ‘War, war is threaten’d from this foreign ground,’<br /> + My father cried, ‘where warlike steeds are found.<br /> + Yet, since reclaim’d to chariots they submit,<br /> + And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,<br /> + Peace may succeed to war.’ Our way we bend<br /> + To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;<br /> + There prostrate to the fierce Virago pray,<br /> + Whose temple was the landmark of our way.<br /> + Each with a Phrygian mantle veil’d his head,<br /> + And all commands of Helenus obey’d,<br /> + And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.<br /> + These dues perform’d, we stretch our sails, and stand<br /> + To sea, forsaking that suspected land.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “From hence Tarentum’s bay appears in view,<br /> + For Hercules renown’d, if fame be true.<br /> + Just opposite, Lacinian Juno stands;<br /> + Caulonian tow’rs, and Scylacaean strands,<br /> + For shipwrecks fear’d. Mount Aetna thence we spy,<br /> + Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.<br /> + Far off we hear the waves with surly sound<br /> + Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.<br /> + The billows break upon the sounding strand,<br /> + And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.<br /> + Then thus Anchises, in experience old:<br /> + ‘’Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold,<br /> + And those the promis’d rocks! Bear off to sea!’<br /> + With haste the frighted mariners obey.<br /> + First Palinurus to the larboard veer’d;<br /> + Then all the fleet by his example steer’d.<br /> + To heav’n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,<br /> + Then down to hell descend, when they divide;<br /> + And thrice our galleys knock’d the stony ground,<br /> + And thrice the hollow rocks return’d the sound,<br /> + And thrice we saw the stars, that stood with dews around.<br /> + The flagging winds forsook us, with the sun;<br /> + And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.<br /> + The port capacious, and secure from wind,<br /> + Is to the foot of thund’ring Aetna join’d.<br /> + By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;<br /> + By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,<br /> + And flakes of mounting flames, that lick the sky.<br /> + Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,<br /> + And, shiver’d by the force, come piecemeal down.<br /> + Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,<br /> + Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.<br /> + Enceladus, they say, transfix’d by Jove,<br /> + With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;<br /> + And, where he fell, th’ avenging father drew<br /> + This flaming hill, and on his body threw.<br /> + As often as he turns his weary sides,<br /> + He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.<br /> + In shady woods we pass the tedious night,<br /> + Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,<br /> + Of which no cause is offer’d to the sight;<br /> + For not one star was kindled in the sky,<br /> + Nor could the moon her borrow’d light supply;<br /> + For misty clouds involv’d the firmament,<br /> + The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal’d,<br /> + Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell’d,<br /> + When from the woods there bolts, before our sight,<br /> + Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,<br /> + So thin, so ghastly meager, and so wan,<br /> + So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.<br /> + This thing, all tatter’d, seem’d from far t’implore<br /> + Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.<br /> + We look behind, then view his shaggy beard;<br /> + His clothes were tagg’d with thorns, and filth his limbs besmear’d;<br /> + The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,<br /> + Appear’d a Greek, and such indeed he was.<br /> + He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,<br /> + Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew;<br /> + Stood still, and paus’d; then all at once began<br /> + To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.<br /> + Soon as approach’d, upon his knees he falls,<br /> + And thus with tears and sighs for pity calls:<br /> + ‘Now, by the pow’rs above, and what we share<br /> + From Nature’s common gift, this vital air,<br /> + O Trojans, take me hence! I beg no more;<br /> + But bear me far from this unhappy shore.<br /> + ’Tis true, I am a Greek, and farther own,<br /> + Among your foes besieg’d th’ imperial town.<br /> + For such demerits if my death be due,<br /> + No more for this abandon’d life I sue;<br /> + This only favour let my tears obtain,<br /> + To throw me headlong in the rapid main:<br /> + Since nothing more than death my crime demands,<br /> + I die content, to die by human hands.’<br /> + He said, and on his knees my knees embrac’d:<br /> + I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,<br /> + His present state, his lineage, and his name,<br /> + Th’ occasion of his fears, and whence he came.<br /> + The good Anchises rais’d him with his hand;<br /> + Who, thus encourag’d, answer’d our demand:<br /> + ‘From Ithaca, my native soil, I came<br /> + To Troy; and Achaemenides my name.<br /> + Me my poor father with Ulysses sent;<br /> + (O had I stay’d, with poverty content!)<br /> + But, fearful for themselves, my countrymen<br /> + Left me forsaken in the Cyclops’ den.<br /> + The cave, tho’ large, was dark; the dismal floor<br /> + Was pav’d with mangled limbs and putrid gore.<br /> + Our monstrous host, of more than human size,<br /> + Erects his head, and stares within the skies;<br /> + Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.<br /> + Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!<br /> + The joints of slaughter’d wretches are his food;<br /> + And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.<br /> + These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand<br /> + He seiz’d two captives of our Grecian band;<br /> + Stretch’d on his back, he dash’d against the stones<br /> + Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:<br /> + With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,<br /> + While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “‘Not unreveng’d Ulysses bore their fate,<br /> + Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state;<br /> + For, gorg’d with flesh, and drunk with human wine<br /> + While fast asleep the giant lay supine,<br /> + Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw<br /> + His indigested foam, and morsels raw;<br /> + We pray; we cast the lots, and then surround<br /> + The monstrous body, stretch’d along the ground:<br /> + Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand<br /> + To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.<br /> + Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;<br /> + For only one did the vast frame supply;<br /> + But that a globe so large, his front it fill’d,<br /> + Like the sun’s disk or like a Grecian shield.<br /> + The stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:<br /> + This vengeance follow’d for our slaughter’d friends.<br /> + But haste, unhappy wretches, haste to fly!<br /> + Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!<br /> + Such, and so vast as Polypheme appears,<br /> + A hundred more this hated island bears:<br /> + Like him, in caves they shut their woolly sheep;<br /> + Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep;<br /> + Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from steep to steep<br /> + And now three moons their sharpen’d horns renew,<br /> + Since thus, in woods and wilds, obscure from view,<br /> + I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,<br /> + And in deserted caverns lodge by night;<br /> + Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see<br /> + Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree:<br /> + From far I hear his thund’ring voice resound,<br /> + And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.<br /> + Cornels and salvage berries of the wood,<br /> + And roots and herbs, have been my meager food.<br /> + While all around my longing eyes I cast,<br /> + I saw your happy ships appear at last.<br /> + On those I fix’d my hopes, to these I run;<br /> + ’Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun;<br /> + What other death you please, yourselves bestow.’<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Scarce had he said, when on the mountain’s brow<br /> + We saw the giant shepherd stalk before<br /> + His following flock, and leading to the shore:<br /> + A monstrous bulk, deform’d, depriv’d of sight;<br /> + His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.<br /> + His pond’rous whistle from his neck descends;<br /> + His woolly care their pensive lord attends:<br /> + This only solace his hard fortune sends.<br /> + Soon as he reach’d the shore and touch’d the waves,<br /> + From his bor’d eye the gutt’ring blood he laves:<br /> + He gnash’d his teeth, and groan’d; thro’ seas he strides,<br /> + And scarce the topmost billows touch’d his sides.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Seiz’d with a sudden fear, we run to sea,<br /> + The cables cut, and silent haste away;<br /> + The well-deserving stranger entertain;<br /> + Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.<br /> + The giant harken’d to the dashing sound:<br /> + But, when our vessels out of reach he found,<br /> + He strided onward, and in vain essay’d<br /> + Th’ Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.<br /> + With that he roar’d aloud: the dreadful cry<br /> + Shakes earth, and air, and seas; the billows fly<br /> + Before the bellowing noise to distant Italy.<br /> + The neighb’ring Aetna trembling all around,<br /> + The winding caverns echo to the sound.<br /> + His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,<br /> + And, rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.<br /> + We saw their stern distorted looks, from far,<br /> + And one-eyed glance, that vainly threaten’d war:<br /> + A dreadful council, with their heads on high;<br /> + (The misty clouds about their foreheads fly;)<br /> + Not yielding to the tow’ring tree of Jove,<br /> + Or tallest cypress of Diana’s grove.<br /> + New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;<br /> + We tug at ev’ry oar, and hoist up ev’ry sail,<br /> + And take th’ advantage of the friendly gale.<br /> + Forewarn’d by Helenus, we strive to shun<br /> + Charybdis’ gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.<br /> + An equal fate on either side appears:<br /> + We, tacking to the left, are free from fears;<br /> + For, from Pelorus’ point, the North arose,<br /> + And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.<br /> + His rocky mouth we pass, and make our way<br /> + By Thapsus and Megara’s winding bay.<br /> + This passage Achaemenides had shown,<br /> + Tracing the course which he before had run.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Right o’er against Plemmyrium’s wat’ry strand,<br /> + There lies an isle once call’d th’ Ortygian land.<br /> + Alpheus, as old fame reports, has found<br /> + From Greece a secret passage under ground,<br /> + By love to beauteous Arethusa led;<br /> + And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.<br /> + As Helenus enjoin’d, we next adore<br /> + Diana’s name, protectress of the shore.<br /> + With prosp’rous gales we pass the quiet sounds<br /> + Of still Elorus, and his fruitful bounds.<br /> + Then, doubling Cape Pachynus, we survey<br /> + The rocky shore extended to the sea.<br /> + The town of Camarine from far we see,<br /> + And fenny lake, undrain’d by fate’s decree.<br /> + In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,<br /> + And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;<br /> + Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown’d,<br /> + Long for the race of warlike steeds renown’d.<br /> + We pass’d Selinus, and the palmy land,<br /> + And widely shun the Lilybaean strand,<br /> + Unsafe, for secret rocks and moving sand.<br /> + At length on shore the weary fleet arriv’d,<br /> + Which Drepanum’s unhappy port receiv’d.<br /> + Here, after endless labours, often toss’d<br /> + By raging storms, and driv’n on ev’ry coast,<br /> + My dear, dear father, spent with age, I lost:<br /> + Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,<br /> + Sav’d thro’ a thousand toils, but sav’d in vain<br /> + The prophet, who my future woes reveal’d,<br /> + Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal’d;<br /> + And dire Celaeno, whose foreboding skill<br /> + Denounc’d all else, was silent of the ill.<br /> + This my last labour was. Some friendly god<br /> + From thence convey’d us to your blest abode.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, to the list’ning queen, the royal guest<br /> + His wand’ring course and all his toils express’d;<br /> + And here concluding, he retir’d to rest. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>BOOK IV</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Aeneas, and her thoughts of + marrying him. She prepares a hunting match for his entertainment. Juno, by + Venus’ consent, raises a storm, which separates the hunters, and drives + Aeneas and Dido into the same cave, where their marriage is supposed to be + completed. Jupiter despatches Mercury to Aeneas, to warn him from Carthage. + Aeneas secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido finds out his design, and, to + put a stop to it, makes use of her own and her sister’s entreaties, and + discovers all the variety of passions that are incident to a neglected lover. + When nothing could prevail upon him, she contrives her own death, with which + this book concludes. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut anxious cares already seiz’d the queen:<br /> + She fed within her veins a flame unseen;<br /> + The hero’s valour, acts, and birth inspire<br /> + Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.<br /> + His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,<br /> + Improve the passion, and increase the smart.<br /> + Now, when the purple morn had chas’d away<br /> + The dewy shadows, and restor’d the day,<br /> + Her sister first with early care she sought,<br /> + And thus in mournful accents eas’d her thought:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “My dearest Anna, what new dreams affright<br /> + My lab’ring soul! what visions of the night<br /> + Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast<br /> + With strange ideas of our Trojan guest!<br /> + His worth, his actions, and majestic air,<br /> + A man descended from the gods declare.<br /> + Fear ever argues a degenerate kind;<br /> + His birth is well asserted by his mind.<br /> + Then, what he suffer’d, when by Fate betray’d!<br /> + What brave attempts for falling Troy he made!<br /> + Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke,<br /> + That, were I not resolv’d against the yoke<br /> + Of hapless marriage, never to be curst<br /> + With second love, so fatal was my first,<br /> + To this one error I might yield again;<br /> + For, since Sichaeus was untimely slain,<br /> + This only man is able to subvert<br /> + The fix’d foundations of my stubborn heart.<br /> + And, to confess my frailty, to my shame,<br /> + Somewhat I find within, if not the same,<br /> + Too like the sparkles of my former flame.<br /> + But first let yawning earth a passage rend,<br /> + And let me thro’ the dark abyss descend;<br /> + First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,<br /> + Drive down this body to the nether sky,<br /> + Condemn’d with ghosts in endless night to lie,<br /> + Before I break the plighted faith I gave!<br /> + No! he who had my vows shall ever have;<br /> + For, whom I lov’d on earth, I worship in the grave.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said: the tears ran gushing from her eyes,<br /> + And stopp’d her speech. Her sister thus replies:<br /> + “O dearer than the vital air I breathe,<br /> + Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath,<br /> + Condemn’d to waste in woes your lonely life,<br /> + Without the joys of mother or of wife?<br /> + Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,<br /> + Are known or valued by the ghosts below?<br /> + I grant that, while your sorrows yet were green,<br /> + It well became a woman, and a queen,<br /> + The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect,<br /> + To scorn Hyarbas, and his love reject,<br /> + With all the Libyan lords of mighty name;<br /> + But will you fight against a pleasing flame!<br /> + This little spot of land, which Heav’n bestows,<br /> + On ev’ry side is hemm’d with warlike foes;<br /> + Gaetulian cities here are spread around,<br /> + And fierce Numidians there your frontiers bound;<br /> + Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,<br /> + And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand;<br /> + Barcaean troops besiege the narrow shore,<br /> + And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.<br /> + Propitious Heav’n, and gracious Juno, lead<br /> + This wand’ring navy to your needful aid:<br /> + How will your empire spread, your city rise,<br /> + From such a union, and with such allies?<br /> + Implore the favour of the pow’rs above,<br /> + And leave the conduct of the rest to love.<br /> + Continue still your hospitable way,<br /> + And still invent occasions of their stay,<br /> + Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat,<br /> + And planks and oars repair their shatter’d fleet.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + These words, which from a friend and sister came,<br /> + With ease resolv’d the scruples of her fame,<br /> + And added fury to the kindled flame.<br /> + Inspir’d with hope, the project they pursue;<br /> + On ev’ry altar sacrifice renew:<br /> + A chosen ewe of two years old they pay<br /> + To Ceres, Bacchus, and the God of Day;<br /> + Preferring Juno’s pow’r, for Juno ties<br /> + The nuptial knot and makes the marriage joys.<br /> + The beauteous queen before her altar stands,<br /> + And holds the golden goblet in her hands.<br /> + A milk-white heifer she with flow’rs adorns,<br /> + And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns;<br /> + And, while the priests with pray’r the gods invoke,<br /> + She feeds their altars with Sabaean smoke,<br /> + With hourly care the sacrifice renews,<br /> + And anxiously the panting entrails views.<br /> + What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,<br /> + What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart!<br /> + A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,<br /> + Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,<br /> + From street to street the raving Dido roves.<br /> + So when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,<br /> + Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,<br /> + Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,<br /> + Bounds o’er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods,<br /> + With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart<br /> + Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart.<br /> + And now she leads the Trojan chief along<br /> + The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;<br /> + Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town,<br /> + Which love, without his labour, makes his own.<br /> + This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand’ring guest;<br /> + Her falt’ring tongue forbids to speak the rest.<br /> + When day declines, and feasts renew the night,<br /> + Still on his face she feeds her famish’d sight;<br /> + She longs again to hear the prince relate<br /> + His own adventures and the Trojan fate.<br /> + He tells it o’er and o’er; but still in vain,<br /> + For still she begs to hear it once again.<br /> + The hearer on the speaker’s mouth depends,<br /> + And thus the tragic story never ends.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then, when they part, when Phoebe’s paler light<br /> + Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,<br /> + She last remains, when ev’ry guest is gone,<br /> + Sits on the bed he press’d, and sighs alone;<br /> + Absent, her absent hero sees and hears;<br /> + Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,<br /> + And seeks the father’s image in the child,<br /> + If love by likeness might be so beguil’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the rising tow’rs are at a stand;<br /> + No labours exercise the youthful band,<br /> + Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know;<br /> + The mole is left unfinish’d to the foe;<br /> + The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie,<br /> + Short of their promis’d heighth, that seem’d to threat the sky,<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But when imperial Juno, from above,<br /> + Saw Dido fetter’d in the chains of love,<br /> + Hot with the venom which her veins inflam’d,<br /> + And by no sense of shame to be reclaim’d,<br /> + With soothing words to Venus she begun:<br /> + “High praises, endless honours, you have won,<br /> + And mighty trophies, with your worthy son!<br /> + Two gods a silly woman have undone!<br /> + Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect<br /> + This rising city, which my hands erect:<br /> + But shall celestial discord never cease?<br /> + ’Tis better ended in a lasting peace.<br /> + You stand possess’d of all your soul desir’d:<br /> + Poor Dido with consuming love is fir’d.<br /> + Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join;<br /> + So Dido shall be yours, Aeneas mine:<br /> + One common kingdom, one united line.<br /> + Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,<br /> + And lofty Carthage for a dow’r convey.”<br /> + Then Venus, who her hidden fraud descried,<br /> + Which would the scepter of the world misguide<br /> + To Libyan shores, thus artfully replied:<br /> + “Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,<br /> + And such alliance and such gifts refuse,<br /> + If Fortune with our joint desires comply?<br /> + The doubt is all from Jove and destiny;<br /> + Lest he forbid, with absolute command,<br /> + To mix the people in one common land.<br /> + Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line<br /> + In lasting leagues and sure succession join?<br /> + But you, the partner of his bed and throne,<br /> + May move his mind; my wishes are your own.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Mine,” said imperial Juno, “be the care;<br /> + Time urges, now, to perfect this affair:<br /> + Attend my counsel, and the secret share.<br /> + When next the Sun his rising light displays,<br /> + And gilds the world below with purple rays,<br /> + The queen, Aeneas, and the Tyrian court<br /> + Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort.<br /> + There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,<br /> + And cheerful horns from side to side resound,<br /> + A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain<br /> + With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain;<br /> + The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,<br /> + Dispers’d, and all involv’d in gloomy night;<br /> + One cave a grateful shelter shall afford<br /> + To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.<br /> + I will myself the bridal bed prepare,<br /> + If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there:<br /> + So shall their loves be crown’d with due delights,<br /> + And Hymen shall be present at the rites.”<br /> + The Queen of Love consents, and closely smiles<br /> + At her vain project, and discover’d wiles.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The rosy morn was risen from the main,<br /> + And horns and hounds awake the princely train:<br /> + They issue early thro’ the city gate,<br /> + Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,<br /> + With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force<br /> + Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.<br /> + The Tyrian peers and officers of state<br /> + For the slow queen in antechambers wait;<br /> + Her lofty courser, in the court below,<br /> + Who his majestic rider seems to know,<br /> + Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,<br /> + And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.<br /> + The queen at length appears; on either hand<br /> + The brawny guards in martial order stand.<br /> + A flow’r’d simar with golden fringe she wore,<br /> + And at her back a golden quiver bore;<br /> + Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,<br /> + A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.<br /> + Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,<br /> + Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase.<br /> + But far above the rest in beauty shines<br /> + The great Aeneas, the troop he joins;<br /> + Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost<br /> + Of wint’ry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,<br /> + When to his native Delos he resorts,<br /> + Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;<br /> + Where painted Scythians, mix’d with Cretan bands,<br /> + Before the joyful altars join their hands:<br /> + Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below<br /> + The merry madness of the sacred show.<br /> + Green wreaths of bays his length of hair inclose;<br /> + A golden fillet binds his awful brows;<br /> + His quiver sounds: not less the prince is seen<br /> + In manly presence, or in lofty mien.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now had they reach’d the hills, and storm’d the seat<br /> + Of salvage beasts, in dens, their last retreat.<br /> + The cry pursues the mountain goats: they bound<br /> + From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground;<br /> + Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,<br /> + In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,<br /> + And a long chase in open view maintain.<br /> + The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,<br /> + Spurs thro’ the vale, and these and those outrides.<br /> + His horse’s flanks and sides are forc’d to feel<br /> + The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.<br /> + Impatiently he views the feeble prey,<br /> + Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way,<br /> + And rather would the tusky boar attend,<br /> + Or see the tawny lion downward bend.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime, the gath’ring clouds obscure the skies:<br /> + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;<br /> + The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours<br /> + A wintry deluge down, and sounding show’rs.<br /> + The company, dispers’d, to converts ride,<br /> + And seek the homely cots, or mountain’s hollow side.<br /> + The rapid rains, descending from the hills,<br /> + To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.<br /> + The queen and prince, as love or fortune guides,<br /> + One common cavern in her bosom hides.<br /> + Then first the trembling earth the signal gave,<br /> + And flashing fires enlighten all the cave;<br /> + Hell from below, and Juno from above,<br /> + And howling nymphs, were conscious of their love.<br /> + From this ill-omen’d hour in time arose<br /> + Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The queen, whom sense of honour could not move,<br /> + No longer made a secret of her love,<br /> + But call’d it marriage, by that specious name<br /> + To veil the crime and sanctify the shame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The loud report thro’ Libyan cities goes.<br /> + Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows:<br /> + Swift from the first; and ev’ry moment brings<br /> + New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings.<br /> + Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;<br /> + Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.<br /> + Inrag’d against the gods, revengeful Earth<br /> + Produc’d her last of the Titanian birth.<br /> + Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste:<br /> + A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.<br /> + As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,<br /> + So many piercing eyes inlarge her sight;<br /> + Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,<br /> + And ev’ry mouth is furnish’d with a tongue,<br /> + And round with list’ning ears the flying plague is hung.<br /> + She fills the peaceful universe with cries;<br /> + No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes;<br /> + By day, from lofty tow’rs her head she shews,<br /> + And spreads thro’ trembling crowds disastrous news;<br /> + With court informers haunts, and royal spies;<br /> + Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles truth with lies.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Talk is her business, and her chief delight<br /> + To tell of prodigies and cause affright.<br /> + She fills the people’s ears with Dido’s name,<br /> + Who, lost to honour and the sense of shame,<br /> + Admits into her throne and nuptial bed<br /> + A wand’ring guest, who from his country fled:<br /> + Whole days with him she passes in delights,<br /> + And wastes in luxury long winter nights,<br /> + Forgetful of her fame and royal trust,<br /> + Dissolv’d in ease, abandon’d to her lust.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The goddess widely spreads the loud report,<br /> + And flies at length to King Hyarba’s court.<br /> + When first possess’d with this unwelcome news<br /> + Whom did he not of men and gods accuse?<br /> + This prince, from ravish’d Garamantis born,<br /> + A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,<br /> + In Ammon’s honour, his celestial sire;<br /> + A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;<br /> + And, thro’ his vast dominions, priests ordain’d,<br /> + Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain’d.<br /> + The gates and columns were with garlands crown’d,<br /> + And blood of victim beasts enrich’d the ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He, when he heard a fugitive could move<br /> + The Tyrian princess, who disdain’d his love,<br /> + His breast with fury burn’d, his eyes with fire,<br /> + Mad with despair, impatient with desire;<br /> + Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,<br /> + He thus with pray’rs implor’d his sire divine:<br /> + “Great Jove! propitious to the Moorish race,<br /> + Who feast on painted beds, with off’rings grace<br /> + Thy temples, and adore thy pow’r divine<br /> + With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine,<br /> + Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain<br /> + Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?<br /> + Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?<br /> + Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?<br /> + A wand’ring woman builds, within our state,<br /> + A little town, bought at an easy rate;<br /> + She pays me homage, and my grants allow<br /> + A narrow space of Libyan lands to plow;<br /> + Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,<br /> + Admits a banish’d Trojan to her bed!<br /> + And now this other Paris, with his train<br /> + Of conquer’d cowards, must in Afric reign!<br /> + (Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess,<br /> + Their locks with oil perfum’d, their Lydian dress.)<br /> + He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;<br /> + And I, rejected I, adore an empty name.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr’d,<br /> + And held his altar’s horns. The mighty Thund’rer heard;<br /> + Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found<br /> + The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown’d,<br /> + Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,<br /> + And both forgetful of their better fame.<br /> + He calls Cyllenius, and the god attends,<br /> + By whom his menacing command he sends:<br /> + “Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;<br /> + Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly:<br /> + There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days<br /> + In slothful riot and inglorious ease,<br /> + Nor minds the future city, giv’n by fate.<br /> + To him this message from my mouth relate:<br /> + ‘Not so fair Venus hop’d, when twice she won<br /> + Thy life with pray’rs, nor promis’d such a son.<br /> + Hers was a hero, destin’d to command<br /> + A martial race, and rule the Latian land,<br /> + Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw,<br /> + And on the conquer’d world impose the law.’<br /> + If glory cannot move a mind so mean,<br /> + Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,<br /> + Yet why should he defraud his son of fame,<br /> + And grudge the Romans their immortal name!<br /> + What are his vain designs! what hopes he more<br /> + From his long ling’ring on a hostile shore,<br /> + Regardless to redeem his honour lost,<br /> + And for his race to gain th’ Ausonian coast!<br /> + Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake;<br /> + With this command the slumb’ring warrior wake.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds<br /> + His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:<br /> + And, whether o’er the seas or earth he flies,<br /> + With rapid force they bear him down the skies.<br /> + But first he grasps within his awful hand<br /> + The mark of sov’reign pow’r, his magic wand;<br /> + With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;<br /> + With this he drives them down the Stygian waves;<br /> + With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight,<br /> + And eyes, tho’ clos’d in death, restores to light.<br /> + Thus arm’d, the god begins his airy race,<br /> + And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space;<br /> + Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies,<br /> + Whose brawny back supports the starry skies;<br /> + Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown’d,<br /> + Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapours bound.<br /> + Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin<br /> + The founts of rolling streams their race begin;<br /> + A beard of ice on his large breast depends.<br /> + Here, pois’d upon his wings, the god descends:<br /> + Then, rested thus, he from the tow’ring height<br /> + Plung’d downward, with precipitated flight,<br /> + Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood.<br /> + As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food,<br /> + Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;<br /> + By turns they dance aloft, and dive below:<br /> + Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,<br /> + And near the surface of the water flies,<br /> + Till, having pass’d the seas, and cross’d the sands,<br /> + He clos’d his wings, and stoop’d on Libyan lands:<br /> + Where shepherds once were hous’d in homely sheds,<br /> + Now tow’rs within the clouds advance their heads.<br /> + Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince<br /> + New ramparts raising for the town’s defence.<br /> + A purple scarf, with gold embroider’d o’er,<br /> + (Queen Dido’s gift,) about his waist he wore;<br /> + A sword, with glitt’ring gems diversified,<br /> + For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus, with winged words, the god began,<br /> + Resuming his own shape: “Degenerate man,<br /> + Thou woman’s property, what mak’st thou here,<br /> + These foreign walls and Tyrian tow’rs to rear,<br /> + Forgetful of thy own? All-pow’rful Jove,<br /> + Who sways the world below and heav’n above,<br /> + Has sent me down with this severe command:<br /> + What means thy ling’ring in the Libyan land?<br /> + If glory cannot move a mind so mean,<br /> + Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,<br /> + Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:<br /> + The promis’d crown let young Ascanius wear,<br /> + To whom th’ Ausonian scepter, and the state<br /> + Of Rome’s imperial name is ow’d by fate.”<br /> + So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,<br /> + Involv’d in clouds, and vanish’d out of sight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The pious prince was seiz’d with sudden fear;<br /> + Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.<br /> + Revolving in his mind the stern command,<br /> + He longs to fly, and loathes the charming land.<br /> + What should he say? or how should he begin?<br /> + What course, alas! remains to steer between<br /> + Th’ offended lover and the pow’rful queen?<br /> + This way and that he turns his anxious mind,<br /> + And all expedients tries, and none can find.<br /> + Fix’d on the deed, but doubtful of the means,<br /> + After long thought, to this advice he leans:<br /> + Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair<br /> + The fleet, and ship their men with silent care;<br /> + Some plausible pretence he bids them find,<br /> + To colour what in secret he design’d.<br /> + Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose,<br /> + Before the love-sick lady heard the news;<br /> + And move her tender mind, by slow degrees,<br /> + To suffer what the sov’reign pow’r decrees:<br /> + Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.<br /> + They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise:<br /> + (What arts can blind a jealous woman’s eyes!)<br /> + She was the first to find the secret fraud,<br /> + Before the fatal news was blaz’d abroad.<br /> + Love the first motions of the lover hears,<br /> + Quick to presage, and ev’n in safety fears.<br /> + Nor impious Fame was wanting to report<br /> + The ships repair’d, the Trojans’ thick resort,<br /> + And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.<br /> + Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,<br /> + And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.<br /> + Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,<br /> + When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,<br /> + And howl about the hills, and shake the wreathy spear.<br /> + At length she finds the dear perfidious man;<br /> + Prevents his form’d excuse, and thus began:<br /> + “Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,<br /> + And undiscover’d scape a lover’s eye?<br /> + Nor could my kindness your compassion move.<br /> + Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?<br /> + Or is the death of a despairing queen<br /> + Not worth preventing, tho’ too well foreseen?<br /> + Ev’n when the wintry winds command your stay,<br /> + You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.<br /> + False as you are, suppose you were not bound<br /> + To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;<br /> + Were Troy restor’d, and Priam’s happy reign,<br /> + Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main?<br /> + See whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?<br /> + Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,<br /> + By this right hand, (since I have nothing more<br /> + To challenge, but the faith you gave before;)<br /> + I beg you by these tears too truly shed,<br /> + By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;<br /> + If ever Dido, when you most were kind,<br /> + Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch’d your mind;<br /> + By these my pray’rs, if pray’rs may yet have place,<br /> + Pity the fortunes of a falling race.<br /> + For you I have provok’d a tyrant’s hate,<br /> + Incens’d the Libyan and the Tyrian state;<br /> + For you alone I suffer in my fame,<br /> + Bereft of honour, and expos’d to shame.<br /> + Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?<br /> + (That only name remains of all the rest!)<br /> + What have I left? or whither can I fly?<br /> + Must I attend Pygmalion’s cruelty,<br /> + Or till Hyarba shall in triumph lead<br /> + A queen that proudly scorn’d his proffer’d bed?<br /> + Had you deferr’d, at least, your hasty flight,<br /> + And left behind some pledge of our delight,<br /> + Some babe to bless the mother’s mournful sight,<br /> + Some young Aeneas, to supply your place,<br /> + Whose features might express his father’s face;<br /> + I should not then complain to live bereft<br /> + Of all my husband, or be wholly left.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Here paus’d the queen. Unmov’d he holds his eyes,<br /> + By Jove’s command; nor suffer’d love to rise,<br /> + Tho’ heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies:<br /> + “Fair queen, you never can enough repeat<br /> + Your boundless favours, or I own my debt;<br /> + Nor can my mind forget Eliza’s name,<br /> + While vital breath inspires this mortal frame.<br /> + This only let me speak in my defence:<br /> + I never hop’d a secret flight from hence,<br /> + Much less pretended to the lawful claim<br /> + Of sacred nuptials, or a husband’s name.<br /> + For, if indulgent Heav’n would leave me free,<br /> + And not submit my life to fate’s decree,<br /> + My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,<br /> + Those relics to review, their dust adore,<br /> + And Priam’s ruin’d palace to restore.<br /> + But now the Delphian oracle commands,<br /> + And fate invites me to the Latian lands.<br /> + That is the promis’d place to which I steer,<br /> + And all my vows are terminated there.<br /> + If you, a Tyrian, and a stranger born,<br /> + With walls and tow’rs a Libyan town adorn,<br /> + Why may not we, like you, a foreign race,<br /> + Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?<br /> + As often as the night obscures the skies<br /> + With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,<br /> + Anchises’ angry ghost in dreams appears,<br /> + Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears;<br /> + And young Ascanius justly may complain<br /> + Of his defrauded and destin’d reign.<br /> + Ev’n now the herald of the gods appear’d:<br /> + Waking I saw him, and his message heard.<br /> + From Jove he came commission’d, heav’nly bright<br /> + With radiant beams, and manifest to sight<br /> + (The sender and the sent I both attest)<br /> + These walls he enter’d, and those words express’d.<br /> + Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command;<br /> + Forc’d by my fate, I leave your happy land.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while he spoke, already she began,<br /> + With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man;<br /> + From head to foot survey’d his person o’er,<br /> + Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore:<br /> + “False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn!<br /> + Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,<br /> + But hewn from harden’d entrails of a rock!<br /> + And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck!<br /> + Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?<br /> + Did he once look, or lent a list’ning ear,<br /> + Sigh’d when I sobb’d, or shed one kindly tear?<br /> + All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind,<br /> + So foul, that, which is worse, ’tis hard to find.<br /> + Of man’s injustice why should I complain?<br /> + The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain<br /> + Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies,<br /> + Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes;<br /> + Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!<br /> + Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more!<br /> + I sav’d the shipwreck’d exile on my shore;<br /> + With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;<br /> + I took the traitor to my throne and bed:<br /> + Fool that I was—— ’tis little to repeat<br /> + The rest, I stor’d and rigg’d his ruin’d fleet.<br /> + I rave, I rave! A god’s command he pleads,<br /> + And makes Heav’n accessary to his deeds.<br /> + Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,<br /> + Now Hermes is employ’d from Jove’s abode,<br /> + To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state<br /> + Of heav’nly pow’rs were touch’d with human fate!<br /> + But go! thy flight no longer I detain;<br /> + Go seek thy promis’d kingdom thro’ the main!<br /> + Yet, if the heav’ns will hear my pious vow,<br /> + The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,<br /> + Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford<br /> + To thy proud vessels, and their perjur’d lord.<br /> + Then shalt thou call on injur’d Dido’s name:<br /> + Dido shall come in a black sulph’ry flame,<br /> + When death has once dissolv’d her mortal frame;<br /> + Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep:<br /> + Her angry ghost, arising from the deep,<br /> + Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep.<br /> + At least my shade thy punishment shall know,<br /> + And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Abruptly here she stops; then turns away<br /> + Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day.<br /> + Amaz’d he stood, revolving in his mind<br /> + What speech to frame, and what excuse to find.<br /> + Her fearful maids their fainting mistress led,<br /> + And softly laid her on her ivory bed.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But good Aeneas, tho’ he much desir’d<br /> + To give that pity which her grief requir’d;<br /> + Tho’ much he mourn’d, and labour’d with his love,<br /> + Resolv’d at length, obeys the will of Jove;<br /> + Reviews his forces: they with early care<br /> + Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.<br /> + The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride,<br /> + And well-calk’d galleys in the harbour ride.<br /> + Then oaks for oars they fell’d; or, as they stood,<br /> + Of its green arms despoil’d the growing wood,<br /> + Studious of flight. The beach is cover’d o’er<br /> + With Trojan bands, that blacken all the shore:<br /> + On ev’ry side are seen, descending down,<br /> + Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.<br /> + Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants,<br /> + Fearful of winter, and of future wants,<br /> + T’ invade the corn, and to their cells convey<br /> + The plunder’d forage of their yellow prey.<br /> + The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,<br /> + Scarce bear the weighty burthen on their backs:<br /> + Some set their shoulders to the pond’rous grain;<br /> + Some guard the spoil; some lash the lagging train;<br /> + All ply their sev’ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,<br /> + When, from the tow’r, she saw the cover’d shore,<br /> + And heard the shouts of sailors from afar,<br /> + Mix’d with the murmurs of the wat’ry war!<br /> + All-pow’rful Love! what changes canst thou cause<br /> + In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!<br /> + Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends:<br /> + To pray’rs and mean submissions she descends.<br /> + No female arts or aids she left untried,<br /> + Nor counsels unexplor’d, before she died.<br /> + “Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;<br /> + They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh.<br /> + The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,<br /> + Invoke the sea gods, and invite the wind.<br /> + Could I have thought this threat’ning blow so near,<br /> + My tender soul had been forewarn’d to bear.<br /> + But do not you my last request deny;<br /> + With yon perfidious man your int’rest try,<br /> + And bring me news, if I must live or die.<br /> + You are his fav’rite; you alone can find<br /> + The dark recesses of his inmost mind:<br /> + In all his trusted secrets you have part,<br /> + And know the soft approaches to his heart.<br /> + Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;<br /> + Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,<br /> + Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,<br /> + Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,<br /> + Nor mov’d with hands profane his father’s dust:<br /> + Why should he then reject a suit so just!<br /> + Whom does he shun, and whither would he fly!<br /> + Can he this last, this only pray’r deny!<br /> + Let him at least his dang’rous flight delay,<br /> + Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.<br /> + The nuptials he disclaims I urge no more:<br /> + Let him pursue the promis’d Latian shore.<br /> + A short delay is all I ask him now;<br /> + A pause of grief, an interval from woe,<br /> + Till my soft soul be temper’d to sustain<br /> + Accustom’d sorrows, and inur’d to pain.<br /> + If you in pity grant this one request,<br /> + My death shall glut the hatred of his breast.”<br /> + This mournful message pious Anna bears,<br /> + And seconds with her own her sister’s tears:<br /> + But all her arts are still employ’d in vain;<br /> + Again she comes, and is refus’d again.<br /> + His harden’d heart nor pray’rs nor threat’nings move;<br /> + Fate, and the god, had stopp’d his ears to love.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As, when the winds their airy quarrel try,<br /> + Justling from ev’ry quarter of the sky,<br /> + This way and that the mountain oak they bend,<br /> + His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;<br /> + With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground;<br /> + The hollow valleys echo to the sound:<br /> + Unmov’d, the royal plant their fury mocks,<br /> + Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks;<br /> + Far as he shoots his tow’ring head on high,<br /> + So deep in earth his fix’d foundations lie.<br /> + No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;<br /> + Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,<br /> + And bandied words, still beating on his ears.<br /> + Sighs, groans, and tears proclaim his inward pains;<br /> + But the firm purpose of his heart remains.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate,<br /> + Begins at length the light of heav’n to hate,<br /> + And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees,<br /> + To hasten on the death her soul decrees:<br /> + Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine,<br /> + She pours in sacrifice the purple wine,<br /> + The purple wine is turn’d to putrid blood,<br /> + And the white offer’d milk converts to mud.<br /> + This dire presage, to her alone reveal’d,<br /> + From all, and ev’n her sister, she conceal’d.<br /> + A marble temple stood within the grove,<br /> + Sacred to death, and to her murder’d love;<br /> + That honour’d chapel she had hung around<br /> + With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown’d:<br /> + Oft, when she visited this lonely dome,<br /> + Strange voices issued from her husband’s tomb;<br /> + She thought she heard him summon her away,<br /> + Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay.<br /> + Hourly ’tis heard, when with a boding note<br /> + The solitary screech owl strains her throat,<br /> + And, on a chimney’s top, or turret’s height,<br /> + With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night.<br /> + Besides, old prophecies augment her fears;<br /> + And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears,<br /> + Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone,<br /> + To wander in her sleep, thro’ ways unknown,<br /> + Guideless and dark; or, in a desert plain,<br /> + To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain:<br /> + Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear,<br /> + He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear;<br /> + Or mad Orestes, when his mother’s ghost<br /> + Full in his face infernal torches toss’d,<br /> + And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,<br /> + Flies o’er the stage, surpris’d with mortal fright;<br /> + The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,<br /> + From death alone she seeks her last relief;<br /> + The time and means resolv’d within her breast,<br /> + She to her mournful sister thus address’d<br /> + (Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,<br /> + And a false vigour in her eyes appears):<br /> + “Rejoice!” she said. “Instructed from above,<br /> + My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.<br /> + Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun,<br /> + Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:<br /> + There a Massylian priestess I have found,<br /> + Honour’d for age, for magic arts renown’d:<br /> + Th’ Hesperian temple was her trusted care;<br /> + ’Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon’s fare.<br /> + She poppy seeds in honey taught to steep,<br /> + Reclaim’d his rage, and sooth’d him into sleep.<br /> + She watch’d the golden fruit; her charms unbind<br /> + The chains of love, or fix them on the mind:<br /> + She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry,<br /> + Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.<br /> + The yawning earth rebellows to her call,<br /> + Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall.<br /> + Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,<br /> + How loth I am to try this impious art!<br /> + Within the secret court, with silent care,<br /> + Erect a lofty pile, expos’d in air:<br /> + Hang on the topmost part the Trojan vest,<br /> + Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.<br /> + Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac’d,<br /> + Where I my ruin in his arms embrac’d:<br /> + All relics of the wretch are doom’d to fire;<br /> + For so the priestess and her charms require.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus far she said, and farther speech forbears;<br /> + A mortal paleness in her face appears:<br /> + Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find<br /> + The secret fun’ral in these rites design’d;<br /> + Nor thought so dire a rage possess’d her mind.<br /> + Unknowing of a train conceal’d so well,<br /> + She fear’d no worse than when Sichaeus fell;<br /> + Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear,<br /> + Within the secret court, expos’d in air.<br /> + The cloven holms and pines are heap’d on high,<br /> + And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.<br /> + Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath,<br /> + And ev’ry baleful green denoting death.<br /> + The queen, determin’d to the fatal deed,<br /> + The spoils and sword he left, in order spread,<br /> + And the man’s image on the nuptial bed.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now (the sacred altars plac’d around)<br /> + The priestess enters, with her hair unbound,<br /> + And thrice invokes the pow’rs below the ground.<br /> + Night, Erebus, and Chaos she proclaims,<br /> + And threefold Hecate, with her hundred names,<br /> + And three Dianas: next, she sprinkles round<br /> + With feign’d Avernian drops the hallow’d ground;<br /> + Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe’s light,<br /> + With brazen sickles reap’d at noon of night;<br /> + Then mixes baleful juices in the bowl,<br /> + And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal,<br /> + Robbing the mother’s love. The destin’d queen<br /> + Observes, assisting at the rites obscene;<br /> + A leaven’d cake in her devoted hands<br /> + She holds, and next the highest altar stands:<br /> + One tender foot was shod, her other bare;<br /> + Girt was her gather’d gown, and loose her hair.<br /> + Thus dress’d, she summon’d, with her dying breath,<br /> + The heav’ns and planets conscious of her death,<br /> + And ev’ry pow’r, if any rules above,<br /> + Who minds, or who revenges, injur’d love.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “’Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close<br /> + Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose:<br /> + The winds no longer whisper thro’ the woods,<br /> + Nor murm’ring tides disturb the gentle floods.<br /> + The stars in silent order mov’d around;<br /> + And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground<br /> + The flocks and herds, and party-colour’d fowl,<br /> + Which haunt the woods, or swim the weedy pool,<br /> + Stretch’d on the quiet earth, securely lay,<br /> + Forgetting the past labours of the day.<br /> + All else of nature’s common gift partake:<br /> + Unhappy Dido was alone awake.<br /> + Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find;<br /> + Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.<br /> + Despair, and rage, and love divide her heart;<br /> + Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus she said within her secret mind:<br /> + “What shall I do? what succour can I find?<br /> + Become a suppliant to Hyarba’s pride,<br /> + And take my turn, to court and be denied?<br /> + Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,<br /> + Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?<br /> + Himself I refug’d, and his train reliev’d;<br /> + ’Tis true; but am I sure to be receiv’d?<br /> + Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place!<br /> + Laomedon still lives in all his race!<br /> + Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,<br /> + Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?<br /> + What force have I but those whom scarce before<br /> + I drew reluctant from their native shore?<br /> + Will they again embark at my desire,<br /> + Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?<br /> + Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,<br /> + And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.<br /> + Your pity, sister, first seduc’d my mind,<br /> + Or seconded too well what I design’d.<br /> + These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,<br /> + Had I continued free, and still my own;<br /> + Avoiding love, I had not found despair,<br /> + But shar’d with salvage beasts the common air.<br /> + Like them, a lonely life I might have led,<br /> + Not mourn’d the living, nor disturb’d the dead.”<br /> + These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.<br /> + On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.<br /> + Resolv’d to sail, in sleep he pass’d the night;<br /> + And order’d all things for his early flight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To whom once more the winged god appears;<br /> + His former youthful mien and shape he wears,<br /> + And with this new alarm invades his ears:<br /> + “Sleep’st thou, O goddess-born! and canst thou drown<br /> + Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,<br /> + Beset with foes; nor hear’st the western gales<br /> + Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?<br /> + She harbours in her heart a furious hate,<br /> + And thou shalt find the dire effects too late;<br /> + Fix’d on revenge, and obstinate to die.<br /> + Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow’r to fly.<br /> + The sea with ships will soon be cover’d o’er,<br /> + And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.<br /> + Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies,<br /> + And sail before the purple morn arise.<br /> + Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?<br /> + Woman’s a various and a changeful thing.”<br /> + Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight<br /> + Aloft in air unseen, and mix’d with night.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Twice warn’d by the celestial messenger,<br /> + The pious prince arose with hasty fear;<br /> + Then rous’d his drowsy train without delay:<br /> + “Haste to your banks; your crooked anchors weigh,<br /> + And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea.<br /> + A god commands: he stood before my sight,<br /> + And urg’d us once again to speedy flight.<br /> + O sacred pow’r, what pow’r soe’er thou art,<br /> + To thy blest orders I resign my heart.<br /> + Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands,<br /> + And prosper the design thy will commands.”<br /> + He said: and, drawing forth his flaming sword,<br /> + His thund’ring arm divides the many-twisted cord.<br /> + An emulating zeal inspires his train:<br /> + They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.<br /> + With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,<br /> + And brush the liquid seas with lab’ring oars.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Aurora now had left her saffron bed,<br /> + And beams of early light the heav’ns o’erspread,<br /> + When, from a tow’r, the queen, with wakeful eyes,<br /> + Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.<br /> + She look’d to seaward; but the sea was void,<br /> + And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.<br /> + Stung with despite, and furious with despair,<br /> + She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair.<br /> + “And shall th’ ungrateful traitor go,” she said,<br /> + “My land forsaken, and my love betray’d?<br /> + Shall we not arm? not rush from ev’ry street,<br /> + To follow, sink, and burn his perjur’d fleet?<br /> + Haste, haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!<br /> + Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!<br /> + What have I said? where am I? Fury turns<br /> + My brain; and my distemper’d bosom burns.<br /> + Then, when I gave my person and my throne,<br /> + This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.<br /> + See now the promis’d faith, the vaunted name,<br /> + The pious man, who, rushing thro’ the flame,<br /> + Preserv’d his gods, and to the Phrygian shore<br /> + The burthen of his feeble father bore!<br /> + I should have torn him piecemeal; strow’d in floods<br /> + His scatter’d limbs, or left expos’d in woods;<br /> + Destroy’d his friends and son; and, from the fire,<br /> + Have set the reeking boy before the sire.<br /> + Events are doubtful, which on battles wait:<br /> + Yet where’s the doubt, to souls secure of fate?<br /> + My Tyrians, at their injur’d queen’s command,<br /> + Had toss’d their fires amid the Trojan band;<br /> + At once extinguish’d all the faithless name;<br /> + And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,<br /> + Had fall’n upon the pile, to mend the fun’ral flame.<br /> + Thou Sun, who view’st at once the world below;<br /> + Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow;<br /> + Thou Hecate hearken from thy dark abodes!<br /> + Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods,<br /> + All pow’rs invok’d with Dido’s dying breath,<br /> + Attend her curses and avenge her death!<br /> + If so the Fates ordain, Jove commands,<br /> + Th’ ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands,<br /> + Yet let a race untam’d, and haughty foes,<br /> + His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:<br /> + Oppress’d with numbers in th’ unequal field,<br /> + His men discourag’d, and himself expell’d,<br /> + Let him for succour sue from place to place,<br /> + Torn from his subjects, and his son’s embrace.<br /> + First, let him see his friends in battle slain,<br /> + And their untimely fate lament in vain;<br /> + And when, at length, the cruel war shall cease,<br /> + On hard conditions may he buy his peace:<br /> + Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;<br /> + But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,<br /> + And lie unburied on the barren sand!<br /> + These are my pray’rs, and this my dying will;<br /> + And you, my Tyrians, ev’ry curse fulfil.<br /> + Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim,<br /> + Against the prince, the people, and the name.<br /> + These grateful off’rings on my grave bestow;<br /> + Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!<br /> + Now, and from hence, in ev’ry future age,<br /> + When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage<br /> + Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,<br /> + With fire and sword pursue the perjur’d brood;<br /> + Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos’d to theirs;<br /> + And the same hate descend on all our heirs!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This said, within her anxious mind she weighs<br /> + The means of cutting short her odious days.<br /> + Then to Sichaeus’ nurse she briefly said<br /> + (For, when she left her country, hers was dead):<br /> + “Go, Barce, call my sister. Let her care<br /> + The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare;<br /> + The sheep, and all th’ atoning off’rings bring,<br /> + Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring<br /> + With living drops; then let her come, and thou<br /> + With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow.<br /> + Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove,<br /> + And end the cares of my disastrous love;<br /> + Then cast the Trojan image on the fire,<br /> + And, as that burns, my passions shall expire.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The nurse moves onward, with officious care,<br /> + And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.<br /> + But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv’d,<br /> + Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv’d.<br /> + With livid spots distinguish’d was her face;<br /> + Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos’d her pace;<br /> + Ghastly she gaz’d, with pain she drew her breath,<br /> + And nature shiver’d at approaching death.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass’d,<br /> + And mounts the fun’ral pile with furious haste;<br /> + Unsheathes the sword the Trojan left behind<br /> + (Not for so dire an enterprise design’d).<br /> + But when she view’d the garments loosely spread,<br /> + Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,<br /> + She paus’d, and with a sigh the robes embrac’d;<br /> + Then on the couch her trembling body cast,<br /> + Repress’d the ready tears, and spoke her last:<br /> + “Dear pledges of my love, while Heav’n so pleas’d,<br /> + Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas’d:<br /> + My fatal course is finish’d; and I go,<br /> + A glorious name, among the ghosts below.<br /> + A lofty city by my hands is rais’d,<br /> + Pygmalion punish’d, and my lord appeas’d.<br /> + What could my fortune have afforded more,<br /> + Had the false Trojan never touch’d my shore!”<br /> + Then kiss’d the couch; and, “Must I die,” she said,<br /> + “And unreveng’d? ’Tis doubly to be dead!<br /> + Yet ev’n this death with pleasure I receive:<br /> + On any terms, ’tis better than to live.<br /> + These flames, from far, may the false Trojan view;<br /> + These boding omens his base flight pursue!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said, and struck; deep enter’d in her side<br /> + The piercing steel, with reeking purple dyed:<br /> + Clogg’d in the wound the cruel weapon stands;<br /> + The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.<br /> + Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,<br /> + And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.<br /> + Distracted, from the fatal sight they fled,<br /> + And thro’ the town the dismal rumour spread.<br /> + First from the frighted court the yell began;<br /> + Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran:<br /> + The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries<br /> + Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.<br /> + Not less the clamour, than if ancient Tyre,<br /> + Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire,<br /> + The rolling ruin, with their lov’d abodes,<br /> + Involv’d the blazing temples of their gods.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Her sister hears; and, furious with despair,<br /> + She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,<br /> + And, calling on Eliza’s name aloud,<br /> + Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.<br /> + “Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar’d;<br /> + These fires, this fun’ral pile, these altars rear’d?<br /> + Was all this train of plots contriv’d,” said she,<br /> + “All only to deceive unhappy me?<br /> + Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend<br /> + To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?<br /> + Thy summon’d sister, and thy friend, had come;<br /> + One sword had serv’d us both, one common tomb:<br /> + Was I to raise the pile, the pow’rs invoke,<br /> + Not to be present at the fatal stroke?<br /> + At once thou hast destroy’d thyself and me,<br /> + Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony!<br /> + Bring water; bathe the wound; while I in death<br /> + Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.”<br /> + This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,<br /> + And in her arms the gasping queen embrac’d;<br /> + Her temples chaf’d; and her own garments tore,<br /> + To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.<br /> + Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,<br /> + And, fainting thrice, fell grov’ling on the bed;<br /> + Thrice op’d her heavy eyes, and sought the light,<br /> + But, having found it, sicken’d at the sight,<br /> + And clos’d her lids at last in endless night.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain<br /> + A death so ling’ring, and so full of pain,<br /> + Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife<br /> + Of lab’ring nature, and dissolve her life.<br /> + For since she died, not doom’d by Heav’n’s decree,<br /> + Or her own crime, but human casualty,<br /> + And rage of love, that plung’d her in despair,<br /> + The Sisters had not cut the topmost hair,<br /> + Which Proserpine and they can only know;<br /> + Nor made her sacred to the shades below.<br /> + Downward the various goddess took her flight,<br /> + And drew a thousand colours from the light;<br /> + Then stood above the dying lover’s head,<br /> + And said: “I thus devote thee to the dead.<br /> + This off’ring to th’ infernal gods I bear.”<br /> + Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair:<br /> + The struggling soul was loos’d, and life dissolv’d in air. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>BOOK V</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Aeneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the coast of Sicily, + where he is hospitably received by his friend Acestes, king of part of the + island, and born of Trojan parentage. He applies himself to celebrate the + memory of his father with divine honours, and accordingly institues funeral + games, and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in them. While the + ceremonies are performing, Juno sends Iris to persuade the Trojan woman to + burn the ships, who, upon her instigation, set fire to them: which burned + four, and would have consumed the rest, had not Jupiter, by a miraculous + shower extinguished it. Upon this, Aeneas, by the advice of one of his generals, + and a vision of his father, builds a city for the women, old men, and others, + who were either unfit for war, or weary of the voyage, and sails for Italy. + Venus procures of Neptune a safe voyage for him and all his men, excepting + only his pilot Palinurus, who was unfortunately lost. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>eantime the Trojan cuts his wat’ry way,<br /> + Fix’d on his voyage, thro’ the curling sea;<br /> + Then, casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,<br /> + Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.<br /> + The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind<br /> + The fate of Dido from the fire divin’d;<br /> + He knew the stormy souls of womankind,<br /> + What secret springs their eager passions move,<br /> + How capable of death for injur’d love.<br /> + Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw;<br /> + Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.<br /> + Now seas and skies their prospect only bound;<br /> + An empty space above, a floating field around.<br /> + But soon the heav’ns with shadows were o’erspread;<br /> + A swelling cloud hung hov’ring o’er their head:<br /> + Livid it look’d, the threat’ning of a storm:<br /> + Then night and horror ocean’s face deform.<br /> + The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud:<br /> + “What gusts of weather from that gath’ring cloud<br /> + My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars,<br /> + Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;<br /> + Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind.”<br /> + The frighted crew perform the task assign’d.<br /> + Then, to his fearless chief: “Not Heav’n,” said he,<br /> + “Tho’ Jove himself should promise Italy,<br /> + Can stem the torrent of this raging sea.<br /> + Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,<br /> + And what collected night involves the skies!<br /> + Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,<br /> + Much less against the tempest force their way.<br /> + ’Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.<br /> + Not far from hence, if I observ’d aright<br /> + The southing of the stars, and polar light,<br /> + Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores<br /> + In safety we may reach with struggling oars.”<br /> + Aeneas then replied: “Too sure I find<br /> + We strive in vain against the seas and wind:<br /> + Now shift your sails; what place can please me more<br /> + Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,<br /> + Whose hallow’d earth Anchises’ bones contains,<br /> + And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?”<br /> + The course resolv’d, before the western wind<br /> + They scud amain, and make the port assign’d.<br /> + Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand,<br /> + Beheld the fleet descending on the land;<br /> + And, not unmindful of his ancient race,<br /> + Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace,<br /> + And held the hero in a strict embrace.<br /> + Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore,<br /> + And either hand a pointed jav’lin bore.<br /> + His mother was a dame of Dardan blood;<br /> + His sire Crinisus, a Sicilian flood.<br /> + He welcomes his returning friends ashore<br /> + With plenteous country cates and homely store.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, when the following morn had chas’d away<br /> + The flying stars, and light restor’d the day,<br /> + Aeneas call’d the Trojan troops around,<br /> + And thus bespoke them from a rising ground:<br /> + “Offspring of heav’n, divine Dardanian race!<br /> + The sun, revolving thro’ th’ ethereal space,<br /> + The shining circle of the year has fill’d,<br /> + Since first this isle my father’s ashes held:<br /> + And now the rising day renews the year;<br /> + A day for ever sad, for ever dear.<br /> + This would I celebrate with annual games,<br /> + With gifts on altars pil’d, and holy flames,<br /> + Tho’ banish’d to Gaetulia’s barren sands,<br /> + Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands:<br /> + But since this happy storm our fleet has driv’n<br /> + (Not, as I deem, without the will of Heav’n)<br /> + Upon these friendly shores and flow’ry plains,<br /> + Which hide Anchises and his blest remains,<br /> + Let us with joy perform his honours due,<br /> + And pray for prosp’rous winds, our voyage to renew;<br /> + Pray, that in towns and temples of our own,<br /> + The name of great Anchises may be known,<br /> + And yearly games may spread the gods’ renown.<br /> + Our sports Acestes, of the Trojan race,<br /> + With royal gifts ordain’d, is pleas’d to grace:<br /> + Two steers on ev’ry ship the king bestows;<br /> + His gods and ours shall share your equal vows.<br /> + Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn<br /> + Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn,<br /> + That day with solemn sports I mean to grace:<br /> + Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat’ry race;<br /> + Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend,<br /> + And others try the twanging bow to bend;<br /> + The strong, with iron gauntlets arm’d, shall stand<br /> + Oppos’d in combat on the yellow sand.<br /> + Let all be present at the games prepar’d,<br /> + And joyful victors wait the just reward.<br /> + But now assist the rites, with garlands crown’d.”<br /> + He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound.<br /> + Then Helymus, by his example led,<br /> + And old Acestes, each adorn’d his head;<br /> + Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,<br /> + His temples tied, and all the Trojan race.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Aeneas then advanc’d amidst the train,<br /> + By thousands follow’d thro’ the flow’ry plain,<br /> + To great Anchises’ tomb; which when he found,<br /> + He pour’d to Bacchus, on the hallow’d ground,<br /> + Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more,<br /> + And two from offer’d bulls of purple gore,<br /> + With roses then the sepulcher he strow’d<br /> + And thus his father’s ghost bespoke aloud:<br /> + “Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again,<br /> + Paternal ashes, now review’d in vain!<br /> + The gods permitted not, that you, with me,<br /> + Should reach the promis’d shores of Italy,<br /> + Or Tiber’s flood, what flood soe’er it be.”<br /> + Scarce had he finish’d, when, with speckled pride,<br /> + A serpent from the tomb began to glide;<br /> + His hugy bulk on sev’n high volumes roll’d;<br /> + Blue was his breadth of back, but streak’d with scaly gold:<br /> + Thus riding on his curls, he seem’d to pass<br /> + A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.<br /> + More various colours thro’ his body run,<br /> + Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun.<br /> + Betwixt the rising altars, and around,<br /> + The sacred monster shot along the ground;<br /> + With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass’d,<br /> + And with his lolling tongue assay’d the taste:<br /> + Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest<br /> + Within the hollow tomb retir’d to rest.<br /> + The pious prince, surpris’d at what he view’d,<br /> + The fun’ral honours with more zeal renew’d,<br /> + Doubtful if this place’s genius were,<br /> + Or guardian of his father’s sepulcher.<br /> + Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew;<br /> + As many swine, and steers of sable hue;<br /> + New gen’rous wine he from the goblets pour’d.<br /> + And call’d his father’s ghost, from hell restor’d.<br /> + The glad attendants in long order come,<br /> + Off’ring their gifts at great Anchises’ tomb:<br /> + Some add more oxen: some divide the spoil;<br /> + Some place the chargers on the grassy soil;<br /> + Some blow the fires, and offered entrails broil.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now came the day desir’d. The skies were bright<br /> + With rosy luster of the rising light:<br /> + The bord’ring people, rous’d by sounding fame<br /> + Of Trojan feasts and great Acestes’ name,<br /> + The crowded shore with acclamations fill,<br /> + Part to behold, and part to prove their skill.<br /> + And first the gifts in public view they place,<br /> + Green laurel wreaths, and palm, the victors’ grace:<br /> + Within the circle, arms and tripods lie,<br /> + Ingots of gold and silver, heap’d on high,<br /> + And vests embroider’d, of the Tyrian dye.<br /> + The trumpet’s clangour then the feast proclaims,<br /> + And all prepare for their appointed games.<br /> + Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear,<br /> + Advancing, in the wat’ry lists appear.<br /> + The speedy Dolphin, that outstrips the wind,<br /> + Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind:<br /> + Gyas the vast Chimaera’s bulk commands,<br /> + Which rising, like a tow’ring city stands;<br /> + Three Trojans tug at ev’ry lab’ring oar;<br /> + Three banks in three degrees the sailors bore;<br /> + Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar.<br /> + Sergesthus, who began the Sergian race,<br /> + In the great Centaur took the leading place;<br /> + Cloanthus on the sea-green Scylla stood,<br /> + From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Far in the sea, against the foaming shore,<br /> + There stands a rock: the raging billows roar<br /> + Above his head in storms; but, when ’tis clear,<br /> + Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear.<br /> + In peace below the gentle waters run;<br /> + The cormorants above lie basking in the sun.<br /> + On this the hero fix’d an oak in sight,<br /> + The mark to guide the mariners aright.<br /> + To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars;<br /> + Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores.<br /> + The lots decide their place. Above the rest,<br /> + Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest;<br /> + The common crew with wreaths of poplar boughs<br /> + Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows:<br /> + Besmear’d with oil, their naked shoulders shine.<br /> + All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign:<br /> + They gripe their oars; and ev’ry panting breast<br /> + Is rais’d by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress’d.<br /> + The clangour of the trumpet gives the sign;<br /> + At once they start, advancing in a line:<br /> + With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies;<br /> + Lash’d with their oars, the smoky billows rise;<br /> + Sparkles the briny main, and the vex’d ocean fries.<br /> + Exact in time, with equal strokes they row:<br /> + At once the brushing oars and brazen prow<br /> + Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below.<br /> + Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race,<br /> + Invade the field with half so swift a pace;<br /> + Not the fierce driver with more fury lends<br /> + The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends,<br /> + Low to the wheels his pliant body bends.<br /> + The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide,<br /> + And aid with eager shouts the favour’d side.<br /> + Cries, murmurs, clamours, with a mixing sound,<br /> + From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,<br /> + Gyas outstripp’d the rest, and sprung before:<br /> + Cloanthus, better mann’d, pursued him fast,<br /> + But his o’er-masted galley check’d his haste.<br /> + The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine<br /> + With equal oars, advancing in a line;<br /> + And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,<br /> + And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead;<br /> + Now board to board the rival vessels row,<br /> + The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.<br /> + They reach’d the mark; proud Gyas and his train<br /> + In triumph rode, the victors of the main;<br /> + But, steering round, he charg’d his pilot stand<br /> + More close to shore, and skim along the sand.<br /> + “Let others bear to sea!” Menoetes heard;<br /> + But secret shelves too cautiously he fear’d,<br /> + And, fearing, sought the deep; and still aloof he steer’d.<br /> + With louder cries the captain call’d again:<br /> + “Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main.”<br /> + He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw<br /> + The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw.<br /> + Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,<br /> + And in a closer compass plow’d the flood.<br /> + He pass’d the mark; and, wheeling, got before:<br /> + Gyas blasphem’d the gods, devoutly swore,<br /> + Cried out for anger, and his hair he tore.<br /> + Mindless of others’ lives (so high was grown<br /> + His rising rage) and careless of his own,<br /> + The trembling dotard to the deck he drew;<br /> + Then hoisted up, and overboard he threw:<br /> + This done, he seiz’d the helm; his fellows cheer’d,<br /> + Turn’d short upon the shelfs, and madly steer’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,<br /> + Clogg’d with his clothes, and cumber’d with his years:<br /> + Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain.<br /> + The crowd, that saw him fall and float again,<br /> + Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laugh’d,<br /> + To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught.<br /> + The following Centaur, and the Dolphin’s crew,<br /> + Their vanish’d hopes of victory renew;<br /> + While Gyas lags, they kindle in the race,<br /> + To reach the mark. Sergesthus takes the place;<br /> + Mnestheus pursues; and while around they wind,<br /> + Comes up, not half his galley’s length behind;<br /> + Then, on the deck, amidst his mates appear’d,<br /> + And thus their drooping courages he cheer’d:<br /> + “My friends, and Hector’s followers heretofore,<br /> + Exert your vigour; tug the lab’ring oar;<br /> + Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer’d crew,<br /> + Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew.<br /> + In this, our common int’rest, let me find<br /> + That strength of hand, that courage of the mind,<br /> + As when you stemm’d the strong Malean flood,<br /> + And o’er the Syrtes’ broken billows row’d.<br /> + I seek not now the foremost palm to gain;<br /> + Tho’ yet——But, ah! that haughty wish is vain!<br /> + Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain.<br /> + But to be last, the lags of all the race!<br /> + Redeem yourselves and me from that disgrace.”<br /> + Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row<br /> + At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow.<br /> + The sea beneath ’em sinks; their lab’ring sides<br /> + Are swell’d, and sweat runs gutt’ring down in tides.<br /> + Chance aids their daring with unhop’d success;<br /> + Sergesthus, eager with his beak to press<br /> + Betwixt the rival galley and the rock,<br /> + Shuts up th’ unwieldly Centaur in the lock.<br /> + The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock,<br /> + Her oars she shiver’d, and her head she broke.<br /> + The trembling rowers from their banks arise,<br /> + And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize.<br /> + With iron poles they heave her off the shores,<br /> + And gather from the sea their floating oars.<br /> + The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds,<br /> + Urge their success, and call the willing winds;<br /> + Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way<br /> + In larger compass on the roomy sea.<br /> + As, when the dove her rocky hold forsakes,<br /> + Rous’d in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes;<br /> + The cavern rings with clatt’ring; out she flies,<br /> + And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:<br /> + At first she flutters; but at length she springs<br /> + To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings:<br /> + So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea;<br /> + And, flying with a force, that force assists his way.<br /> + Sergesthus in the Centaur soon he pass’d,<br /> + Wedg’d in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast.<br /> + In vain the victor he with cries implores,<br /> + And practices to row with shatter’d oars.<br /> + Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies:<br /> + The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize.<br /> + Unvanquish’d Scylla now alone remains;<br /> + Her he pursues, and all his vigour strains.<br /> + Shouts from the fav’ring multitude arise;<br /> + Applauding Echo to the shouts replies;<br /> + Shouts, wishes, and applause run rattling thro’ the skies.<br /> + These clamours with disdain the Scylla heard,<br /> + Much grudg’d the praise, but more the robb’d reward:<br /> + Resolv’d to hold their own, they mend their pace,<br /> + All obstinate to die, or gain the race.<br /> + Rais’d with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran;<br /> + For they can conquer, who believe they can.<br /> + Both urge their oars, and fortune both supplies,<br /> + And both perhaps had shar’d an equal prize;<br /> + When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands,<br /> + And succour from the wat’ry pow’rs demands:<br /> + “Gods of the liquid realms, on which I row!<br /> + If, giv’n by you, the laurel bind my brow,<br /> + Assist to make me guilty of my vow!<br /> + A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain;<br /> + His offer’d entrails cast into the main,<br /> + And ruddy wine, from golden goblets thrown,<br /> + Your grateful gift and my return shall own.”<br /> + The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus, from below,<br /> + With virgin Panopea, heard his vow;<br /> + And old Portunus, with his breadth of hand,<br /> + Push’d on, and sped the galley to the land.<br /> + Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies,<br /> + And, darting to the port, obtains the prize.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The herald summons all, and then proclaims<br /> + Cloanthus conqu’ror of the naval games.<br /> + The prince with laurel crowns the victor’s head,<br /> + And three fat steers are to his vessel led,<br /> + The ship’s reward; with gen’rous wine beside,<br /> + And sums of silver, which the crew divide.<br /> + The leaders are distinguish’d from the rest;<br /> + The victor honour’d with a nobler vest,<br /> + Where gold and purple strive in equal rows,<br /> + And needlework its happy cost bestows.<br /> + There Ganymede is wrought with living art,<br /> + Chasing thro’ Ida’s groves the trembling hart:<br /> + Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue;<br /> + When from aloft descends, in open view,<br /> + The bird of Jove, and, sousing on his prey,<br /> + With crooked talons bears the boy away.<br /> + In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes,<br /> + His guards behold him soaring thro’ the skies,<br /> + And dogs pursue his flight with imitated cries.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Mnestheus the second victor was declar’d;<br /> + And, summon’d there, the second prize he shar’d.<br /> + A coat of mail, brave Demoleus bore,<br /> + More brave Aeneas from his shoulders tore,<br /> + In single combat on the Trojan shore:<br /> + This was ordain’d for Mnestheus to possess;<br /> + In war for his defence, for ornament in peace.<br /> + Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold,<br /> + But yet so pond’rous with its plates of gold,<br /> + That scarce two servants could the weight sustain;<br /> + Yet, loaded thus, Demoleus o’er the plain<br /> + Pursued and lightly seiz’d the Trojan train.<br /> + The third, succeeding to the last reward,<br /> + Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar’d,<br /> + With figures prominent, and richly wrought,<br /> + And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus all, rewarded by the hero’s hands,<br /> + Their conqu’ring temples bound with purple bands;<br /> + And now Sergesthus, clearing from the rock,<br /> + Brought back his galley shatter’d with the shock.<br /> + Forlorn she look’d, without an aiding oar,<br /> + And, houted by the vulgar, made to shore.<br /> + As when a snake, surpris’d upon the road,<br /> + Is crush’d athwart her body by the load<br /> + Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound<br /> + Her belly bruis’d, and trodden to the ground:<br /> + In vain, with loosen’d curls, she crawls along;<br /> + Yet, fierce above, she brandishes her tongue;<br /> + Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales;<br /> + But, groveling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails:<br /> + So slowly to the port the Centaur tends,<br /> + But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends.<br /> + Yet, for his galley sav’d, the grateful prince<br /> + Is pleas’d th’ unhappy chief to recompense.<br /> + Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care,<br /> + Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + From thence his way the Trojan hero bent<br /> + Into the neighb’ring plain, with mountains pent,<br /> + Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood.<br /> + Full in the midst of this fair valley stood<br /> + A native theatre, which, rising slow<br /> + By just degrees, o’erlook’d the ground below.<br /> + High on a sylvan throne the leader sate;<br /> + A num’rous train attend in solemn state.<br /> + Here those that in the rapid course delight,<br /> + Desire of honour and the prize invite.<br /> + The rival runners without order stand;<br /> + The Trojans mix’d with the Sicilian band.<br /> + First Nisus, with Euryalus, appears;<br /> + Euryalus a boy of blooming years,<br /> + With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown’d;<br /> + Nisus, for friendship to the youth renown’d.<br /> + Diores next, of Priam’s royal race,<br /> + Then Salius joined with Patron, took their place;<br /> + But Patron in Arcadia had his birth,<br /> + And Salius his from Arcananian earth;<br /> + Then two Sicilian youths, the names of these,<br /> + Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes:<br /> + Both jolly huntsmen, both in forest bred,<br /> + And owning old Acestes for their head;<br /> + With sev’ral others of ignobler name,<br /> + Whom time has not deliver’d o’er to fame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To these the hero thus his thoughts explain’d,<br /> + In words which gen’ral approbation gain’d:<br /> + “One common largess is for all design’d,<br /> + The vanquish’d and the victor shall be join’d,<br /> + Two darts of polish’d steel and Gnosian wood,<br /> + A silver-studded ax alike bestow’d.<br /> + The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed:<br /> + The first of these obtains a stately steed,<br /> + Adorn’d with trappings; and the next in fame,<br /> + The quiver of an Amazonian dame,<br /> + With feather’d Thracian arrows well supplied:<br /> + A golden belt shall gird his manly side,<br /> + Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied.<br /> + The third this Grecian helmet shall content.”<br /> + He said. To their appointed base they went;<br /> + With beating hearts th’ expected sign receive,<br /> + And, starting all at once, the barrier leave.<br /> + Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew,<br /> + And seiz’d the distant goal with greedy view.<br /> + Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o’erpass’d;<br /> + Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste.<br /> + The next, but tho’ the next, yet far disjoin’d,<br /> + Came Salius, and Euryalus behind;<br /> + Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied,<br /> + Step after step, and almost side by side,<br /> + His shoulders pressing; and, in longer space,<br /> + Had won, or left at least a dubious race.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, spent, the goal they almost reach at last,<br /> + When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste,<br /> + Slipp’d first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain,<br /> + Soak’d with the blood of oxen newly slain.<br /> + The careless victor had not mark’d his way;<br /> + But, treading where the treach’rous puddle lay,<br /> + His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor<br /> + He fell, besmear’d with filth and holy gore.<br /> + Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee,<br /> + Nor of the sacred bonds of amity,<br /> + He strove th’ immediate rival’s hope to cross,<br /> + And caught the foot of Salius as he rose.<br /> + So Salius lay extended on the plain;<br /> + Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain,<br /> + And leaves the crowd: applauding peals attend<br /> + The victor to the goal, who vanquish’d by his friend.<br /> + Next Helymus; and then Diores came,<br /> + By two misfortunes made the third in fame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud<br /> + For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd;<br /> + Urges his cause may in the court be heard;<br /> + And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr’d.<br /> + But favour for Euryalus appears;<br /> + His blooming beauty, with his tender tears,<br /> + Had brib’d the judges for the promis’d prize.<br /> + Besides, Diores fills the court with cries,<br /> + Who vainly reaches at the last reward,<br /> + If the first palm on Salius be conferr’d.<br /> + Then thus the prince: “Let no disputes arise:<br /> + Where fortune plac’d it, I award the prize.<br /> + But fortune’s errors give me leave to mend,<br /> + At least to pity my deserving friend.”<br /> + He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws<br /> + (Pond’rous with shaggy mane and golden paws)<br /> + A lion’s hide: to Salius this he gives.<br /> + Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves.<br /> + “If such rewards to vanquish’d men are due.”<br /> + He said, “and falling is to rise by you,<br /> + What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim,<br /> + Who merited the first rewards and fame?<br /> + In falling, both an equal fortune tried;<br /> + Would fortune for my fall so well provide!”<br /> + With this he pointed to his face, and show’d<br /> + His hand and all his habit smear’d with blood.<br /> + Th’ indulgent father of the people smil’d,<br /> + And caus’d to be produc’d an ample shield,<br /> + Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought,<br /> + Long since from Neptune’s bars in triumph brought.<br /> + This giv’n to Nisus, he divides the rest,<br /> + And equal justice in his gifts express’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The race thus ended, and rewards bestow’d,<br /> + Once more the prince bespeaks th’ attentive crowd:<br /> + “If there be here, whose dauntless courage dare<br /> + In gauntlet fight, with limbs and body bare,<br /> + His opposite sustain in open view,<br /> + Stand forth the champion, and the games renew.<br /> + Two prizes I propose, and thus divide:<br /> + A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied,<br /> + Shall be the portion of the conqu’ring chief;<br /> + A sword and helm shall cheer the loser’s grief.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then haughty Dares in the lists appears;<br /> + Stalking he strides, his head erected bears:<br /> + His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield,<br /> + And loud applauses echo thro’ the field.<br /> + Dares alone in combat us’d to stand<br /> + The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand;<br /> + The same, at Hector’s fun’rals, undertook<br /> + Gigantic Butes, of th’ Amycian stock,<br /> + And, by the stroke of his resistless hand,<br /> + Stretch’d the vast bulk upon the yellow sand.<br /> + Such Dares was; and such he strode along,<br /> + And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.<br /> + His brawny back and ample breast he shows,<br /> + His lifted arms around his head he throws,<br /> + And deals in whistling air his empty blows.<br /> + His match is sought; but, thro’ the trembling band,<br /> + Not one dares answer to the proud demand.<br /> + Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes<br /> + Already he devours the promis’d prize.<br /> + He claims the bull with awless insolence,<br /> + And having seiz’d his horns, accosts the prince:<br /> + “If none my matchless valour dares oppose,<br /> + How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?<br /> + Permit me, chief, permit without delay,<br /> + To lead this uncontended gift away.”<br /> + The crowd assents, and with redoubled cries<br /> + For the proud challenger demands the prize.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Acestes, fir’d with just disdain, to see<br /> + The palm usurp’d without a victory,<br /> + Reproach’d Entellus thus, who sate beside,<br /> + And heard and saw, unmov’d, the Trojan’s pride:<br /> + “Once, but in vain, a champion of renown,<br /> + So tamely can you bear the ravish’d crown,<br /> + A prize in triumph borne before your sight,<br /> + And shun, for fear, the danger of the fight?<br /> + Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name,<br /> + The god who taught your thund’ring arm the game?<br /> + Where now your baffled honour? Where the spoil<br /> + That fill’d your house, and fame that fill’d our isle?”<br /> + Entellus, thus: “My soul is still the same,<br /> + Unmov’d with fear, and mov’d with martial fame;<br /> + But my chill blood is curdled in my veins,<br /> + And scarce the shadow of a man remains.<br /> + O could I turn to that fair prime again,<br /> + That prime of which this boaster is so vain,<br /> + The brave, who this decrepid age defies,<br /> + Should feel my force, without the promis’d prize.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said; and, rising at the word, he threw<br /> + Two pond’rous gauntlets down in open view;<br /> + Gauntlets which Eryx wont in fight to wield,<br /> + And sheathe his hands with in the listed field.<br /> + With fear and wonder seiz’d, the crowd beholds<br /> + The gloves of death, with sev’n distinguish’d folds<br /> + Of tough bull hides; the space within is spread<br /> + With iron, or with loads of heavy lead:<br /> + Dares himself was daunted at the sight,<br /> + Renounc’d his challenge, and refus’d to fight.<br /> + Astonish’d at their weight, the hero stands,<br /> + And pois’d the pond’rous engines in his hands.<br /> + “What had your wonder,” said Entellus, “been,<br /> + Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen,<br /> + Or view’d the stern debate on this unhappy green!<br /> + These which I bear your brother Eryx bore,<br /> + Still mark’d with batter’d brains and mingled gore.<br /> + With these he long sustain’d th’ Herculean arm;<br /> + And these I wielded while my blood was warm,<br /> + This languish’d frame while better spirits fed,<br /> + Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time o’ersnow’d my head.<br /> + But if the challenger these arms refuse,<br /> + And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use;<br /> + If great Aeneas and Acestes join<br /> + In his request, these gauntlets I resign;<br /> + Let us with equal arms perform the fight,<br /> + And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This said, Entellus for the strife prepares;<br /> + Stripp’d of his quilted coat, his body bares;<br /> + Compos’d of mighty bones and brawn he stands,<br /> + A goodly tow’ring object on the sands.<br /> + Then just Aeneas equal arms supplied,<br /> + Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.<br /> + Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent,<br /> + Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent;<br /> + Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar;<br /> + With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.<br /> + One on his youth and pliant limbs relies;<br /> + One on his sinews and his giant size.<br /> + The last is stiff with age, his motion slow;<br /> + He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro,<br /> + And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow.<br /> + Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike;<br /> + Their ways are diff’rent, but their art alike.<br /> + Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around<br /> + Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound.<br /> + A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies,<br /> + And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes.<br /> + Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws<br /> + A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws.<br /> + Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground,<br /> + But with his warping body wards the wound.<br /> + His hand and watchful eye keep even pace;<br /> + While Dares traverses and shifts his place,<br /> + And, like a captain who beleaguers round<br /> + Some strong-built castle on a rising ground,<br /> + Views all th’ approaches with observing eyes:<br /> + This and that other part in vain he tries,<br /> + And more on industry than force relies.<br /> + With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe;<br /> + But Dares watch’d the motion from below,<br /> + And slipp’d aside, and shunn’d the long descending blow.<br /> + Entellus wastes his forces on the wind,<br /> + And, thus deluded of the stroke design’d,<br /> + Headlong and heavy fell; his ample breast<br /> + And weighty limbs his ancient mother press’d.<br /> + So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood<br /> + On Ida’s height, or Erymanthus’ wood,<br /> + Torn from the roots. The diff’ring nations rise,<br /> + And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies,<br /> + Acestus runs with eager haste, to raise<br /> + The fall’n companion of his youthful days.<br /> + Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return’d;<br /> + With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn’d.<br /> + Disdain and conscious virtue fir’d his breast,<br /> + And with redoubled force his foe he press’d.<br /> + He lays on load with either hand, amain,<br /> + And headlong drives the Trojan o’er the plain;<br /> + Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest nor breath allows;<br /> + But storms of strokes descend about his brows,<br /> + A rattling tempest, and a hail of blows.<br /> + But now the prince, who saw the wild increase<br /> + Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease,<br /> + And bounds Entellus’ wrath, and bids the peace.<br /> + First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came,<br /> + And sooth’d his sorrow for the suffer’d shame.<br /> + “What fury seiz’d my friend? The gods,” said he,<br /> + “To him propitious, and averse to thee,<br /> + Have giv’n his arm superior force to thine.<br /> + ’Tis madness to contend with strength divine.”<br /> + The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore<br /> + His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore:<br /> + His mouth and nostrils pour’d a purple flood,<br /> + And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.<br /> + Faintly he stagger’d thro’ the hissing throng,<br /> + And hung his head, and trail’d his legs along.<br /> + The sword and casque are carried by his train;<br /> + But with his foe the palm and ox remain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The champion, then, before Aeneas came,<br /> + Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame:<br /> + “O goddess-born, and you, Dardanian host,<br /> + Mark with attention, and forgive my boast;<br /> + Learn what I was, by what remains; and know<br /> + From what impending fate you sav’d my foe.”<br /> + Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull;<br /> + And, on his ample forehead aiming full,<br /> + The deadly stroke, descending, pierc’d the skull.<br /> + Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound,<br /> + But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground.<br /> + Then, thus: “In Dares’ stead I offer this.<br /> + Eryx, accept a nobler sacrifice;<br /> + Take the last gift my wither’d arms can yield:<br /> + Thy gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This done, Aeneas orders, for the close,<br /> + The strife of archers with contending bows.<br /> + The mast Sergesthus’ shatter’d galley bore<br /> + With his own hands he raises on the shore.<br /> + A flutt’ring dove upon the top they tie,<br /> + The living mark at which their arrows fly.<br /> + The rival archers in a line advance,<br /> + Their turn of shooting to receive from chance.<br /> + A helmet holds their names; the lots are drawn:<br /> + On the first scroll was read Hippocoon.<br /> + The people shout. Upon the next was found<br /> + Young Mnestheus, late with naval honours crown’d.<br /> + The third contain’d Eurytion’s noble name,<br /> + Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame,<br /> + Whom Pallas urg’d the treaty to confound,<br /> + And send among the Greeks a feather’d wound.<br /> + Acestes in the bottom last remain’d,<br /> + Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain’d.<br /> + Soon all with vigour bend their trusty bows,<br /> + And from the quiver each his arrow chose.<br /> + Hippocoon’s was the first: with forceful sway<br /> + It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way.<br /> + Fix’d in the mast the feather’d weapon stands:<br /> + The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands,<br /> + And the tree trembled, and the shouting cries<br /> + Of the pleas’d people rend the vaulted skies.<br /> + Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove,<br /> + With lifted eyes, and took his aim above,<br /> + But made a glancing shot, and missed the dove;<br /> + Yet miss’d so narrow, that he cut the cord<br /> + Which fasten’d by the foot the flitting bird.<br /> + The captive thus releas’d, away she flies,<br /> + And beats with clapping wings the yielding skies.<br /> + His bow already bent, Eurytion stood;<br /> + And, having first invok’d his brother god,<br /> + His winged shaft with eager haste he sped.<br /> + The fatal message reach’d her as she fled:<br /> + She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground,<br /> + And renders back the weapon in the wound.<br /> + Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains,<br /> + Without a prize to gratify his pains.<br /> + Yet, shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show<br /> + An archer’s art, and boast his twanging bow.<br /> + The feather’d arrow gave a dire portent,<br /> + And latter augurs judge from this event.<br /> + Chaf’d by the speed, it fir’d; and, as it flew,<br /> + A trail of following flames ascending drew:<br /> + Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way;<br /> + Across the skies as falling meteors play,<br /> + And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay.<br /> + The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare,<br /> + And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray’r.<br /> + The Dardan prince put on a smiling face,<br /> + And strain’d Acestes with a close embrace;<br /> + Then, hon’ring him with gifts above the rest,<br /> + Turn’d the bad omen, nor his fears confess’d.<br /> + “The gods,” said he, “this miracle have wrought,<br /> + And order’d you the prize without the lot.<br /> + Accept this goblet, rough with figur’d gold,<br /> + Which Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old:<br /> + This pledge of ancient amity receive,<br /> + Which to my second sire I justly give.”<br /> + He said, and, with the trumpets’ cheerful sound,<br /> + Proclaim’d him victor, and with laurel-crown’d.<br /> + Nor good Eurytion envied him the prize,<br /> + Tho’ he transfix’d the pigeon in the skies.<br /> + Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac’d;<br /> + The third was his whose arrow pierc’d the mast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The chief, before the games were wholly done,<br /> + Call’d Periphantes, tutor to his son,<br /> + And whisper’d thus: “With speed Ascanius find;<br /> + And, if his childish troop be ready join’d,<br /> + On horseback let him grace his grandsire’s day,<br /> + And lead his equals arm’d in just array.”<br /> + He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears.<br /> + The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears.<br /> + And now the noble youths, of form divine,<br /> + Advance before their fathers, in a line;<br /> + The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus marching on in military pride,<br /> + Shouts of applause resound from side to side.<br /> + Their casques adorn’d with laurel wreaths they wear,<br /> + Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear.<br /> + Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore;<br /> + Their chains of burnish’d gold hung down before.<br /> + Three graceful troops they form’d upon the green;<br /> + Three graceful leaders at their head were seen;<br /> + Twelve follow’d ev’ry chief, and left a space between.<br /> + The first young Priam led; a lovely boy,<br /> + Whose grandsire was th’ unhappy king of Troy;<br /> + His race in after times was known to fame,<br /> + New honours adding to the Latian name;<br /> + And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became.<br /> + White were the fetlocks of his feet before,<br /> + And on his front a snowy star he bore.<br /> + Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred,<br /> + Of equal age, the second squadron led.<br /> + The last in order, but the first in place,<br /> + First in the lovely features of his face,<br /> + Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed,<br /> + Queen Dido’s gift, and of the Tyrian breed.<br /> + Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains,<br /> + With golden bits adorn’d, and purple reins.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The pleas’d spectators peals of shouts renew,<br /> + And all the parents in the children view;<br /> + Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace,<br /> + And hopes and fears alternate in their face.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Th’ unfledg’d commanders and their martial train<br /> + First make the circuit of the sandy plain<br /> + Around their sires, and, at th’ appointed sign,<br /> + Drawn up in beauteous order, form a line.<br /> + The second signal sounds, the troop divides<br /> + In three distinguish’d parts, with three distinguish’d guides<br /> + Again they close, and once again disjoin;<br /> + In troop to troop oppos’d, and line to line.<br /> + They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar<br /> + With harmless rage and well-dissembled war.<br /> + Then in a round the mingled bodies run:<br /> + Flying they follow, and pursuing shun;<br /> + Broken, they break; and, rallying, they renew<br /> + In other forms the military shew.<br /> + At last, in order, undiscern’d they join,<br /> + And march together in a friendly line.<br /> + And, as the Cretan labyrinth of old,<br /> + With wand’ring ways and many a winding fold,<br /> + Involv’d the weary feet, without redress,<br /> + In a round error, which denied recess;<br /> + So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play,<br /> + Turn’d and return’d, and still a diff’rent way.<br /> + Thus dolphins in the deep each other chase<br /> + In circles, when they swim around the wat’ry race.<br /> + This game, these carousels, Ascanius taught;<br /> + And, building Alba, to the Latins brought;<br /> + Shew’d what he learn’d: the Latin sires impart<br /> + To their succeeding sons the graceful art;<br /> + From these imperial Rome receiv’d the game,<br /> + Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate:<br /> + But Fortune soon resum’d her ancient hate;<br /> + For, while they pay the dead his annual dues,<br /> + Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views;<br /> + And sends the goddess of the various bow,<br /> + To try new methods of revenge below;<br /> + Supplies the winds to wing her airy way,<br /> + Where in the port secure the navy lay.<br /> + Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends,<br /> + And, undiscern’d, her fatal voyage ends.<br /> + She saw the gath’ring crowd; and, gliding thence,<br /> + The desert shore, and fleet without defence.<br /> + The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone,<br /> + With sighs and tears Anchises’ death bemoan;<br /> + Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes,<br /> + Their pity to themselves renews their cries.<br /> + “Alas!” said one, “what oceans yet remain<br /> + For us to sail! what labours to sustain!”<br /> + All take the word, and, with a gen’ral groan,<br /> + Implore the gods for peace, and places of their own.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains,<br /> + And in a woman’s form her heav’nly limbs restrains.<br /> + In face and shape old Beroe she became,<br /> + Doryclus’ wife, a venerable dame,<br /> + Once blest with riches, and a mother’s name.<br /> + Thus chang’d, amidst the crying crowd she ran,<br /> + Mix’d with the matrons, and these words began:<br /> + “O wretched we, whom not the Grecian pow’r,<br /> + Nor flames, destroy’d, in Troy’s unhappy hour!<br /> + O wretched we, reserv’d by cruel fate,<br /> + Beyond the ruins of the sinking state!<br /> + Now sev’n revolving years are wholly run,<br /> + Since this improsp’rous voyage we begun;<br /> + Since, toss’d from shores to shores, from lands to lands,<br /> + Inhospitable rocks and barren sands,<br /> + Wand’ring in exile thro’ the stormy sea,<br /> + We search in vain for flying Italy.<br /> + Now cast by fortune on this kindred land,<br /> + What should our rest and rising walls withstand,<br /> + Or hinder here to fix our banish’d band?<br /> + O country lost, and gods redeem’d in vain,<br /> + If still in endless exile we remain!<br /> + Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew,<br /> + Or streams of some dissembled Simois view!<br /> + Haste, join with me, th’ unhappy fleet consume!<br /> + Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom.<br /> + In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands<br /> + (For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands:<br /> + ‘With these,’ said she, ‘these wand’ring ships destroy:<br /> + These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.’<br /> + Time calls you now; the precious hour employ:<br /> + Slack not the good presage, while Heav’n inspires<br /> + Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires.<br /> + See! Neptune’s altars minister their brands:<br /> + The god is pleas’d; the god supplies our hands.”<br /> + Then from the pile a flaming fire she drew,<br /> + And, toss’d in air, amidst the galleys threw.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Wrapp’d in amaze, the matrons wildly stare:<br /> + Then Pyrgo, reverenc’d for her hoary hair,<br /> + Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam’s num’rous race:<br /> + “No Beroe this, tho’ she belies her face!<br /> + What terrors from her frowning front arise!<br /> + Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes!<br /> + What rays around her heav’nly face are seen!<br /> + Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien!<br /> + Beroe but now I left, whom, pin’d with pain,<br /> + Her age and anguish from these rites detain,”<br /> + She said. The matrons, seiz’d with new amaze,<br /> + Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze.<br /> + They fear, and hope, and neither part obey:<br /> + They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way.<br /> + The goddess, having done her task below,<br /> + Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow.<br /> + Struck with the sight, and seiz’d with rage divine,<br /> + The matrons prosecute their mad design:<br /> + They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands,<br /> + The food of altars; fires and flaming brands.<br /> + Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste,<br /> + And smoking torches, on the ships they cast.<br /> + The flame, unstopp’d at first, more fury gains,<br /> + And Vulcan rides at large with loosen’d reins:<br /> + Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars,<br /> + And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars.<br /> + Eumelus was the first the news to bear,<br /> + While yet they crowd the rural theatre.<br /> + Then, what they hear, is witness’d by their eyes:<br /> + A storm of sparkles and of flames arise.<br /> + Ascanius took th’ alarm, while yet he led<br /> + His early warriors on his prancing steed,<br /> + And, spurring on, his equals soon o’erpass’d;<br /> + Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste.<br /> + Soon as the royal youth appear’d in view,<br /> + He sent his voice before him as he flew:<br /> + “What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy<br /> + The last remainders of unhappy Troy!<br /> + Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn,<br /> + And on your friends your fatal fury turn.<br /> + Behold your own Ascanius!” While he said,<br /> + He drew his glitt’ring helmet from his head,<br /> + In which the youths to sportful arms he led.<br /> + By this, Aeneas and his train appear;<br /> + And now the women, seiz’d with shame and fear,<br /> + Dispers’d, to woods and caverns take their flight,<br /> + Abhor their actions, and avoid the light;<br /> + Their friends acknowledge, and their error find,<br /> + And shake the goddess from their alter’d mind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Not so the raging fires their fury cease,<br /> + But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace,<br /> + Work on their way amid the smould’ring tow,<br /> + Sure in destruction, but in motion slow.<br /> + The silent plague thro’ the green timber eats,<br /> + And vomits out a tardy flame by fits.<br /> + Down to the keels, and upward to the sails,<br /> + The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;<br /> + Nor buckets pour’d, nor strength of human hand,<br /> + Can the victorious element withstand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The pious hero rends his robe, and throws<br /> + To heav’n his hands, and with his hands his vows.<br /> + “O Jove,” he cried, “if pray’rs can yet have place;<br /> + If thou abhorr’st not all the Dardan race;<br /> + If any spark of pity still remain;<br /> + If gods are gods, and not invok’d in vain;<br /> + Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train!<br /> + Yet from the flames our burning vessels free,<br /> + Or let thy fury fall alone on me!<br /> + At this devoted head thy thunder throw,<br /> + And send the willing sacrifice below!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise:<br /> + From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;<br /> + Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain;<br /> + Heav’n bellies downward, and descends in rain.<br /> + Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent,<br /> + Which, hissing thro’ the planks, the flames prevent,<br /> + And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone<br /> + Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But doubtful thoughts the hero’s heart divide;<br /> + If he should still in Sicily reside,<br /> + Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main,<br /> + In hope the promis’d Italy to gain.<br /> + Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone<br /> + The will of Heav’n by Pallas was foreshown;<br /> + Vers’d in portents, experienc’d, and inspir’d<br /> + To tell events, and what the fates requir’d;<br /> + Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin’d,<br /> + With cheerful words reliev’d his lab’ring mind:<br /> + “O goddess-born, resign’d in ev’ry state,<br /> + With patience bear, with prudence push your fate.<br /> + By suff’ring well, our Fortune we subdue;<br /> + Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue.<br /> + Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;<br /> + To him disclose the secrets of your mind:<br /> + Trust in his hands your old and useless train;<br /> + Too num’rous for the ships which yet remain:<br /> + The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,<br /> + The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,<br /> + With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand<br /> + The shock of battle with your foes by land.<br /> + Here you may build a common town for all,<br /> + And, from Acestes’ name, Acesta call.”<br /> + The reasons, with his friend’s experience join’d,<br /> + Encourag’d much, but more disturb’d his mind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + ’Twas dead of night; when to his slumb’ring eyes<br /> + His father’s shade descended from the skies,<br /> + And thus he spoke: “O more than vital breath,<br /> + Lov’d while I liv’d, and dear ev’n after death;<br /> + O son, in various toils and troubles toss’d,<br /> + The King of Heav’n employs my careful ghost<br /> + On his commands: the god, who sav’d from fire<br /> + Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire.<br /> + The wholesome counsel of your friend receive,<br /> + And here the coward train and woman leave:<br /> + The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare,<br /> + Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.<br /> + The stern Italians will their courage try;<br /> + Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.<br /> + But first to Pluto’s palace you shall go,<br /> + And seek my shade among the blest below:<br /> + For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,<br /> + Nor suffers with the damn’d perpetual pains,<br /> + But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.<br /> + The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey,<br /> + And blood of offer’d victims free the way.<br /> + There shall you know what realms the gods assign,<br /> + And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.<br /> + But now, farewell! I vanish with the night,<br /> + And feel the blast of heav’n’s approaching light.”<br /> + He said, and mix’d with shades, and took his airy flight.<br /> + “Whither so fast?” the filial duty cried;<br /> + “And why, ah why, the wish’d embrace denied?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires,<br /> + He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires;<br /> + His country gods and Vesta then adores<br /> + With cakes and incense, and their aid implores.<br /> + Next, for his friends and royal host he sent,<br /> + Reveal’d his vision, and the gods’ intent,<br /> + With his own purpose. All, without delay,<br /> + The will of Jove, and his desires obey.<br /> + They list with women each degenerate name,<br /> + Who dares not hazard life for future fame.<br /> + These they cashier: the brave remaining few,<br /> + Oars, banks, and cables, half consum’d, renew.<br /> + The prince designs a city with the plow;<br /> + The lots their sev’ral tenements allow.<br /> + This part is nam’d from Ilium, that from Troy,<br /> + And the new king ascends the throne with joy;<br /> + A chosen senate from the people draws;<br /> + Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.<br /> + Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin<br /> + A rising temple to the Paphian queen.<br /> + Anchises, last, is honour’d as a god;<br /> + A priest is added, annual gifts bestow’d,<br /> + And groves are planted round his blest abode.<br /> + Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown’d;<br /> + And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.<br /> + Then from the south arose a gentle breeze<br /> + That curl’d the smoothness of the glassy seas;<br /> + The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,<br /> + And call the merry mariners aboard.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now loud laments along the shores resound,<br /> + Of parting friends in close embraces bound.<br /> + The trembling women, the degenerate train,<br /> + Who shunn’d the frightful dangers of the main,<br /> + Ev’n those desire to sail, and take their share<br /> + Of the rough passage and the promis’d war:<br /> + Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends<br /> + To their new master’s care his fearful friends.<br /> + On Eryx’s altars three fat calves he lays;<br /> + A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas;<br /> + Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs.<br /> + High on the deck the godlike hero stands,<br /> + With olive crown’d, a charger in his hands;<br /> + Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,<br /> + And pour’d the sacrifice of purple wine.<br /> + Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie,<br /> + And brush the buxom seas, and o’er the billows fly.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears,<br /> + To Neptune thus address’d, with tender tears:<br /> + “The pride of Jove’s imperious queen, the rage,<br /> + The malice which no suff’rings can assuage,<br /> + Compel me to these pray’rs; since neither fate,<br /> + Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate:<br /> + Ev’n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife;<br /> + Still vanquish’d, yet she still renews the strife.<br /> + As if ’twere little to consume the town<br /> + Which aw’d the world, and wore th’ imperial crown,<br /> + She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains,<br /> + And gnaws, ev’n to the bones, the last remains.<br /> + Let her the causes of her hatred tell;<br /> + But you can witness its effects too well.<br /> + You saw the storm she rais’d on Libyan floods,<br /> + That mix’d the mounting billows with the clouds;<br /> + When, bribing Aeolus, she shook the main,<br /> + And mov’d rebellion in your wat’ry reign.<br /> + With fury she possess’d the Dardan dames,<br /> + To burn their fleet with execrable flames,<br /> + And forc’d Aeneas, when his ships were lost,<br /> + To leave his foll’wers on a foreign coast.<br /> + For what remains, your godhead I implore,<br /> + And trust my son to your protecting pow’r.<br /> + If neither Jove’s nor Fate’s decree withstand,<br /> + Secure his passage to the Latian land.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus the mighty Ruler of the Main:<br /> + “What may not Venus hope from Neptune’s reign?<br /> + My kingdom claims your birth; my late defence<br /> + Of your indanger’d fleet may claim your confidence.<br /> + Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare<br /> + How much your lov’d Aeneas is my care.<br /> + Thee, Xanthus, and thee, Simois, I attest.<br /> + Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press’d,<br /> + And drove before him headlong on the plain,<br /> + And dash’d against the walls the trembling train;<br /> + When floods were fill’d with bodies of the slain;<br /> + When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way,<br /> + Stood up on ridges to behold the sea;<br /> + New heaps came tumbling in, and chok’d his way;<br /> + When your Aeneas fought, but fought with odds<br /> + Of force unequal, and unequal gods;<br /> + I spread a cloud before the victor’s sight,<br /> + Sustain’d the vanquish’d, and secur’d his flight;<br /> + Ev’n then secur’d him, when I sought with joy<br /> + The vow’d destruction of ungrateful Troy.<br /> + My will’s the same: fair goddess, fear no more,<br /> + Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore;<br /> + Their lives are giv’n; one destin’d head alone<br /> + Shall perish, and for multitudes atone.”<br /> + Thus having arm’d with hopes her anxious mind,<br /> + His finny team Saturnian Neptune join’d,<br /> + Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws,<br /> + And to the loosen’d reins permits the laws.<br /> + High on the waves his azure car he guides;<br /> + Its axles thunder, and the sea subsides,<br /> + And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.<br /> + The tempests fly before their father’s face,<br /> + Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace,<br /> + And monster whales before their master play,<br /> + And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat’ry way.<br /> + The marshal’d pow’rs in equal troops divide<br /> + To right and left; the gods his better side<br /> + Inclose, and on the worse the Nymphs and Nereids ride.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude,<br /> + Within the hero’s mind his joys renew’d.<br /> + He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display;<br /> + The cheerful crew with diligence obey;<br /> + They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.<br /> + Ahead of all the master pilot steers;<br /> + And, as he leads, the following navy veers.<br /> + The steeds of Night had travel’d half the sky,<br /> + The drowsy rowers on their benches lie,<br /> + When the soft God of Sleep, with easy flight,<br /> + Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.<br /> + Thou, Palinurus, art his destin’d prey;<br /> + To thee alone he takes his fatal way.<br /> + Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;<br /> + And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phorbas wears.<br /> + Then thus the traitor god began his tale:<br /> + “The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;<br /> + The ships, without thy care, securely sail.<br /> + Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I<br /> + Will take the rudder and thy room supply.”<br /> + To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep:<br /> + “Me dost thou bid to trust the treach’rous deep,<br /> + The harlot smiles of her dissembling face,<br /> + And to her faith commit the Trojan race?<br /> + Shall I believe the Siren South again,<br /> + And, oft betray’d, not know the monster main?”<br /> + He said: his fasten’d hands the rudder keep,<br /> + And, fix’d on heav’n, his eyes repel invading sleep.<br /> + The god was wroth, and at his temples threw<br /> + A branch in Lethe dipp’d, and drunk with Stygian dew:<br /> + The pilot, vanquish’d by the pow’r divine,<br /> + Soon clos’d his swimming eyes, and lay supine.<br /> + Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,<br /> + The god, insulting with superior strength,<br /> + Fell heavy on him, plung’d him in the sea,<br /> + And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.<br /> + Headlong he fell, and, struggling in the main,<br /> + Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.<br /> + The victor daemon mounts obscure in air,<br /> + While the ship sails without the pilot’s care.<br /> + On Neptune’s faith the floating fleet relies;<br /> + But what the man forsook, the god supplies,<br /> + And o’er the dang’rous deep secure the navy flies;<br /> + Glides by the Sirens’ cliffs, a shelfy coast,<br /> + Long infamous for ships and sailors lost,<br /> + And white with bones. Th’ impetuous ocean roars,<br /> + And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores.<br /> + The watchful hero felt the knocks, and found<br /> + The tossing vessel sail’d on shoaly ground.<br /> + Sure of his pilot’s loss, he takes himself<br /> + The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.<br /> + Inly he griev’d, and, groaning from the breast,<br /> + Deplor’d his death; and thus his pain express’d:<br /> + “For faith repos’d on seas, and on the flatt’ring sky,<br /> + Thy naked corpse is doom’d on shores unknown to lie.” + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>BOOK VI</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + The Sibyl foretells Aeneas the adventures he should meet with in Italy. She + attends him to hell; describing to him the various scenes of that place, and + conducting him to his father Anchises, who instructs him in those sublime + mysteries, of the soul of the world, and the transmigration; and shows him + that glorious race of heroes, which was to descend from him and his posterity. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e said, and wept; then spread his sails before<br /> + The winds, and reach’d at length the Cumaean shore:<br /> + Their anchors dropp’d, his crew the vessels moor.<br /> + They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land,<br /> + And greet with greedy joy th’ Italian strand.<br /> + Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed;<br /> + Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed,<br /> + Or search for hollow trees, and fell the woods,<br /> + Or trace thro’ valleys the discover’d floods.<br /> + Thus, while their sev’ral charges they fulfil,<br /> + The pious prince ascends the sacred hill<br /> + Where Phoebus is ador’d; and seeks the shade<br /> + Which hides from sight his venerable maid.<br /> + Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode;<br /> + Thence full of fate returns, and of the god.<br /> + Thro’ Trivia’s grove they walk; and now behold,<br /> + And enter now, the temple roof’d with gold.<br /> + When Daedalus, to fly the Cretan shore,<br /> + His heavy limbs on jointed pinions bore,<br /> + (The first who sail’d in air,) ’tis sung by Fame,<br /> + To the Cumaean coast at length he came,<br /> + And here alighting, built this costly frame.<br /> + Inscrib’d to Phoebus, here he hung on high<br /> + The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky:<br /> + Then o’er the lofty gate his art emboss’d<br /> + Androgeos’ death, and off’rings to his ghost;<br /> + Sev’n youths from Athens yearly sent, to meet<br /> + The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.<br /> + And next to those the dreadful urn was plac’d,<br /> + In which the destin’d names by lots were cast:<br /> + The mournful parents stand around in tears,<br /> + And rising Crete against their shore appears.<br /> + There too, in living sculpture, might be seen<br /> + The mad affection of the Cretan queen;<br /> + Then how she cheats her bellowing lover’s eye;<br /> + The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny,<br /> + The lower part a beast, a man above,<br /> + The monument of their polluted love.<br /> + Not far from thence he grav’d the wondrous maze,<br /> + A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways:<br /> + Here dwells the monster, hid from human view,<br /> + Not to be found, but by the faithful clue;<br /> + Till the kind artist, mov’d with pious grief,<br /> + Lent to the loving maid this last relief,<br /> + And all those erring paths describ’d so well<br /> + That Theseus conquer’d and the monster fell.<br /> + Here hapless Icarus had found his part,<br /> + Had not the father’s grief restrain’d his art.<br /> + He twice assay’d to cast his son in gold;<br /> + Twice from his hands he dropp’d the forming mould.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + All this with wond’ring eyes Aeneas view’d;<br /> + Each varying object his delight renew’d:<br /> + Eager to read the rest, Achates came,<br /> + And by his side the mad divining dame,<br /> + The priestess of the god, Deiphobe her name.<br /> + “Time suffers not,” she said, “to feed your eyes<br /> + With empty pleasures; haste the sacrifice.<br /> + Sev’n bullocks, yet unyok’d, for Phoebus choose,<br /> + And for Diana sev’n unspotted ewes.”<br /> + This said, the servants urge the sacred rites,<br /> + While to the temple she the prince invites.<br /> + A spacious cave, within its farmost part,<br /> + Was hew’d and fashion’d by laborious art<br /> + Thro’ the hill’s hollow sides: before the place,<br /> + A hundred doors a hundred entries grace;<br /> + As many voices issue, and the sound<br /> + Of Sybil’s words as many times rebound.<br /> + Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries:<br /> + “This is the time; enquire your destinies.<br /> + He comes; behold the god!” Thus while she said,<br /> + (And shiv’ring at the sacred entry stay’d,)<br /> + Her colour chang’d; her face was not the same,<br /> + And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.<br /> + Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess’d<br /> + Her trembling limbs, and heav’d her lab’ring breast.<br /> + Greater than humankind she seem’d to look,<br /> + And with an accent more than mortal spoke.<br /> + Her staring eyes with sparkling fury roll;<br /> + When all the god came rushing on her soul.<br /> + Swiftly she turn’d, and, foaming as she spoke:<br /> + “Why this delay?” she cried; “the pow’rs invoke!<br /> + Thy pray’rs alone can open this abode;<br /> + Else vain are my demands, and dumb the god.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear,<br /> + O’erspread with a damp sweat and holy fear.<br /> + The prince himself, with awful dread possess’d,<br /> + His vows to great Apollo thus address’d:<br /> + “Indulgent god, propitious pow’r to Troy,<br /> + Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy,<br /> + Directed by whose hand the Dardan dart<br /> + Pierc’d the proud Grecian’s only mortal part:<br /> + Thus far, by fate’s decrees and thy commands,<br /> + Thro’ ambient seas and thro’ devouring sands,<br /> + Our exil’d crew has sought th’ Ausonian ground;<br /> + And now, at length, the flying coast is found.<br /> + Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place,<br /> + With fury has pursued her wand’ring race.<br /> + Here cease, ye pow’rs, and let your vengeance end:<br /> + Troy is no more, and can no more offend.<br /> + And thou, O sacred maid, inspir’d to see<br /> + Th’ event of things in dark futurity;<br /> + Give me what Heav’n has promis’d to my fate,<br /> + To conquer and command the Latian state;<br /> + To fix my wand’ring gods, and find a place<br /> + For the long exiles of the Trojan race.<br /> + Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear<br /> + To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray’r;<br /> + And annual rites, and festivals, and games,<br /> + Shall be perform’d to their auspicious names.<br /> + Nor shalt thou want thy honours in my land;<br /> + For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,<br /> + Preserv’d in shrines; and ev’ry sacred lay,<br /> + Which, by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey:<br /> + All shall be treasur’d by a chosen train<br /> + Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.<br /> + But O! commit not thy prophetic mind<br /> + To flitting leaves, the sport of ev’ry wind,<br /> + Lest they disperse in air our empty fate;<br /> + Write not, but, what the pow’rs ordain, relate.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Struggling in vain, impatient of her load,<br /> + And lab’ring underneath the pond’rous god,<br /> + The more she strove to shake him from her breast,<br /> + With more and far superior force he press’d;<br /> + Commands his entrance, and, without control,<br /> + Usurps her organs and inspires her soul.<br /> + Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors<br /> + Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars<br /> + Within the cave, and Sibyl’s voice restores:<br /> + “Escap’d the dangers of the wat’ry reign,<br /> + Yet more and greater ills by land remain.<br /> + The coast, so long desir’d (nor doubt th’ event),<br /> + Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach’d, repent.<br /> + Wars, horrid wars, I view; a field of blood,<br /> + And Tiber rolling with a purple flood.<br /> + Simois nor Xanthus shall be wanting there:<br /> + A new Achilles shall in arms appear,<br /> + And he, too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno’s hate,<br /> + Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.<br /> + To what strange nations shalt not thou resort,<br /> + Driv’n to solicit aid at ev’ry court!<br /> + The cause the same which Ilium once oppress’d;<br /> + A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.<br /> + But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,<br /> + The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.<br /> + The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown<br /> + From whence thou least shalt hope, a Grecian town.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke,<br /> + And the resisting air the thunder broke;<br /> + The cave rebellow’d, and the temple shook.<br /> + Th’ ambiguous god, who rul’d her lab’ring breast,<br /> + In these mysterious words his mind express’d;<br /> + Some truths reveal’d, in terms involv’d the rest.<br /> + At length her fury fell, her foaming ceas’d,<br /> + And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas’d.<br /> + Then thus the chief: “No terror to my view,<br /> + No frightful face of danger can be new.<br /> + Inur’d to suffer, and resolv’d to dare,<br /> + The Fates, without my pow’r, shall be without my care.<br /> + This let me crave, since near your grove the road<br /> + To hell lies open, and the dark abode<br /> + Which Acheron surrounds, th’ innavigable flood;<br /> + Conduct me thro’ the regions void of light,<br /> + And lead me longing to my father’s sight.<br /> + For him, a thousand dangers I have sought,<br /> + And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,<br /> + Safe on my back the sacred burthen brought.<br /> + He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried,<br /> + And wrath of Heav’n, my still auspicious guide,<br /> + And bore beyond the strength decrepid age supplied.<br /> + Oft, since he breath’d his last, in dead of night<br /> + His reverend image stood before my sight;<br /> + Enjoin’d to seek, below, his holy shade;<br /> + Conducted there by your unerring aid.<br /> + But you, if pious minds by pray’rs are won,<br /> + Oblige the father, and protect the son.<br /> + Yours is the pow’r; nor Proserpine in vain<br /> + Has made you priestess of her nightly reign.<br /> + If Orpheus, arm’d with his enchanting lyre,<br /> + The ruthless king with pity could inspire,<br /> + And from the shades below redeem his wife;<br /> + If Pollux, off’ring his alternate life,<br /> + Could free his brother, and can daily go<br /> + By turns aloft, by turns descend below:<br /> + Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend,<br /> + Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend?<br /> + Not less than theirs from Jove my lineage came;<br /> + My mother greater, my descent the same.”<br /> + So pray’d the Trojan prince, and, while he pray’d,<br /> + His hand upon the holy altar laid.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus replied the prophetess divine:<br /> + “O goddess-born of great Anchises’ line,<br /> + The gates of hell are open night and day;<br /> + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:<br /> + But to return, and view the cheerful skies,<br /> + In this the task and mighty labour lies.<br /> + To few great Jupiter imparts this grace,<br /> + And those of shining worth and heav’nly race.<br /> + Betwixt those regions and our upper light,<br /> + Deep forests and impenetrable night<br /> + Possess the middle space: th’ infernal bounds<br /> + Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds.<br /> + But if so dire a love your soul invades,<br /> + As twice below to view the trembling shades;<br /> + If you so hard a toil will undertake,<br /> + As twice to pass th’ innavigable lake;<br /> + Receive my counsel. In the neighb’ring grove<br /> + There stands a tree; the queen of Stygian Jove<br /> + Claims it her own; thick woods and gloomy night<br /> + Conceal the happy plant from human sight.<br /> + One bough it bears; but wondrous to behold!<br /> + The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold:<br /> + This from the vulgar branches must be torn,<br /> + And to fair Proserpine the present borne,<br /> + Ere leave be giv’n to tempt the nether skies.<br /> + The first thus rent a second will arise,<br /> + And the same metal the same room supplies.<br /> + Look round the wood, with lifted eyes, to see<br /> + The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:<br /> + Then rend it off, as holy rites command;<br /> + The willing metal will obey thy hand,<br /> + Following with ease, if favour’d by thy fate,<br /> + Thou art foredoom’d to view the Stygian state:<br /> + If not, no labour can the tree constrain;<br /> + And strength of stubborn arms and steel are vain.<br /> + Besides, you know not, while you here attend,<br /> + Th’ unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:<br /> + Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost,<br /> + Depriv’d of fun’ral rites, pollutes your host.<br /> + Pay first his pious dues; and, for the dead,<br /> + Two sable sheep around his hearse be led;<br /> + Then, living turfs upon his body lay:<br /> + This done, securely take the destin’d way,<br /> + To find the regions destitute of day.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said, and held her peace. Aeneas went<br /> + Sad from the cave, and full of discontent,<br /> + Unknowing whom the sacred Sibyl meant.<br /> + Achates, the companion of his breast,<br /> + Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress’d.<br /> + Walking, they talk’d, and fruitlessly divin’d<br /> + What friend the priestess by those words design’d.<br /> + But soon they found an object to deplore:<br /> + Misenus lay extended on the shore;<br /> + Son of the God of Winds: none so renown’d<br /> + The warrior trumpet in the field to sound;<br /> + With breathing brass to kindle fierce alarms,<br /> + And rouse to dare their fate in honourable arms.<br /> + He serv’d great Hector, and was ever near,<br /> + Not with his trumpet only, but his spear.<br /> + But by Pelides’ arms when Hector fell,<br /> + He chose Aeneas; and he chose as well.<br /> + Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more,<br /> + He now provokes the sea gods from the shore;<br /> + With envy Triton heard the martial sound,<br /> + And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown’d;<br /> + Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand:<br /> + The gazing crowd around the body stand.<br /> + All weep; but most Aeneas mourns his fate,<br /> + And hastens to perform the funeral state.<br /> + In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear;<br /> + The basis broad below, and top advanc’d in air.<br /> + An ancient wood, fit for the work design’d,<br /> + (The shady covert of the salvage kind,)<br /> + The Trojans found: the sounding ax is plied;<br /> + Firs, pines, and pitch trees, and the tow’ring pride<br /> + Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke,<br /> + And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.<br /> + Huge trunks of trees, fell’d from the steepy crown<br /> + Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.<br /> + Arm’d like the rest the Trojan prince appears,<br /> + And by his pious labour urges theirs.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind<br /> + The ways to compass what his wish design’d,<br /> + He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove,<br /> + And then with vows implor’d the Queen of Love:<br /> + “O may thy pow’r, propitious still to me,<br /> + Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree,<br /> + In this deep forest; since the Sibyl’s breath<br /> + Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus’ death.”<br /> + Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight,<br /> + Two doves, descending from their airy flight,<br /> + Secure upon the grassy plain alight.<br /> + He knew his mother’s birds; and thus he pray’d:<br /> + “Be you my guides, with your auspicious aid,<br /> + And lead my footsteps, till the branch be found,<br /> + Whose glitt’ring shadow gilds the sacred ground.<br /> + And thou, great parent, with celestial care,<br /> + In this distress be present to my pray’r!”<br /> + Thus having said, he stopp’d with watchful sight,<br /> + Observing still the motions of their flight,<br /> + What course they took, what happy signs they shew.<br /> + They fed, and, flutt’ring, by degrees withdrew<br /> + Still farther from the place, but still in view:<br /> + Hopping and flying, thus they led him on<br /> + To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun<br /> + They wing’d their flight aloft; then, stooping low,<br /> + Perch’d on the double tree that bears the golden bough.<br /> + Thro’ the green leafs the glitt’ring shadows glow;<br /> + As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe,<br /> + Where the proud mother views her precious brood,<br /> + And happier branches, which she never sow’d.<br /> + Such was the glitt’ring; such the ruddy rind,<br /> + And dancing leaves, that wanton’d in the wind.<br /> + He seiz’d the shining bough with griping hold,<br /> + And rent away, with ease, the ling’ring gold;<br /> + Then to the Sibyl’s palace bore the prize.<br /> + Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes,<br /> + To dead Misenus pay his obsequies.<br /> + First, from the ground a lofty pile they rear,<br /> + Of pitch trees, oaks, and pines, and unctuous fir:<br /> + The fabric’s front with cypress twigs they strew,<br /> + And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew.<br /> + The topmost part his glitt’ring arms adorn;<br /> + Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne,<br /> + Are pour’d to wash his body, joint by joint,<br /> + And fragrant oils the stiffen’d limbs anoint.<br /> + With groans and cries Misenus they deplore:<br /> + Then on a bier, with purple cover’d o’er,<br /> + The breathless body, thus bewail’d, they lay,<br /> + And fire the pile, their faces turn’d away:<br /> + Such reverend rites their fathers us’d to pay.<br /> + Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw,<br /> + And fat of victims, which his friends bestow.<br /> + These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour;<br /> + Then on the living coals red wine they pour;<br /> + And, last, the relics by themselves dispose,<br /> + Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose.<br /> + Old Corynaeus compass’d thrice the crew,<br /> + And dipp’d an olive branch in holy dew;<br /> + Which thrice he sprinkled round, and thrice aloud<br /> + Invok’d the dead, and then dismissed the crowd.<br /> + But good Aeneas order’d on the shore<br /> + A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore,<br /> + A soldier’s falchion, and a seaman’s oar.<br /> + Thus was his friend interr’d; and deathless fame<br /> + Still to the lofty cape consigns his name.<br /> + These rites perform’d, the prince, without delay,<br /> + Hastes to the nether world his destin’d way.<br /> + Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went<br /> + From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent;<br /> + And here th’ access a gloomy grove defends,<br /> + And there th’ unnavigable lake extends,<br /> + O’er whose unhappy waters, void of light,<br /> + No bird presumes to steer his airy flight;<br /> + Such deadly stenches from the depths arise,<br /> + And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.<br /> + From hence the Grecian bards their legends make,<br /> + And give the name Avernus to the lake.<br /> + Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught,<br /> + For sacrifice the pious hero brought.<br /> + The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns;<br /> + Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns,<br /> + Invoking Hecate hither to repair:<br /> + A pow’rful name in hell and upper air.<br /> + The sacred priests with ready knives bereave<br /> + The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive<br /> + The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night<br /> + (The sable wool without a streak of white)<br /> + Aeneas offers; and, by fate’s decree,<br /> + A barren heifer, Proserpine, to thee,<br /> + With holocausts he Pluto’s altar fills;<br /> + Sev’n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills;<br /> + Then on the broiling entrails oil he pours;<br /> + Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours.<br /> + Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun,<br /> + Nor ended till the next returning sun.<br /> + Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance,<br /> + And howling dogs in glimm’ring light advance,<br /> + Ere Hecate came. “Far hence be souls profane!”<br /> + The Sibyl cried, “and from the grove abstain!<br /> + Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford;<br /> + Assume thy courage, and unsheathe thy sword.”<br /> + She said, and pass’d along the gloomy space;<br /> + The prince pursued her steps with equal pace.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Ye realms, yet unreveal’d to human sight,<br /> + Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,<br /> + Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate<br /> + The mystic wonders of your silent state!<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Obscure they went thro’ dreary shades, that led<br /> + Along the waste dominions of the dead.<br /> + Thus wander travelers in woods by night,<br /> + By the moon’s doubtful and malignant light,<br /> + When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies,<br /> + And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell,<br /> + Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,<br /> + And pale Diseases, and repining Age,<br /> + Want, Fear, and Famine’s unresisted rage;<br /> + Here Toils, and Death, and Death’s half-brother, Sleep,<br /> + Forms terrible to view, their sentry keep;<br /> + With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,<br /> + Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind;<br /> + The Furies’ iron beds; and Strife, that shakes<br /> + Her hissing tresses and unfolds her snakes.<br /> + Full in the midst of this infernal road,<br /> + An elm displays her dusky arms abroad:<br /> + The God of Sleep there hides his heavy head,<br /> + And empty dreams on ev’ry leaf are spread.<br /> + Of various forms unnumber’d spectres more,<br /> + Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door.<br /> + Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands,<br /> + And Briareus with all his hundred hands;<br /> + Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame;<br /> + And vain Chimaera vomits empty flame.<br /> + The chief unsheath’d his shining steel, prepar’d,<br /> + Tho’ seiz’d with sudden fear, to force the guard,<br /> + Off’ring his brandish’d weapon at their face;<br /> + Had not the Sibyl stopp’d his eager pace,<br /> + And told him what those empty phantoms were:<br /> + Forms without bodies, and impassive air.<br /> + Hence to deep Acheron they take their way,<br /> + Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay,<br /> + Are whirl’d aloft, and in Cocytus lost.<br /> + There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast:<br /> + A sordid god: down from his hoary chin<br /> + A length of beard descends, uncomb’d, unclean;<br /> + His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;<br /> + A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.<br /> + He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers;<br /> + The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears.<br /> + He look’d in years; yet in his years were seen<br /> + A youthful vigour and autumnal green.<br /> + An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,<br /> + Which fill’d the margin of the fatal flood:<br /> + Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids,<br /> + And mighty heroes’ more majestic shades,<br /> + And youths, intomb’d before their fathers’ eyes,<br /> + With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries.<br /> + Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods,<br /> + Or fowls, by winter forc’d, forsake the floods,<br /> + And wing their hasty flight to happier lands;<br /> + Such, and so thick, the shiv’ring army stands,<br /> + And press for passage with extended hands.<br /> + Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore:<br /> + The rest he drove to distance from the shore.<br /> + The hero, who beheld with wond’ring eyes<br /> + The tumult mix’d with shrieks, laments, and cries,<br /> + Ask’d of his guide, what the rude concourse meant;<br /> + Why to the shore the thronging people bent;<br /> + What forms of law among the ghosts were us’d;<br /> + Why some were ferried o’er, and some refus’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods,”<br /> + The Sibyl said, “you see the Stygian floods,<br /> + The sacred stream which heav’n’s imperial state<br /> + Attests in oaths, and fears to violate.<br /> + The ghosts rejected are th’ unhappy crew<br /> + Depriv’d of sepulchers and fun’ral due:<br /> + The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host,<br /> + He ferries over to the farther coast;<br /> + Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves<br /> + With such whose bones are not compos’d in graves.<br /> + A hundred years they wander on the shore;<br /> + At length, their penance done, are wafted o’er.”<br /> + The Trojan chief his forward pace repress’d,<br /> + Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast,<br /> + He saw his friends, who, whelm’d beneath the waves,<br /> + Their fun’ral honours claim’d, and ask’d their quiet graves.<br /> + The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew,<br /> + And the brave leader of the Lycian crew,<br /> + Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempests met;<br /> + The sailors master’d, and the ship o’erset.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press’d,<br /> + Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest,<br /> + Who, while he steering view’d the stars, and bore<br /> + His course from Afric to the Latian shore,<br /> + Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix’d his view,<br /> + And scarcely thro’ the gloom the sullen shadow knew.<br /> + Then thus the prince: “What envious pow’r, O friend,<br /> + Brought your lov’d life to this disastrous end?<br /> + For Phoebus, ever true in all he said,<br /> + Has in your fate alone my faith betray’d.<br /> + The god foretold you should not die, before<br /> + You reach’d, secure from seas, th’ Italian shore.<br /> + Is this th’ unerring pow’r?” The ghost replied;<br /> + “Nor Phoebus flatter’d, nor his answers lied;<br /> + Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep:<br /> + But, while the stars and course of heav’n I keep,<br /> + My wearied eyes were seiz’d with fatal sleep.<br /> + I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain’d<br /> + Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain’d.<br /> + Now by the winds and raging waves I swear,<br /> + Your safety, more than mine, was then my care;<br /> + Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost,<br /> + Your ship should run against the rocky coast.<br /> + Three blust’ring nights, borne by the southern blast,<br /> + I floated, and discover’d land at last:<br /> + High on a mounting wave my head I bore,<br /> + Forcing my strength, and gath’ring to the shore.<br /> + Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz’d<br /> + The craggy cliffs, and my tir’d members eas’d.<br /> + While, cumber’d with my dropping clothes, I lay,<br /> + The cruel nation, covetous of prey,<br /> + Stain’d with my blood th’ unhospitable coast;<br /> + And now, by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss’d:<br /> + Which O avert, by yon ethereal light,<br /> + Which I have lost for this eternal night!<br /> + Or, if by dearer ties you may be won,<br /> + By your dead sire, and by your living son,<br /> + Redeem from this reproach my wand’ring ghost;<br /> + Or with your navy seek the Velin coast,<br /> + And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose;<br /> + Or, if a nearer way your mother shows,<br /> + Without whose aid you durst not undertake<br /> + This frightful passage o’er the Stygian lake,<br /> + Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o’er<br /> + To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore.”<br /> + Scarce had he said, the prophetess began:<br /> + “What hopes delude thee, miserable man?<br /> + Think’st thou, thus unintomb’d, to cross the floods,<br /> + To view the Furies and infernal gods,<br /> + And visit, without leave, the dark abodes?<br /> + Attend the term of long revolving years;<br /> + Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.<br /> + This comfort of thy dire misfortune take:<br /> + The wrath of Heav’n, inflicted for thy sake,<br /> + With vengeance shall pursue th’ inhuman coast,<br /> + Till they propitiate thy offended ghost,<br /> + And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray’r;<br /> + And Palinurus’ name the place shall bear.”<br /> + This calm’d his cares; sooth’d with his future fame,<br /> + And pleas’d to hear his propagated name.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw:<br /> + Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw;<br /> + Observ’d their passage thro’ the shady wood,<br /> + And mark’d their near approaches to the flood.<br /> + Then thus he call’d aloud, inflam’d with wrath:<br /> + “Mortal, whate’er, who this forbidden path<br /> + In arms presum’st to tread, I charge thee, stand,<br /> + And tell thy name, and bus’ness in the land.<br /> + Know this, the realm of night; the Stygian shore:<br /> + My boat conveys no living bodies o’er;<br /> + Nor was I pleas’d great Theseus once to bear,<br /> + Who forc’d a passage with his pointed spear,<br /> + Nor strong Alcides, men of mighty fame,<br /> + And from th’ immortal gods their lineage came.<br /> + In fetters one the barking porter tied,<br /> + And took him trembling from his sov’reign’s side:<br /> + Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride.”<br /> + To whom the Sibyl thus: “Compose thy mind;<br /> + Nor frauds are here contriv’d, nor force design’d.<br /> + Still may the dog the wand’ring troops constrain<br /> + Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train,<br /> + And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.<br /> + The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove,<br /> + Much fam’d for arms, and more for filial love,<br /> + Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.<br /> + If neither piety, nor Heav’n’s command,<br /> + Can gain his passage to the Stygian strand,<br /> + This fatal present shall prevail at least.”<br /> + Then shew’d the shining bough, conceal’d within her vest.<br /> + No more was needful: for the gloomy god<br /> + Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod;<br /> + Admir’d the destin’d off’ring to his queen;<br /> + A venerable gift, so rarely seen.<br /> + His fury thus appeas’d, he puts to land;<br /> + The ghosts forsake their seats at his command:<br /> + He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight;<br /> + The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.<br /> + Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides;<br /> + The pressing water pours within her sides.<br /> + His passengers at length are wafted o’er,<br /> + Expos’d, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + No sooner landed, in his den they found<br /> + The triple porter of the Stygian sound,<br /> + Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear<br /> + His crested snakes, and arm’d his bristling hair.<br /> + The prudent Sibyl had before prepar’d<br /> + A sop, in honey steep’d, to charm the guard;<br /> + Which, mix’d with pow’rful drugs, she cast before<br /> + His greedy grinning jaws, just op’d to roar.<br /> + With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight,<br /> + With hunger press’d, devours the pleasing bait.<br /> + Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave;<br /> + He reels, and, falling, fills the spacious cave.<br /> + The keeper charm’d, the chief without delay<br /> + Pass’d on, and took th’ irremeable way.<br /> + Before the gates, the cries of babes new born,<br /> + Whom fate had from their tender mothers torn,<br /> + Assault his ears: then those, whom form of laws<br /> + Condemn’d to die, when traitors judg’d their cause.<br /> + Nor want they lots, nor judges to review<br /> + The wrongful sentence, and award a new.<br /> + Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears;<br /> + And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears.<br /> + Round in his urn the blended balls he rolls,<br /> + Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.<br /> + The next, in place and punishment, are they<br /> + Who prodigally throw their souls away;<br /> + Fools, who, repining at their wretched state,<br /> + And loathing anxious life, suborn’d their fate.<br /> + With late repentance now they would retrieve<br /> + The bodies they forsook, and wish to live;<br /> + Their pains and poverty desire to bear,<br /> + To view the light of heav’n, and breathe the vital air:<br /> + But fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose,<br /> + And with circling streams the captive souls inclose.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Not far from thence, the Mournful Fields appear<br /> + So call’d from lovers that inhabit there.<br /> + The souls whom that unhappy flame invades,<br /> + In secret solitude and myrtle shades<br /> + Make endless moans, and, pining with desire,<br /> + Lament too late their unextinguish’d fire.<br /> + Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found,<br /> + Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound<br /> + Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there,<br /> + With Phaedra’s ghost, a foul incestuous pair.<br /> + There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves,<br /> + Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves:<br /> + Caeneus, a woman once, and once a man,<br /> + But ending in the sex she first began.<br /> + Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood,<br /> + Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath’d in blood;<br /> + Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew,<br /> + Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view,<br /> + (Doubtful as he who sees, thro’ dusky night,<br /> + Or thinks he sees, the moon’s uncertain light,)<br /> + With tears he first approach’d the sullen shade;<br /> + And, as his love inspir’d him, thus he said:<br /> + “Unhappy queen! then is the common breath<br /> + Of rumour true, in your reported death,<br /> + And I, alas! the cause? By Heav’n, I vow,<br /> + And all the pow’rs that rule the realms below,<br /> + Unwilling I forsook your friendly state,<br /> + Commanded by the gods, and forc’d by fate.<br /> + Those gods, that fate, whose unresisted might<br /> + Have sent me to these regions void of light,<br /> + Thro’ the vast empire of eternal night.<br /> + Nor dar’d I to presume, that, press’d with grief,<br /> + My flight should urge you to this dire relief.<br /> + Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows:<br /> + ’Tis the last interview that fate allows!”<br /> + In vain he thus attempts her mind to move<br /> + With tears, and pray’rs, and late-repenting love.<br /> + Disdainfully she look’d; then turning round,<br /> + But fix’d her eyes unmov’d upon the ground,<br /> + And what he says and swears, regards no more<br /> + Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar;<br /> + But whirl’d away, to shun his hateful sight,<br /> + Hid in the forest and the shades of night;<br /> + Then sought Sichaeus thro’ the shady grove,<br /> + Who answer’d all her cares, and equal’d all her love.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Some pious tears the pitying hero paid,<br /> + And follow’d with his eyes the flitting shade,<br /> + Then took the forward way, by fate ordain’d,<br /> + And, with his guide, the farther fields attain’d,<br /> + Where, sever’d from the rest, the warrior souls remain’d.<br /> + Tydeus he met, with Meleager’s race,<br /> + The pride of armies, and the soldiers’ grace;<br /> + And pale Adrastus with his ghastly face.<br /> + Of Trojan chiefs he view’d a num’rous train,<br /> + All much lamented, all in battle slain;<br /> + Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest,<br /> + Antenor’s sons, and Ceres’ sacred priest.<br /> + And proud Idaeus, Priam’s charioteer,<br /> + Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.<br /> + The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend<br /> + And with unwearied eyes behold their friend;<br /> + Delight to hover near, and long to know<br /> + What bus’ness brought him to the realms below.<br /> + But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon’s train,<br /> + When his refulgent arms flash’d thro’ the shady plain,<br /> + Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear,<br /> + As when his thund’ring sword and pointed spear<br /> + Drove headlong to their ships, and glean’d the routed rear.<br /> + They rais’d a feeble cry, with trembling notes;<br /> + But the weak voice deceiv’d their gasping throats.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Here Priam’s son, Deiphobus, he found,<br /> + Whose face and limbs were one continued wound:<br /> + Dishonest, with lopp’d arms, the youth appears,<br /> + Spoil’d of his nose, and shorten’d of his ears.<br /> + He scarcely knew him, striving to disown<br /> + His blotted form, and blushing to be known;<br /> + And therefore first began: “O Teucer’s race,<br /> + Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?<br /> + What heart could wish, what hand inflict, this dire disgrace?<br /> + ’Twas fam’d, that in our last and fatal night<br /> + Your single prowess long sustain’d the fight,<br /> + Till tir’d, not forc’d, a glorious fate you chose,<br /> + And fell upon a heap of slaughter’d foes.<br /> + But, in remembrance of so brave a deed,<br /> + A tomb and fun’ral honours I decreed;<br /> + Thrice call’d your manes on the Trojan plains:<br /> + The place your armour and your name retains.<br /> + Your body too I sought, and, had I found,<br /> + Design’d for burial in your native ground.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The ghost replied: “Your piety has paid<br /> + All needful rites, to rest my wand’ring shade;<br /> + But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife,<br /> + To Grecian swords betray’d my sleeping life.<br /> + These are the monuments of Helen’s love:<br /> + The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above.<br /> + You know in what deluding joys we pass’d<br /> + The night that was by Heav’n decreed our last:<br /> + For, when the fatal horse, descending down,<br /> + Pregnant with arms, o’erwhelm’d th’ unhappy town<br /> + She feign’d nocturnal orgies; left my bed,<br /> + And, mix’d with Trojan dames, the dances led<br /> + Then, waving high her torch, the signal made,<br /> + Which rous’d the Grecians from their ambuscade.<br /> + With watching overworn, with cares oppress’d,<br /> + Unhappy I had laid me down to rest,<br /> + And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess’d.<br /> + Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid,<br /> + And from beneath my head my sword convey’d;<br /> + The door unlatch’d, and, with repeated calls,<br /> + Invites her former lord within my walls.<br /> + Thus in her crime her confidence she plac’d,<br /> + And with new treasons would redeem the past.<br /> + What need I more? Into the room they ran,<br /> + And meanly murder’d a defenceless man.<br /> + Ulysses, basely born, first led the way.<br /> + Avenging pow’rs! with justice if I pray,<br /> + That fortune be their own another day!<br /> + But answer you; and in your turn relate,<br /> + What brought you, living, to the Stygian state:<br /> + Driv’n by the winds and errors of the sea,<br /> + Or did you Heav’n’s superior doom obey?<br /> + Or tell what other chance conducts your way,<br /> + To view with mortal eyes our dark retreats,<br /> + Tumults and torments of th’ infernal seats.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While thus in talk the flying hours they pass,<br /> + The sun had finish’d more than half his race:<br /> + And they, perhaps, in words and tears had spent<br /> + The little time of stay which Heav’n had lent;<br /> + But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay:<br /> + “Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day:<br /> + ’Tis here, in different paths, the way divides;<br /> + The right to Pluto’s golden palace guides;<br /> + The left to that unhappy region tends,<br /> + Which to the depth of Tartarus descends;<br /> + The seat of night profound, and punish’d fiends.”<br /> + Then thus Deiphobus: “O sacred maid,<br /> + Forbear to chide, and be your will obey’d!<br /> + Lo! to the secret shadows I retire,<br /> + To pay my penance till my years expire.<br /> + Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown’d,<br /> + And born to better fates than I have found.”<br /> + He said; and, while he said, his steps he turn’d<br /> + To secret shadows, and in silence mourn’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The hero, looking on the left, espied<br /> + A lofty tow’r, and strong on ev’ry side<br /> + With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds,<br /> + Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds;<br /> + And, press’d betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise resounds<br /> + Wide is the fronting gate, and, rais’d on high<br /> + With adamantine columns, threats the sky.<br /> + Vain is the force of man, and Heav’n’s as vain,<br /> + To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.<br /> + Sublime on these a tow’r of steel is rear’d;<br /> + And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward,<br /> + Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day,<br /> + Observant of the souls that pass the downward way.<br /> + From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains<br /> + Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.<br /> + The Trojan stood astonish’d at their cries,<br /> + And ask’d his guide from whence those yells arise;<br /> + And what the crimes, and what the tortures were,<br /> + And loud laments that rent the liquid air.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She thus replied: “The chaste and holy race<br /> + Are all forbidden this polluted place.<br /> + But Hecate, when she gave to rule the woods,<br /> + Then led me trembling thro’ these dire abodes,<br /> + And taught the tortures of th’ avenging gods.<br /> + These are the realms of unrelenting fate;<br /> + And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state.<br /> + He hears and judges each committed crime;<br /> + Enquires into the manner, place, and time.<br /> + The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal,<br /> + Loth to confess, unable to conceal,<br /> + From the first moment of his vital breath,<br /> + To his last hour of unrepenting death.<br /> + Straight, o’er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes<br /> + The sounding whip and brandishes her snakes,<br /> + And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes.<br /> + Then, of itself, unfolds th’ eternal door;<br /> + With dreadful sounds the brazen hinges roar.<br /> + You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost<br /> + Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post.<br /> + More formidable Hydra stands within,<br /> + Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin.<br /> + The gaping gulf low to the centre lies,<br /> + And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies.<br /> + The rivals of the gods, the Titan race,<br /> + Here, sing’d with lightning, roll within th’ unfathom’d space.<br /> + Here lie th’ Alaean twins, (I saw them both,)<br /> + Enormous bodies, of gigantic growth,<br /> + Who dar’d in fight the Thund’rer to defy,<br /> + Affect his heav’n, and force him from the sky.<br /> + Salmoneus, suff’ring cruel pains, I found,<br /> + For emulating Jove; the rattling sound<br /> + Of mimic thunder, and the glitt’ring blaze<br /> + Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays.<br /> + Thro’ Elis and the Grecian towns he flew;<br /> + Th’ audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew:<br /> + He wav’d a torch aloft, and, madly vain,<br /> + Sought godlike worship from a servile train.<br /> + Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass<br /> + O’er hollow arches of resounding brass,<br /> + To rival thunder in its rapid course,<br /> + And imitate inimitable force!<br /> + But he, the King of Heav’n, obscure on high,<br /> + Bar’d his red arm, and, launching from the sky<br /> + His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke,<br /> + Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook.<br /> + There Tityus was to see, who took his birth<br /> + From heav’n, his nursing from the foodful earth.<br /> + Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,<br /> + Infold nine acres of infernal space.<br /> + A rav’nous vulture, in his open’d side,<br /> + Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried;<br /> + Still for the growing liver digg’d his breast;<br /> + The growing liver still supplied the feast;<br /> + Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains:<br /> + Th’ immortal hunger lasts, th’ immortal food remains.<br /> + Ixion and Perithous I could name,<br /> + And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame.<br /> + High o’er their heads a mould’ring rock is plac’d,<br /> + That promises a fall, and shakes at ev’ry blast.<br /> + They lie below, on golden beds display’d;<br /> + And genial feasts with regal pomp are made.<br /> + The Queen of Furies by their sides is set,<br /> + And snatches from their mouths th’ untasted meat,<br /> + Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears,<br /> + Tossing her torch, and thund’ring in their ears.<br /> + Then they, who brothers’ better claim disown,<br /> + Expel their parents, and usurp the throne;<br /> + Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold,<br /> + Sit brooding on unprofitable gold;<br /> + Who dare not give, and ev’n refuse to lend<br /> + To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend.<br /> + Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train<br /> + Of lustful youths, for foul adult’ry slain:<br /> + Hosts of deserters, who their honour sold,<br /> + And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold.<br /> + All these within the dungeon’s depth remain,<br /> + Despairing pardon, and expecting pain.<br /> + Ask not what pains; nor farther seek to know<br /> + Their process, or the forms of law below.<br /> + Some roll a weighty stone; some, laid along,<br /> + And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are hung<br /> + Unhappy Theseus, doom’d for ever there,<br /> + Is fix’d by fate on his eternal chair;<br /> + And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries<br /> + (Could warning make the world more just or wise):<br /> + ‘Learn righteousness, and dread th’ avenging deities.’<br /> + To tyrants others have their country sold,<br /> + Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold;<br /> + Some have old laws repeal’d, new statutes made,<br /> + Not as the people pleas’d, but as they paid;<br /> + With incest some their daughters’ bed profan’d:<br /> + All dar’d the worst of ills, and, what they dar’d, attain’d.<br /> + Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,<br /> + And throats of brass, inspir’d with iron lungs,<br /> + I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,<br /> + Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.<br /> + But let us haste our voyage to pursue:<br /> + The walls of Pluto’s palace are in view;<br /> + The gate, and iron arch above it, stands<br /> + On anvils labour’d by the Cyclops’ hands.<br /> + Before our farther way the Fates allow,<br /> + Here must we fix on high the golden bough.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said, and thro’ the gloomy shades they pass’d,<br /> + And chose the middle path. Arriv’d at last,<br /> + The prince with living water sprinkled o’er<br /> + His limbs and body; then approach’d the door,<br /> + Possess’d the porch, and on the front above<br /> + He fix’d the fatal bough requir’d by Pluto’s love.<br /> + These holy rites perform’d, they took their way<br /> + Where long extended plains of pleasure lay:<br /> + The verdant fields with those of heav’n may vie,<br /> + With ether vested, and a purple sky;<br /> + The blissful seats of happy souls below.<br /> + Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know;<br /> + Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,<br /> + And on the green contend the wrestler’s prize.<br /> + Some in heroic verse divinely sing;<br /> + Others in artful measures led the ring.<br /> + The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,<br /> + There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest;<br /> + His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,<br /> + Strikes sev’n distinguish’d notes, and sev’n at once they fill.<br /> + Here found they Teucer’s old heroic race,<br /> + Born better times and happier years to grace.<br /> + Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy<br /> + Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.<br /> + The chief beheld their chariots from afar,<br /> + Their shining arms, and coursers train’d to war:<br /> + Their lances fix’d in earth, their steeds around,<br /> + Free from their harness, graze the flow’ry ground.<br /> + The love of horses which they had, alive,<br /> + And care of chariots, after death survive.<br /> + Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;<br /> + Some did the song, and some the choir maintain,<br /> + Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po<br /> + Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.<br /> + Here patriots live, who, for their country’s good,<br /> + In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood:<br /> + Priests of unblemish’d lives here make abode,<br /> + And poets worthy their inspiring god;<br /> + And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,<br /> + Who grac’d their age with new-invented arts:<br /> + Those who to worth their bounty did extend,<br /> + And those who knew that bounty to commend.<br /> + The heads of these with holy fillets bound,<br /> + And all their temples were with garlands crown’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To these the Sibyl thus her speech address’d,<br /> + And first to him surrounded by the rest<br /> + Tow’ring his height, and ample was his breast;<br /> + “Say, happy souls, divine Musaeus, say,<br /> + Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way<br /> + To find the hero, for whose only sake<br /> + We sought the dark abodes, and cross’d the bitter lake?”<br /> + To this the sacred poet thus replied:<br /> + “In no fix’d place the happy souls reside.<br /> + In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,<br /> + By crystal streams, that murmur thro’ the meads:<br /> + But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;<br /> + The path conducts you to your journey’s end.”<br /> + This said, he led them up the mountain’s brow,<br /> + And shews them all the shining fields below.<br /> + They wind the hill, and thro’ the blissful meadows go.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But old Anchises, in a flow’ry vale,<br /> + Review’d his muster’d race, and took the tale:<br /> + Those happy spirits, which, ordain’d by fate,<br /> + For future beings and new bodies wait.<br /> + With studious thought observ’d th’ illustrious throng,<br /> + In nature’s order as they pass’d along:<br /> + Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,<br /> + In peaceful senates and successful war.<br /> + He, when Aeneas on the plain appears,<br /> + Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.<br /> + “Welcome,” he said, “the gods’ undoubted race!<br /> + O long expected to my dear embrace!<br /> + Once more ’tis giv’n me to behold your face!<br /> + The love and pious duty which you pay<br /> + Have pass’d the perils of so hard a way.<br /> + ’Tis true, computing times, I now believ’d<br /> + The happy day approach’d; nor are my hopes deceiv’d.<br /> + What length of lands, what oceans have you pass’d;<br /> + What storms sustain’d, and on what shores been cast?<br /> + How have I fear’d your fate! but fear’d it most,<br /> + When love assail’d you, on the Libyan coast.”<br /> + To this, the filial duty thus replies:<br /> + “Your sacred ghost before my sleeping eyes<br /> + Appear’d, and often urg’d this painful enterprise.<br /> + After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,<br /> + My navy rides at anchor in the bay.<br /> + But reach your hand, O parent shade, nor shun<br /> + The dear embraces of your longing son!”<br /> + He said; and falling tears his face bedew:<br /> + Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw;<br /> + And thrice the flitting shadow slipp’d away,<br /> + Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees<br /> + A sep’rate grove, thro’ which a gentle breeze<br /> + Plays with a passing breath, and whispers thro’ the trees;<br /> + And, just before the confines of the wood,<br /> + The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.<br /> + About the boughs an airy nation flew,<br /> + Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew;<br /> + In summer’s heat on tops of lilies feed,<br /> + And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:<br /> + The winged army roams the fields around;<br /> + The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.<br /> + Aeneas wond’ring stood, then ask’d the cause<br /> + Which to the stream the crowding people draws.<br /> + Then thus the sire: “The souls that throng the flood<br /> + Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow’d:<br /> + In Lethe’s lake they long oblivion taste,<br /> + Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.<br /> + Long has my soul desir’d this time and place,<br /> + To set before your sight your glorious race,<br /> + That this presaging joy may fire your mind<br /> + To seek the shores by destiny design’d.”<br /> + “O father, can it be, that souls sublime<br /> + Return to visit our terrestrial clime,<br /> + And that the gen’rous mind, releas’d by death,<br /> + Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Anchises then, in order, thus begun<br /> + To clear those wonders to his godlike son:<br /> + “Know, first, that heav’n, and earth’s compacted frame,<br /> + And flowing waters, and the starry flame,<br /> + And both the radiant lights, one common soul<br /> + Inspires and feeds, and animates the whole.<br /> + This active mind, infus’d thro’ all the space,<br /> + Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.<br /> + Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,<br /> + And birds of air, and monsters of the main.<br /> + Th’ ethereal vigour is in all the same,<br /> + And every soul is fill’d with equal flame;<br /> + As much as earthy limbs, and gross allay<br /> + Of mortal members, subject to decay,<br /> + Blunt not the beams of heav’n and edge of day.<br /> + From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,<br /> + Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,<br /> + And grief, and joy; nor can the groveling mind,<br /> + In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin’d,<br /> + Assert the native skies, or own its heav’nly kind:<br /> + Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;<br /> + But long-contracted filth ev’n in the soul remains.<br /> + The relics of inveterate vice they wear,<br /> + And spots of sin obscene in ev’ry face appear.<br /> + For this are various penances enjoin’d;<br /> + And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,<br /> + Some plung’d in waters, others purg’d in fires,<br /> + Till all the dregs are drain’d, and all the rust expires.<br /> + All have their manes, and those manes bear:<br /> + The few, so cleans’d, to these abodes repair,<br /> + And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.<br /> + Then are they happy, when by length of time<br /> + The scurf is worn away of each committed crime;<br /> + No speck is left of their habitual stains,<br /> + But the pure ether of the soul remains.<br /> + But, when a thousand rolling years are past,<br /> + (So long their punishments and penance last,)<br /> + Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,<br /> + Compell’d to drink the deep Lethaean flood,<br /> + In large forgetful draughts to steep the cares<br /> + Of their past labours, and their irksome years,<br /> + That, unrememb’ring of its former pain,<br /> + The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, the father spirit leads<br /> + The priestess and his son thro’ swarms of shades,<br /> + And takes a rising ground, from thence to see<br /> + The long procession of his progeny.<br /> + “Survey,” pursued the sire, “this airy throng,<br /> + As, offer’d to thy view, they pass along.<br /> + These are th’ Italian names, which fate will join<br /> + With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.<br /> + Observe the youth who first appears in sight,<br /> + And holds the nearest station to the light,<br /> + Already seems to snuff the vital air,<br /> + And leans just forward, on a shining spear:<br /> + Silvius is he, thy last-begotten race,<br /> + But first in order sent, to fill thy place;<br /> + An Alban name, but mix’d with Dardan blood,<br /> + Born in the covert of a shady wood:<br /> + Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,<br /> + Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.<br /> + In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,<br /> + And, born a king, a race of kings beget.<br /> + Then Procas, honour of the Trojan name,<br /> + Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.<br /> + A second Silvius after these appears;<br /> + Silvius Aeneas, for thy name he bears;<br /> + For arms and justice equally renown’d,<br /> + Who, late restor’d, in Alba shall be crown’d.<br /> + How great they look! how vig’rously they wield<br /> + Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield!<br /> + But they, who crown’d with oaken wreaths appear,<br /> + Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidena rear;<br /> + Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;<br /> + And raise Collatian tow’rs on rocky ground.<br /> + All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,<br /> + Tho’ now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.<br /> + See Romulus the great, born to restore<br /> + The crown that once his injur’d grandsire wore.<br /> + This prince a priestess of your blood shall bear,<br /> + And like his sire in arms he shall appear.<br /> + Two rising crests, his royal head adorn;<br /> + Born from a god, himself to godhead born:<br /> + His sire already signs him for the skies,<br /> + And marks the seat amidst the deities.<br /> + Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,<br /> + Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome.<br /> + Rome, whose ascending tow’rs shall heav’n invade,<br /> + Involving earth and ocean in her shade;<br /> + High as the Mother of the Gods in place,<br /> + And proud, like her, of an immortal race.<br /> + Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,<br /> + With golden turrets on her temples crown’d;<br /> + A hundred gods her sweeping train supply;<br /> + Her offspring all, and all command the sky.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see<br /> + Your Roman race, and Julian progeny.<br /> + The mighty Caesar waits his vital hour,<br /> + Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis’d pow’r.<br /> + But next behold the youth of form divine,<br /> + Caesar himself, exalted in his line;<br /> + Augustus, promis’d oft, and long foretold,<br /> + Sent to the realm that Saturn rul’d of old;<br /> + Born to restore a better age of gold.<br /> + Afric and India shall his pow’r obey;<br /> + He shall extend his propagated sway<br /> + Beyond the solar year, without the starry way,<br /> + Where Atlas turns the rolling heav’ns around,<br /> + And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown’d.<br /> + At his foreseen approach, already quake<br /> + The Caspian kingdoms and Maeotian lake:<br /> + Their seers behold the tempest from afar,<br /> + And threat’ning oracles denounce the war.<br /> + Nile hears him knocking at his sev’nfold gates,<br /> + And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew’s fates.<br /> + Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew,<br /> + Not tho’ the brazen-footed hind he slew,<br /> + Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,<br /> + And dipp’d his arrows in Lernaean gore;<br /> + Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,<br /> + By tigers drawn triumphant in his car,<br /> + From Nisus’ top descending on the plains,<br /> + With curling vines around his purple reins.<br /> + And doubt we yet thro’ dangers to pursue<br /> + The paths of honour, and a crown in view?<br /> + But what’s the man, who from afar appears?<br /> + His head with olive crown’d, his hand a censer bears,<br /> + His hoary beard and holy vestments bring<br /> + His lost idea back: I know the Roman king.<br /> + He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,<br /> + Call’d from his mean abode a scepter to sustain.<br /> + Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,<br /> + An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.<br /> + He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare,<br /> + Disus’d to toils, and triumphs of the war.<br /> + By dint of sword his crown he shall increase,<br /> + And scour his armour from the rust of peace.<br /> + Whom Ancus follows, with a fawning air,<br /> + But vain within, and proudly popular.<br /> + Next view the Tarquin kings, th’ avenging sword<br /> + Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor’d.<br /> + He first renews the rods and ax severe,<br /> + And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.<br /> + His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,<br /> + And long for arbitrary lords again,<br /> + With ignominy scourg’d, in open sight,<br /> + He dooms to death deserv’d, asserting public right.<br /> + Unhappy man, to break the pious laws<br /> + Of nature, pleading in his children’s cause!<br /> + Howe’er the doubtful fact is understood,<br /> + ’Tis love of honour, and his country’s good:<br /> + The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.<br /> + Behold Torquatus the same track pursue;<br /> + And, next, the two devoted Decii view:<br /> + The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home<br /> + With standards well redeem’d, and foreign foes o’ercome<br /> + The pair you see in equal armour shine,<br /> + Now, friends below, in close embraces join;<br /> + But, when they leave the shady realms of night,<br /> + And, cloth’d in bodies, breathe your upper light,<br /> + With mortal hate each other shall pursue:<br /> + What wars, what wounds, what slaughter shall ensue!<br /> + From Alpine heights the father first descends;<br /> + His daughter’s husband in the plain attends:<br /> + His daughter’s husband arms his eastern friends.<br /> + Embrace again, my sons, be foes no more;<br /> + Nor stain your country with her children’s gore!<br /> + And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,<br /> + Thou, of my blood, who bear’st the Julian name!<br /> + Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,<br /> + And to the Capitol his chariot guide,<br /> + From conquer’d Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.<br /> + And yet another, fam’d for warlike toils,<br /> + On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,<br /> + And on the Greeks revenge the Trojan cause;<br /> + Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;<br /> + Shall vindicate his ancestors’ disgrace,<br /> + And Pallas, for her violated place.<br /> + Great Cato there, for gravity renown’d,<br /> + And conqu’ring Cossus goes with laurels crown’d.<br /> + Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare<br /> + The Scipios’ worth, those thunderbolts of war,<br /> + The double bane of Carthage? Who can see<br /> + Without esteem for virtuous poverty,<br /> + Severe Fabricius, or can cease t’ admire<br /> + The plowman consul in his coarse attire?<br /> + Tir’d as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;<br /> + And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,<br /> + Ordain’d in war to save the sinking state,<br /> + And, by delays, to put a stop to fate!<br /> + Let others better mould the running mass<br /> + Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,<br /> + And soften into flesh a marble face;<br /> + Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,<br /> + And when the stars descend, and when they rise.<br /> + But, Rome, ’tis thine alone, with awful sway,<br /> + To rule mankind, and make the world obey,<br /> + Disposing peace and war by thy own majestic way;<br /> + To tame the proud, the fetter’d slave to free:<br /> + These are imperial arts, and worthy thee.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He paus’d; and, while with wond’ring eyes they view’d<br /> + The passing spirits, thus his speech renew’d:<br /> + “See great Marcellus! how, untir’d in toils,<br /> + He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!<br /> + He, when his country, threaten’d with alarms,<br /> + Requires his courage and his conqu’ring arms,<br /> + Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;<br /> + Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;<br /> + Then to the Capitol in triumph move,<br /> + And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove.”<br /> + Aeneas here beheld, of form divine,<br /> + A godlike youth in glitt’ring armour shine,<br /> + With great Marcellus keeping equal pace;<br /> + But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.<br /> + He saw, and, wond’ring, ask’d his airy guide,<br /> + What and of whence was he, who press’d the hero’s side:<br /> + “His son, or one of his illustrious name?<br /> + How like the former, and almost the same!<br /> + Observe the crowds that compass him around;<br /> + All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:<br /> + But hov’ring mists around his brows are spread,<br /> + And night, with sable shades, involves his head.”<br /> + “Seek not to know,” the ghost replied with tears,<br /> + “The sorrows of thy sons in future years.<br /> + This youth (the blissful vision of a day)<br /> + Shall just be shown on earth, and snatch’d away.<br /> + The gods too high had rais’d the Roman state,<br /> + Were but their gifts as permanent as great.<br /> + What groans of men shall fill the Martian field!<br /> + How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield!<br /> + What fun’ral pomp shall floating Tiber see,<br /> + When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!<br /> + No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,<br /> + No youth afford so great a cause to grieve;<br /> + The Trojan honour, and the Roman boast,<br /> + Admir’d when living, and ador’d when lost!<br /> + Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!<br /> + Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!<br /> + No foe, unpunish’d, in the fighting field<br /> + Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield;<br /> + Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,<br /> + When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.<br /> + Ah! couldst thou break thro’ fate’s severe decree,<br /> + A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!<br /> + Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,<br /> + Mix’d with the purple roses of the spring;<br /> + Let me with fun’ral flow’rs his body strow;<br /> + This gift which parents to their children owe,<br /> + This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow!”<br /> + Thus having said, he led the hero round<br /> + The confines of the blest Elysian ground;<br /> + Which when Anchises to his son had shown,<br /> + And fir’d his mind to mount the promis’d throne,<br /> + He tells the future wars, ordain’d by fate;<br /> + The strength and customs of the Latian state;<br /> + The prince, and people; and forearms his care<br /> + With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;<br /> + Of polish’d ivory this, that of transparent horn:<br /> + True visions thro’ transparent horn arise;<br /> + Thro’ polish’d ivory pass deluding lies.<br /> + Of various things discoursing as he pass’d,<br /> + Anchises hither bends his steps at last.<br /> + Then, thro’ the gate of iv’ry, he dismiss’d<br /> + His valiant offspring and divining guest.<br /> + Straight to the ships Aeneas took his way,<br /> + Embark’d his men, and skimm’d along the sea,<br /> + Still coasting, till he gain’d Cajeta’s bay.<br /> + At length on oozy ground his galleys moor;<br /> + Their heads are turn’d to sea, their sterns to shore. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>BOOK VII</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + King Latinus entertains Aeneas, and promises him his only daughter, Lavinia, + the heiress of his crown. Turnus, being in love with her, favoured by her mother, + and by Juno and Alecto, breaks the treaty which was made, and engages in his + quarrel Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and many other of the neighbouring princes; + whose forces, and the names of their commanders are particularly related. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd thou, O matron of immortal fame,<br /> + Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;<br /> + Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,<br /> + The nurse of great Aeneas’ infancy.<br /> + Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains;<br /> + Thy name (’tis all a ghost can have) remains.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,<br /> + He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.<br /> + From land a gentle breeze arose by night,<br /> + Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright,<br /> + And the sea trembled with her silver light.<br /> + Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,<br /> + (Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)<br /> + A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days<br /> + In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays:<br /> + In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,<br /> + And cedar brands supply her father’s light.<br /> + From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,<br /> + The roars of lions that refuse the chain,<br /> + The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears,<br /> + And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.<br /> + These from their caverns, at the close of night,<br /> + Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.<br /> + Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,<br /> + (That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,)<br /> + With words and wicked herbs from humankind<br /> + Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.<br /> + Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host<br /> + Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,<br /> + Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night<br /> + With rising gales that sped their happy flight.<br /> + Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,<br /> + And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.<br /> + Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,<br /> + And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies;<br /> + When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,<br /> + And from her face the breathing winds were blown,<br /> + A sudden silence sate upon the sea,<br /> + And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.<br /> + The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,<br /> + Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:<br /> + Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,<br /> + With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,<br /> + That drove the sand along, he took his way,<br /> + And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea.<br /> + About him, and above, and round the wood,<br /> + The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,<br /> + That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,<br /> + To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.<br /> + The captain gives command; the joyful train<br /> + Glide thro’ the gloomy shade, and leave the main.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, Erato, thy poet’s mind inspire,<br /> + And fill his soul with thy celestial fire!<br /> + Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings;<br /> + Declare the past and present state of things,<br /> + When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,<br /> + And how the rivals lov’d, and how they fought.<br /> + These are my theme, and how the war began,<br /> + And how concluded by the godlike man:<br /> + For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,<br /> + Which princes and their people did engage;<br /> + And haughty souls, that, mov’d with mutual hate,<br /> + In fighting fields pursued and found their fate;<br /> + That rous’d the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,<br /> + And peaceful Italy involv’d in arms.<br /> + A larger scene of action is display’d;<br /> + And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Latinus, old and mild, had long possess’d<br /> + The Latin scepter, and his people blest:<br /> + His father Faunus; a Laurentian dame<br /> + His mother; fair Marica was her name.<br /> + But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew<br /> + His birth from Saturn, if records be true.<br /> + Thus King Latinus, in the third degree,<br /> + Had Saturn author of his family.<br /> + But this old peaceful prince, as Heav’n decreed,<br /> + Was blest with no male issue to succeed:<br /> + His sons in blooming youth were snatch’d by fate;<br /> + One only daughter heir’d the royal state.<br /> + Fir’d with her love, and with ambition led,<br /> + The neighb’ring princes court her nuptial bed.<br /> + Among the crowd, but far above the rest,<br /> + Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address’d.<br /> + Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,<br /> + Was first, and favour’d by the Latian queen;<br /> + With him she strove to join Lavinia’s hand,<br /> + But dire portents the purpos’d match withstand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood<br /> + A laurel’s trunk, a venerable wood;<br /> + Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair<br /> + Was kept and cut with superstitious care.<br /> + This plant Latinus, when his town he wall’d,<br /> + Then found, and from the tree Laurentum call’d;<br /> + And last, in honour of his new abode,<br /> + He vow’d the laurel to the laurel’s god.<br /> + It happen’d once (a boding prodigy!)<br /> + A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky,<br /> + Unknown from whence they took their airy flight,<br /> + Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;<br /> + There with their clasping feet together clung,<br /> + And a long cluster from the laurel hung.<br /> + An ancient augur prophesied from hence:<br /> + “Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!<br /> + From the same parts of heav’n his navy stands,<br /> + To the same parts on earth; his army lands;<br /> + The town he conquers, and the tow’r commands.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire<br /> + Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,<br /> + Strange to relate, the flames, involv’d in smoke<br /> + Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,<br /> + Caught her dishevel’d hair and rich attire;<br /> + Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire:<br /> + From thence the fuming trail began to spread<br /> + And lambent glories danc’d about her head.<br /> + This new portent the seer with wonder views,<br /> + Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews:<br /> + “The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,<br /> + Shall shine with honour, shall herself be crown’d;<br /> + But, caus’d by her irrevocable fate,<br /> + War shall the country waste, and change the state.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Latinus, frighted with this dire ostent,<br /> + For counsel to his father Faunus went,<br /> + And sought the shades renown’d for prophecy<br /> + Which near Albunea’s sulph’rous fountain lie.<br /> + To these the Latian and the Sabine land<br /> + Fly, when distress’d, and thence relief demand.<br /> + The priest on skins of off’rings takes his ease,<br /> + And nightly visions in his slumber sees;<br /> + A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears,<br /> + And, flutt’ring round his temples, deafs his ears:<br /> + These he consults, the future fates to know,<br /> + From pow’rs above, and from the fiends below.<br /> + Here, for the gods’ advice, Latinus flies,<br /> + Off’ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice:<br /> + Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir’d,<br /> + He laid beneath him, and to rest retir’d.<br /> + No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,<br /> + When, from above, a more than mortal sound<br /> + Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke:<br /> + “Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke<br /> + Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.<br /> + A foreign son upon thy shore descends,<br /> + Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.<br /> + His race, in arms and arts of peace renown’d,<br /> + Not Latium shall contain, nor Europe bound:<br /> + ’Tis theirs whate’er the sun surveys around.”<br /> + These answers, in the silent night receiv’d,<br /> + The king himself divulg’d, the land believ’d:<br /> + The fame thro’ all the neighb’ring nations flew,<br /> + When now the Trojan navy was in view.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread<br /> + His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;<br /> + And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.<br /> + They sate; and, (not without the god’s command,)<br /> + Their homely fare dispatch’d, the hungry band<br /> + Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,<br /> + To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.<br /> + Ascanius this observ’d, and smiling said:<br /> + “See, we devour the plates on which we fed.”<br /> + The speech had omen, that the Trojan race<br /> + Should find repose, and this the time and place.<br /> + Aeneas took the word, and thus replies,<br /> + Confessing fate with wonder in his eyes:<br /> + “All hail, O earth! all hail, my household gods!<br /> + Behold the destin’d place of your abodes!<br /> + For thus Anchises prophesied of old,<br /> + And this our fatal place of rest foretold:<br /> + ‘When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,<br /> + By famine forc’d, your trenchers you shall eat,<br /> + Then ease your weary Trojans will attend,<br /> + And the long labours of your voyage end.<br /> + Remember on that happy coast to build,<br /> + And with a trench inclose the fruitful field.’<br /> + This was that famine, this the fatal place<br /> + Which ends the wand’ring of our exil’d race.<br /> + Then, on tomorrow’s dawn, your care employ,<br /> + To search the land, and where the cities lie,<br /> + And what the men; but give this day to joy.<br /> + Now pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest,<br /> + Call great Anchises to the genial feast:<br /> + Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;<br /> + Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, the hero bound his brows<br /> + With leafy branches, then perform’d his vows;<br /> + Adoring first the genius of the place,<br /> + Then Earth, the mother of the heav’nly race,<br /> + The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown,<br /> + And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne,<br /> + And ancient Cybel, and Idaean Jove,<br /> + And last his sire below, and mother queen above.<br /> + Then heav’n’s high monarch thunder’d thrice aloud,<br /> + And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.<br /> + Soon thro’ the joyful camp a rumour flew,<br /> + The time was come their city to renew.<br /> + Then ev’ry brow with cheerful green is crown’d,<br /> + The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When next the rosy morn disclos’d the day,<br /> + The scouts to sev’ral parts divide their way,<br /> + To learn the natives’ names, their towns explore,<br /> + The coasts and trendings of the crooked shore:<br /> + Here Tiber flows, and here Numicus stands;<br /> + Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.<br /> + The pious chief, who sought by peaceful ways<br /> + To found his empire, and his town to raise,<br /> + A hundred youths from all his train selects,<br /> + And to the Latian court their course directs,<br /> + (The spacious palace where their prince resides,)<br /> + And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides.<br /> + They go commission’d to require a peace,<br /> + And carry presents to procure access.<br /> + Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs<br /> + His new-elected seat, and draws the lines.<br /> + The Trojans round the place a rampire cast,<br /> + And palisades about the trenches plac’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,<br /> + From far the town and lofty tow’rs survey;<br /> + At length approach the walls. Without the gate,<br /> + They see the boys and Latian youth debate<br /> + The martial prizes on the dusty plain:<br /> + Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein;<br /> + Some bend the stubborn bow for victory,<br /> + And some with darts their active sinews try.<br /> + A posting messenger, dispatch’d from hence,<br /> + Of this fair troop advis’d their aged prince,<br /> + That foreign men of mighty stature came;<br /> + Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name.<br /> + The king ordains their entrance, and ascends<br /> + His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,<br /> + Supported by a hundred pillars stood,<br /> + And round incompass’d with a rising wood.<br /> + The pile o’erlook’d the town, and drew the sight;<br /> + Surpris’d at once with reverence and delight.<br /> + There kings receiv’d the marks of sov’reign pow’r;<br /> + In state the monarchs march’d; the lictors bore<br /> + Their awful axes and the rods before.<br /> + Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray’r,<br /> + And here the sacred senators repair;<br /> + All at large tables, in long order set,<br /> + A ram their off’ring, and a ram their meat.<br /> + Above the portal, carv’d in cedar wood,<br /> + Plac’d in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood;<br /> + Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;<br /> + And Italus, that led the colony;<br /> + And ancient Janus, with his double face,<br /> + And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.<br /> + There good Sabinus, planter of the vines,<br /> + On a short pruning hook his head reclines,<br /> + And studiously surveys his gen’rous wines;<br /> + Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,<br /> + And honourable wounds from battle brought.<br /> + Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears,<br /> + And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,<br /> + And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.<br /> + Above the rest, as chief of all the band,<br /> + Was Picus plac’d, a buckler in his hand;<br /> + His other wav’d a long divining wand.<br /> + Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate,<br /> + Yet could not with his art avoid his fate:<br /> + For Circe long had lov’d the youth in vain,<br /> + Till love, refus’d, converted to disdain:<br /> + Then, mixing pow’rful herbs, with magic art,<br /> + She chang’d his form, who could not change his heart;<br /> + Constrain’d him in a bird, and made him fly,<br /> + With party-colour’d plumes, a chatt’ring pie.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In this high temple, on a chair of state,<br /> + The seat of audience, old Latinus sate;<br /> + Then gave admission to the Trojan train;<br /> + And thus with pleasing accents he began:<br /> + “Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own,<br /> + Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown;<br /> + Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:<br /> + Were you by stress of weather cast aground?<br /> + Such dangers as on seas are often seen,<br /> + And oft befall to miserable men,<br /> + Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay,<br /> + Spent and disabled in so long a way?<br /> + Say what you want: the Latians you shall find<br /> + Not forc’d to goodness, but by will inclin’d;<br /> + For, since the time of Saturn’s holy reign,<br /> + His hospitable customs we retain.<br /> + I call to mind (but time the tale has worn)<br /> + Th’ Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho’ born<br /> + On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,<br /> + And Samothracia, Samos call’d before.<br /> + From Tuscan Coritum he claim’d his birth;<br /> + But after, when exempt from mortal earth,<br /> + From thence ascended to his kindred skies,<br /> + A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said. Ilioneus made this reply:<br /> + “O king, of Faunus’ royal family!<br /> + Nor wintry winds to Latium forc’d our way,<br /> + Nor did the stars our wand’ring course betray.<br /> + Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound,<br /> + The port, so long desir’d, at length we found;<br /> + From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell’d;<br /> + Great as the greatest that the sun beheld.<br /> + The god began our line, who rules above;<br /> + And, as our race, our king descends from Jove:<br /> + And hither are we come, by his command,<br /> + To crave admission in your happy land.<br /> + How dire a tempest, from Mycenae pour’d,<br /> + Our plains, our temples, and our town devour’d;<br /> + What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms<br /> + Shook Asia’s crown with European arms;<br /> + Ev’n such have heard, if any such there be,<br /> + Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea;<br /> + And such as, born beneath the burning sky<br /> + And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie.<br /> + From that dire deluge, thro’ the wat’ry waste,<br /> + Such length of years, such various perils past,<br /> + At last escap’d, to Latium we repair,<br /> + To beg what you without your want may spare:<br /> + The common water, and the common air;<br /> + Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,<br /> + Fit to receive and serve our banish’d gods.<br /> + Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,<br /> + Nor length of time our gratitude efface.<br /> + Besides, what endless honour you shall gain,<br /> + To save and shelter Troy’s unhappy train!<br /> + Now, by my sov’reign, and his fate, I swear,<br /> + Renown’d for faith in peace, for force in war;<br /> + Oft our alliance other lands desir’d,<br /> + And, what we seek of you, of us requir’d.<br /> + Despite not then, that in our hands we bear<br /> + These holy boughs, and sue with words of pray’r.<br /> + Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,<br /> + Have doom’d our ships to seek the Latian land.<br /> + To these abodes our fleet Apollo sends;<br /> + Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends;<br /> + Where Tuscan Tiber rolls with rapid force,<br /> + And where Numicus opes his holy source.<br /> + Besides, our prince presents, with his request,<br /> + Some small remains of what his sire possess’d.<br /> + This golden charger, snatch’d from burning Troy,<br /> + Anchises did in sacrifice employ;<br /> + This royal robe and this tiara wore<br /> + Old Priam, and this golden scepter bore<br /> + In full assemblies, and in solemn games;<br /> + These purple vests were weav’d by Dardan dames.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll’d around<br /> + His eyes, and fix’d a while upon the ground.<br /> + Intent he seem’d, and anxious in his breast;<br /> + Not by the scepter mov’d, or kingly vest,<br /> + But pond’ring future things of wondrous weight;<br /> + Succession, empire, and his daughter’s fate.<br /> + On these he mus’d within his thoughtful mind,<br /> + And then revolv’d what Faunus had divin’d.<br /> + This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed<br /> + To share his scepter, and Lavinia’s bed;<br /> + This was the race that sure portents foreshew<br /> + To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.<br /> + At length he rais’d his cheerful head, and spoke:<br /> + “The pow’rs,” said he, “the pow’rs we both invoke,<br /> + To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,<br /> + And firm our purpose with their augury!<br /> + Have what you ask; your presents I receive;<br /> + Land, where and when you please, with ample leave;<br /> + Partake and use my kingdom as your own;<br /> + All shall be yours, while I command the crown:<br /> + And, if my wish’d alliance please your king,<br /> + Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring.<br /> + Then let him not a friend’s embraces fear;<br /> + The peace is made when I behold him here.<br /> + Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,<br /> + I add to his commands my own request:<br /> + One only daughter heirs my crown and state,<br /> + Whom not our oracles, nor Heav’n, nor fate,<br /> + Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join<br /> + With any native of th’ Ausonian line.<br /> + A foreign son-in-law shall come from far<br /> + (Such is our doom), a chief renown’d in war,<br /> + Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,<br /> + And thro’ the conquer’d world diffuse our fame.<br /> + Himself to be the man the fates require,<br /> + I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and then on each bestow’d a steed.<br /> + Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,<br /> + Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress’d:<br /> + Of these he chose the fairest and the best,<br /> + To mount the Trojan troop. At his command<br /> + The steeds caparison’d with purple stand,<br /> + With golden trappings, glorious to behold,<br /> + And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.<br /> + Then to his absent guest the king decreed<br /> + A pair of coursers born of heav’nly breed,<br /> + Who from their nostrils breath’d ethereal fire;<br /> + Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire,<br /> + By substituting mares produc’d on earth,<br /> + Whose wombs conceiv’d a more than mortal birth.<br /> + These draw the chariot which Latinus sends,<br /> + And the rich present to the prince commends.<br /> + Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,<br /> + To their expecting lord with peace return.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But jealous Juno, from Pachynus’ height,<br /> + As she from Argos took her airy flight,<br /> + Beheld with envious eyes this hateful sight.<br /> + She saw the Trojan and his joyful train<br /> + Descend upon the shore, desert the main,<br /> + Design a town, and, with unhop’d success,<br /> + Th’ embassadors return with promis’d peace.<br /> + Then, pierc’d with pain, she shook her haughty head,<br /> + Sigh’d from her inward soul, and thus she said:<br /> + “O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!<br /> + O fates of Troy, which Juno’s fates oppose!<br /> + Could they not fall unpitied on the plain,<br /> + But slain revive, and, taken, scape again?<br /> + When execrable Troy in ashes lay,<br /> + Thro’ fires and swords and seas they forc’d their way.<br /> + Then vanquish’d Juno must in vain contend,<br /> + Her rage disarm’d, her empire at an end.<br /> + Breathless and tir’d, is all my fury spent?<br /> + Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?<br /> + As if ’twere little from their town to chase,<br /> + I thro’ the seas pursued their exil’d race;<br /> + Ingag’d the heav’ns, oppos’d the stormy main;<br /> + But billows roar’d, and tempests rag’d in vain.<br /> + What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,<br /> + When these they overpass, and those they shun?<br /> + On Tiber’s shores they land, secure of fate,<br /> + Triumphant o’er the storms and Juno’s hate.<br /> + Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe,<br /> + And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia’s wrath,<br /> + Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon;<br /> + What great offence had either people done?<br /> + But I, the consort of the Thunderer,<br /> + Have wag’d a long and unsuccessful war,<br /> + With various arts and arms in vain have toil’d,<br /> + And by a mortal man at length am foil’d.<br /> + If native pow’r prevail not, shall I doubt<br /> + To seek for needful succour from without?<br /> + If Jove and Heav’n my just desires deny,<br /> + Hell shall the pow’r of Heav’n and Jove supply.<br /> + Grant that the Fates have firm’d, by their decree,<br /> + The Trojan race to reign in Italy;<br /> + At least I can defer the nuptial day,<br /> + And with protracted wars the peace delay:<br /> + With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,<br /> + And both the people near destruction brought;<br /> + So shall the son-in-law and father join,<br /> + With ruin, war, and waste of either line.<br /> + O fatal maid, thy marriage is endow’d<br /> + With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood!<br /> + Bellona leads thee to thy lover’s hand;<br /> + Another queen brings forth another brand,<br /> + To burn with foreign fires another land!<br /> + A second Paris, diff’ring but in name,<br /> + Shall fire his country with a second flame.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,<br /> + With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,<br /> + To rouse Alecto from th’ infernal seat<br /> + Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat.<br /> + This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose;<br /> + One who delights in wars and human woes.<br /> + Ev’n Pluto hates his own misshapen race;<br /> + Her sister Furies fly her hideous face;<br /> + So frightful are the forms the monster takes,<br /> + So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.<br /> + Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite:<br /> + “O virgin daughter of eternal Night,<br /> + Give me this once thy labour, to sustain<br /> + My right, and execute my just disdain.<br /> + Let not the Trojans, with a feign’d pretence<br /> + Of proffer’d peace, delude the Latian prince.<br /> + Expel from Italy that odious name,<br /> + And let not Juno suffer in her fame.<br /> + ’Tis thine to ruin realms, o’erturn a state,<br /> + Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,<br /> + And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.<br /> + Thy hand o’er towns the fun’ral torch displays,<br /> + And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.<br /> + Now shake, out thy fruitful breast, the seeds<br /> + Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds:<br /> + Confound the peace establish’d, and prepare<br /> + Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Smear’d as she was with black Gorgonian blood,<br /> + The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood;<br /> + And on her wicker wings, sublime thro’ night,<br /> + She to the Latian palace took her flight:<br /> + There sought the queen’s apartment, stood before<br /> + The peaceful threshold, and besieg’d the door.<br /> + Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast<br /> + Fir’d with disdain for Turnus dispossess’d,<br /> + And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.<br /> + From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes<br /> + Her darling plague, the fav’rite of her snakes;<br /> + With her full force she threw the poisonous dart,<br /> + And fix’d it deep within Amata’s heart,<br /> + That, thus envenom’d, she might kindle rage,<br /> + And sacrifice to strife her house and husband’s age.<br /> + Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims<br /> + Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs;<br /> + His baleful breath inspiring, as he glides,<br /> + Now like a chain around her neck he rides,<br /> + Now like a fillet to her head repairs,<br /> + And with his circling volumes folds her hairs.<br /> + At first the silent venom slid with ease,<br /> + And seiz’d her cooler senses by degrees;<br /> + Then, ere th’ infected mass was fir’d too far,<br /> + In plaintive accents she began the war,<br /> + And thus bespoke her husband: “Shall,” she said,<br /> + “A wand’ring prince enjoy Lavinia’s bed?<br /> + If nature plead not in a parent’s heart,<br /> + Pity my tears, and pity her desert.<br /> + I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,<br /> + You’d in vain, reverse your cruel doom;<br /> + The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,<br /> + And bear the royal virgin far away!<br /> + A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,<br /> + In shew of friendship sought the Spartan shore,<br /> + And ravish’d Helen from her husband bore.<br /> + Think on a king’s inviolable word;<br /> + And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord:<br /> + To this false foreigner you give your throne,<br /> + And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.<br /> + Resume your ancient care; and, if the god<br /> + Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,<br /> + Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,<br /> + Not born your subjects, or deriv’d from hence.<br /> + Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace,<br /> + He springs from Inachus of Argive race.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But when she saw her reasons idly spent,<br /> + And could not move him from his fix’d intent,<br /> + She flew to rage; for now the snake possess’d<br /> + Her vital parts, and poison’d all her breast;<br /> + She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,<br /> + And fills with horrid howls the public place.<br /> + And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,<br /> + On the smooth pavement of an empty court;<br /> + The wooden engine flies and whirls about,<br /> + Admir’d, with clamours, of the beardless rout;<br /> + They lash aloud; each other they provoke,<br /> + And lend their little souls at ev’ry stroke:<br /> + Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows<br /> + Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.<br /> + Nor yet content, she strains her malice more,<br /> + And adds new ills to those contriv’d before:<br /> + She flies the town, and, mixing with a throng<br /> + Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,<br /> + Wand’ring thro’ woods and wilds, and devious ways,<br /> + And with these arts the Trojan match delays.<br /> + She feign’d the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud,<br /> + And to the buxom god the virgin vow’d.<br /> + “Evoe! O Bacchus!” thus began the song;<br /> + And “Evoe!” answer’d all the female throng.<br /> + “O virgin! worthy thee alone!” she cried;<br /> + “O worthy thee alone!” the crew replied.<br /> + “For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,<br /> + And with thy winding ivy wreathes her lance.”<br /> + Like fury seiz’d the rest; the progress known,<br /> + All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:<br /> + All, clad in skins of beasts, the jav’lin bear,<br /> + Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair,<br /> + And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff’ring air.<br /> + The queen herself, inspir’d with rage divine,<br /> + Shook high above her head a flaming pine;<br /> + Then roll’d her haggard eyes around the throng,<br /> + And sung, in Turnus’ name, the nuptial song:<br /> + “Io, ye Latian dames! if any here<br /> + Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear;<br /> + If there be here,” she said, “who dare maintain<br /> + My right, nor think the name of mother vain;<br /> + Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair,<br /> + And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amata’s breast the Fury thus invades,<br /> + And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades;<br /> + Then, when she found her venom spread so far,<br /> + The royal house embroil’d in civil war,<br /> + Rais’d on her dusky wings, she cleaves the skies,<br /> + And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies.<br /> + His town, as fame reports, was built of old<br /> + By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,<br /> + Who fled her father’s rage, and, with a train<br /> + Of following Argives, thro’ the stormy main,<br /> + Driv’n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.<br /> + ’Twas Ardua once; now Ardea’s name it bears;<br /> + Once a fair city, now consum’d with years.<br /> + Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay,<br /> + Betwixt the confines of the night and day,<br /> + Secure in sleep. The Fury laid aside<br /> + Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried<br /> + The foulness of th’ infernal form to hide.<br /> + Propp’d on a staff, she takes a trembling mien:<br /> + Her face is furrow’d, and her front obscene;<br /> + Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheek she draws;<br /> + Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws;<br /> + Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound,<br /> + Her temples with an olive wreath are crown’d.<br /> + Old Chalybe, who kept the sacred fane<br /> + Of Juno, now she seem’d, and thus began,<br /> + Appearing in a dream, to rouse the careless man:<br /> + “Shall Turnus then such endless toil sustain<br /> + In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain?<br /> + Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize,<br /> + Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?<br /> + The bride and scepter which thy blood has bought,<br /> + The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought.<br /> + Go now, deluded man, and seek again<br /> + New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain.<br /> + Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize;<br /> + Protect the Latians in luxurious ease.<br /> + This dream all-pow’rful Juno sends; I bear<br /> + Her mighty mandates, and her words you hear.<br /> + Haste; arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;<br /> + With fate to friend, assault the Trojan train:<br /> + Their thoughtless chiefs, their painted ships, that lie<br /> + In Tiber’s mouth, with fire and sword destroy.<br /> + The Latian king, unless he shall submit,<br /> + Own his old promise, and his new forget;<br /> + Let him, in arms, the pow’r of Turnus prove,<br /> + And learn to fear whom he disdains to love.<br /> + For such is Heav’n’s command.” The youthful prince<br /> + With scorn replied, and made this bold defence:<br /> + “You tell me, mother, what I knew before:<br /> + The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore.<br /> + I neither fear nor will provoke the war;<br /> + My fate is Juno’s most peculiar care.<br /> + But time has made you dote, and vainly tell<br /> + Of arms imagin’d in your lonely cell.<br /> + Go; be the temple and the gods your care;<br /> + Permit to men the thought of peace and war.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + These haughty words Alecto’s rage provoke,<br /> + And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke.<br /> + Her eyes grow stiffen’d, and with sulphur burn;<br /> + Her hideous looks and hellish form return;<br /> + Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place,<br /> + And open all the furies of her face:<br /> + Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,<br /> + She cast him backward as he strove to rise,<br /> + And, ling’ring, sought to frame some new replies.<br /> + High on her head she rears two twisted snakes,<br /> + Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;<br /> + And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:<br /> + “Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell<br /> + Of arms imagin’d in her lonely cell!<br /> + Behold the Fates’ infernal minister!<br /> + War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, her smould’ring torch, impress’d<br /> + With her full force, she plung’d into his breast.<br /> + Aghast he wak’d; and, starting from his bed,<br /> + Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o’erspread.<br /> + “Arms! arms!” he cries: “my sword and shield prepare!”<br /> + He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war.<br /> + So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,<br /> + The bubbling waters from the bottom rise:<br /> + Above the brims they force their fiery way;<br /> + Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The peace polluted thus, a chosen band<br /> + He first commissions to the Latian land,<br /> + In threat’ning embassy; then rais’d the rest,<br /> + To meet in arms th’ intruding Trojan guest,<br /> + To force the foes from the Lavinian shore,<br /> + And Italy’s indanger’d peace restore.<br /> + Himself alone an equal match he boasts,<br /> + To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts.<br /> + The gods invok’d, the Rutuli prepare<br /> + Their arms, and warn each other to the war.<br /> + His beauty these, and those his blooming age,<br /> + The rest his house and his own fame engage.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,<br /> + The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies;<br /> + New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,<br /> + Which overlooks the vale with wide command;<br /> + Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train,<br /> + With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,<br /> + And pitch their toils around the shady plain.<br /> + The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent,<br /> + And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent.<br /> + ’Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise<br /> + High o’er his front; his beams invade the skies.<br /> + From this light cause th’ infernal maid prepares<br /> + The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The stately beast the two Tyrrhidae bred,<br /> + Snatch’d from his dams, and the tame youngling fed.<br /> + Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring,<br /> + Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king:<br /> + Their sister Silvia cherish’d with her care<br /> + The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare<br /> + To hang his budding horns, with ribbons tied<br /> + His tender neck, and comb’d his silken hide,<br /> + And bathed his body. Patient of command<br /> + In time he grew, and, growing us’d to hand,<br /> + He waited at his master’s board for food;<br /> + Then sought his salvage kindred in the wood,<br /> + Where grazing all the day, at night he came<br /> + To his known lodgings, and his country dame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This household beast, that us’d the woodland grounds,<br /> + Was view’d at first by the young hero’s hounds,<br /> + As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat<br /> + In the cool waters, and to quench his heat.<br /> + Ascanius young, and eager of his game,<br /> + Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim;<br /> + But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides,<br /> + Which pierc’d his bowels thro’ his panting sides.<br /> + The bleeding creature issues from the floods,<br /> + Possess’d with fear, and seeks his known abodes,<br /> + His old familiar hearth and household gods.<br /> + He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,<br /> + Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans.<br /> + Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud<br /> + For succour from the clownish neighbourhood:<br /> + The churls assemble; for the fiend, who lay<br /> + In the close woody covert, urg’d their way.<br /> + One with a brand yet burning from the flame,<br /> + Arm’d with a knotty club another came:<br /> + Whate’er they catch or find, without their care,<br /> + Their fury makes an instrument of war.<br /> + Tyrrheus, the foster father of the beast,<br /> + Then clench’d a hatchet in his horny fist,<br /> + But held his hand from the descending stroke,<br /> + And left his wedge within the cloven oak,<br /> + To whet their courage and their rage provoke.<br /> + And now the goddess, exercis’d in ill,<br /> + Who watch’d an hour to work her impious will,<br /> + Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn,<br /> + Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne,<br /> + Adds all her breath: the rocks and woods around,<br /> + And mountains, tremble at th’ infernal sound.<br /> + The sacred lake of Trivia from afar,<br /> + The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar,<br /> + Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war.<br /> + Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess’d,<br /> + And strain their helpless infants to their breast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The clowns, a boist’rous, rude, ungovern’d crew,<br /> + With furious haste to the loud summons flew.<br /> + The pow’rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain,<br /> + With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain:<br /> + Not theirs a raw and unexperienc’d train,<br /> + But a firm body of embattled men.<br /> + At first, while fortune favour’d neither side,<br /> + The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;<br /> + But now, both parties reinforc’d, the fields<br /> + Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields.<br /> + A shining harvest either host displays,<br /> + And shoots against the sun with equal rays.<br /> + Thus, when a black-brow’d gust begins to rise,<br /> + White foam at first on the curl’d ocean fries;<br /> + Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies;<br /> + Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,<br /> + The muddy bottom o’er the clouds is thrown.<br /> + First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus’ eldest care,<br /> + Pierc’d with an arrow from the distant war:<br /> + Fix’d in his throat the flying weapon stood,<br /> + And stopp’d his breath, and drank his vital blood<br /> + Huge heaps of slain around the body rise:<br /> + Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;<br /> + A good old man, while peace he preach’d in vain,<br /> + Amidst the madness of th’ unruly train:<br /> + Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill’d;<br /> + His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood<br /> + The Fury bath’d them in each other’s blood;<br /> + Then, having fix’d the fight, exulting flies,<br /> + And bears fulfill’d her promise to the skies.<br /> + To Juno thus she speaks: “Behold! It is done,<br /> + The blood already drawn, the war begun;<br /> + The discord is complete; nor can they cease<br /> + The dire debate, nor you command the peace.<br /> + Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood<br /> + Have tasted vengeance and the sweets of blood;<br /> + Speak, and my pow’r shall add this office more:<br /> + The neighbr’ing nations of th’ Ausonian shore<br /> + Shall hear the dreadful rumour, from afar,<br /> + Of arm’d invasion, and embrace the war.”<br /> + Then Juno thus: “The grateful work is done,<br /> + The seeds of discord sow’d, the war begun;<br /> + Frauds, fears, and fury have possess’d the state,<br /> + And fix’d the causes of a lasting hate.<br /> + A bloody Hymen shall th’ alliance join<br /> + Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line:<br /> + But thou with speed to night and hell repair;<br /> + For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear<br /> + Thy lawless wand’ring walks in upper air.<br /> + Leave what remains to me.” Saturnia said:<br /> + The sullen fiend her sounding wings display’d,<br /> + Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In midst of Italy, well known to fame,<br /> + There lies a lake, Amsanctus is the name,<br /> + Below the lofty mounts: on either side<br /> + Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.<br /> + Full in the centre of the sacred wood<br /> + An arm arises of the Stygian flood,<br /> + Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,<br /> + Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around.<br /> + Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell,<br /> + And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell.<br /> + To this infernal lake the Fury flies;<br /> + Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab’ring skies.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Saturnian Juno now, with double care,<br /> + Attends the fatal process of the war.<br /> + The clowns, return’d, from battle bear the slain,<br /> + Implore the gods, and to their king complain.<br /> + The corps of Almon and the rest are shown;<br /> + Shrieks, clamours, murmurs, fill the frighted town.<br /> + Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,<br /> + And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears;<br /> + Proclaims his private injuries aloud,<br /> + A solemn promise made, and disavow’d;<br /> + A foreign son is sought, and a mix’d mungril brood.<br /> + Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear,<br /> + In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear,<br /> + And lead his dances with dishevel’d hair,<br /> + Increase the clamour, and the war demand,<br /> + (Such was Amata’s int’rest in the land,)<br /> + Against the public sanctions of the peace,<br /> + Against all omens of their ill success.<br /> + With fates averse, the rout in arms resort,<br /> + To force their monarch, and insult the court.<br /> + But, like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves<br /> + The raging tempest and the rising waves,<br /> + Propp’d on himself he stands; his solid sides<br /> + Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides:<br /> + So stood the pious prince, unmov’d, and long<br /> + Sustain’d the madness of the noisy throng.<br /> + But, when he found that Juno’s pow’r prevail’d,<br /> + And all the methods of cool counsel fail’d,<br /> + He calls the gods to witness their offence,<br /> + Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.<br /> + “Hurried by fate,” he cries, “and borne before<br /> + A furious wind, we have the faithful shore.<br /> + O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear<br /> + The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:<br /> + Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate,<br /> + And pray to Heav’n for peace, but pray too late.<br /> + For me, my stormy voyage at an end,<br /> + I to the port of death securely tend.<br /> + The fun’ral pomp which to your kings you pay,<br /> + Is all I want, and all you take away.”<br /> + He said no more, but, in his walls confin’d,<br /> + Shut out the woes which he too well divin’d<br /> + Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,<br /> + But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A solemn custom was observ’d of old,<br /> + Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold,<br /> + Their standard when in fighting fields they rear<br /> + Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare<br /> + The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war;<br /> + Or from the boasting Parthians would regain<br /> + Their eagles, lost in Carrhae’s bloody plain.<br /> + Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear,<br /> + And still are worship’d with religious fear)<br /> + Before his temple stand: the dire abode,<br /> + And the fear’d issues of the furious god,<br /> + Are fenc’d with brazen bolts; without the gates,<br /> + The wary guardian Janus doubly waits.<br /> + Then, when the sacred senate votes the wars,<br /> + The Roman consul their decree declares,<br /> + And in his robes the sounding gates unbars.<br /> + The youth in military shouts arise,<br /> + And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies.<br /> + These rites, of old by sov’reign princes us’d,<br /> + Were the king’s office; but the king refus’d,<br /> + Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar<br /> + Of sacred peace, or loose th’ imprison’d war;<br /> + But hid his head, and, safe from loud alarms,<br /> + Abhorr’d the wicked ministry of arms.<br /> + Then heav’n’s imperious queen shot down from high:<br /> + At her approach the brazen hinges fly;<br /> + The gates are forc’d, and ev’ry falling bar;<br /> + And, like a tempest, issues out the war.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The peaceful cities of th’ Ausonian shore,<br /> + Lull’d in their ease, and undisturb’d before,<br /> + Are all on fire; and some, with studious care,<br /> + Their restiff steeds in sandy plains prepare;<br /> + Some their soft limbs in painful marches try,<br /> + And war is all their wish, and arms the gen’ral cry.<br /> + Part scour the rusty shields with seam; and part<br /> + New grind the blunted ax, and point the dart:<br /> + With joy they view the waving ensigns fly,<br /> + And hear the trumpet’s clangour pierce the sky.<br /> + Five cities forge their arms: th’ Atinian pow’rs,<br /> + Antemnae, Tibur with her lofty tow’rs,<br /> + Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town:<br /> + All these of old were places of renown.<br /> + Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;<br /> + Some twine young sallows to support the shield;<br /> + The croslet some, and some the cuishes mould,<br /> + With silver plated, and with ductile gold.<br /> + The rustic honours of the scythe and share<br /> + Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war.<br /> + Old falchions are new temper’d in the fires;<br /> + The sounding trumpet ev’ry soul inspires.<br /> + The word is giv’n; with eager speed they lace<br /> + The shining headpiece, and the shield embrace.<br /> + The neighing steeds are to the chariot tied;<br /> + The trusty weapon sits on ev’ry side.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now the mighty labour is begun<br /> + Ye Muses, open all your Helicon.<br /> + Sing you the chiefs that sway’d th’ Ausonian land,<br /> + Their arms, and armies under their command;<br /> + What warriors in our ancient clime were bred;<br /> + What soldiers follow’d, and what heroes led.<br /> + For well you know, and can record alone,<br /> + What fame to future times conveys but darkly down.<br /> + Mezentius first appear’d upon the plain:<br /> + Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain,<br /> + Defying earth and heav’n. Etruria lost,<br /> + He brings to Turnus’ aid his baffled host.<br /> + The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,<br /> + Rode in the rank, and next his sullen sire;<br /> + To Turnus only second in the grace<br /> + Of manly mien, and features of the face.<br /> + A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred,<br /> + With fates averse a thousand men he led:<br /> + His sire unworthy of so brave a son;<br /> + Himself well worthy of a happier throne.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Next Aventinus drives his chariot round<br /> + The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown’d.<br /> + Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field;<br /> + His father’s hydra fills his ample shield:<br /> + A hundred serpents hiss about the brims;<br /> + The son of Hercules he justly seems<br /> + By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs;<br /> + Of heav’nly part, and part of earthly blood,<br /> + A mortal woman mixing with a god.<br /> + For strong Alcides, after he had slain<br /> + The triple Geryon, drove from conquer’d Spain<br /> + His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led,<br /> + On Tuscan Tiber’s flow’ry banks they fed.<br /> + Then on Mount Aventine the son of Jove<br /> + The priestess Rhea found, and forc’d to love.<br /> + For arms, his men long piles and jav’lins bore;<br /> + And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.<br /> + Like Hercules himself his son appears,<br /> + In salvage pomp; a lion’s hide he wears;<br /> + About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin;<br /> + The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.<br /> + Thus, like the god his father, homely dress’d,<br /> + He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then two twin brothers from fair Tibur came,<br /> + (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,)<br /> + Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear:<br /> + Arm’d Argive horse they led, and in the front appear.<br /> + Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain’s height<br /> + With rapid course descending to the fight;<br /> + They rush along; the rattling woods give way;<br /> + The branches bend before their sweepy sway.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor was Praeneste’s founder wanting there,<br /> + Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber:<br /> + Found in the fire, and foster’d in the plains,<br /> + A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,<br /> + And leads to Turnus’ aid his country swains.<br /> + His own Praeneste sends a chosen band,<br /> + With those who plow Saturnia’s Gabine land;<br /> + Besides the succour which cold Anien yields,<br /> + The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields,<br /> + Anagnia fat, and Father Amasene—<br /> + A num’rous rout, but all of naked men:<br /> + Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield,<br /> + Nor drive the chariot thro’ the dusty field,<br /> + But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead,<br /> + And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head;<br /> + The left foot naked, when they march to fight,<br /> + But in a bull’s raw hide they sheathe the right.<br /> + Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,)<br /> + Secure of steel, and fated from the fire,<br /> + In pomp appears, and with his ardour warms<br /> + A heartless train, unexercis’d in arms:<br /> + The just Faliscans he to battle brings,<br /> + And those who live where Lake Ciminius springs;<br /> + And where Feronia’s grove and temple stands,<br /> + Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands.<br /> + All these in order march, and marching sing<br /> + The warlike actions of their sea-born king;<br /> + Like a long team of snowy swans on high,<br /> + Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky,<br /> + When, homeward from their wat’ry pastures borne,<br /> + They sing, and Asia’s lakes their notes return.<br /> + Not one who heard their music from afar,<br /> + Would think these troops an army train’d to war,<br /> + But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,<br /> + With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Clausus came, who led a num’rous band<br /> + Of troops embodied from the Sabine land,<br /> + And, in himself alone, an army brought.<br /> + ’Twas he, the noble Claudian race begot,<br /> + The Claudian race, ordain’d, in times to come,<br /> + To share the greatness of imperial Rome.<br /> + He led the Cures forth, of old renown,<br /> + Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,<br /> + And all th’ Eretian pow’rs; besides a band<br /> + That follow’d from Velinum’s dewy land,<br /> + And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame,<br /> + And mountaineers, that from Severus came,<br /> + And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,<br /> + And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,<br /> + And where Himella’s wanton waters play.<br /> + Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie<br /> + By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli:<br /> + The warlike aids of Horta next appear,<br /> + And the cold Nursians come to close the rear,<br /> + Mix’d with the natives born of Latine blood,<br /> + Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.<br /> + Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main,<br /> + When pale Orion sets in wintry rain;<br /> + Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,<br /> + Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,<br /> + Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around;<br /> + Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + High in his chariot then Halesus came,<br /> + A foe by birth to Troy’s unhappy name:<br /> + From Agamemnon born—to Turnus’ aid<br /> + A thousand men the youthful hero led,<br /> + Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown’d,<br /> + And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,<br /> + And those who live by Sidicinian shores,<br /> + And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars,<br /> + Cales’ and Osca’s old inhabitants,<br /> + And rough Saticulans, inur’d to wants:<br /> + Light demi-lances from afar they throw,<br /> + Fasten’d with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.<br /> + Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear;<br /> + And on their warding arm light bucklers bear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor Oebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,<br /> + From nymph Semethis and old Telon sprung,<br /> + Who then in Teleboan Capri reign’d;<br /> + But that short isle th’ ambitious youth disdain’d,<br /> + And o’er Campania stretch’d his ample sway,<br /> + Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea;<br /> + O’er Batulum, and where Abella sees,<br /> + From her high tow’rs, the harvest of her trees.<br /> + And these (as was the Teuton use of old)<br /> + Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold;<br /> + Sling weighty stones, when from afar they fight;<br /> + Their casques are cork, a covering thick and light.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,<br /> + And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent.<br /> + The rude Equicolae his rule obey’d;<br /> + Hunting their sport, and plund’ring was their trade.<br /> + In arms they plow’d, to battle still prepar’d:<br /> + Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Umbro the priest the proud Marrubians led,<br /> + By King Archippus sent to Turnus’ aid,<br /> + And peaceful olives crown’d his hoary head.<br /> + His wand and holy words, the viper’s rage,<br /> + And venom’d wounds of serpents could assuage.<br /> + He, when he pleas’d with powerful juice to steep<br /> + Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep.<br /> + But vain were Marsian herbs, and magic art,<br /> + To cure the wound giv’n by the Dardan dart:<br /> + Yet his untimely fate th’ Angitian woods<br /> + In sighs remurmur’d to the Fucine floods.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The son of fam’d Hippolytus was there,<br /> + Fam’d as his sire, and, as his mother, fair;<br /> + Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,<br /> + And nurs’d his youth along the marshy shore,<br /> + Where great Diana’s peaceful altars flame,<br /> + In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name.<br /> + Hippolytus, as old records have said,<br /> + Was by his stepdam sought to share her bed;<br /> + But, when no female arts his mind could move,<br /> + She turn’d to furious hate her impious love.<br /> + Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore,<br /> + Another’s crimes th’ unhappy hunter bore,<br /> + Glutting his father’s eyes with guiltless gore.<br /> + But chaste Diana, who his death deplor’d,<br /> + With Aesculapian herbs his life restor’d.<br /> + Then Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain,<br /> + The dead inspir’d with vital breath again,<br /> + Struck to the centre, with his flaming dart,<br /> + Th’ unhappy founder of the godlike art.<br /> + But Trivia kept in secret shades alone<br /> + Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown;<br /> + And call’d him Virbius in th’ Egerian grove,<br /> + Where then he liv’d obscure, but safe from Jove.<br /> + For this, from Trivia’s temple and her wood<br /> + Are coursers driv’n, who shed their master’s blood,<br /> + Affrighted by the monsters of the flood.<br /> + His son, the second Virbius, yet retain’d<br /> + His father’s art, and warrior steeds he rein’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amid the troops, and like the leading god,<br /> + High o’er the rest in arms the graceful Turnus rode:<br /> + A triple of plumes his crest adorn’d,<br /> + On which with belching flames Chimaera burn’d:<br /> + The more the kindled combat rises high’r,<br /> + The more with fury burns the blazing fire.<br /> + Fair Io grac’d his shield; but Io now<br /> + With horns exalted stands, and seems to low—<br /> + A noble charge! Her keeper by her side,<br /> + To watch her walks, his hundred eyes applied;<br /> + And on the brims her sire, the wat’ry god,<br /> + Roll’d from a silver urn his crystal flood.<br /> + A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields<br /> + With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt’ring shields;<br /> + Of Argives, and of old Sicanian bands,<br /> + And those who plow the rich Rutulian lands;<br /> + Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,<br /> + And the proud Labicans, with painted shields,<br /> + And those who near Numician streams reside,<br /> + And those whom Tiber’s holy forests hide,<br /> + Or Circe’s hills from the main land divide;<br /> + Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands,<br /> + Or the black water of Pomptina stands.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Last, from the Volscians fair Camilla came,<br /> + And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame;<br /> + Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill’d,<br /> + She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.<br /> + Mix’d with the first, the fierce Virago fought,<br /> + Sustain’d the toils of arms, the danger sought,<br /> + Outstripp’d the winds in speed upon the plain,<br /> + Flew o’er the fields, nor hurt the bearded grain:<br /> + She swept the seas, and, as she skimm’d along,<br /> + Her flying feet unbath’d on billows hung.<br /> + Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise,<br /> + Where’er she passes, fix their wond’ring eyes:<br /> + Longing they look, and, gaping at the sight,<br /> + Devour her o’er and o’er with vast delight;<br /> + Her purple habit sits with such a grace<br /> + On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;<br /> + Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown’d,<br /> + And in a golden caul the curls are bound.<br /> + She shakes her myrtle jav’lin; and, behind,<br /> + Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>BOOK VIII</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + The war being now begun, both the generals make all possible preparations. + Turnus sends to Diomedes. Aeneas goes in person to beg succours from Evander + and the Tuscans. Evander receives him kindly, furnishes him with men, and + sends his son Pallas with him. Vulcan, at the request of Venus, makes arms + for her son Aeneas, and draws on his shield the most memorable actions of + his posterity. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Turnus had assembled all his pow’rs,<br /> + His standard planted on Laurentum’s tow’rs;<br /> + When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar,<br /> + Had giv’n the signal of approaching war,<br /> + Had rous’d the neighing steeds to scour the fields,<br /> + While the fierce riders clatter’d on their shields;<br /> + Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare<br /> + To join th’ allies, and headlong rush to war.<br /> + Fierce Ufens, and Messapus, led the crowd,<br /> + With bold Mezentius, who blasphem’d aloud.<br /> + These thro’ the country took their wasteful course,<br /> + The fields to forage, and to gather force.<br /> + Then Venulus to Diomede they send,<br /> + To beg his aid Ausonia to defend,<br /> + Declare the common danger, and inform<br /> + The Grecian leader of the growing storm:<br /> + “Aeneas, landed on the Latian coast,<br /> + With banish’d gods, and with a baffled host,<br /> + Yet now aspir’d to conquest of the state,<br /> + And claim’d a title from the gods and fate;<br /> + What num’rous nations in his quarrel came,<br /> + And how they spread his formidable name.<br /> + What he design’d, what mischief might arise,<br /> + If fortune favour’d his first enterprise,<br /> + Was left for him to weigh, whose equal fears,<br /> + And common interest, was involv’d in theirs.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While Turnus and th’ allies thus urge the war,<br /> + The Trojan, floating in a flood of care,<br /> + Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare.<br /> + This way and that he turns his anxious mind;<br /> + Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design’d;<br /> + Explores himself in vain, in ev’ry part,<br /> + And gives no rest to his distracted heart.<br /> + So, when the sun by day, or moon by night,<br /> + Strike on the polish’d brass their trembling light,<br /> + The glitt’ring species here and there divide,<br /> + And cast their dubious beams from side to side;<br /> + Now on the walls, now on the pavement play,<br /> + And to the ceiling flash the glaring day.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + ’Twas night; and weary nature lull’d asleep<br /> + The birds of air, and fishes of the deep,<br /> + And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief<br /> + Was laid on Tiber’s banks, oppress’d with grief,<br /> + And found in silent slumber late relief.<br /> + Then, thro’ the shadows of the poplar wood,<br /> + Arose the father of the Roman flood;<br /> + An azure robe was o’er his body spread,<br /> + A wreath of shady reeds adorn’d his head:<br /> + Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear’d,<br /> + And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer’d:<br /> + “Undoubted offspring of ethereal race,<br /> + O long expected in this promis’d place!<br /> + Who thro’ the foes hast borne thy banish’d gods,<br /> + Restor’d them to their hearths, and old abodes;<br /> + This is thy happy home, the clime where fate<br /> + Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state.<br /> + Fear not! The war shall end in lasting peace,<br /> + And all the rage of haughty Juno cease.<br /> + And that this nightly vision may not seem<br /> + Th’ effect of fancy, or an idle dream,<br /> + A sow beneath an oak shall lie along,<br /> + All white herself, and white her thirty young.<br /> + When thirty rolling years have run their race,<br /> + Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space,<br /> + Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame,<br /> + Which from this omen shall receive the name.<br /> + Time shall approve the truth. For what remains,<br /> + And how with sure success to crown thy pains,<br /> + With patience next attend. A banish’d band,<br /> + Driv’n with Evander from th’ Arcadian land,<br /> + Have planted here, and plac’d on high their walls;<br /> + Their town the founder Pallanteum calls,<br /> + Deriv’d from Pallas, his great-grandsire’s name:<br /> + But the fierce Latians old possession claim,<br /> + With war infesting the new colony.<br /> + These make thy friends, and on their aid rely.<br /> + To thy free passage I submit my streams.<br /> + Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams;<br /> + And, when the setting stars are lost in day,<br /> + To Juno’s pow’r thy just devotion pay;<br /> + With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease:<br /> + Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease.<br /> + When thou return’st victorious from the war,<br /> + Perform thy vows to me with grateful care.<br /> + The god am I, whose yellow water flows<br /> + Around these fields, and fattens as it goes:<br /> + Tiber my name; among the rolling floods<br /> + Renown’d on earth, esteem’d among the gods.<br /> + This is my certain seat. In times to come,<br /> + My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and plung’d below. While yet he spoke,<br /> + His dream Aeneas and his sleep forsook.<br /> + He rose, and looking up, beheld the skies<br /> + With purple blushing, and the day arise.<br /> + Then water in his hollow palm he took<br /> + From Tiber’s flood, and thus the pow’rs bespoke:<br /> + “Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed,<br /> + And Father Tiber, in thy sacred bed<br /> + Receive Aeneas, and from danger keep.<br /> + Whatever fount, whatever holy deep,<br /> + Conceals thy wat’ry stores; where’er they rise,<br /> + And, bubbling from below, salute the skies;<br /> + Thou, king of horned floods, whose plenteous urn<br /> + Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn,<br /> + For this thy kind compassion of our woes,<br /> + Shalt share my morning song and ev’ning vows.<br /> + But, O be present to thy people’s aid,<br /> + And firm the gracious promise thou hast made!”<br /> + Thus having said, two galleys from his stores,<br /> + With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars.<br /> + Now on the shore the fatal swine is found.<br /> + Wond’rous to tell!—She lay along the ground:<br /> + Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung;<br /> + She white herself, and white her thirty young.<br /> + Aeneas takes the mother and her brood,<br /> + And all on Juno’s altar are bestow’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The foll’wing night, and the succeeding day,<br /> + Propitious Tiber smooth’d his wat’ry way:<br /> + He roll’d his river back, and pois’d he stood,<br /> + A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood.<br /> + The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore,<br /> + Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar.<br /> + Shouts from the land give omen to their course,<br /> + And the pitch’d vessels glide with easy force.<br /> + The woods and waters wonder at the gleam<br /> + Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream.<br /> + One summer’s night and one whole day they pass<br /> + Betwixt the greenwood shades, and cut the liquid glass.<br /> + The fiery sun had finish’d half his race,<br /> + Look’d back, and doubted in the middle space,<br /> + When they from far beheld the rising tow’rs,<br /> + The tops of sheds, and shepherds’ lowly bow’rs,<br /> + Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay,<br /> + Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway.<br /> + These cots (Evander’s kingdom, mean and poor)<br /> + The Trojan saw, and turn’d his ships to shore.<br /> + ’Twas on a solemn day: th’ Arcadian states,<br /> + The king and prince, without the city gates,<br /> + Then paid their off’rings in a sacred grove<br /> + To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove.<br /> + Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies,<br /> + And fat of entrails on his altar fries.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But, when they saw the ships that stemm’d the flood,<br /> + And glitter’d thro’ the covert of the wood,<br /> + They rose with fear, and left th’ unfinish’d feast,<br /> + Till dauntless Pallas reassur’d the rest<br /> + To pay the rites. Himself without delay<br /> + A jav’lin seiz’d, and singly took his way;<br /> + Then gain’d a rising ground, and call’d from far:<br /> + “Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are;<br /> + Your bus’ness here; and bring you peace or war?”<br /> + High on the stern Aeneas took his stand,<br /> + And held a branch of olive in his hand,<br /> + While thus he spoke: “The Phrygians’ arms you see,<br /> + Expell’d from Troy, provok’d in Italy<br /> + By Latian foes, with war unjustly made;<br /> + At first affianc’d, and at last betray’d.<br /> + This message bear: ‘The Trojans and their chief<br /> + Bring holy peace, and beg the king’s relief.’<br /> + Struck with so great a name, and all on fire,<br /> + The youth replies: “Whatever you require,<br /> + Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend.<br /> + A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend.”<br /> + He said, and, downward hasting to the strand,<br /> + Embrac’d the stranger prince, and join’d his hand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Conducted to the grove, Aeneas broke<br /> + The silence first, and thus the king bespoke:<br /> + “Best of the Greeks, to whom, by fate’s command,<br /> + I bear these peaceful branches in my hand,<br /> + Undaunted I approach you, tho’ I know<br /> + Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe;<br /> + From Atreus tho’ your ancient lineage came,<br /> + And both the brother kings your kindred claim;<br /> + Yet, my self-conscious worth, your high renown,<br /> + Your virtue, thro’ the neighb’ring nations blown,<br /> + Our fathers’ mingled blood, Apollo’s voice,<br /> + Have led me hither, less by need than choice.<br /> + Our founder Dardanus, as fame has sung,<br /> + And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung:<br /> + Electra from the loins of Atlas came;<br /> + Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame.<br /> + Your sire is Mercury, whom long before<br /> + On cold Cyllene’s top fair Maia bore.<br /> + Maia the fair, on fame if we rely,<br /> + Was Atlas’ daughter, who sustains the sky.<br /> + Thus from one common source our streams divide;<br /> + Ours is the Trojan, yours th’ Arcadian side.<br /> + Rais’d by these hopes, I sent no news before,<br /> + Nor ask’d your leave, nor did your faith implore;<br /> + But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador.<br /> + The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue<br /> + The Trojan race, are equal foes to you.<br /> + Our host expell’d, what farther force can stay<br /> + The victor troops from universal sway?<br /> + Then will they stretch their pow’r athwart the land,<br /> + And either sea from side to side command.<br /> + Receive our offer’d faith, and give us thine;<br /> + Ours is a gen’rous and experienc’d line:<br /> + We want not hearts nor bodies for the war;<br /> + In council cautious, and in fields we dare.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said; and while spoke, with piercing eyes<br /> + Evander view’d the man with vast surprise,<br /> + Pleas’d with his action, ravish’d with his face:<br /> + Then answer’d briefly, with a royal grace:<br /> + “O valiant leader of the Trojan line,<br /> + In whom the features of thy father shine,<br /> + How I recall Anchises! how I see<br /> + His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee!<br /> + Long tho’ it be, ’tis fresh within my mind,<br /> + When Priam to his sister’s court design’d<br /> + A welcome visit, with a friendly stay,<br /> + And thro’ th’ Arcadian kingdom took his way.<br /> + Then, past a boy, the callow down began<br /> + To shade my chin, and call me first a man.<br /> + I saw the shining train with vast delight,<br /> + And Priam’s goodly person pleas’d my sight:<br /> + But great Anchises, far above the rest,<br /> + With awful wonder fir’d my youthful breast.<br /> + I long’d to join in friendship’s holy bands<br /> + Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands.<br /> + I first accosted him: I sued, I sought,<br /> + And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought.<br /> + He gave me, when at length constrain’d to go,<br /> + A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow,<br /> + A vest embroider’d, glorious to behold,<br /> + And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold,<br /> + Which my son’s coursers in obedience hold.<br /> + The league you ask, I offer, as your right;<br /> + And, when tomorrow’s sun reveals the light,<br /> + With swift supplies you shall be sent away.<br /> + Now celebrate with us this solemn day,<br /> + Whose holy rites admit no long delay.<br /> + Honour our annual feast; and take your seat,<br /> + With friendly welcome, at a homely treat.”<br /> + Thus having said, the bowls remov’d (for fear)<br /> + The youths replac’d, and soon restor’d the cheer.<br /> + On sods of turf he set the soldiers round:<br /> + A maple throne, rais’d higher from the ground,<br /> + Receiv’d the Trojan chief; and, o’er the bed,<br /> + A lion’s shaggy hide for ornament they spread.<br /> + The loaves were serv’d in canisters; the wine<br /> + In bowls; the priest renew’d the rites divine:<br /> + Broil’d entrails are their food, and beef’s continued chine.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But when the rage of hunger was repress’d,<br /> + Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest:<br /> + “These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king,<br /> + From no vain fears or superstition spring,<br /> + Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance,<br /> + Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance;<br /> + But, sav’d from danger, with a grateful sense,<br /> + The labours of a god we recompense.<br /> + See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky,<br /> + About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie;<br /> + Such indigested ruin; bleak and bare,<br /> + How desert now it stands, expos’d in air!<br /> + ’Twas once a robber’s den, inclos’d around<br /> + With living stone, and deep beneath the ground.<br /> + The monster Cacus, more than half a beast,<br /> + This hold, impervious to the sun, possess’d.<br /> + The pavement ever foul with human gore;<br /> + Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door.<br /> + Vulcan this plague begot; and, like his sire,<br /> + Black clouds he belch’d, and flakes of livid fire.<br /> + Time, long expected, eas’d us of our load,<br /> + And brought the needful presence of a god.<br /> + Th’ avenging force of Hercules, from Spain,<br /> + Arriv’d in triumph, from Geryon slain:<br /> + Thrice liv’d the giant, and thrice liv’d in vain.<br /> + His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove<br /> + Near Tiber’s bank, to graze the shady grove.<br /> + Allur’d with hope of plunder, and intent<br /> + By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent,<br /> + The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray’d,<br /> + Four oxen thence, and four fair kine convey’d;<br /> + And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen,<br /> + He dragg’d ’em backwards to his rocky den.<br /> + The tracks averse a lying notice gave,<br /> + And led the searcher backward from the cave.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place,<br /> + To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass.<br /> + The beasts, who miss’d their mates, fill’d all around<br /> + With bellowings, and the rocks restor’d the sound.<br /> + One heifer, who had heard her love complain,<br /> + Roar’d from the cave, and made the project vain.<br /> + Alcides found the fraud; with rage he shook,<br /> + And toss’d about his head his knotted oak.<br /> + Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrows’ flight,<br /> + He clomb, with eager haste, th’ aerial height.<br /> + Then first we saw the monster mend his pace;<br /> + Fear in his eyes, and paleness in his face,<br /> + Confess’d the god’s approach. Trembling he springs,<br /> + As terror had increas’d his feet with wings;<br /> + Nor stay’d for stairs; but down the depth he threw<br /> + His body, on his back the door he drew<br /> + (The door, a rib of living rock; with pains<br /> + His father hew’d it out, and bound with iron chains):<br /> + He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos’d,<br /> + And bars and levers to his foe oppos’d.<br /> + The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast;<br /> + The fierce avenger came with bounding haste;<br /> + Survey’d the mouth of the forbidden hold,<br /> + And here and there his raging eyes he roll’d.<br /> + He gnash’d his teeth; and thrice he compass’d round<br /> + With winged speed the circuit of the ground.<br /> + Thrice at the cavern’s mouth he pull’d in vain,<br /> + And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain.<br /> + A pointed flinty rock, all bare and black,<br /> + Grew gibbous from behind the mountain’s back;<br /> + Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night,<br /> + Here built their nests, and hither wing’d their flight.<br /> + The leaning head hung threat’ning o’er the flood,<br /> + And nodded to the left. The hero stood<br /> + Adverse, with planted feet, and, from the right,<br /> + Tugg’d at the solid stone with all his might.<br /> + Thus heav’d, the fix’d foundations of the rock<br /> + Gave way; heav’n echo’d at the rattling shock.<br /> + Tumbling, it chok’d the flood: on either side<br /> + The banks leap backward, and the streams divide;<br /> + The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread,<br /> + And trembling Tiber div’d beneath his bed.<br /> + The court of Cacus stands reveal’d to sight;<br /> + The cavern glares with new-admitted light.<br /> + So the pent vapours, with a rumbling sound,<br /> + Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground;<br /> + A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high,<br /> + The gods with hate beheld the nether sky:<br /> + The ghosts repine at violated night,<br /> + And curse th’ invading sun, and sicken at the sight.<br /> + The graceless monster, caught in open day,<br /> + Inclos’d, and in despair to fly away,<br /> + Howls horrible from underneath, and fills<br /> + His hollow palace with unmanly yells.<br /> + The hero stands above, and from afar<br /> + Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war.<br /> + He, from his nostrils huge mouth, expires<br /> + Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father’s fires,<br /> + Gath’ring, with each repeated blast, the night,<br /> + To make uncertain aim, and erring sight.<br /> + The wrathful god then plunges from above,<br /> + And, where in thickest waves the sparkles drove,<br /> + There lights; and wades thro’ fumes, and gropes his way,<br /> + Half sing’d, half stifled, till he grasps his prey.<br /> + The monster, spewing fruitless flames, he found;<br /> + He squeez’d his throat; he writh’d his neck around,<br /> + And in a knot his crippled members bound;<br /> + Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes:<br /> + Roll’d on a heap, the breathless robber lies.<br /> + The doors, unbarr’d, receive the rushing day,<br /> + And thoro’ lights disclose the ravish’d prey.<br /> + The bulls, redeem’d, breathe open air again.<br /> + Next, by the feet, they drag him from his den.<br /> + The wond’ring neighbourhood, with glad surprise,<br /> + Behold his shagged breast, his giant size,<br /> + His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish’d eyes.<br /> + From that auspicious day, with rites divine,<br /> + We worship at the hero’s holy shrine.<br /> + Potitius first ordain’d these annual vows:<br /> + As priests, were added the Pinarian house,<br /> + Who rais’d this altar in the sacred shade,<br /> + Where honours, ever due, for ever shall be paid.<br /> + For these deserts, and this high virtue shown,<br /> + Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown:<br /> + Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood,<br /> + And with deep draughts invoke our common god.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This said, a double wreath Evander twin’d,<br /> + And poplars black and white his temples bind.<br /> + Then brims his ample bowl. With like design<br /> + The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine.<br /> + Meantime the sun descended from the skies,<br /> + And the bright evening star began to rise.<br /> + And now the priests, Potitius at their head,<br /> + In skins of beasts involv’d, the long procession led;<br /> + Held high the flaming tapers in their hands,<br /> + As custom had prescrib’d their holy bands;<br /> + Then with a second course the tables load,<br /> + And with full chargers offer to the god.<br /> + The Salii sing, and cense his altars round<br /> + With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound<br /> + One choir of old, another of the young,<br /> + To dance, and bear the burthen of the song.<br /> + The lay records the labours, and the praise,<br /> + And all th’ immortal acts of Hercules:<br /> + First, how the mighty babe, when swath’d in bands,<br /> + The serpents strangled with his infant hands;<br /> + Then, as in years and matchless force he grew,<br /> + Th’ Oechalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew.<br /> + Besides, a thousand hazards they relate,<br /> + Procur’d by Juno’s and Eurystheus’ hate:<br /> + “Thy hands, unconquer’d hero, could subdue<br /> + The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew:<br /> + Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood,<br /> + Nor he, the roaring terror of the wood.<br /> + The triple porter of the Stygian seat,<br /> + With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet,<br /> + And, seiz’d with fear, forgot his mangled meat.<br /> + Th’ infernal waters trembled at thy sight;<br /> + Thee, god, no face of danger could affright;<br /> + Not huge Typhoeus, nor th’ unnumber’d snake,<br /> + Increas’d with hissing heads, in Lerna’s lake.<br /> + Hail, Jove’s undoubted son! an added grace<br /> + To heav’n and the great author of thy race!<br /> + Receive the grateful off’rings which we pay,<br /> + And smile propitious on thy solemn day!”<br /> + In numbers thus they sung; above the rest,<br /> + The den and death of Cacus crown the feast.<br /> + The woods to hollow vales convey the sound,<br /> + The vales to hills, and hills the notes rebound.<br /> + The rites perform’d, the cheerful train retire.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire,<br /> + The Trojan pass’d, the city to survey,<br /> + And pleasing talk beguil’d the tedious way.<br /> + The stranger cast around his curious eyes,<br /> + New objects viewing still, with new surprise;<br /> + With greedy joy enquires of various things,<br /> + And acts and monuments of ancient kings.<br /> + Then thus the founder of the Roman tow’rs:<br /> + “These woods were first the seat of sylvan pow’rs,<br /> + Of Nymphs and Fauns, and salvage men, who took<br /> + Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak.<br /> + Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care<br /> + Of lab’ring oxen, or the shining share,<br /> + Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain’d to spare.<br /> + Their exercise the chase; the running flood<br /> + Supplied their thirst, the trees supplied their food.<br /> + Then Saturn came, who fled the pow’r of Jove,<br /> + Robb’d of his realms, and banish’d from above.<br /> + The men, dispers’d on hills, to towns he brought,<br /> + And laws ordain’d, and civil customs taught,<br /> + And Latium call’d the land where safe he lay<br /> + From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway.<br /> + With his mild empire, peace and plenty came;<br /> + And hence the golden times deriv’d their name.<br /> + A more degenerate and discolour’d age<br /> + Succeeded this, with avarice and rage.<br /> + Th’ Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians came;<br /> + And Saturn’s empire often chang’d the name.<br /> + Then kings, gigantic Tybris, and the rest,<br /> + With arbitrary sway the land oppress’d:<br /> + For Tiber’s flood was Albula before,<br /> + Till, from the tyrant’s fate, his name it bore.<br /> + I last arriv’d, driv’n from my native home<br /> + By fortune’s pow’r, and fate’s resistless doom.<br /> + Long toss’d on seas, I sought this happy land,<br /> + Warn’d by my mother nymph, and call’d by Heav’n’s command.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, walking on, he spoke, and shew’d the gate,<br /> + Since call’d Carmental by the Roman state;<br /> + Where stood an altar, sacred to the name<br /> + Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame,<br /> + Who to her son foretold th’ Aenean race,<br /> + Sublime in fame, and Rome’s imperial place:<br /> + Then shews the forest, which, in after times,<br /> + Fierce Romulus for perpetrated crimes<br /> + A sacred refuge made; with this, the shrine<br /> + Where Pan below the rock had rites divine:<br /> + Then tells of Argus’ death, his murder’d guest,<br /> + Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest.<br /> + Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads;<br /> + Now roof’d with gold, then thatch’d with homely reeds.<br /> + A reverent fear (such superstition reigns<br /> + Among the rude) ev’n then possess’d the swains.<br /> + Some god, they knew—what god, they could not tell—<br /> + Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell.<br /> + Th’ Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw<br /> + The mighty Thund’rer with majestic awe,<br /> + Who took his shield, and dealt his bolts around,<br /> + And scatter’d tempests on the teeming ground.<br /> + Then saw two heaps of ruins, (once they stood<br /> + Two stately towns, on either side the flood,)<br /> + Saturnia’s and Janiculum’s remains;<br /> + And either place the founder’s name retains.<br /> + Discoursing thus together, they resort<br /> + Where poor Evander kept his country court.<br /> + They view’d the ground of Rome’s litigious hall;<br /> + (Once oxen low’d, where now the lawyers bawl;)<br /> + Then, stooping, thro’ the narrow gate they press’d,<br /> + When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest:<br /> + “Mean as it is, this palace, and this door,<br /> + Receiv’d Alcides, then a conqueror.<br /> + Dare to be poor; accept our homely food,<br /> + Which feasted him, and emulate a god.”<br /> + Then underneath a lowly roof he led<br /> + The weary prince, and laid him on a bed;<br /> + The stuffing leaves, with hides of bears o’erspread.<br /> + Now night had shed her silver dews around,<br /> + And with her sable wings embrac’d the ground,<br /> + When love’s fair goddess, anxious for her son,<br /> + (New tumults rising, and new wars begun,)<br /> + Couch’d with her husband in his golden bed,<br /> + With these alluring words invokes his aid;<br /> + And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move,<br /> + Inspires each accent with the charms of love:<br /> + “While cruel fate conspir’d with Grecian pow’rs,<br /> + To level with the ground the Trojan tow’rs,<br /> + I ask’d not aid th’ unhappy to restore,<br /> + Nor did the succour of thy skill implore;<br /> + Nor urg’d the labours of my lord in vain,<br /> + A sinking empire longer to sustain,<br /> + Tho’ much I ow’d to Priam’s house, and more<br /> + The dangers of Aeneas did deplore.<br /> + But now, by Jove’s command, and fate’s decree,<br /> + His race is doom’d to reign in Italy:<br /> + With humble suit I beg thy needful art,<br /> + O still propitious pow’r, that rules my heart!<br /> + A mother kneels a suppliant for her son.<br /> + By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won<br /> + To forge impenetrable shields, and grace<br /> + With fated arms a less illustrious race.<br /> + Behold, what haughty nations are combin’d<br /> + Against the relics of the Phrygian kind,<br /> + With fire and sword my people to destroy,<br /> + And conquer Venus twice, in conqu’ring Troy.”<br /> + She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue,<br /> + About her unresolving husband threw.<br /> + Her soft embraces soon infuse desire;<br /> + His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire;<br /> + And all the godhead feels the wonted fire.<br /> + Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies,<br /> + Or forky lightnings flash along the skies.<br /> + The goddess, proud of her successful wiles,<br /> + And conscious of her form, in secret smiles.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus the pow’r, obnoxious to her charms,<br /> + Panting, and half dissolving in her arms:<br /> + “Why seek you reasons for a cause so just,<br /> + Or your own beauties or my love distrust?<br /> + Long since, had you requir’d my helpful hand,<br /> + Th’ artificer and art you might command,<br /> + To labour arms for Troy: nor Jove, nor fate,<br /> + Confin’d their empire to so short a date.<br /> + And, if you now desire new wars to wage,<br /> + My skill I promise, and my pains engage.<br /> + Whatever melting metals can conspire,<br /> + Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire,<br /> + Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove,<br /> + And think no task is difficult to love.”<br /> + Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms,<br /> + He snatch’d the willing goddess to his arms;<br /> + Till in her lap infus’d, he lay possess’d<br /> + Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest.<br /> + Now when the night her middle race had rode,<br /> + And his first slumber had refresh’d the god—<br /> + The time when early housewives leave the bed;<br /> + When living embers on the hearth they spread,<br /> + Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise;—<br /> + With yawning mouths, and with half-open’d eyes,<br /> + They ply the distaff by the winking light,<br /> + And to their daily labour add the night:<br /> + Thus frugally they earn their children’s bread,<br /> + And uncorrupted keep the nuptial bed—<br /> + Not less concern’d, nor at a later hour,<br /> + Rose from his downy couch the forging pow’r.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay,<br /> + Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare,<br /> + Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,<br /> + In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow.<br /> + The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal;<br /> + Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel,<br /> + Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,<br /> + And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar.<br /> + Hither the Father of the Fire, by night,<br /> + Thro’ the brown air precipitates his flight.<br /> + On their eternal anvils here he found<br /> + The brethren beating, and the blows go round.<br /> + A load of pointless thunder now there lies<br /> + Before their hands, to ripen for the skies:<br /> + These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast;<br /> + Consum’d on mortals with prodigious waste.<br /> + Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more,<br /> + Of winged southern winds and cloudy store<br /> + As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame;<br /> + And fears are added, and avenging flame.<br /> + Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair<br /> + His broken axletrees and blunted war,<br /> + And send him forth again with furbish’d arms,<br /> + To wake the lazy war with trumpets’ loud alarms.<br /> + The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold<br /> + The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold.<br /> + Full on the crest the Gorgon’s head they place,<br /> + With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “My sons,” said Vulcan, “set your tasks aside;<br /> + Your strength and master-skill must now be tried.<br /> + Arms for a hero forge; arms that require<br /> + Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire.”<br /> + He said. They set their former work aside,<br /> + And their new toils with eager haste divide.<br /> + A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold,<br /> + And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll’d;<br /> + Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare,<br /> + Alone sufficient to sustain the war.<br /> + Sev’n orbs within a spacious round they close:<br /> + One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows.<br /> + The hissing steel is in the smithy drown’d;<br /> + The grot with beaten anvils groans around.<br /> + By turns their arms advance, in equal time;<br /> + By turns their hands descend, and hammers chime.<br /> + They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs;<br /> + The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While, at the Lemnian god’s command, they urge<br /> + Their labours thus, and ply th’ Aeolian forge,<br /> + The cheerful morn salutes Evander’s eyes,<br /> + And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.<br /> + He leaves his lowly bed: his buskins meet<br /> + Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet:<br /> + He sets his trusty sword upon his side,<br /> + And o’er his shoulder throws a panther’s hide.<br /> + Two menial dogs before their master press’d.<br /> + Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest.<br /> + Mindful of promis’d aid, he mends his pace,<br /> + But meets Aeneas in the middle space.<br /> + Young Pallas did his father’s steps attend,<br /> + And true Achates waited on his friend.<br /> + They join their hands; a secret seat they choose;<br /> + Th’ Arcadian first their former talk renews:<br /> + “Undaunted prince, I never can believe<br /> + The Trojan empire lost, while you survive.<br /> + Command th’ assistance of a faithful friend;<br /> + But feeble are the succours I can send.<br /> + Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds;<br /> + That other side the Latian state surrounds,<br /> + Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds.<br /> + But mighty nations I prepare, to join<br /> + Their arms with yours, and aid your just design.<br /> + You come, as by your better genius sent,<br /> + And fortune seems to favour your intent.<br /> + Not far from hence there stands a hilly town,<br /> + Of ancient building, and of high renown,<br /> + Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race,<br /> + Who gave the name of Caere to the place,<br /> + Once Agyllina call’d. It flourish’d long,<br /> + In pride of wealth and warlike people strong,<br /> + Till curs’d Mezentius, in a fatal hour,<br /> + Assum’d the crown, with arbitrary pow’r.<br /> + What words can paint those execrable times,<br /> + The subjects’ suff’rings, and the tyrant’s crimes!<br /> + That blood, those murders, O ye gods, replace<br /> + On his own head, and on his impious race!<br /> + The living and the dead at his command<br /> + Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand,<br /> + Till, chok’d with stench, in loath’d embraces tied,<br /> + The ling’ring wretches pin’d away and died.<br /> + Thus plung’d in ills, and meditating more—<br /> + The people’s patience, tir’d, no longer bore<br /> + The raging monster; but with arms beset<br /> + His house, and vengeance and destruction threat.<br /> + They fire his palace: while the flame ascends,<br /> + They force his guards, and execute his friends.<br /> + He cleaves the crowd, and, favour’d by the night,<br /> + To Turnus’ friendly court directs his flight.<br /> + By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire,<br /> + With arms, their king to punishment require:<br /> + Their num’rous troops, now muster’d on the strand,<br /> + My counsel shall submit to your command.<br /> + Their navy swarms upon the coasts; they cry<br /> + To hoist their anchors, but the gods deny.<br /> + An ancient augur, skill’d in future fate,<br /> + With these foreboding words restrains their hate:<br /> + ‘Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow’r<br /> + Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow’r,<br /> + Whom just revenge against Mezentius arms,<br /> + To seek your tyrant’s death by lawful arms;<br /> + Know this: no native of our land may lead<br /> + This pow’rful people; seek a foreign head.’<br /> + Aw’d with these words, in camps they still abide,<br /> + And wait with longing looks their promis’d guide.<br /> + Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent<br /> + Their crown, and ev’ry regal ornament:<br /> + The people join their own with his desire;<br /> + And all my conduct, as their king, require.<br /> + But the chill blood that creeps within my veins,<br /> + And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains,<br /> + And a soul conscious of its own decay,<br /> + Have forc’d me to refuse imperial sway.<br /> + My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne,<br /> + And should, but he’s a Sabine mother’s son,<br /> + And half a native; but, in you, combine<br /> + A manly vigour, and a foreign line.<br /> + Where Fate and smiling Fortune shew the way,<br /> + Pursue the ready path to sov’reign sway.<br /> + The staff of my declining days, my son,<br /> + Shall make your good or ill success his own;<br /> + In fighting fields from you shall learn to dare,<br /> + And serve the hard apprenticeship of war;<br /> + Your matchless courage and your conduct view,<br /> + And early shall begin t’ admire and copy you.<br /> + Besides, two hundred horse he shall command;<br /> + Tho’ few, a warlike and well-chosen band.<br /> + These in my name are listed; and my son<br /> + As many more has added in his own.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Scarce had he said; Achates and his guest,<br /> + With downcast eyes, their silent grief express’d;<br /> + Who, short of succours, and in deep despair,<br /> + Shook at the dismal prospect of the war.<br /> + But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud,<br /> + To cheer her issue, thunder’d thrice aloud;<br /> + Thrice forky lightning flash’d along the sky,<br /> + And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high.<br /> + Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear;<br /> + And, in a heav’n serene, refulgent arms appear:<br /> + Redd’ning the skies, and glitt’ring all around,<br /> + The temper’d metals clash, and yield a silver sound.<br /> + The rest stood trembling, struck with awe divine;<br /> + Aeneas only, conscious to the sign,<br /> + Presag’d th’ event, and joyful view’d, above,<br /> + Th’ accomplish’d promise of the Queen of Love.<br /> + Then, to th’ Arcadian king: “This prodigy<br /> + (Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me.<br /> + Heav’n calls me to the war: th’ expected sign<br /> + Is giv’n of promis’d aid, and arms divine.<br /> + My goddess mother, whose indulgent care<br /> + Foresaw the dangers of the growing war,<br /> + This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms,<br /> + Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms,<br /> + Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow’d<br /> + Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood.<br /> + Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn;<br /> + And corps, and swords, and shields, on Tiber borne,<br /> + Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms;<br /> + And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur’d arms.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and, rising from his homely throne,<br /> + The solemn rites of Hercules begun,<br /> + And on his altars wak’d the sleeping fires;<br /> + Then cheerful to his household gods retires;<br /> + There offers chosen sheep. Th’ Arcadian king<br /> + And Trojan youth the same oblations bring.<br /> + Next, of his men and ships he makes review;<br /> + Draws out the best and ablest of the crew.<br /> + Down with the falling stream the refuse run,<br /> + To raise with joyful news his drooping son.<br /> + Steeds are prepar’d to mount the Trojan band,<br /> + Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land.<br /> + A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest,<br /> + The king himself presents his royal guest:<br /> + A lion’s hide his back and limbs infold,<br /> + Precious with studded work, and paws of gold.<br /> + Fame thro’ the little city spreads aloud<br /> + Th’ intended march, amid the fearful crowd:<br /> + The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears,<br /> + And double their devotion in their fears.<br /> + The war at hand appears with more affright,<br /> + And rises ev’ry moment to the sight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then old Evander, with a close embrace,<br /> + Strain’d his departing friend; and tears o’erflow his face.<br /> + “Would Heav’n,” said he, “my strength and youth recall,<br /> + Such as I was beneath Praeneste’s wall;<br /> + Then when I made the foremost foes retire,<br /> + And set whole heaps of conquer’d shields on fire;<br /> + When Herilus in single fight I slew,<br /> + Whom with three lives Feronia did endue;<br /> + And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore,<br /> + Till the last ebbing soul return’d no more—<br /> + Such if I stood renew’d, not these alarms,<br /> + Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas’ arms;<br /> + Nor proud Mezentius, thus unpunish’d, boast<br /> + His rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast.<br /> + Ye gods, and mighty Jove, in pity bring<br /> + Relief, and hear a father and a king!<br /> + If fate and you reserve these eyes, to see<br /> + My son return with peace and victory;<br /> + If the lov’d boy shall bless his father’s sight;<br /> + If we shall meet again with more delight;<br /> + Then draw my life in length; let me sustain,<br /> + In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain.<br /> + But if your hard decrees—which, O! I dread—<br /> + Have doom’d to death his undeserving head;<br /> + This, O this very moment, let me die!<br /> + While hopes and fears in equal balance lie;<br /> + While, yet possess’d of all his youthful charms,<br /> + I strain him close within these aged arms;<br /> + Before that fatal news my soul shall wound!”<br /> + He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground.<br /> + His servants bore him off, and softly laid<br /> + His languish’d limbs upon his homely bed.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The horsemen march; the gates are open’d wide;<br /> + Aeneas at their head, Achates by his side.<br /> + Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along;<br /> + Last follows in the rear th’ Arcadian throng.<br /> + Young Pallas shone conspicuous o’er the rest;<br /> + Gilded his arms, embroider’d was his vest.<br /> + So, from the seas, exerts his radiant head<br /> + The star by whom the lights of heav’n are led;<br /> + Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews,<br /> + Dispels the darkness, and the day renews.<br /> + The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd,<br /> + And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud,<br /> + Which winds disperse by fits, and shew from far<br /> + The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war.<br /> + The troops, drawn up in beautiful array,<br /> + O’er heathy plains pursue the ready way.<br /> + Repeated peals of shouts are heard around;<br /> + The neighing coursers answer to the sound,<br /> + And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A greenwood shade, for long religion known,<br /> + Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town,<br /> + Incompass’d round with gloomy hills above,<br /> + Which add a holy horror to the grove.<br /> + The first inhabitants of Grecian blood,<br /> + That sacred forest to Silvanus vow’d,<br /> + The guardian of their flocks and fields; and pay<br /> + Their due devotions on his annual day.<br /> + Not far from hence, along the river’s side,<br /> + In tents secure, the Tuscan troops abide,<br /> + By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground,<br /> + Aeneas cast his wond’ring eyes around,<br /> + And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight,<br /> + Stretch’d on the spacious plain from left to right.<br /> + Thither his warlike train the Trojan led,<br /> + Refresh’d his men, and wearied horses fed.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the mother goddess, crown’d with charms,<br /> + Breaks thro’ the clouds, and brings the fated arms.<br /> + Within a winding vale she finds her son,<br /> + On the cool river’s banks, retir’d alone.<br /> + She shews her heav’nly form without disguise,<br /> + And gives herself to his desiring eyes.<br /> + “Behold,” she said, “perform’d in ev’ry part,<br /> + My promise made, and Vulcan’s labour’d art.<br /> + Now seek, secure, the Latian enemy,<br /> + And haughty Turnus to the field defy.”<br /> + She said; and, having first her son embrac’d,<br /> + The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac’d,<br /> + Proud of the gift, he roll’d his greedy sight<br /> + Around the work, and gaz’d with vast delight.<br /> + He lifts, he turns, he poises, and admires<br /> + The crested helm, that vomits radiant fires:<br /> + His hands the fatal sword and corslet hold,<br /> + One keen with temper’d steel, one stiff with gold:<br /> + Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright;<br /> + So shines a cloud, when edg’d with adverse light.<br /> + He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try<br /> + The plated cuishes on his manly thigh;<br /> + But most admires the shield’s mysterious mould,<br /> + And Roman triumphs rising on the gold:<br /> + For these, emboss’d, the heav’nly smith had wrought<br /> + (Not in the rolls of future fate untaught)<br /> + The wars in order, and the race divine<br /> + Of warriors issuing from the Julian line.<br /> + The cave of Mars was dress’d with mossy greens:<br /> + There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins.<br /> + Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung;<br /> + The foster dam loll’d out her fawning tongue:<br /> + They suck’d secure, while, bending back her head,<br /> + She lick’d their tender limbs, and form’d them as they fed.<br /> + Not far from thence new Rome appears, with games<br /> + Projected for the rape of Sabine dames.<br /> + The pit resounds with shrieks; a war succeeds,<br /> + For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds.<br /> + Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend;<br /> + The Romans there with arms the prey defend.<br /> + Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease;<br /> + And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace.<br /> + The friendly chiefs before Jove’s altar stand,<br /> + Both arm’d, with each a charger in his hand:<br /> + A fatted sow for sacrifice is led,<br /> + With imprecations on the perjur’d head.<br /> + Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch’d between<br /> + Four fiery steeds, is dragg’d along the green,<br /> + By Tullus’ doom: the brambles drink his blood,<br /> + And his torn limbs are left the vulture’s food.<br /> + There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings,<br /> + And would by force restore the banish’d kings.<br /> + One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights;<br /> + The Roman youth assert their native rights.<br /> + Before the town the Tuscan army lies,<br /> + To win by famine, or by fraud surprise.<br /> + Their king, half-threat’ning, half-disdaining stood,<br /> + While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm’d the flood.<br /> + The captive maids there tempt the raging tide,<br /> + Scap’d from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide.<br /> + High on a rock heroic Manlius stood,<br /> + To guard the temple, and the temple’s god.<br /> + Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold<br /> + The palace thatch’d with straw, now roof’d with gold.<br /> + The silver goose before the shining gate<br /> + There flew, and, by her cackle, sav’d the state.<br /> + She told the Gauls’ approach; th’ approaching Gauls,<br /> + Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls.<br /> + The gold dissembled well their yellow hair,<br /> + And golden chains on their white necks they wear.<br /> + Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield,<br /> + And their left arm sustains a length of shield.<br /> + Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance;<br /> + And naked thro’ the streets the mad Luperci dance,<br /> + In caps of wool; the targets dropp’d from heav’n.<br /> + Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv’n,<br /> + To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear,<br /> + And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear.<br /> + Far hence remov’d, the Stygian seats are seen;<br /> + Pains of the damn’d, and punish’d Catiline<br /> + Hung on a rock—the traitor; and, around,<br /> + The Furies hissing from the nether ground.<br /> + Apart from these, the happy souls he draws,<br /> + And Cato’s holy ghost dispensing laws.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea;<br /> + But foaming surges there in silver play.<br /> + The dancing dolphins with their tails divide<br /> + The glitt’ring waves, and cut the precious tide.<br /> + Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage<br /> + Their brazen beaks, oppos’d with equal rage.<br /> + Actium surveys the well-disputed prize;<br /> + Leucate’s wat’ry plain with foamy billows fries.<br /> + Young Caesar, on the stern, in armour bright,<br /> + Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight:<br /> + His beamy temples shoot their flames afar,<br /> + And o’er his head is hung the Julian star.<br /> + Agrippa seconds him, with prosp’rous gales,<br /> + And, with propitious gods, his foes assails:<br /> + A naval crown, that binds his manly brows,<br /> + The happy fortune of the fight foreshows.<br /> + Rang’d on the line oppos’d, Antonius brings<br /> + Barbarian aids, and troops of Eastern kings;<br /> + Th’ Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar,<br /> + Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war:<br /> + And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife,<br /> + His ill fate follows him—th’ Egyptian wife.<br /> + Moving they fight; with oars and forky prows<br /> + The froth is gather’d, and the water glows.<br /> + It seems, as if the Cyclades again<br /> + Were rooted up, and justled in the main;<br /> + Or floating mountains floating mountains meet;<br /> + Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet.<br /> + Fireballs are thrown, and pointed jav’lins fly;<br /> + The fields of Neptune take a purple dye.<br /> + The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms,<br /> + With cymbals toss’d her fainting soldiers warms—<br /> + Fool as she was! who had not yet divin’d<br /> + Her cruel fate, nor saw the snakes behind.<br /> + Her country gods, the monsters of the sky,<br /> + Great Neptune, Pallas, and Love’s Queen defy:<br /> + The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain,<br /> + Nor longer dares oppose th’ ethereal train.<br /> + Mars in the middle of the shining shield<br /> + Is grav’d, and strides along the liquid field.<br /> + The Dirae souse from heav’n with swift descent;<br /> + And Discord, dyed in blood, with garments rent,<br /> + Divides the prease: her steps Bellona treads,<br /> + And shakes her iron rod above their heads.<br /> + This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height,<br /> + Pours down his arrows; at whose winged flight<br /> + The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield,<br /> + And soft Sabaeans quit the wat’ry field.<br /> + The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails,<br /> + And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales.<br /> + Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath,<br /> + Panting, and pale with fear of future death.<br /> + The god had figur’d her as driv’n along<br /> + By winds and waves, and scudding thro’ the throng.<br /> + Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide<br /> + His arms and ample bosom to the tide,<br /> + And spreads his mantle o’er the winding coast,<br /> + In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host.<br /> + The victor to the gods his thanks express’d,<br /> + And Rome, triumphant, with his presence bless’d.<br /> + Three hundred temples in the town he plac’d;<br /> + With spoils and altars ev’ry temple grac’d.<br /> + Three shining nights, and three succeeding days,<br /> + The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise,<br /> + The domes with songs, the theatres with plays.<br /> + All altars flame: before each altar lies,<br /> + Drench’d in his gore, the destin’d sacrifice.<br /> + Great Caesar sits sublime upon his throne,<br /> + Before Apollo’s porch of Parian stone;<br /> + Accepts the presents vow’d for victory,<br /> + And hangs the monumental crowns on high.<br /> + Vast crowds of vanquish’d nations march along,<br /> + Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue.<br /> + Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place<br /> + For Carians, and th’ ungirt Numidian race;<br /> + Then ranks the Thracians in the second row,<br /> + With Scythians, expert in the dart and bow.<br /> + And here the tam’d Euphrates humbly glides,<br /> + And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides,<br /> + And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind;<br /> + The Danes’ unconquer’d offspring march behind,<br /> + And Morini, the last of humankind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + These figures, on the shield divinely wrought,<br /> + By Vulcan labour’d, and by Venus brought,<br /> + With joy and wonder fill the hero’s thought.<br /> + Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace,<br /> + And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>BOOK IX</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Turnus takes advantage of Aeneas’s absence, fires some of his ships + (which are transformed into sea nymphs,) and assaults his camp. The Trojans, + reduced to the last extremities, send Ninus and Euryalus to recall Aeneas; + which furnishes the poet with that admirable episode of their friendship, + generosity, and the conclusion of their adventure. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile these affairs in distant places pass’d,<br /> + The various Iris Juno sends with haste,<br /> + To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,<br /> + The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.<br /> + Retir’d alone she found the daring man,<br /> + And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:<br /> + “What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,<br /> + That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.<br /> + Aeneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,<br /> + Has left the Trojan camp without defence;<br /> + And, short of succours there, employs his pains<br /> + In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.<br /> + Now snatch an hour that favours thy designs;<br /> + Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”<br /> + This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight,<br /> + And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,<br /> + And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:<br /> + “Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine<br /> + Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine?<br /> + See, they divide; immortal day appears,<br /> + And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!<br /> + With joy, these happy omens I obey,<br /> + And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”<br /> + Thus having said, as by the brook he stood,<br /> + He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;<br /> + Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,<br /> + And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,<br /> + Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train.<br /> + Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,<br /> + The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.<br /> + In the main battle, with his flaming crest,<br /> + The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.<br /> + Silent they move, majestically slow,<br /> + Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.<br /> + The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,<br /> + And the dark menace of the distant war.<br /> + Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,<br /> + Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies.<br /> + Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:<br /> + “What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?<br /> + Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears<br /> + And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend<br /> + The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:<br /> + For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,<br /> + Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,<br /> + Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,<br /> + But close within their lines attend their chance.<br /> + Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command,<br /> + And sourly wait in arms the hostile band.<br /> + The fiery Turnus flew before the rest:<br /> + A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press’d;<br /> + His helm of massy gold, and crimson was his crest.<br /> + With twenty horse to second his designs,<br /> + An unexpected foe, he fac’d the lines.<br /> + “Is there,” he said, “in arms, who bravely dare<br /> + His leader’s honour and his danger share?”<br /> + Then spurring on, his brandish’d dart he threw,<br /> + In sign of war: applauding shouts ensue.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amaz’d to find a dastard race, that run<br /> + Behind the rampires and the battle shun,<br /> + He rides around the camp, with rolling eyes,<br /> + And stops at ev’ry post, and ev’ry passage tries.<br /> + So roams the nightly wolf about the fold:<br /> + Wet with descending show’rs, and stiff with cold,<br /> + He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain,<br /> + (His gnashing teeth are exercis’d in vain,)<br /> + And, impotent of anger, finds no way<br /> + In his distended paws to grasp the prey.<br /> + The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs<br /> + Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams.<br /> + Thus ranges eager Turnus o’er the plain.<br /> + Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain;<br /> + Surveys each passage with a piercing sight,<br /> + To force his foes in equal field to fight.<br /> + Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies,<br /> + Where, fenc’d with strong redoubts, their navy lies,<br /> + Close underneath the walls; the washing tide<br /> + Secures from all approach this weaker side.<br /> + He takes the wish’d occasion, fills his hand<br /> + With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand.<br /> + Urg’d by his presence, ev’ry soul is warm’d,<br /> + And ev’ry hand with kindled fires is arm’d.<br /> + From the fir’d pines the scatt’ring sparkles fly;<br /> + Fat vapours, mix’d with flames, involve the sky.<br /> + What pow’r, O Muses, could avert the flame<br /> + Which threaten’d, in the fleet, the Trojan name?<br /> + Tell: for the fact, thro’ length of time obscure,<br /> + Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + ’Tis said that, when the chief prepar’d his flight,<br /> + And fell’d his timber from Mount Ida’s height,<br /> + The grandam goddess then approach’d her son,<br /> + And with a mother’s majesty begun:<br /> + “Grant me,” she said, “the sole request I bring,<br /> + Since conquer’d heav’n has own’d you for its king.<br /> + On Ida’s brows, for ages past, there stood,<br /> + With firs and maples fill’d, a shady wood;<br /> + And on the summit rose a sacred grove,<br /> + Where I was worship’d with religious love.<br /> + Those woods, that holy grove, my long delight,<br /> + I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight.<br /> + Now, fill’d with fear, on their behalf I come;<br /> + Let neither winds o’erset, nor waves intomb<br /> + The floating forests of the sacred pine;<br /> + But let it be their safety to be mine.”<br /> + Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls<br /> + The radiant stars, and heav’n and earth controls:<br /> + “How dare you, mother, endless date demand<br /> + For vessels moulded by a mortal hand?<br /> + What then is fate? Shall bold Aeneas ride,<br /> + Of safety certain, on th’ uncertain tide?<br /> + Yet, what I can, I grant; when, wafted o’er,<br /> + The chief is landed on the Latian shore,<br /> + Whatever ships escape the raging storms,<br /> + At my command shall change their fading forms<br /> + To nymphs divine, and plow the wat’ry way,<br /> + Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea.”<br /> + To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore,<br /> + The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore,<br /> + And Phlegethon’s innavigable flood,<br /> + And the black regions of his brother god.<br /> + He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now at length the number’d hours were come,<br /> + Prefix’d by fate’s irrevocable doom,<br /> + When the great Mother of the Gods was free<br /> + To save her ships, and finish Jove’s decree.<br /> + First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung<br /> + A light that sign’d the heav’ns, and shot along;<br /> + Then from a cloud, fring’d round with golden fires,<br /> + Were timbrels heard, and Berecynthian choirs;<br /> + And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds,<br /> + Both hosts, in arms oppos’d, with equal horror wounds:<br /> + “O Trojan race, your needless aid forbear,<br /> + And know, my ships are my peculiar care.<br /> + With greater ease the bold Rutulian may,<br /> + With hissing brands, attempt to burn the sea,<br /> + Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge,<br /> + Loos’d from your crooked anchors, launch at large,<br /> + Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand,<br /> + And swim the seas, at Cybele’s command.”<br /> + No sooner had the goddess ceas’d to speak,<br /> + When, lo! th’ obedient ships their haulsers break;<br /> + And, strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main<br /> + They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again:<br /> + As many beauteous maids the billows sweep,<br /> + As rode before tall vessels on the deep.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The foes, surpris’d with wonder, stood aghast;<br /> + Messapus curb’d his fiery courser’s haste;<br /> + Old Tiber roar’d, and, raising up his head,<br /> + Call’d back his waters to their oozy bed.<br /> + Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock,<br /> + And with these words his trembling troops bespoke:<br /> + “These monsters for the Trojans’ fate are meant,<br /> + And are by Jove for black presages sent.<br /> + He takes the cowards’ last relief away;<br /> + For fly they cannot, and, constrain’d to stay,<br /> + Must yield unfought, a base inglorious prey.<br /> + The liquid half of all the globe is lost;<br /> + Heav’n shuts the seas, and we secure the coast.<br /> + Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground<br /> + Which myriads of our martial men surround.<br /> + Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles.<br /> + ’Twas giv’n to Venus they should cross the seas,<br /> + And land secure upon the Latian plains:<br /> + Their promis’d hour is pass’d, and mine remains.<br /> + ’Tis in the fate of Turnus to destroy,<br /> + With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy.<br /> + Shall such affronts as these alone inflame<br /> + The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name?<br /> + My cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife,<br /> + And final ruin, for a ravish’d wife.<br /> + Was ’t not enough, that, punish’d for the crime,<br /> + They fell; but will they fall a second time?<br /> + One would have thought they paid enough before,<br /> + To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more.<br /> + Can they securely trust their feeble wall,<br /> + A slight partition, a thin interval,<br /> + Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, tho’ built<br /> + By hands divine, yet perish’d by their guilt?<br /> + Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands,<br /> + To force from out their lines these dastard bands.<br /> + Less than a thousand ships will end this war,<br /> + Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare.<br /> + Let all the Tuscans, all th’ Arcadians, join!<br /> + Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design.<br /> + Let them not fear the treasons of the night,<br /> + The robb’d Palladium, the pretended flight:<br /> + Our onset shall be made in open light.<br /> + No wooden engine shall their town betray;<br /> + Fires they shall have around, but fires by day.<br /> + No Grecian babes before their camp appear,<br /> + Whom Hector’s arms detain’d to the tenth tardy year.<br /> + Now, since the sun is rolling to the west,<br /> + Give we the silent night to needful rest:<br /> + Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare;<br /> + The morn shall end the small remains of war.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The post of honour to Messapus falls,<br /> + To keep the nightly guard, to watch the walls,<br /> + To pitch the fires at distances around,<br /> + And close the Trojans in their scanty ground.<br /> + Twice seven Rutulian captains ready stand,<br /> + And twice seven hundred horse these chiefs command;<br /> + All clad in shining arms the works invest,<br /> + Each with a radiant helm and waving crest.<br /> + Stretch’d at their length, they press the grassy ground;<br /> + They laugh, they sing, (the jolly bowls go round,)<br /> + With lights and cheerful fires renew the day,<br /> + And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Trojans, from above, their foes beheld,<br /> + And with arm’d legions all the rampires fill’d.<br /> + Seiz’d with affright, their gates they first explore;<br /> + Join works to works with bridges, tow’r to tow’r:<br /> + Thus all things needful for defence abound.<br /> + Mnestheus and brave Seresthus walk the round,<br /> + Commission’d by their absent prince to share<br /> + The common danger, and divide the care.<br /> + The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall,<br /> + By turns relieve each other on the wall.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nigh where the foes their utmost guards advance,<br /> + To watch the gate was warlike Nisus’ chance.<br /> + His father Hyrtacus of noble blood;<br /> + His mother was a huntress of the wood,<br /> + And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear<br /> + His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear,<br /> + But better skill’d unerring shafts to send.<br /> + Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend:<br /> + Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host<br /> + No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast.<br /> + Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun.<br /> + One was their care, and their delight was one:<br /> + One common hazard in the war they shar’d,<br /> + And now were both by choice upon the guard.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Nisus thus: “Or do the gods inspire<br /> + This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?<br /> + A gen’rous ardour boils within my breast,<br /> + Eager of action, enemy to rest:<br /> + This urges me to fight, and fires my mind<br /> + To leave a memorable name behind.<br /> + Thou see’st the foe secure; how faintly shine<br /> + Their scatter’d fires! the most, in sleep supine<br /> + Along the ground, an easy conquest lie:<br /> + The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply;<br /> + All hush’d around. Now hear what I revolve—<br /> + A thought unripe—and scarcely yet resolve.<br /> + Our absent prince both camp and council mourn;<br /> + By message both would hasten his return:<br /> + If they confer what I demand on thee,<br /> + (For fame is recompense enough for me,)<br /> + Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied<br /> + A way that safely will my passage guide.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Euryalus stood list’ning while he spoke,<br /> + With love of praise and noble envy struck;<br /> + Then to his ardent friend expos’d his mind:<br /> + “All this, alone, and leaving me behind!<br /> + Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join’d?<br /> + Think’st thou I can my share of glory yield,<br /> + Or send thee unassisted to the field?<br /> + Not so my father taught my childhood arms;<br /> + Born in a siege, and bred among alarms!<br /> + Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend,<br /> + Nor of the heav’n-born hero I attend.<br /> + The thing call’d life, with ease I can disclaim,<br /> + And think it over-sold to purchase fame.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Nisus thus: “Alas! thy tender years<br /> + Would minister new matter to my fears.<br /> + So may the gods, who view this friendly strife,<br /> + Restore me to thy lov’d embrace with life,<br /> + Condemn’d to pay my vows, (as sure I trust,)<br /> + This thy request is cruel and unjust.<br /> + But if some chance—as many chances are,<br /> + And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war—<br /> + If one should reach my head, there let it fall,<br /> + And spare thy life; I would not perish all.<br /> + Thy bloomy youth deserves a longer date:<br /> + Live thou to mourn thy love’s unhappy fate;<br /> + To bear my mangled body from the foe,<br /> + Or buy it back, and fun’ral rites bestow.<br /> + Or, if hard fortune shall those dues deny,<br /> + Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply.<br /> + O let not me the widow’s tears renew!<br /> + Nor let a mother’s curse my name pursue:<br /> + Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee,<br /> + Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily,<br /> + Her age committing to the seas and wind,<br /> + When ev’ry weary matron stay’d behind.”<br /> + To this, Euryalus: “You plead in vain,<br /> + And but protract the cause you cannot gain.<br /> + No more delays, but haste!” With that, he wakes<br /> + The nodding watch; each to his office takes.<br /> + The guard reliev’d, the gen’rous couple went<br /> + To find the council at the royal tent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + All creatures else forgot their daily care,<br /> + And sleep, the common gift of nature, share;<br /> + Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate<br /> + In nightly council for th’ indanger’d state.<br /> + They vote a message to their absent chief,<br /> + Shew their distress, and beg a swift relief.<br /> + Amid the camp a silent seat they chose,<br /> + Remote from clamour, and secure from foes.<br /> + On their left arms their ample shields they bear,<br /> + The right reclin’d upon the bending spear.<br /> + Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard,<br /> + And beg admission, eager to be heard:<br /> + Th’ affair important, not to be deferr’d.<br /> + Ascanius bids ’em be conducted in,<br /> + Ord’ring the more experienc’d to begin.<br /> + Then Nisus thus: “Ye fathers, lend your ears;<br /> + Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years.<br /> + The foe, securely drench’d in sleep and wine,<br /> + Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine;<br /> + And where the smoke in cloudy vapours flies,<br /> + Cov’ring the plain, and curling to the skies,<br /> + Betwixt two paths, which at the gate divide,<br /> + Close by the sea, a passage we have spied,<br /> + Which will our way to great Aeneas guide.<br /> + Expect each hour to see him safe again,<br /> + Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain.<br /> + Snatch we the lucky minute while we may;<br /> + Nor can we be mistaken in the way;<br /> + For, hunting in the vale, we both have seen<br /> + The rising turrets, and the stream between,<br /> + And know the winding course, with ev’ry ford.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He ceas’d; and old Alethes took the word:<br /> + “Our country gods, in whom our trust we place,<br /> + Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race,<br /> + While we behold such dauntless worth appear<br /> + In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear.”<br /> + Then into tears of joy the father broke;<br /> + Each in his longing arms by turns he took;<br /> + Panted and paus’d; and thus again he spoke:<br /> + “Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we,<br /> + In recompense of such desert, decree?<br /> + The greatest, sure, and best you can receive,<br /> + The gods and your own conscious worth will give.<br /> + The rest our grateful gen’ral will bestow,<br /> + And young Ascanius till his manhood owe.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “And I, whose welfare in my father lies,”<br /> + Ascanius adds, “by the great deities,<br /> + By my dear country, by my household gods,<br /> + By hoary Vesta’s rites and dark abodes,<br /> + Adjure you both, (on you my fortune stands;<br /> + That and my faith I plight into your hands,)<br /> + Make me but happy in his safe return,<br /> + Whose wanted presence I can only mourn;<br /> + Your common gift shall two large goblets be<br /> + Of silver, wrought with curious imagery,<br /> + And high emboss’d, which, when old Priam reign’d,<br /> + My conqu’ring sire at sack’d Arisba gain’d;<br /> + And more, two tripods cast in antique mould,<br /> + With two great talents of the finest gold;<br /> + Beside a costly bowl, ingrav’d with art,<br /> + Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart.<br /> + But, if in conquer’d Italy we reign,<br /> + When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain—<br /> + Thou saw’st the courser by proud Turnus press’d:<br /> + That, Nisus, and his arms, and nodding crest,<br /> + And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share:<br /> + Twelve lab’ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair<br /> + All clad in rich attire, and train’d with care;<br /> + And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains,<br /> + And a large portion of the king’s domains.<br /> + But thou, whose years are more to mine allied,<br /> + No fate my vow’d affection shall divide<br /> + From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine;<br /> + Take full possession; all my soul is thine.<br /> + One faith, one fame, one fate, shall both attend;<br /> + My life’s companion, and my bosom friend:<br /> + My peace shall be committed to thy care,<br /> + And to thy conduct my concerns in war.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus the young Euryalus replied:<br /> + “Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide,<br /> + The same shall be my age, as now my youth;<br /> + No time shall find me wanting to my truth.<br /> + This only from your goodness let me gain<br /> + (And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain)<br /> + Of Priam’s royal race my mother came—<br /> + And sure the best that ever bore the name—<br /> + Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold<br /> + From me departing, but, o’erspent and old,<br /> + My fate she follow’d. Ignorant of this<br /> + (Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss,<br /> + Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave,<br /> + And in this only act of all my life deceive.<br /> + By this right hand and conscious night I swear,<br /> + My soul so sad a farewell could not bear.<br /> + Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place<br /> + (Permit me to presume so great a grace)<br /> + Support her age, forsaken and distress’d.<br /> + That hope alone will fortify my breast<br /> + Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears.”<br /> + He said. The mov’d assistants melt in tears.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see<br /> + That image of his filial piety:<br /> + “So great beginnings, in so green an age,<br /> + Exact the faith which I again engage.<br /> + Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim,<br /> + Creusa had, and only want the name.<br /> + Whate’er event thy bold attempt shall have,<br /> + ’Tis merit to have borne a son so brave.<br /> + Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear,<br /> + (My father us’d it,) what, returning here<br /> + Crown’d with success, I for thyself prepare,<br /> + That, if thou fail, shall thy lov’d mother share.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and weeping, while he spoke the word,<br /> + From his broad belt he drew a shining sword,<br /> + Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made,<br /> + And in an ivory scabbard sheath’d the blade.<br /> + This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend<br /> + A lion’s hide, his body to defend;<br /> + And good Alethes furnish’d him, beside,<br /> + With his own trusty helm, of temper tried.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus arm’d they went. The noble Trojans wait<br /> + Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate<br /> + With prayers and vows. Above the rest appears<br /> + Ascanius, manly far beyond his years,<br /> + And messages committed to their care,<br /> + Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The trenches first they pass’d; then took their way<br /> + Where their proud foes in pitch’d pavilions lay;<br /> + To many fatal, ere themselves were slain.<br /> + They found the careless host dispers’d upon the plain,<br /> + Who, gorg’d, and drunk with wine, supinely snore.<br /> + Unharness’d chariots stand along the shore:<br /> + Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by,<br /> + A medley of debauch and war, they lie.<br /> + Observing Nisus shew’d his friend the sight:<br /> + “Behold a conquest gain’d without a fight.<br /> + Occasion offers, and I stand prepar’d;<br /> + There lies our way; be thou upon the guard,<br /> + And look around, while I securely go,<br /> + And hew a passage thro’ the sleeping foe.”<br /> + Softly he spoke; then striding took his way,<br /> + With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay;<br /> + His head rais’d high on tapestry beneath,<br /> + And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath;<br /> + A king and prophet, by King Turnus lov’d:<br /> + But fate by prescience cannot be remov’d.<br /> + Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies<br /> + Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies.<br /> + His armour-bearer first, and next he kills<br /> + His charioteer, intrench’d betwixt the wheels<br /> + And his lov’d horses; last invades their lord;<br /> + Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword:<br /> + The gasping head flies off; a purple flood<br /> + Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood,<br /> + Which, by the spurning heels dispers’d around,<br /> + The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground.<br /> + Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong,<br /> + He slew, and then Serranus fair and young.<br /> + From dice and wine the youth retir’d to rest,<br /> + And puff’d the fumy god from out his breast:<br /> + Ev’n then he dreamt of drink and lucky play—<br /> + More lucky, had it lasted till the day.<br /> + The famish’d lion thus, with hunger bold,<br /> + O’erleaps the fences of the nightly fold,<br /> + And tears the peaceful flocks: with silent awe<br /> + Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor with less rage Euryalus employs<br /> + The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys;<br /> + But on th’ ignoble crowd his fury flew;<br /> + He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew.<br /> + Oppress’d with heavy sleep the former fell,<br /> + But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all:<br /> + Behind a spacious jar he slink’d for fear;<br /> + The fatal iron found and reach’d him there;<br /> + For, as he rose, it pierc’d his naked side,<br /> + And, reeking, thence return’d in crimson dyed.<br /> + The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood;<br /> + The purple soul comes floating in the flood.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, where Messapus quarter’d, they arrive.<br /> + The fires were fainting there, and just alive;<br /> + The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed.<br /> + Nisus observ’d the discipline, and said:<br /> + “Our eager thirst of blood may both betray;<br /> + And see the scatter’d streaks of dawning day,<br /> + Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend;<br /> + Here let our glutted execution end.<br /> + A lane thro’ slaughter’d bodies we have made.”<br /> + The bold Euryalus, tho’ loth, obey’d.<br /> + Of arms, and arras, and of plate, they find<br /> + A precious load; but these they leave behind.<br /> + Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay<br /> + To make the rich caparison his prey,<br /> + Which on the steed of conquer’d Rhamnes lay.<br /> + Nor did his eyes less longingly behold<br /> + The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish’d gold.<br /> + This present Caedicus the rich bestow’d<br /> + On Remulus, when friendship first they vow’d,<br /> + And, absent, join’d in hospitable ties:<br /> + He, dying, to his heir bequeath’d the prize;<br /> + Till, by the conqu’ring Ardean troops oppress’d,<br /> + He fell; and they the glorious gift possess’d.<br /> + These glitt’ring spoils (now made the victor’s gain)<br /> + He to his body suits, but suits in vain:<br /> + Messapus’ helm he finds among the rest,<br /> + And laces on, and wears the waving crest.<br /> + Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey,<br /> + They leave the camp, and take the ready way.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But far they had not pass’d, before they spied<br /> + Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide.<br /> + The queen a legion to King Turnus sent;<br /> + But the swift horse the slower foot prevent,<br /> + And now, advancing, sought the leader’s tent.<br /> + They saw the pair; for, thro’ the doubtful shade,<br /> + His shining helm Euryalus betray’d,<br /> + On which the moon with full reflection play’d.<br /> + “’Tis not for naught,” cried Volscens from the crowd,<br /> + “These men go there;” then rais’d his voice aloud:<br /> + “Stand! stand! why thus in arms? And whither bent?<br /> + From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent?”<br /> + Silent they scud away, and haste their flight<br /> + To neighb’ring woods, and trust themselves to night.<br /> + The speedy horse all passages belay,<br /> + And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way,<br /> + And watch each entrance of the winding wood.<br /> + Black was the forest: thick with beech it stood,<br /> + Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn;<br /> + Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn.<br /> + The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey,<br /> + And fear, misled the younger from his way.<br /> + But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste,<br /> + And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass’d,<br /> + And Alban plains, from Alba’s name so call’d,<br /> + Where King Latinus then his oxen stall’d;<br /> + Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground,<br /> + And miss’d his friend, and cast his eyes around:<br /> + “Ah wretch!” he cried, “where have I left behind<br /> + Th’ unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find?<br /> + Or what way take?” Again he ventures back,<br /> + And treads the mazes of his former track.<br /> + He winds the wood, and, list’ning, hears the noise<br /> + Of tramping coursers, and the riders’ voice.<br /> + The sound approach’d; and suddenly he view’d<br /> + The foes inclosing, and his friend pursued,<br /> + Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain<br /> + The shelter of the friendly shades to gain.<br /> + What should he next attempt? what arms employ,<br /> + What fruitless force, to free the captive boy?<br /> + Or desperate should he rush and lose his life,<br /> + With odds oppress’d, in such unequal strife?<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Resolv’d at length, his pointed spear he shook;<br /> + And, casting on the moon a mournful look:<br /> + “Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night,<br /> + Fair queen,” he said, “direct my dart aright.<br /> + If e’er my pious father, for my sake,<br /> + Did grateful off’rings on thy altars make,<br /> + Or I increas’d them with my sylvan toils,<br /> + And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils,<br /> + Give me to scatter these.” Then from his ear<br /> + He pois’d, and aim’d, and launch’d the trembling spear.<br /> + The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove,<br /> + Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove;<br /> + Pierc’d his thin armour, drank his vital blood,<br /> + And in his body left the broken wood.<br /> + He staggers round; his eyeballs roll in death,<br /> + And with short sobs he gasps away his breath.<br /> + All stand amaz’d—a second jav’lin flies<br /> + With equal strength, and quivers thro’ the skies.<br /> + This thro’ thy temples, Tagus, forc’d the way,<br /> + And in the brainpan warmly buried lay.<br /> + Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,<br /> + Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,<br /> + Nor knew to fix revenge: “But thou,” he cries,<br /> + “Shalt pay for both,” and at the pris’ner flies<br /> + With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair,<br /> + That cruel sight the lover could not bear;<br /> + But from his covert rush’d in open view,<br /> + And sent his voice before him as he flew:<br /> + “Me! me!” he cried—“turn all your swords alone<br /> + On me—the fact confess’d, the fault my own.<br /> + He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth:<br /> + Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth!<br /> + His only crime (if friendship can offend)<br /> + Is too much love to his unhappy friend.”<br /> + Too late he speaks: the sword, which fury guides,<br /> + Driv’n with full force, had pierc’d his tender sides.<br /> + Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound<br /> + Gush’d out a purple stream, and stain’d the ground.<br /> + His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,<br /> + Like a fair flow’r by the keen share oppress’d;<br /> + Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,<br /> + Whose heavy head is overcharg’d with rain.<br /> + Despair, and rage, and vengeance justly vow’d,<br /> + Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.<br /> + Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends:<br /> + Borne back and bor’d by his surrounding friends,<br /> + Onward he press’d, and kept him still in sight;<br /> + Then whirl’d aloft his sword with all his might:<br /> + Th’ unerring steel descended while he spoke,<br /> + Pierc’d his wide mouth, and thro’ his weazon broke.<br /> + Dying, he slew; and, stagg’ring on the plain,<br /> + With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain;<br /> + Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell,<br /> + Content, in death, to be reveng’d so well.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + O happy friends! for, if my verse can give<br /> + Immortal life, your fame shall ever live,<br /> + Fix’d as the Capitol’s foundation lies,<br /> + And spread, where’er the Roman eagle flies!<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The conqu’ring party first divide the prey,<br /> + Then their slain leader to the camp convey.<br /> + With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill’d,<br /> + To see such numbers whom so few had kill’d.<br /> + Serranus, Rhamnes, and the rest, they found:<br /> + Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround;<br /> + And the yet reeking blood o’erflows the ground.<br /> + All knew the helmet which Messapus lost,<br /> + But mourn’d a purchase that so dear had cost.<br /> + Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon’s bed,<br /> + And with the dawn of day the skies o’erspread;<br /> + Nor long the sun his daily course withheld,<br /> + But added colours to the world reveal’d:<br /> + When early Turnus, wak’ning with the light,<br /> + All clad in armour, calls his troops to fight.<br /> + His martial men with fierce harangue he fir’d,<br /> + And his own ardour in their souls inspir’d.<br /> + This done—to give new terror to his foes,<br /> + The heads of Nisus and his friend he shows,<br /> + Rais’d high on pointed spears—a ghastly sight:<br /> + Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls;<br /> + They line their trenches, and they man their walls.<br /> + In front extended to the left they stood;<br /> + Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood.<br /> + But, casting from their tow’rs a frightful view,<br /> + They saw the faces, which too well they knew,<br /> + Tho’ then disguis’d in death, and smear’d all o’er<br /> + With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore.<br /> + Soon hasty fame thro’ the sad city bears<br /> + The mournful message to the mother’s ears.<br /> + An icy cold benumbs her limbs; she shakes;<br /> + Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes.<br /> + She runs the rampires round amidst the war,<br /> + Nor fears the flying darts; she rends her hair,<br /> + And fills with loud laments the liquid air.<br /> + “Thus, then, my lov’d Euryalus appears!<br /> + Thus looks the prop of my declining years!<br /> + Was’t on this face my famish’d eyes I fed?<br /> + Ah! how unlike the living is the dead!<br /> + And could’st thou leave me, cruel, thus alone?<br /> + Not one kind kiss from a departing son!<br /> + No look, no last adieu before he went,<br /> + In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent!<br /> + Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay,<br /> + To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey!<br /> + Nor was I near to close his dying eyes,<br /> + To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies,<br /> + To call about his corpse his crying friends,<br /> + Or spread the mantle (made for other ends)<br /> + On his dear body, which I wove with care,<br /> + Nor did my daily pains or nightly labour spare.<br /> + Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains<br /> + His trunk dismember’d, and his cold remains?<br /> + For this, alas! I left my needful ease,<br /> + Expos’d my life to winds and winter seas!<br /> + If any pity touch Rutulian hearts,<br /> + Here empty all your quivers, all your darts;<br /> + Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe,<br /> + And send me thunderstruck to shades below!”<br /> + Her shrieks and clamours pierce the Trojans’ ears,<br /> + Unman their courage, and augment their fears;<br /> + Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain,<br /> + Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain,<br /> + But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent,<br /> + To bear the madding mother to her tent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now the trumpets terribly, from far,<br /> + With rattling clangour, rouse the sleepy war.<br /> + The soldiers’ shouts succeed the brazen sounds;<br /> + And heav’n, from pole to pole, the noise rebounds.<br /> + The Volscians bear their shields upon their head,<br /> + And, rushing forward, form a moving shed.<br /> + These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down:<br /> + Some raise the ladders; others scale the town.<br /> + But, where void spaces on the walls appear,<br /> + Or thin defence, they pour their forces there.<br /> + With poles and missive weapons, from afar,<br /> + The Trojans keep aloof the rising war.<br /> + Taught, by their ten years’ siege, defensive fight,<br /> + They roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight,<br /> + To break the penthouse with the pond’rous blow,<br /> + Which yet the patient Volscians undergo:<br /> + But could not bear th’ unequal combat long;<br /> + For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng,<br /> + The ruin falls: their shatter’d shields give way,<br /> + And their crush’d heads become an easy prey.<br /> + They shrink for fear, abated of their rage,<br /> + Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage;<br /> + Contented now to gall them from below<br /> + With darts and slings, and with the distant bow.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view,<br /> + A blazing pine within the trenches threw.<br /> + But brave Messapus, Neptune’s warlike son,<br /> + Broke down the palisades, the trenches won,<br /> + And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Calliope, begin! Ye sacred Nine,<br /> + Inspire your poet in his high design,<br /> + To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made,<br /> + What souls he sent below the Stygian shade,<br /> + What fame the soldiers with their captain share,<br /> + And the vast circuit of the fatal war;<br /> + For you in singing martial facts excel;<br /> + You best remember, and alone can tell.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + There stood a tow’r, amazing to the sight,<br /> + Built up of beams, and of stupendous height:<br /> + Art, and the nature of the place, conspir’d<br /> + To furnish all the strength that war requir’d.<br /> + To level this, the bold Italians join;<br /> + The wary Trojans obviate their design;<br /> + With weighty stones o’erwhelm their troops below,<br /> + Shoot thro’ the loopholes, and sharp jav’lins throw.<br /> + Turnus, the chief, toss’d from his thund’ring hand<br /> + Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand:<br /> + It stuck, the fiery plague; the winds were high;<br /> + The planks were season’d, and the timber dry.<br /> + Contagion caught the posts; it spread along,<br /> + Scorch’d, and to distance drove the scatter’d throng.<br /> + The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain,<br /> + Still gath’ring fast upon the trembling train;<br /> + Till, crowding to the corners of the wall,<br /> + Down the defence and the defenders fall.<br /> + The mighty flaw makes heav’n itself resound:<br /> + The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground.<br /> + The tow’r, that follow’d on the fallen crew,<br /> + Whelm’d o’er their heads, and buried whom it slew:<br /> + Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent;<br /> + All the same equal ruin underwent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Young Lycus and Helenor only scape;<br /> + Sav’d—how, they know not—from the steepy leap.<br /> + Helenor, elder of the two: by birth,<br /> + On one side royal, one a son of earth,<br /> + Whom to the Lydian king Licymnia bare,<br /> + And sent her boasted bastard to the war<br /> + (A privilege which none but freemen share).<br /> + Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield:<br /> + No marks of honour charg’d its empty field.<br /> + Light as he fell, so light the youth arose,<br /> + And rising, found himself amidst his foes;<br /> + Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way.<br /> + Embolden’d by despair, he stood at bay;<br /> + And, like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds<br /> + Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds<br /> + Resolv’d on death, he dissipates his fears,<br /> + And bounds aloft against the pointed spears:<br /> + So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws<br /> + His dying body on his thickest foes.<br /> + But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far,<br /> + Runs, doubles, winds and turns, amidst the war;<br /> + Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind,<br /> + And snatches at the beam he first can find;<br /> + Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch,<br /> + In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach.<br /> + But Turnus follow’d hard his hunted prey<br /> + (His spear had almost reach’d him in the way,<br /> + Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind)<br /> + “Fool!” said the chief, “tho’ fleeter than the wind,<br /> + Couldst thou presume to scape, when I pursue?”<br /> + He said, and downward by the feet he drew<br /> + The trembling dastard; at the tug he falls;<br /> + Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls.<br /> + Thus on some silver swan, or tim’rous hare,<br /> + Jove’s bird comes sousing down from upper air;<br /> + Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey:<br /> + Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way.<br /> + So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb,<br /> + In vain lamented by the bleating dam.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then rushing onward with a barb’rous cry,<br /> + The troops of Turnus to the combat fly.<br /> + The ditch with fagots fill’d, the daring foe<br /> + Toss’d firebrands to the steepy turrets throw.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came<br /> + To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame,<br /> + Roll’d down the fragment of a rock so right,<br /> + It crush’d him double underneath the weight.<br /> + Two more young Liger and Asylas slew:<br /> + To bend the bow young Liger better knew;<br /> + Asylas best the pointed jav’lin threw.<br /> + Brave Caeneus laid Ortygius on the plain;<br /> + The victor Caeneus was by Turnus slain.<br /> + By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall,<br /> + Sagar, and Ida, standing on the wall.<br /> + From Capys’ arms his fate Privernus found:<br /> + Hurt by Themilla first—but slight the wound—<br /> + His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart,<br /> + He clapp’d his hand upon the wounded part:<br /> + The second shaft came swift and unespied,<br /> + And pierc’d his hand, and nail’d it to his side,<br /> + Transfix’d his breathing lungs and beating heart:<br /> + The soul came issuing out, and hiss’d against the dart.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The son of Arcens shone amid the rest,<br /> + In glitt’ring armour and a purple vest,<br /> + (Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,)<br /> + Bred by his father in the Martian grove,<br /> + Where the fat altars of Palicus flame,<br /> + And send in arms to purchase early fame.<br /> + Him when he spied from far, the Tuscan king<br /> + Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling,<br /> + Thrice whirl’d the thong around his head, and threw:<br /> + The heated lead half melted as it flew;<br /> + It pierc’d his hollow temples and his brain;<br /> + The youth came tumbling down, and spurn’d the plain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then young Ascanius, who, before this day,<br /> + Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey,<br /> + First bent in martial strife the twanging bow,<br /> + And exercis’d against a human foe—<br /> + With this bereft Numanus of his life,<br /> + Who Turnus’ younger sister took to wife.<br /> + Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride,<br /> + Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen’d with a stride,<br /> + In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Twice-conquer’d cowards, now your shame is shown—<br /> + Coop’d up a second time within your town!<br /> + Who dare not issue forth in open field,<br /> + But hold your walls before you for a shield.<br /> + Thus treat you war? thus our alliance force?<br /> + What gods, what madness, hither steer’d your course?<br /> + You shall not find the sons of Atreus here,<br /> + Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear.<br /> + Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood,<br /> + We bear our newborn infants to the flood;<br /> + There bath’d amid the stream, our boys we hold,<br /> + With winter harden’d, and inur’d to cold.<br /> + They wake before the day to range the wood,<br /> + Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer’d food.<br /> + No sports, but what belong to war, they know:<br /> + To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow.<br /> + Our youth, of labour patient, earn their bread;<br /> + Hardly they work, with frugal diet fed.<br /> + From plows and harrows sent to seek renown,<br /> + They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town.<br /> + No part of life from toils of war is free,<br /> + No change in age, or diff’rence in degree.<br /> + We plow and till in arms; our oxen feel,<br /> + Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel;<br /> + Th’ inverted lance makes furrows in the plain.<br /> + Ev’n time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain:<br /> + The body, not the mind; nor can control<br /> + Th’ immortal vigour, or abate the soul.<br /> + Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray:<br /> + We live by plunder, and delight in prey.<br /> + Your vests embroider’d with rich purple shine;<br /> + In sloth you glory, and in dances join.<br /> + Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride<br /> + Your turbans underneath your chins are tied.<br /> + Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again!<br /> + Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!<br /> + Go, mix’d with eunuchs, in the Mother’s rites,<br /> + Where with unequal sound the flute invites;<br /> + Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida’s shade:<br /> + Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This foul reproach Ascanius could not hear<br /> + With patience, or a vow’d revenge forbear.<br /> + At the full stretch of both his hands he drew,<br /> + And almost join’d the horns of the tough yew.<br /> + But, first, before the throne of Jove he stood,<br /> + And thus with lifted hands invok’d the god:<br /> + “My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed!<br /> + An annual off’ring in thy grove shall bleed;<br /> + A snow-white steer, before thy altar led,<br /> + Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head,<br /> + Butts with his threat’ning brows, and bellowing stands,<br /> + And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Jove bow’d the heav’ns, and lent a gracious ear,<br /> + And thunder’d on the left, amidst the clear.<br /> + Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies<br /> + The feather’d death, and hisses thro’ the skies.<br /> + The steel thro’ both his temples forc’d the way:<br /> + Extended on the ground, Numanus lay.<br /> + “Go now, vain boaster, and true valour scorn!<br /> + The Phrygians, twice subdued, yet make this third return.”<br /> + Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake<br /> + The heav’ns with shouting, and new vigour take.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud,<br /> + To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd;<br /> + And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud:<br /> + “Advance, illustrious youth, increase in fame,<br /> + And wide from east to west extend thy name;<br /> + Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe<br /> + To thee a race of demigods below.<br /> + This is the way to heav’n: the pow’rs divine<br /> + From this beginning date the Julian line.<br /> + To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs,<br /> + The conquer’d war is due, and the vast world is theirs.<br /> + Troy is too narrow for thy name.” He said,<br /> + And plunging downward shot his radiant head;<br /> + Dispell’d the breathing air, that broke his flight:<br /> + Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight.<br /> + Old Butes’ form he took, Anchises’ squire,<br /> + Now left, to rule Ascanius, by his sire:<br /> + His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs,<br /> + His mien, his habit, and his arms, he wears,<br /> + And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years:<br /> + “Suffice it thee, thy father’s worthy son,<br /> + The warlike prize thou hast already won.<br /> + The god of archers gives thy youth a part<br /> + Of his own praise, nor envies equal art.<br /> + Now tempt the war no more.” He said, and flew<br /> + Obscure in air, and vanish’d from their view.<br /> + The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know,<br /> + And hear the twanging of his heav’nly bow.<br /> + Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus’ name,<br /> + To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame.<br /> + Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun;<br /> + From wall to wall the shouts and clamours run.<br /> + They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around;<br /> + Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground;<br /> + And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound.<br /> + The combat thickens, like the storm that flies<br /> + From westward, when the show’ry Kids arise;<br /> + Or patt’ring hail comes pouring on the main,<br /> + When Jupiter descends in harden’d rain,<br /> + Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound,<br /> + And with an armed winter strew the ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Pand’rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war,<br /> + Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bare<br /> + On Ida’s top, two youths of height and size<br /> + Like firs that on their mother mountain rise,<br /> + Presuming on their force, the gates unbar,<br /> + And of their own accord invite the war.<br /> + With fates averse, against their king’s command,<br /> + Arm’d, on the right and on the left they stand,<br /> + And flank the passage: shining steel they wear,<br /> + And waving crests above their heads appear.<br /> + Thus two tall oaks, that Padus’ banks adorn,<br /> + Lift up to heav’n their leafy heads unshorn,<br /> + And, overpress’d with nature’s heavy load,<br /> + Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod.<br /> + In flows a tide of Latians, when they see<br /> + The gate set open, and the passage free;<br /> + Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus, rushing on,<br /> + Equicolus, that in bright armour shone,<br /> + And Haemon first; but soon repuls’d they fly,<br /> + Or in the well-defended pass they die.<br /> + These with success are fir’d, and those with rage,<br /> + And each on equal terms at length engage.<br /> + Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain,<br /> + The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought,<br /> + When suddenly th’ unhop’d-for news was brought,<br /> + The foes had left the fastness of their place,<br /> + Prevail’d in fight, and had his men in chase.<br /> + He quits th’ attack, and, to prevent their fate,<br /> + Runs where the giant brothers guard the gate.<br /> + The first he met, Antiphates the brave,<br /> + But base-begotten on a Theban slave,<br /> + Sarpedon’s son, he slew: the deadly dart<br /> + Found passage thro’ his breast, and pierc’d his heart.<br /> + Fix’d in the wound th’ Italian cornel stood,<br /> + Warm’d in his lungs, and in his vital blood.<br /> + Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies,<br /> + And Meropes, and the gigantic size<br /> + Of Bitias, threat’ning with his ardent eyes.<br /> + Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress’d<br /> + (A dart were lost within that roomy breast),<br /> + But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong,<br /> + Which roar’d like thunder as it whirl’d along:<br /> + Not two bull hides th’ impetuous force withhold,<br /> + Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.<br /> + Down sunk the monster bulk and press’d the ground;<br /> + His arms and clatt’ring shield on the vast body sound,<br /> + Not with less ruin than the Bajan mole,<br /> + Rais’d on the seas, the surges to control—<br /> + At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall;<br /> + Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall<br /> + Of the vast pile; the scatter’d ocean flies;<br /> + Black sands, discolour’d froth, and mingled mud arise:<br /> + The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores;<br /> + Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars:<br /> + Typhoeus, thrown beneath, by Jove’s command,<br /> + Astonish’d at the flaw that shakes the land,<br /> + Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake,<br /> + With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The warrior god the Latian troops inspir’d,<br /> + New strung their sinews, and their courage fir’d,<br /> + But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright:<br /> + Then black despair precipitates their flight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When Pandarus beheld his brother kill’d,<br /> + The town with fear and wild confusion fill’d,<br /> + He turns the hinges of the heavy gate<br /> + With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight<br /> + Some happier friends within the walls inclos’d;<br /> + The rest shut out, to certain death expos’d:<br /> + Fool as he was, and frantic in his care,<br /> + T’ admit young Turnus, and include the war!<br /> + He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold,<br /> + Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold.<br /> + Too late his blazing buckler they descry,<br /> + And sparkling fires that shot from either eye,<br /> + His mighty members, and his ample breast,<br /> + His rattling armour, and his crimson crest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Far from that hated face the Trojans fly,<br /> + All but the fool who sought his destiny.<br /> + Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow’d<br /> + For Bitias’ death, and threatens thus aloud:<br /> + “These are not Ardea’s walls, nor this the town<br /> + Amata proffers with Lavinia’s crown:<br /> + ’Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft,<br /> + No means of safe return by flight are left.”<br /> + To whom, with count’nance calm, and soul sedate,<br /> + Thus Turnus: “Then begin, and try thy fate:<br /> + My message to the ghost of Priam bear;<br /> + Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw,<br /> + Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew:<br /> + With his full force he whirl’d it first around;<br /> + But the soft yielding air receiv’d the wound:<br /> + Imperial Juno turn’d the course before,<br /> + And fix’d the wand’ring weapon in the door.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “But hope not thou,” said Turnus, “when I strike,<br /> + To shun thy fate: our force is not alike,<br /> + Nor thy steel temper’d by the Lemnian god.”<br /> + Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood,<br /> + And aim’d from high: the full descending blow<br /> + Cleaves the broad front and beardless cheeks in two.<br /> + Down sinks the giant with a thund’ring sound:<br /> + His pond’rous limbs oppress the trembling ground;<br /> + Blood, brains, and foam gush from the gaping wound:<br /> + Scalp, face, and shoulders the keen steel divides,<br /> + And the shar’d visage hangs on equal sides.<br /> + The Trojans fly from their approaching fate;<br /> + And, had the victor then secur’d the gate,<br /> + And to his troops without unclos’d the bars,<br /> + One lucky day had ended all his wars.<br /> + But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood,<br /> + Push’d on his fury, to pursue the crowd.<br /> + Hamstring’d behind, unhappy Gyges died;<br /> + Then Phalaris is added to his side.<br /> + The pointed jav’lins from the dead he drew,<br /> + And their friends’ arms against their fellows threw.<br /> + Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phlegys flies;<br /> + Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies.<br /> + Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall—<br /> + Engag’d against the foes who scal’d the wall:<br /> + But, whom they fear’d without, they found within.<br /> + At last, tho’ late, by Lynceus he was seen.<br /> + He calls new succours, and assaults the prince:<br /> + But weak his force, and vain is their defence.<br /> + Turn’d to the right, his sword the hero drew,<br /> + And at one blow the bold aggressor slew.<br /> + He joints the neck; and, with a stroke so strong,<br /> + The helm flies off, and bears the head along.<br /> + Next him, the huntsman Amycus he kill’d,<br /> + In darts envenom’d and in poison skill’d.<br /> + Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear,<br /> + And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear:<br /> + He fought with courage, and he sung the fight;<br /> + Arms were his bus’ness, verses his delight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief,<br /> + Their slaughter’d friends, and hasten their relief.<br /> + Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train,<br /> + Whom brave Seresthus and his troop sustain.<br /> + To save the living, and revenge the dead,<br /> + Against one warrior’s arms all Troy they led.<br /> + “O, void of sense and courage!” Mnestheus cried,<br /> + “Where can you hope your coward heads to hide?<br /> + Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run?<br /> + One man, and in your camp inclos’d, you shun!<br /> + Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast,<br /> + And pass unpunish’d from a num’rous host?<br /> + Forsaking honour, and renouncing fame,<br /> + Your gods, your country, and your king you shame!”<br /> + This just reproach their virtue does excite:<br /> + They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield,<br /> + But with slow paces measures back the field,<br /> + And inches to the walls, where Tiber’s tide,<br /> + Washing the camp, defends the weaker side.<br /> + The more he loses, they advance the more,<br /> + And tread in ev’ry step he trod before.<br /> + They shout: they bear him back; and, whom by might<br /> + They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As, compass’d with a wood of spears around,<br /> + The lordly lion still maintains his ground;<br /> + Grins horrible, retires, and turns again;<br /> + Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane;<br /> + He loses while in vain he presses on,<br /> + Nor will his courage let him dare to run:<br /> + So Turnus fares, and, unresolved of flight,<br /> + Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight.<br /> + Yet twice, enrag’d, the combat he renews,<br /> + Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues.<br /> + But now they swarm, and, with fresh troops supplied,<br /> + Come rolling on, and rush from ev’ry side:<br /> + Nor Juno, who sustain’d his arms before,<br /> + Dares with new strength suffice th’ exhausted store;<br /> + For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down,<br /> + To force th’ invader from the frighted town.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + With labour spent, no longer can he wield<br /> + The heavy falchion, or sustain the shield,<br /> + O’erwhelm’d with darts, which from afar they fling:<br /> + The weapons round his hollow temples ring;<br /> + His golden helm gives way, with stony blows<br /> + Batter’d, and flat, and beaten to his brows.<br /> + His crest is rash’d away; his ample shield<br /> + Is falsified, and round with jav’lins fill’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm;<br /> + And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm.<br /> + Sick sweat succeeds; he drops at ev’ry pore;<br /> + With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o’er;<br /> + Shorter and shorter ev’ry gasp he takes;<br /> + And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes.<br /> + Plung’d in the flood, and made the waters fly.<br /> + The yellow god the welcome burthen bore,<br /> + And wip’d the sweat, and wash’d away the gore;<br /> + Then gently wafts him to the farther coast,<br /> + And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>BOOK X</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Jupiter, calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in either party. + At Aeneas’ return there is a bloody battle: Turnus killing Pallas; + Aeneas, Lausus, and Mezentius. Mezentius is described as an atheist; Lausus + as a pious and virtuous youth. The different actions and death of these two + are the subject of a noble episode. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he gates of heav’n unfold: Jove summons all<br /> + The gods to council in the common hall.<br /> + Sublimely seated, he surveys from far<br /> + The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,<br /> + And all th’ inferior world. From first to last,<br /> + The sov’reign senate in degrees are plac’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus th’ almighty sire began: “Ye gods,<br /> + Natives or denizens of blest abodes,<br /> + From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,<br /> + This backward fate from what was first design’d?<br /> + Why this protracted war, when my commands<br /> + Pronounc’d a peace, and gave the Latian lands?<br /> + What fear or hope on either part divides<br /> + Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides?<br /> + A lawful time of war at length will come,<br /> + (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),<br /> + When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,<br /> + Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,<br /> + And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.<br /> + Then is your time for faction and debate,<br /> + For partial favour, and permitted hate.<br /> + Let now your immature dissension cease;<br /> + Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;<br /> + But lovely Venus thus replies at large:<br /> + “O pow’r immense, eternal energy,<br /> + (For to what else protection can we fly?)<br /> + Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare<br /> + In fields, unpunish’d, and insult my care?<br /> + How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train,<br /> + In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?<br /> + Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend,<br /> + And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:<br /> + The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats,<br /> + With a red deluge, their increasing moats.<br /> + Aeneas, ignorant, and far from thence,<br /> + Has left a camp expos’d, without defence.<br /> + This endless outrage shall they still sustain?<br /> + Shall Troy renew’d be forc’d and fir’d again?<br /> + A second siege my banish’d issue fears,<br /> + And a new Diomede in arms appears.<br /> + One more audacious mortal will be found;<br /> + And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.<br /> + Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,<br /> + The Latian lands my progeny receive,<br /> + Bear they the pains of violated law,<br /> + And thy protection from their aid withdraw.<br /> + But, if the gods their sure success foretell;<br /> + If those of heav’n consent with those of hell,<br /> + To promise Italy; who dare debate<br /> + The pow’r of Jove, or fix another fate?<br /> + What should I tell of tempests on the main,<br /> + Of Aeolus usurping Neptune’s reign?<br /> + Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat<br /> + T’ inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet?<br /> + Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends,<br /> + Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends.<br /> + That new example wanted yet above:<br /> + An act that well became the wife of Jove!<br /> + Alecto, rais’d by her, with rage inflames<br /> + The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames.<br /> + Imperial sway no more exalts my mind;<br /> + (Such hopes I had indeed, while Heav’n was kind;)<br /> + Now let my happier foes possess my place,<br /> + Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race;<br /> + And conquer they, whom you with conquest grace.<br /> + Since you can spare, from all your wide command,<br /> + No spot of earth, no hospitable land,<br /> + Which may my wand’ring fugitives receive;<br /> + (Since haughty Juno will not give you leave;)<br /> + Then, father, (if I still may use that name,)<br /> + By ruin’d Troy, yet smoking from the flame,<br /> + I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,<br /> + Be freed from danger, and dismiss’d the war:<br /> + Inglorious let him live, without a crown.<br /> + The father may be cast on coasts unknown,<br /> + Struggling with fate; but let me save the son.<br /> + Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow’rs:<br /> + In those recesses, and those sacred bow’rs,<br /> + Obscurely let him rest; his right resign<br /> + To promis’d empire, and his Julian line.<br /> + Then Carthage may th’ Ausonian towns destroy,<br /> + Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.<br /> + What profits it my son to scape the fire,<br /> + Arm’d with his gods, and loaded with his sire;<br /> + To pass the perils of the seas and wind;<br /> + Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind;<br /> + To reach th’ Italian shores; if, after all,<br /> + Our second Pergamus is doom’d to fall?<br /> + Much better had he curb’d his high desires,<br /> + And hover’d o’er his ill-extinguish’d fires.<br /> + To Simois’ banks the fugitives restore,<br /> + And give them back to war, and all the woes before.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Deep indignation swell’d Saturnia’s heart:<br /> + “And must I own,” she said, “my secret smart—<br /> + What with more decence were in silence kept,<br /> + And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept?<br /> + Did god or man your fav’rite son advise,<br /> + With war unhop’d the Latians to surprise?<br /> + By fate, you boast, and by the gods’ decree,<br /> + He left his native land for Italy!<br /> + Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more<br /> + Than Heav’n inspir’d, he sought a foreign shore!<br /> + Did I persuade to trust his second Troy<br /> + To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,<br /> + With walls unfinish’d, which himself forsakes,<br /> + And thro’ the waves a wand’ring voyage takes?<br /> + When have I urg’d him meanly to demand<br /> + The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land?<br /> + Did I or Iris give this mad advice,<br /> + Or made the fool himself the fatal choice?<br /> + You think it hard, the Latians should destroy<br /> + With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy!<br /> + Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw<br /> + Their native air, nor take a foreign law!<br /> + That Turnus is permitted still to live,<br /> + To whom his birth a god and goddess give!<br /> + But yet is just and lawful for your line<br /> + To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join;<br /> + Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,<br /> + And from the bridegroom tear the promis’d bride;<br /> + Petition, while you public arms prepare;<br /> + Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war!<br /> + ’Twas giv’n to you, your darling son to shroud,<br /> + To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd,<br /> + And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud.<br /> + From flaming fleets you turn’d the fire away,<br /> + And chang’d the ships to daughters of the sea.<br /> + But is my crime—the Queen of Heav’n offends,<br /> + If she presume to save her suff’ring friends!<br /> + Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,<br /> + You say, is absent: absent let him be.<br /> + Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow’rs,<br /> + The soft recesses, and the sacred bow’rs.<br /> + Why do you then these needless arms prepare,<br /> + And thus provoke a people prone to war?<br /> + Did I with fire the Trojan town deface,<br /> + Or hinder from return your exil’d race?<br /> + Was I the cause of mischief, or the man<br /> + Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?<br /> + Think on whose faith th’ adult’rous youth relied;<br /> + Who promis’d, who procur’d, the Spartan bride?<br /> + When all th’ united states of Greece combin’d,<br /> + To purge the world of the perfidious kind,<br /> + Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate:<br /> + Your quarrels and complaints are now too late.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix’d applause,<br /> + Just as they favour or dislike the cause.<br /> + So winds, when yet unfledg’d in woods they lie,<br /> + In whispers first their tender voices try,<br /> + Then issue on the main with bellowing rage,<br /> + And storms to trembling mariners presage.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus to both replied th’ imperial god,<br /> + Who shakes heav’n’s axles with his awful nod.<br /> + (When he begins, the silent senate stand<br /> + With rev’rence, list’ning to the dread command:<br /> + The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;<br /> + And the hush’d waves lie flatted on the main.)<br /> + “Celestials, your attentive ears incline!<br /> + Since,” said the god, “the Trojans must not join<br /> + In wish’d alliance with the Latian line;<br /> + Since endless jarrings and immortal hate<br /> + Tend but to discompose our happy state;<br /> + The war henceforward be resign’d to fate:<br /> + Each to his proper fortune stand or fall;<br /> + Equal and unconcern’d I look on all.<br /> + Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me;<br /> + And both shall draw the lots their fates decree.<br /> + Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend;<br /> + And, if she favours those, let those defend:<br /> + The Fates will find their way.” The Thund’rer said,<br /> + And shook the sacred honours of his head,<br /> + Attesting Styx, th’ inviolable flood,<br /> + And the black regions of his brother god.<br /> + Trembled the poles of heav’n, and earth confess’d the nod.<br /> + This end the sessions had: the senate rise,<br /> + And to his palace wait their sov’reign thro’ the skies.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes<br /> + Within their walls the Trojan host inclose:<br /> + They wound, they kill, they watch at ev’ry gate;<br /> + Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Th’ Aeneans wish in vain their wanted chief,<br /> + Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.<br /> + Thin on the tow’rs they stand; and ev’n those few<br /> + A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew.<br /> + Yet in the face of danger some there stood:<br /> + The two bold brothers of Sarpedon’s blood,<br /> + Asius and Acmon; both th’ Assaraci;<br /> + Young Haemon, and tho’ young, resolv’d to die.<br /> + With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join’d;<br /> + Tibris and Castor, both of Lycian kind.<br /> + From Acmon’s hands a rolling stone there came,<br /> + So large, it half deserv’d a mountain’s name:<br /> + Strong-sinew’d was the youth, and big of bone;<br /> + His brother Mnestheus could not more have done,<br /> + Or the great father of th’ intrepid son.<br /> + Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send;<br /> + And some with darts, and some with stones defend.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,<br /> + The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.<br /> + His lovely face unarm’d, his head was bare;<br /> + In ringlets o’er his shoulders hung his hair.<br /> + His forehead circled with a diadem;<br /> + Distinguish’d from the crowd, he shines a gem,<br /> + Enchas’d in gold, or polish’d iv’ry set,<br /> + Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,<br /> + Directing pointed arrows from afar,<br /> + And death with poison arm’d—in Lydia born,<br /> + Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn;<br /> + Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands,<br /> + And leaves a rich manure of golden sands.<br /> + There Capys, author of the Capuan name,<br /> + And there was Mnestheus too, increas’d in fame,<br /> + Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus mortal war was wag’d on either side.<br /> + Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide:<br /> + For, anxious, from Evander when he went,<br /> + He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon’s tent;<br /> + Expos’d the cause of coming to the chief;<br /> + His name and country told, and ask’d relief;<br /> + Propos’d the terms; his own small strength declar’d;<br /> + What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar’d:<br /> + What Turnus, bold and violent, design’d;<br /> + Then shew’d the slipp’ry state of humankind,<br /> + And fickle fortune; warn’d him to beware,<br /> + And to his wholesome counsel added pray’r.<br /> + Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,<br /> + And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + They soon set sail; nor now the fates withstand;<br /> + Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.<br /> + Aeneas leads; upon his stern appear<br /> + Two lions carv’d, which rising Ida bear—<br /> + Ida, to wand’ring Trojans ever dear.<br /> + Under their grateful shade Aeneas sate,<br /> + Revolving war’s events, and various fate.<br /> + His left young Pallas kept, fix’d to his side,<br /> + And oft of winds enquir’d, and of the tide;<br /> + Oft of the stars, and of their wat’ry way;<br /> + And what he suffer’d both by land and sea.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!<br /> + The Tuscan leaders, and their army sing,<br /> + Which follow’d great Aeneas to the war:<br /> + Their arms, their numbers, and their names declare.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A thousand youths brave Massicus obey,<br /> + Borne in the Tiger thro’ the foaming sea;<br /> + From Asium brought, and Cosa, by his care:<br /> + For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear.<br /> + Fierce Abas next: his men bright armour wore;<br /> + His stern Apollo’s golden statue bore.<br /> + Six hundred Populonia sent along,<br /> + All skill’d in martial exercise, and strong.<br /> + Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,<br /> + An isle renown’d for steel, and unexhausted mines.<br /> + Asylas on his prow the third appears,<br /> + Who heav’n interprets, and the wand’ring stars;<br /> + From offer’d entrails prodigies expounds,<br /> + And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds.<br /> + A thousand spears in warlike order stand,<br /> + Sent by the Pisans under his command.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Fair Astur follows in the wat’ry field,<br /> + Proud of his manag’d horse and painted shield.<br /> + Gravisca, noisome from the neighb’ring fen,<br /> + And his own Caere, sent three hundred men;<br /> + With those which Minio’s fields and Pyrgi gave,<br /> + All bred in arms, unanimous, and brave.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew,<br /> + And brave Cupavo follow’d but by few;<br /> + Whose helm confess’d the lineage of the man,<br /> + And bore, with wings display’d, a silver swan.<br /> + Love was the fault of his fam’d ancestry,<br /> + Whose forms and fortunes in his ensigns fly.<br /> + For Cycnus lov’d unhappy Phaeton,<br /> + And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone,<br /> + Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief.<br /> + Heav’n heard his song, and hasten’d his relief,<br /> + And chang’d to snowy plumes his hoary hair,<br /> + And wing’d his flight, to chant aloft in air.<br /> + His son Cupavo brush’d the briny flood:<br /> + Upon his stern a brawny Centaur stood,<br /> + Who heav’d a rock, and, threat’ning still to throw,<br /> + With lifted hands alarm’d the seas below:<br /> + They seem’d to fear the formidable sight,<br /> + And roll’d their billows on, to speed his flight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Ocnus was next, who led his native train<br /> + Of hardy warriors thro’ the wat’ry plain:<br /> + The son of Manto by the Tuscan stream,<br /> + From whence the Mantuan town derives the name—<br /> + An ancient city, but of mix’d descent:<br /> + Three sev’ral tribes compose the government;<br /> + Four towns are under each; but all obey<br /> + The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Hate to Mezentius arm’d five hundred more,<br /> + Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore:<br /> + Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover’d o’er.<br /> + These grave Auletes leads: a hundred sweep<br /> + With stretching oars at once the glassy deep.<br /> + Him and his martial train the Triton bears;<br /> + High on his poop the sea-green god appears:<br /> + Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound,<br /> + And at the blast the billows dance around.<br /> + A hairy man above the waist he shows;<br /> + A porpoise tail beneath his belly grows;<br /> + And ends a fish: his breast the waves divides,<br /> + And froth and foam augment the murm’ring tides.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Full thirty ships transport the chosen train<br /> + For Troy’s relief, and scour the briny main.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now was the world forsaken by the sun,<br /> + And Phoebe half her nightly race had run.<br /> + The careful chief, who never clos’d his eyes,<br /> + Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies.<br /> + A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,<br /> + Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida’s wood;<br /> + But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep,<br /> + As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep.<br /> + They know him from afar; and in a ring<br /> + Enclose the ship that bore the Trojan king.<br /> + Cymodoce, whose voice excell’d the rest,<br /> + Above the waves advanc’d her snowy breast;<br /> + Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides<br /> + The curling ocean, and corrects the tides.<br /> + She spoke for all the choir, and thus began<br /> + With pleasing words to warn th’ unknowing man:<br /> + “Sleeps our lov’d lord? O goddess-born, awake!<br /> + Spread ev’ry sail, pursue your wat’ry track,<br /> + And haste your course. Your navy once were we,<br /> + From Ida’s height descending to the sea;<br /> + Till Turnus, as at anchor fix’d we stood,<br /> + Presum’d to violate our holy wood.<br /> + Then, loos’d from shore, we fled his fires profane<br /> + (Unwillingly we broke our master’s chain),<br /> + And since have sought you thro’ the Tuscan main.<br /> + The mighty Mother chang’d our forms to these,<br /> + And gave us life immortal in the seas.<br /> + But young Ascanius, in his camp distress’d,<br /> + By your insulting foes is hardly press’d.<br /> + Th’ Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host,<br /> + Advance in order on the Latian coast:<br /> + To cut their way the Daunian chief designs,<br /> + Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines.<br /> + Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light,<br /> + First arm thy soldiers for th’ ensuing fight:<br /> + Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield,<br /> + And bear aloft th’ impenetrable shield.<br /> + Tomorrow’s sun, unless my skill be vain,<br /> + Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain.”<br /> + Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force<br /> + Push’d on the vessel in her wat’ry course;<br /> + For well she knew the way. Impell’d behind,<br /> + The ship flew forward, and outstripp’d the wind.<br /> + The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,<br /> + The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus he pray’d, and fix’d on heav’n his eyes:<br /> + “Hear thou, great Mother of the deities.<br /> + With turrets crown’d! (on Ida’s holy hill<br /> + Fierce tigers, rein’d and curb’d, obey thy will.)<br /> + Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight;<br /> + And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said no more. And now renewing day<br /> + Had chas’d the shadows of the night away.<br /> + He charg’d the soldiers, with preventing care,<br /> + Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare;<br /> + Warn’d of th’ ensuing fight, and bade ’em hope the war.<br /> + Now, his lofty poop, he view’d below<br /> + His camp incompass’d, and th’ inclosing foe.<br /> + His blazing shield, imbrac’d, he held on high;<br /> + The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.<br /> + Hope arms their courage: from their tow’rs they throw<br /> + Their darts with double force, and drive the foe.<br /> + Thus, at the signal giv’n, the cranes arise<br /> + Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + King Turnus wonder’d at the fight renew’d,<br /> + Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view’d,<br /> + The seas with swelling canvas cover’d o’er,<br /> + And the swift ships descending on the shore.<br /> + The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes,<br /> + The radiant crest that seem’d in flames to rise,<br /> + And dart diffusive fires around the field,<br /> + And the keen glitt’ring of the golden shield.<br /> + Thus threat’ning comets, when by night they rise,<br /> + Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies:<br /> + So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights,<br /> + Pale humankind with plagues and with dry famine fright:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent<br /> + To man the shores, and hinder their descent,<br /> + And thus awakes the courage of his friends:<br /> + “What you so long have wish’d, kind Fortune sends;<br /> + In ardent arms to meet th’ invading foe:<br /> + You find, and find him at advantage now.<br /> + Yours is the day: you need but only dare;<br /> + Your swords will make you masters of the war.<br /> + Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands,<br /> + And dearest wifes, are all within your hands.<br /> + Be mindful of the race from whence you came,<br /> + And emulate in arms your fathers’ fame.<br /> + Now take the time, while stagg’ring yet they stand<br /> + With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand:<br /> + Fortune befriends the bold.” Nor more he said,<br /> + But balanc’d whom to leave, and whom to lead;<br /> + Then these elects, the landing to prevent;<br /> + And those he leaves, to keep the city pent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore:<br /> + Some are by boats expos’d, by bridges more.<br /> + With lab’ring oars they bear along the strand,<br /> + Where the tide languishes, and leap a-land.<br /> + Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes,<br /> + And, where no ford he finds, no water fries,<br /> + Nor billows with unequal murmurs roar,<br /> + But smoothly slide along, and swell the shore,<br /> + That course he steer’d, and thus he gave command:<br /> + “Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land:<br /> + Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound<br /> + This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground.<br /> + Let me securely land—I ask no more;<br /> + Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends:<br /> + They tug at ev’ry oar, and ev’ry stretcher bends;<br /> + They run their ships aground; the vessels knock,<br /> + (Thus forc’d ashore,) and tremble with the shock.<br /> + Tarchon’s alone was lost, that stranded stood,<br /> + Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood:<br /> + She breaks her back; the loosen’d sides give way,<br /> + And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea.<br /> + Their broken oars and floating planks withstand<br /> + Their passage, while they labour to the land,<br /> + And ebbing tides bear back upon th’ uncertain sand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Turnus leads his troops without delay,<br /> + Advancing to the margin of the sea.<br /> + The trumpets sound: Aeneas first assail’d<br /> + The clowns new-rais’d and raw, and soon prevail’d.<br /> + Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight;<br /> + Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height.<br /> + He first in open field defied the prince:<br /> + But armour scal’d with gold was no defence<br /> + Against the fated sword, which open’d wide<br /> + His plated shield, and pierc’d his naked side.<br /> + Next, Lichas fell, who, not like others born,<br /> + Was from his wretched mother ripp’d and torn;<br /> + Sacred, O Phoebus, from his birth to thee;<br /> + For his beginning life from biting steel was free.<br /> + Not far from him was Gyas laid along,<br /> + Of monstrous bulk; with Cisseus fierce and strong:<br /> + Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail’d,<br /> + Nor valour nor Herculean arms avail’d,<br /> + Nor their fam’d father, wont in war to go<br /> + With great Alcides, while he toil’d below.<br /> + The noisy Pharos next receiv’d his death:<br /> + Aeneas writh’d his dart, and stopp’d his bawling breath.<br /> + Then wretched Cydon had receiv’d his doom,<br /> + Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom,<br /> + And sought with lust obscene polluted joys:<br /> + The Trojan sword had curd his love of boys,<br /> + Had not his sev’n bold brethren stopp’d the course<br /> + Of the fierce champions, with united force.<br /> + Sev’n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound<br /> + From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound:<br /> + The rest had reach’d him; but his mother’s care<br /> + Prevented those, and turn’d aside in air.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The prince then call’d Achates, to supply<br /> + The spears that knew the way to victory—<br /> + “Those fatal weapons, which, inur’d to blood,<br /> + In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood:<br /> + Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain<br /> + Against our foes, on this contended plain.”<br /> + He said; then seiz’d a mighty spear, and threw;<br /> + Which, wing’d with fate, thro’ Maeon’s buckler flew,<br /> + Pierc’d all the brazen plates, and reach’d his heart:<br /> + He stagger’d with intolerable smart.<br /> + Alcanor saw; and reach’d, but reach’d in vain,<br /> + His helping hand, his brother to sustain.<br /> + A second spear, which kept the former course,<br /> + From the same hand, and sent with equal force,<br /> + His right arm pierc’d, and holding on, bereft<br /> + His use of both, and pinion’d down his left.<br /> + Then Numitor from his dead brother drew<br /> + Th’ ill-omen’d spear, and at the Trojan threw:<br /> + Preventing fate directs the lance awry,<br /> + Which, glancing, only mark’d Achates’ thigh.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came,<br /> + And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim.<br /> + The spear flew hissing thro’ the middle space,<br /> + And pierc’d his throat, directed at his face;<br /> + It stopp’d at once the passage of his wind,<br /> + And the free soul to flitting air resign’d:<br /> + His forehead was the first that struck the ground;<br /> + Lifeblood and life rush’d mingled thro’ the wound.<br /> + He slew three brothers of the Borean race,<br /> + And three, whom Ismarus, their native place,<br /> + Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace.<br /> + Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads:<br /> + The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds,<br /> + Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand,<br /> + These fight to keep, and those to win, the land.<br /> + With mutual blood th’ Ausonian soil is dyed,<br /> + While on its borders each their claim decide.<br /> + As wintry winds, contending in the sky,<br /> + With equal force of lungs their titles try:<br /> + They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav’n<br /> + Stands without motion, and the tide undriv’n:<br /> + Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,<br /> + They long suspend the fortune of the field.<br /> + Both armies thus perform what courage can;<br /> + Foot set to foot, and mingled man to man.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But, in another part, th’ Arcadian horse<br /> + With ill success engage the Latin force:<br /> + For, where th’ impetuous torrent, rushing down,<br /> + Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,<br /> + They left their coursers, and, unus’d to fight<br /> + On foot, were scatter’d in a shameful flight.<br /> + Pallas, who with disdain and grief had view’d<br /> + His foes pursuing, and his friends pursued,<br /> + Us’d threat’nings mix’d with pray’rs, his last resource,<br /> + With these to move their minds, with those to fire their force<br /> + “Which way, companions? whether would you run?<br /> + By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,<br /> + By my great sire, by his establish’d name,<br /> + And early promise of my future fame;<br /> + By my youth, emulous of equal right<br /> + To share his honours—shun ignoble flight!<br /> + Trust not your feet: your hands must hew way<br /> + Thro’ yon black body, and that thick array:<br /> + ’Tis thro’ that forward path that we must come;<br /> + There lies our way, and that our passage home.<br /> + Nor pow’rs above, nor destinies below<br /> + Oppress our arms: with equal strength we go,<br /> + With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.<br /> + See on what foot we stand: a scanty shore,<br /> + The sea behind, our enemies before;<br /> + No passage left, unless we swim the main;<br /> + Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.”<br /> + This said, he strode with eager haste along,<br /> + And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.<br /> + Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,<br /> + Had heav’d a stone of mighty weight, to throw:<br /> + Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,<br /> + Just where the bone distinguished either loin:<br /> + It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,<br /> + That scarce the victor forc’d the steel away.<br /> + Hisbon came on: but, while he mov’d too slow<br /> + To wish’d revenge, the prince prevents his blow;<br /> + For, warding his at once, at once he press’d,<br /> + And plung’d the fatal weapon in his breast.<br /> + Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,<br /> + Who stain’d his stepdam’s bed with impious lust.<br /> + And, after him, the Daucian twins were slain,<br /> + Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain;<br /> + So wondrous like in feature, shape, and size,<br /> + As caus’d an error in their parents’ eyes—<br /> + Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides<br /> + The nice distinction, and their fate divides:<br /> + For Thymbrus’ head was lopp’d; and Laris’ hand,<br /> + Dismember’d, sought its owner on the strand:<br /> + The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain,<br /> + And threaten still th’ intended stroke in vain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, to renew the charge, th’ Arcadians came:<br /> + Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,<br /> + And grief, with anger mix’d, their minds inflame.<br /> + Then, with a casual blow was Rhoeteus slain,<br /> + Who chanc’d, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain:<br /> + The flying spear was after Ilus sent;<br /> + But Rhoeteus happen’d on a death unmeant:<br /> + From Teuthras and from Tyres while he fled,<br /> + The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead:<br /> + Roll’d from his chariot with a mortal wound,<br /> + And intercepted fate, he spurn’d the ground.<br /> + As when, in summer, welcome winds arise,<br /> + The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,<br /> + And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,<br /> + And catching flames infect the neighb’ring heads;<br /> + Around the forest flies the furious blast,<br /> + And all the leafy nation sinks at last,<br /> + And Vulcan rides in triumph o’er the waste;<br /> + The pastor, pleas’d with his dire victory,<br /> + Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky:<br /> + So Pallas’ troops their scatter’d strength unite,<br /> + And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood;<br /> + But first collected in his arms he stood:<br /> + Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,<br /> + Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.<br /> + Around his head he toss’d his glitt’ring brand,<br /> + And from Strymonius hew’d his better hand,<br /> + Held up to guard his throat; then hurl’d a stone<br /> + At Thoas’ ample front, and pierc’d the bone:<br /> + It struck beneath the space of either eye;<br /> + And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.<br /> + Deep skill’d in future fates, Halesus’ sire<br /> + Did with the youth to lonely groves retire:<br /> + But, when the father’s mortal race was run,<br /> + Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,<br /> + And haul’d him to the war, to find, beneath<br /> + Th’ Evandrian spear, a memorable death.<br /> + Pallas th’ encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,<br /> + To Tuscan Tiber thus address’d his vows:<br /> + “O sacred stream, direct my flying dart,<br /> + And give to pass the proud Halesus’ heart!<br /> + His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear.”<br /> + Pleas’d with the bribe, the god receiv’d his pray’r:<br /> + For, while his shield protects a friend distress’d,<br /> + The dart came driving on, and pierc’d his breast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But Lausus, no small portion of the war,<br /> + Permits not panic fear to reign too far,<br /> + Caus’d by the death of so renown’d a knight;<br /> + But by his own example cheers the fight.<br /> + Fierce Abas first he slew; Abas, the stay<br /> + Of Trojan hopes, and hindrance of the day.<br /> + The Phrygian troops escap’d the Greeks in vain:<br /> + They, and their mix’d allies, now load the plain.<br /> + To the rude shock of war both armies came;<br /> + Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.<br /> + The rear so press’d the front, they could not wield<br /> + Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.<br /> + Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there:<br /> + Of equal youth and beauty both appear,<br /> + But both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.<br /> + Their congress in the field great Jove withstands:<br /> + Both doom’d to fall, but fall by greater hands.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief<br /> + Of Lausus’ danger, urging swift relief.<br /> + With his driv’n chariot he divides the crowd,<br /> + And, making to his friends, thus calls aloud:<br /> + “Let none presume his needless aid to join;<br /> + Retire, and clear the field; the fight is mine:<br /> + To this right hand is Pallas only due;<br /> + O were his father here, my just revenge to view!”<br /> + From the forbidden space his men retir’d.<br /> + Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir’d;<br /> + Survey’d him o’er and o’er with wond’ring sight,<br /> + Struck with his haughty mien, and tow’ring height.<br /> + Then to the king: “Your empty vaunts forbear;<br /> + Success I hope, and fate I cannot fear;<br /> + Alive or dead, I shall deserve a name;<br /> + Jove is impartial, and to both the same.”<br /> + He said, and to the void advanc’d his pace:<br /> + Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.<br /> + Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,<br /> + Address’d himself on foot to single fight.<br /> + And, as a lion—when he spies from far<br /> + A bull that seems to meditate the war,<br /> + Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand—<br /> + Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:<br /> + Imagine eager Turnus not more slow,<br /> + To rush from high on his unequal foe.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance<br /> + Within due distance of his flying lance,<br /> + Prepares to charge him first, resolv’d to try<br /> + If fortune would his want of force supply;<br /> + And thus to Heav’n and Hercules address’d:<br /> + “Alcides, once on earth Evander’s guest,<br /> + His son adjures you by those holy rites,<br /> + That hospitable board, those genial nights;<br /> + Assist my great attempt to gain this prize,<br /> + And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes,<br /> + His ravish’d spoils.” ’Twas heard, the vain request;<br /> + Alcides mourn’d, and stifled sighs within his breast.<br /> + Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began:<br /> + “Short bounds of life are set to mortal man.<br /> + ’Tis virtue’s work alone to stretch the narrow span.<br /> + So many sons of gods, in bloody fight,<br /> + Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light:<br /> + My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe;<br /> + Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow.<br /> + Ev’n Turnus shortly shall resign his breath,<br /> + And stands already on the verge of death.”<br /> + This said, the god permits the fatal fight,<br /> + But from the Latian fields averts his sight.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw,<br /> + And, having thrown, his shining falchion drew<br /> + The steel just graz’d along the shoulder joint,<br /> + And mark’d it slightly with the glancing point,<br /> + Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew,<br /> + And pois’d his pointed spear, before he threw:<br /> + Then, as the winged weapon whizz’d along,<br /> + “See now,” said he, “whose arm is better strung.”<br /> + The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay’d<br /> + By plates of ir’n, which o’er the shield were laid:<br /> + Thro’ folded brass and tough bull hides it pass’d,<br /> + His corslet pierc’d, and reach’d his heart at last.<br /> + In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood;<br /> + The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:<br /> + He falls; his arms upon his body sound;<br /> + And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Turnus bestrode the corpse: “Arcadians, hear,”<br /> + Said he; “my message to your master bear:<br /> + Such as the sire deserv’d, the son I send;<br /> + It costs him dear to be the Phrygians’ friend.<br /> + The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow,<br /> + Unask’d, to rest his wand’ring ghost below.”<br /> + He said, and trampled down with all the force<br /> + Of his left foot, and spurn’d the wretched corse;<br /> + Then snatch’d the shining belt, with gold inlaid;<br /> + The belt Eurytion’s artful hands had made,<br /> + Where fifty fatal brides, express’d to sight,<br /> + All in the compass of one mournful night,<br /> + Depriv’d their bridegrooms of returning light.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore<br /> + Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.<br /> + O mortals, blind in fate, who never know<br /> + To bear high fortune, or endure the low!<br /> + The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,<br /> + Shall wish untouch’d the trophies of the slain;<br /> + Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,<br /> + And curse the dire remembrance of the day.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The sad Arcadians, from th’ unhappy field,<br /> + Bear back the breathless body on a shield.<br /> + O grace and grief of war! at once restor’d,<br /> + With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor’d!<br /> + One day first sent thee to the fighting field,<br /> + Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill’d;<br /> + One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.<br /> + This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,<br /> + But sad spectators, to the hero came:<br /> + His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,<br /> + Unless reliev’d by his victorious hand.<br /> + He whirls his sword around, without delay,<br /> + And hews thro’ adverse foes an ample way,<br /> + To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud:<br /> + Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow’d<br /> + To large deserts, are present to his eyes;<br /> + His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,<br /> + He took in fight, and living victims led,<br /> + To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,<br /> + In sacrifice, before his fun’ral fire.<br /> + At Magus next he threw: he stoop’d below<br /> + The flying spear, and shunn’d the promis’d blow;<br /> + Then, creeping, clasp’d the hero’s knees, and pray’d:<br /> + “By young Iulus, by thy father’s shade,<br /> + O spare my life, and send me back to see<br /> + My longing sire, and tender progeny!<br /> + A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,<br /> + In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:<br /> + All these, and sums besides, which see no day,<br /> + The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.<br /> + If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?<br /> + A single soul’s too light to turn the scale.”<br /> + He said. The hero sternly thus replied:<br /> + “Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,<br /> + Leave for thy children’s lot. Thy Turnus broke<br /> + All rules of war by one relentless stroke,<br /> + When Pallas fell: so deems, nor deems alone<br /> + My father’s shadow, but my living son.”<br /> + Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,<br /> + He seiz’d his helm, and dragg’d him with his left;<br /> + Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath’d,<br /> + Up to the hilts his shining falchion sheath’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Apollo’s priest, Emonides, was near;<br /> + His holy fillets on his front appear;<br /> + Glitt’ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd;<br /> + Much of his god, more of his purple, proud.<br /> + Him the fierce Trojan follow’d thro’ the field:<br /> + The holy coward fell; and, forc’d to yield,<br /> + The prince stood o’er the priest, and, at one blow,<br /> + Sent him an off’ring to the shades below.<br /> + His arms Seresthus on his shoulders bears,<br /> + Design’d a trophy to the God of Wars.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Vulcanian Caeculus renews the fight,<br /> + And Umbro, born upon the mountains’ height.<br /> + The champion cheers his troops t’ encounter those,<br /> + And seeks revenge himself on other foes.<br /> + At Anxur’s shield he drove; and, at the blow,<br /> + Both shield and arm to ground together go.<br /> + Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,<br /> + And thought he wore impenetrable arms,<br /> + So made by mutter’d spells; and, from the spheres,<br /> + Had life secur’d, in vain, for length of years.<br /> + Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod;<br /> + A nymph his mother, his sire a god.<br /> + Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince:<br /> + With his protended lance he makes defence;<br /> + Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,<br /> + Arrests his better hand, and drags him down;<br /> + Stands o’er the prostrate wretch, and, as he lay,<br /> + Vain tales inventing, and prepar’d to pray,<br /> + Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood,<br /> + Then sunk, and roll’d along the sand in blood.<br /> + The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain:<br /> + “Lie there, proud man, unpitied, on the plain;<br /> + Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,<br /> + Far from thy mother and thy native home,<br /> + Exposed to savage beasts, and birds of prey,<br /> + Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + On Lycas and Antaeus next he ran,<br /> + Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van.<br /> + They fled for fear; with these, he chas’d along<br /> + Camers the yellow-lock’d, and Numa strong;<br /> + Both great in arms, and both were fair and young.<br /> + Camers was son to Volscens lately slain,<br /> + In wealth surpassing all the Latian train,<br /> + And in Amycla fix’d his silent easy reign.<br /> + And, as Aegaeon, when with heav’n he strove,<br /> + Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove;<br /> + Mov’d all his hundred hands, provok’d the war,<br /> + Defied the forky lightning from afar;<br /> + At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires,<br /> + And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires;<br /> + In his right hand as many swords he wields,<br /> + And takes the thunder on as many shields:<br /> + With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood;<br /> + And soon the fields with falling corps were strow’d,<br /> + When once his falchion found the taste of blood.<br /> + With fury scarce to be conceiv’d, he flew<br /> + Against Niphaeus, whom four coursers drew.<br /> + They, when they see the fiery chief advance,<br /> + And pushing at their chests his pointed lance,<br /> + Wheel’d with so swift a motion, mad with fear,<br /> + They threw their master headlong from the chair.<br /> + They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before<br /> + They bear the bounding chariot to the shore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains,<br /> + With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins,<br /> + And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains:<br /> + Bold brethren both. The former wav’d in air<br /> + His flaming sword: Aeneas couch’d his spear,<br /> + Unus’d to threats, and more unus’d to fear.<br /> + Then Liger thus: “Thy confidence is vain<br /> + To scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain:<br /> + Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode,<br /> + Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode;<br /> + Nor Venus’ veil is here, near Neptune’s shield;<br /> + Thy fatal hour is come, and this the field.”<br /> + Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer<br /> + Return’d his answer with his flying spear.<br /> + As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends,<br /> + Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,<br /> + Prepar’d for fight; the fatal dart arrives,<br /> + And thro’ the borders of his buckler drives;<br /> + Pass’d thro’ and pierc’d his groin: the deadly wound,<br /> + Cast from his chariot, roll’d him on the ground.<br /> + Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite:<br /> + “Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight;<br /> + Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat;<br /> + But you yourself forsake your empty seat.”<br /> + He said, and seiz’d at once the loosen’d rein;<br /> + For Liger lay already on the plain,<br /> + By the same shock: then, stretching out his hands,<br /> + The recreant thus his wretched life demands:<br /> + “Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man!<br /> + By her and him from whom thy breath began,<br /> + Who form’d thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare<br /> + This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant’s pray’r.”<br /> + Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said;<br /> + But the stern hero turn’d aside his head,<br /> + And cut him short: “I hear another man;<br /> + You talk’d not thus before the fight began.<br /> + Now take your turn; and, as a brother should,<br /> + Attend your brother to the Stygian flood.”<br /> + Then thro’ his breast his fatal sword he sent,<br /> + And the soul issued at the gaping vent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground,<br /> + Thus rag’d the prince, and scatter’d deaths around.<br /> + At length Ascanius and the Trojan train<br /> + Broke from the camp, so long besieg’d in vain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the King of Gods and Mortal Man<br /> + Held conference with his queen, and thus began:<br /> + “My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife,<br /> + Still think you Venus’ aid supports the strife—<br /> + Sustains her Trojans—or themselves, alone,<br /> + With inborn valour force their fortune on?<br /> + How fierce in fight, with courage undecay’d!<br /> + Judge if such warriors want immortal aid.”<br /> + To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,<br /> + Soft in her tone, submissively replies:<br /> + “Why, O my sov’reign lord, whose frown I fear,<br /> + And cannot, unconcern’d, your anger bear;<br /> + Why urge you thus my grief? when, if I still<br /> + (As once I was) were mistress of your will,<br /> + From your almighty pow’r your pleasing wife<br /> + Might gain the grace of length’ning Turnus’ life,<br /> + Securely snatch him from the fatal fight,<br /> + And give him to his aged father’s sight.<br /> + Now let him perish, since you hold it good,<br /> + And glut the Trojans with his pious blood.<br /> + Yet from our lineage he derives his name,<br /> + And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came;<br /> + Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine,<br /> + And offers daily incense at your shrine.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then shortly thus the sov’reign god replied:<br /> + “Since in my pow’r and goodness you confide,<br /> + If for a little space, a lengthen’d span,<br /> + You beg reprieve for this expiring man,<br /> + I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence<br /> + From instant fate, and can so far dispense.<br /> + But, if some secret meaning lies beneath,<br /> + To save the short-liv’d youth from destin’d death,<br /> + Or if a farther thought you entertain,<br /> + To change the fates; you feed your hopes in vain.”<br /> + To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes:<br /> + “And what if that request, your tongue denies,<br /> + Your heart should grant; and not a short reprieve,<br /> + But length of certain life, to Turnus give?<br /> + Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth,<br /> + If my presaging soul divines with truth;<br /> + Which, O! I wish, might err thro’ causeless fears,<br /> + And you (for you have pow’r) prolong his years!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said, involv’d in clouds, she flies,<br /> + And drives a storm before her thro’ the skies.<br /> + Swift she descends, alighting on the plain,<br /> + Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain.<br /> + Of air condens’d a spectre soon she made;<br /> + And, what Aeneas was, such seem’d the shade.<br /> + Adorn’d with Dardan arms, the phantom bore<br /> + His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore;<br /> + This hand appear’d a shining sword to wield,<br /> + And that sustain’d an imitated shield.<br /> + With manly mien he stalk’d along the ground,<br /> + Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound.<br /> + (Thus haunting ghosts appear to waking sight,<br /> + Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.)<br /> + The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare,<br /> + And flourishes his empty sword in air.<br /> + At this, advancing, Turnus hurl’d his spear:<br /> + The phantom wheel’d, and seem’d to fly for fear.<br /> + Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled,<br /> + And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed.<br /> + “Whether, O coward?” (thus he calls aloud,<br /> + Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas’d a cloud,)<br /> + “Why thus forsake your bride! Receive from me<br /> + The fated land you sought so long by sea.”<br /> + He said, and, brandishing at once his blade,<br /> + With eager pace pursued the flying shade.<br /> + By chance a ship was fasten’d to the shore,<br /> + Which from old Clusium King Osinius bore:<br /> + The plank was ready laid for safe ascent;<br /> + For shelter there the trembling shadow bent,<br /> + And skipp’t and skulk’d, and under hatches went.<br /> + Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste,<br /> + Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass’d.<br /> + Scarce had he reach’d the prow: Saturnia’s hand<br /> + The haulsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land.<br /> + With wind in poop, the vessel plows the sea,<br /> + And measures back with speed her former way.<br /> + Meantime Aeneas seeks his absent foe,<br /> + And sends his slaughter’d troops to shades below.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud,<br /> + And flew sublime, and vanish’d in a cloud.<br /> + Too late young Turnus the delusion found,<br /> + Far on the sea, still making from the ground.<br /> + Then, thankless for a life redeem’d by shame,<br /> + With sense of honour stung, and forfeit fame,<br /> + Fearful besides of what in fight had pass’d,<br /> + His hands and haggard eyes to heav’n he cast;<br /> + “O Jove!” he cried, “for what offence have I<br /> + Deserv’d to bear this endless infamy?<br /> + Whence am I forc’d, and whether am I borne?<br /> + How, and with what reproach, shall I return?<br /> + Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,<br /> + Or see Laurentum’s lofty tow’rs again?<br /> + What will they say of their deserting chief<br /> + The war was mine: I fly from their relief;<br /> + I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave;<br /> + And ev’n from hence their dying groans receive.<br /> + Here, overmatch’d in fight, in heaps they lie;<br /> + There, scatter’d o’er the fields, ignobly fly.<br /> + Gape wide, O earth, and draw me down alive!<br /> + Or, O ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve!<br /> + On sands or shelves the splitting vessel drive;<br /> + Or set me shipwreck’d on some desert shore,<br /> + Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more,<br /> + Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious Fame,<br /> + Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Turnus rav’d, and various fates revolv’d:<br /> + The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv’d.<br /> + And now the sword, and now the sea took place,<br /> + That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace.<br /> + Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main,<br /> + By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain.<br /> + Thrice he the sword assay’d, and thrice the flood;<br /> + But Juno, mov’d with pity, both withstood.<br /> + And thrice repress’d his rage; strong gales supplied,<br /> + And push’d the vessel o’er the swelling tide.<br /> + At length she lands him on his native shores,<br /> + And to his father’s longing arms restores.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime, by Jove’s impulse, Mezentius arm’d,<br /> + Succeeding Turnus, with his ardour warm’d<br /> + His fainting friends, reproach’d their shameful flight,<br /> + Repell’d the victors, and renew’d the fight.<br /> + Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire;<br /> + Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire<br /> + Of wish’d revenge: on him, and him alone,<br /> + All hands employ’d, and all their darts are thrown.<br /> + He, like a solid rock by seas inclos’d,<br /> + To raging winds and roaring waves oppos’d,<br /> + From his proud summit looking down, disdains<br /> + Their empty menace, and unmov’d remains.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead,<br /> + Then Latagus, and Palmus as he fled.<br /> + At Latagus a weighty stone he flung:<br /> + His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.<br /> + But Palmus from behind receives his wound;<br /> + Hamstring’d he falls, and grovels on the ground:<br /> + His crest and armour, from his body torn,<br /> + Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head adorn.<br /> + Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew.<br /> + Mimas his birth from fair Theano drew,<br /> + Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire,<br /> + The queen produc’d young Paris to his sire:<br /> + But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain,<br /> + Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And, as a savage boar, on mountains bred,<br /> + With forest mast and fatt’ning marshes fed,<br /> + When once he sees himself in toils inclos’d,<br /> + By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos’d,<br /> + He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war;<br /> + Th’ invaders dart their jav’lins from afar:<br /> + All keep aloof, and safely shout around;<br /> + But none presumes to give a nearer wound:<br /> + He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide,<br /> + And shakes a grove of lances from his side:<br /> + Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir’d,<br /> + And just revenge against the tyrant fir’d,<br /> + Their darts with clamour at a distance drive,<br /> + And only keep the languish’d war alive.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + From Coritus came Acron to the fight,<br /> + Who left his spouse betroth’d, and unconsummate night.<br /> + Mezentius sees him thro’ the squadrons ride,<br /> + Proud of the purple favours of his bride.<br /> + Then, as a hungry lion, who beholds<br /> + A gamesome goat, who frisks about the folds,<br /> + Or beamy stag, that grazes on the plain—<br /> + He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane,<br /> + He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws;<br /> + The prey lies panting underneath his paws:<br /> + He fills his famish’d maw; his mouth runs o’er<br /> + With unchew’d morsels, while he churns the gore:<br /> + So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,<br /> + And first unhappy Acron overthrows:<br /> + Stretch’d at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground;<br /> + The lance, besmear’d with blood, lies broken in the wound.<br /> + Then with disdain the haughty victor view’d<br /> + Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursued,<br /> + Nor thought the dastard’s back deserv’d a wound,<br /> + But, running, gain’d th’ advantage of the ground:<br /> + Then turning short, he met him face to face,<br /> + To give his victory the better grace.<br /> + Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress’d:<br /> + Mezentius fix’d his foot upon his breast,<br /> + And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries:<br /> + “Lo! here the champion of my rebels lies!”<br /> + The fields around with Io Paean! ring;<br /> + And peals of shouts applaud the conqu’ring king.<br /> + At this the vanquish’d, with his dying breath,<br /> + Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death:<br /> + “Nor thou, proud man, unpunish’d shalt remain:<br /> + Like death attends thee on this fatal plain.”<br /> + Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied:<br /> + “For what belongs to me, let Jove provide;<br /> + But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.”<br /> + He said, and from the wound the weapon drew.<br /> + A hov’ring mist came swimming o’er his sight,<br /> + And seal’d his eyes in everlasting night.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + By Caedicus, Alcathous was slain;<br /> + Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain;<br /> + Orses the strong to greater strength must yield;<br /> + He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill’d.<br /> + Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew,<br /> + Who from Lycaon’s blood his lineage drew.<br /> + But from his headstrong horse his fate he found,<br /> + Who threw his master, as he made a bound:<br /> + The chief, alighting, stuck him to the ground;<br /> + Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails:<br /> + The Trojan sinks, and Neptune’s son prevails.<br /> + Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride,<br /> + To single fight the boldest foe defied;<br /> + Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o’ercame,<br /> + And not belied his mighty father’s fame.<br /> + Salius to death the great Antronius sent:<br /> + But the same fate the victor underwent,<br /> + Slain by Nealces’ hand, well-skill’d to throw<br /> + The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance;<br /> + By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance:<br /> + Victors and vanquish’d, in the various field,<br /> + Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.<br /> + The gods from heav’n survey the fatal strife,<br /> + And mourn the miseries of human life.<br /> + Above the rest, two goddesses appear<br /> + Concern’d for each: here Venus, Juno there.<br /> + Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes<br /> + Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain,<br /> + Brandish’d his spear, and rush’d into the plain,<br /> + Where tow’ring in the midmost rank he stood,<br /> + Like tall Orion stalking o’er the flood.<br /> + (When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves,<br /> + His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves),<br /> + Or like a mountain ash, whose roots are spread,<br /> + Deep fix’d in earth; in clouds he hides his head.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,<br /> + And dauntless undertook the doubtful war.<br /> + Collected in his strength, and like a rock,<br /> + Pois’d on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.<br /> + He stood, and, measuring first with careful eyes<br /> + The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:<br /> + “My strong right hand, and sword, assist my stroke!<br /> + (Those only gods Mezentius will invoke.)<br /> + His armour, from the Trojan pirate torn,<br /> + By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn.”<br /> + He said; and with his utmost force he threw<br /> + The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew,<br /> + Reach’d the celestial shield, that stopp’d the course;<br /> + But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force<br /> + Took a new bent obliquely, and betwixt<br /> + The side and bowels fam’d Anthores fix’d.<br /> + Anthores had from Argos travel’d far,<br /> + Alcides’ friend, and brother of the war;<br /> + Till, tir’d with toils, fair Italy he chose,<br /> + And in Evander’s palace sought repose.<br /> + Now, falling by another’s wound, his eyes<br /> + He cast to heav’n, on Argos thinks, and dies.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The pious Trojan then his jav’lin sent;<br /> + The shield gave way; thro’ treble plates it went<br /> + Of solid brass, of linen trebly roll’d,<br /> + And three bull hides which round the buckler fold.<br /> + All these it pass’d, resistless in the course,<br /> + Transpierc’d his thigh, and spent its dying force.<br /> + The gaping wound gush’d out a crimson flood.<br /> + The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,<br /> + His falchion drew, to closer fight address’d,<br /> + And with new force his fainting foe oppress’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + His father’s peril Lausus view’d with grief;<br /> + He sigh’d, he wept, he ran to his relief.<br /> + And here, heroic youth, ’tis here I must<br /> + To thy immortal memory be just,<br /> + And sing an act so noble and so new,<br /> + Posterity will scarce believe ’tis true.<br /> + Pain’d with his wound, and useless for the fight,<br /> + The father sought to save himself by flight:<br /> + Encumber’d, slow he dragg’d the spear along,<br /> + Which pierc’d his thigh, and in his buckler hung.<br /> + The pious youth, resolv’d on death, below<br /> + The lifted sword springs forth to face the foe;<br /> + Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.<br /> + Shouts of applause ran ringing thro’ the field,<br /> + To see the son the vanquish’d father shield.<br /> + All, fir’d with gen’rous indignation, strive,<br /> + And with a storm of darts to distance drive<br /> + The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far,<br /> + On his Vulcanian orb sustain’d the war.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As, when thick hail comes rattling in the wind,<br /> + The plowman, passenger, and lab’ring hind<br /> + For shelter to the neighb’ring covert fly,<br /> + Or hous’d, or safe in hollow caverns lie;<br /> + But, that o’erblown, when heav’n above ’em smiles,<br /> + Return to travel, and renew their toils:<br /> + Aeneas thus, o’erwhelmed on ev’ry side,<br /> + The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide;<br /> + And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat’ning cried:<br /> + “Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage<br /> + In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,<br /> + Betray’d by pious love?” Nor, thus forborne,<br /> + The youth desists, but with insulting scorn<br /> + Provokes the ling’ring prince, whose patience, tir’d,<br /> + Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir’d.<br /> + For now the Fates prepar’d their sharpen’d shears;<br /> + And lifted high the flaming sword appears,<br /> + Which, full descending with a frightful sway,<br /> + Thro’ shield and corslet forc’d th’ impetuous way,<br /> + And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.<br /> + The purple streams thro’ the thin armour strove,<br /> + And drench’d th’ imbroider’d coat his mother wove;<br /> + And life at length forsook his heaving heart,<br /> + Loth from so sweet a mansion to depart.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But when, with blood and paleness all o’erspread,<br /> + The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead,<br /> + He griev’d; he wept; the sight an image brought<br /> + Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought:<br /> + Then stretch’d his hand to hold him up, and said:<br /> + “Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid<br /> + To love so great, to such transcendent store<br /> + Of early worth, and sure presage of more?<br /> + Accept whate’er Aeneas can afford;<br /> + Untouch’d thy arms, untaken be thy sword;<br /> + And all that pleas’d thee living, still remain<br /> + Inviolate, and sacred to the slain.<br /> + Thy body on thy parents I bestow,<br /> + To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know,<br /> + Or have a sense of human things below.<br /> + There to thy fellow ghosts with glory tell:<br /> + ‘’Twas by the great Aeneas hand I fell.’”<br /> + With this, his distant friends he beckons near,<br /> + Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear:<br /> + Himself assists to lift him from the ground,<br /> + With clotted locks, and blood that well’d from out the wound.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime, his father, now no father, stood,<br /> + And wash’d his wounds by Tiber’s yellow flood:<br /> + Oppress’d with anguish, panting, and o’erspent,<br /> + His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.<br /> + A bough his brazen helmet did sustain;<br /> + His heavier arms lay scatter’d on the plain:<br /> + A chosen train of youth around him stand;<br /> + His drooping head was rested on his hand:<br /> + His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought;<br /> + And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.<br /> + Careful, concern’d his danger to prevent,<br /> + He much enquir’d, and many a message sent<br /> + To warn him from the field—alas! in vain!<br /> + Behold, his mournful followers bear him slain!<br /> + O’er his broad shield still gush’d the yawning wound,<br /> + And drew a bloody trail along the ground.<br /> + Far off he heard their cries, far off divin’d<br /> + The dire event, with a foreboding mind.<br /> + With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head;<br /> + Then both his lifted hands to heav’n he spread;<br /> + Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said:<br /> + “What joys, alas! could this frail being give,<br /> + That I have been so covetous to live?<br /> + To see my son, and such a son, resign<br /> + His life, a ransom for preserving mine!<br /> + And am I then preserv’d, and art thou lost?<br /> + How much too dear has that redemption cost!<br /> + ’Tis now my bitter banishment I feel:<br /> + This is a wound too deep for time to heal.<br /> + My guilt thy growing virtues did defame;<br /> + My blackness blotted thy unblemish’d name.<br /> + Chas’d from a throne, abandon’d, and exil’d<br /> + For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild:<br /> + I ow’d my people these, and, from their hate,<br /> + With less resentment could have borne my fate.<br /> + And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight<br /> + Of hated men, and of more hated light:<br /> + But will not long.” With that he rais’d from ground<br /> + His fainting limbs, that stagger’d with his wound;<br /> + Yet, with a mind resolv’d, and unappall’d<br /> + With pains or perils, for his courser call’d<br /> + Well-mouth’d, well-manag’d, whom himself did dress<br /> + With daily care, and mounted with success;<br /> + His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,<br /> + The steed seem’d sensible, while thus he spoke:<br /> + “O Rhoebus, we have liv’d too long for me—<br /> + If life and long were terms that could agree!<br /> + This day thou either shalt bring back the head<br /> + And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead;<br /> + This day thou either shalt revenge my woe,<br /> + For murder’d Lausus, on his cruel foe;<br /> + Or, if inexorable fate deny<br /> + Our conquest, with thy conquer’d master die:<br /> + For, after such a lord, I rest secure,<br /> + Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load endure.”<br /> + He said; and straight th’ officious courser kneels,<br /> + To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills<br /> + With pointed jav’lins; on his head he lac’d<br /> + His glitt’ring helm, which terribly was grac’d<br /> + With waving horsehair, nodding from afar;<br /> + Then spurr’d his thund’ring steed amidst the war.<br /> + Love, anguish, wrath, and grief, to madness wrought,<br /> + Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought<br /> + Of inborn worth, his lab’ring soul oppress’d,<br /> + Roll’d in his eyes, and rag’d within his breast.<br /> + Then loud he call’d Aeneas thrice by name:<br /> + The loud repeated voice to glad Aeneas came.<br /> + “Great Jove,” he said, “and the far-shooting god,<br /> + Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!”<br /> + He spoke no more; but hasten’d, void of fear,<br /> + And threaten’d with his long protended spear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To whom Mezentius thus: “Thy vaunts are vain.<br /> + My Lausus lies extended on the plain:<br /> + He’s lost! thy conquest is already won;<br /> + The wretched sire is murder’d in the son.<br /> + Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy.<br /> + Forbear thy threats: my bus’ness is to die;<br /> + But first receive this parting legacy.”<br /> + He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent;<br /> + Another after, and another went.<br /> + Round in a spacious ring he rides the field,<br /> + And vainly plies th’ impenetrable shield.<br /> + Thrice rode he round; and thrice Aeneas wheel’d,<br /> + Turn’d as he turn’d: the golden orb withstood<br /> + The strokes, and bore about an iron wood.<br /> + Impatient of delay, and weary grown,<br /> + Still to defend, and to defend alone,<br /> + To wrench the darts which in his buckler light,<br /> + Urg’d and o’er-labour’d in unequal fight;<br /> + At length resolv’d, he throws with all his force<br /> + Full at the temples of the warrior horse.<br /> + Just where the stroke was aim’d, th’ unerring spear<br /> + Made way, and stood transfix’d thro’ either ear.<br /> + Seiz’d with unwonted pain, surpris’d with fright,<br /> + The wounded steed curvets, and, rais’d upright,<br /> + Lights on his feet before; his hoofs behind<br /> + Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.<br /> + Down comes the rider headlong from his height:<br /> + His horse came after with unwieldy weight,<br /> + And, flound’ring forward, pitching on his head,<br /> + His lord’s encumber’d shoulder overlaid.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + From either host, the mingled shouts and cries<br /> + Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies.<br /> + Aeneas, hast’ning, wav’d his fatal sword<br /> + High o’er his head, with this reproachful word:<br /> + “Now; where are now thy vaunts, the fierce disdain<br /> + Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain?”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies,<br /> + With scarce recover’d sight he thus replies:<br /> + “Why these insulting words, this waste of breath,<br /> + To souls undaunted, and secure of death?<br /> + ’Tis no dishonour for the brave to die,<br /> + Nor came I here with hope of victory;<br /> + Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design:<br /> + As I had us’d my fortune, use thou thine.<br /> + My dying son contracted no such band;<br /> + The gift is hateful from his murd’rer’s hand.<br /> + For this, this only favour let me sue,<br /> + If pity can to conquer’d foes be due:<br /> + Refuse it not; but let my body have<br /> + The last retreat of humankind, a grave.<br /> + Too well I know th’ insulting people’s hate;<br /> + Protect me from their vengeance after fate:<br /> + This refuge for my poor remains provide,<br /> + And lay my much-lov’d Lausus by my side.”<br /> + He said, and to the sword his throat applied.<br /> + The crimson stream distain’d his arms around,<br /> + And the disdainful soul came rushing thro’ the wound. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>BOOK XI</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Aeneas erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius, grants a truce for + burying the dead, and sends home the body of Pallas with great solemnity. + Latinus calls a council, to propose offers of peace to Aeneas; which + occasions great animosity betwixt Turnus and Drances. In the mean time + there is a sharp engagement of the horse; wherein Camilla signalizes + herself, is killed, and the Latine troops are entirely defeated. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>carce had the rosy Morning rais’d her head<br /> + Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;<br /> + The pious chief, whom double cares attend<br /> + For his unburied soldiers and his friend,<br /> + Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows:<br /> + He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;<br /> + Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,<br /> + Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.<br /> + The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,<br /> + Now on a naked snag in triumph borne,<br /> + Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,<br /> + A trophy sacred to the God of War.<br /> + Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,<br /> + Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:<br /> + His brazen buckler on the left was seen;<br /> + Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;<br /> + And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;<br /> + And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,<br /> + Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began:<br /> + “Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;<br /> + The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.<br /> + Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;<br /> + Press but an entrance, and presume it won.<br /> + Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies,<br /> + As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.<br /> + Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,<br /> + And, in this omen, is already slain.<br /> + Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;<br /> + That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance,<br /> + And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find<br /> + Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.<br /> + Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,<br /> + Due to your dead companions of the war:<br /> + The last respect the living can bestow,<br /> + To shield their shadows from contempt below.<br /> + That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,<br /> + And which for us with their own blood they bought;<br /> + But first the corpse of our unhappy friend<br /> + To the sad city of Evander send,<br /> + Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,<br /> + Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,<br /> + Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.<br /> + Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d<br /> + The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d<br /> + With equal faith, but less auspicious care.<br /> + Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.<br /> + A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,<br /> + And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair.<br /> + Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry;<br /> + All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.<br /> + They rear his drooping forehead from the ground;<br /> + But, when Aeneas view’d the grisly wound<br /> + Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,<br /> + And the fair flesh distain’d with purple gore;<br /> + First, melting into tears, the pious man<br /> + Deplor’d so sad a sight, then thus began:<br /> + “Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest<br /> + Of my full wishes, she refus’d the best!<br /> + She came; but brought not thee along, to bless<br /> + My longing eyes, and share in my success:<br /> + She grudg’d thy safe return, the triumphs due<br /> + To prosp’rous valour, in the public view.<br /> + Not thus I promis’d, when thy father lent<br /> + Thy needless succour with a sad consent;<br /> + Embrac’d me, parting for th’ Etrurian land,<br /> + And sent me to possess a large command.<br /> + He warn’d, and from his own experience told,<br /> + Our foes were warlike, disciplin’d, and bold.<br /> + And now perhaps, in hopes of thy return,<br /> + Rich odors on his loaded altars burn,<br /> + While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare<br /> + To send him back his portion of the war,<br /> + A bloody breathless body, which can owe<br /> + No farther debt, but to the pow’rs below.<br /> + The wretched father, ere his race is run,<br /> + Shall view the fun’ral honours of his son.<br /> + These are my triumphs of the Latian war,<br /> + Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care!<br /> + And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see<br /> + A son whose death disgrac’d his ancestry;<br /> + Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev’d:<br /> + Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv’d.<br /> + He died no death to make thee wish, too late,<br /> + Thou hadst not liv’d to see his shameful fate:<br /> + But what a champion has th’ Ausonian coast,<br /> + And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having mourn’d, he gave the word around,<br /> + To raise the breathless body from the ground;<br /> + And chose a thousand horse, the flow’r of all<br /> + His warlike troops, to wait the funeral,<br /> + To bear him back and share Evander’s grief:<br /> + A well-becoming, but a weak relief.<br /> + Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier,<br /> + Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear.<br /> + The body on this rural hearse is borne:<br /> + Strew’d leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn.<br /> + All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow’r,<br /> + New cropp’d by virgin hands, to dress the bow’r:<br /> + Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,<br /> + No more to mother earth or the green stern shall owe.<br /> + Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost,<br /> + Of purple woven, and with gold emboss’d,<br /> + For ornament the Trojan hero brought,<br /> + Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought.<br /> + One vest array’d the corpse; and one they spread<br /> + O’er his clos’d eyes, and wrapp’d around his head,<br /> + That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall,<br /> + The catching fire might burn the golden caul.<br /> + Besides, the spoils of foes in battle slain,<br /> + When he descended on the Latian plain;<br /> + Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse are led<br /> + In long array—th’ achievements of the dead.<br /> + Then, pinion’d with their hands behind, appear<br /> + Th’ unhappy captives, marching in the rear,<br /> + Appointed off’rings in the victor’s name,<br /> + To sprinkle with their blood the fun’ral flame.<br /> + Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne;<br /> + Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn;<br /> + And fair inscriptions fix’d, and titles read<br /> + Of Latian leaders conquer’d by the dead.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Acoetes on his pupil’s corpse attends,<br /> + With feeble steps, supported by his friends.<br /> + Pausing at ev’ry pace, in sorrow drown’d,<br /> + Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground;<br /> + Where grov’ling while he lies in deep despair,<br /> + He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.<br /> + The champion’s chariot next is seen to roll,<br /> + Besmear’d with hostile blood, and honourably foul.<br /> + To close the pomp, Aethon, the steed of state,<br /> + Is led, the fun’rals of his lord to wait.<br /> + Stripp’d of his trappings, with a sullen pace<br /> + He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face.<br /> + The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,<br /> + Are borne behind: the victor seiz’d the rest.<br /> + The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound;<br /> + The pikes and lances trail along the ground.<br /> + Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse<br /> + To Pallantean tow’rs direct their course,<br /> + In long procession rank’d, the pious chief<br /> + Stopp’d in the rear, and gave a vent to grief:<br /> + “The public care,” he said, “which war attends,<br /> + Diverts our present woes, at least suspends.<br /> + Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell!<br /> + Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!”<br /> + He said no more, but, inly thro’ he mourn’d,<br /> + Restrained his tears, and to the camp return’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand<br /> + A truce, with olive branches in their hand;<br /> + Obtest his clemency, and from the plain<br /> + Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.<br /> + They plead, that none those common rites deny<br /> + To conquer’d foes that in fair battle die.<br /> + All cause of hate was ended in their death;<br /> + Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.<br /> + A king, they hop’d, would hear a king’s request,<br /> + Whose son he once was call’d, and once his guest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Their suit, which was too just to be denied,<br /> + The hero grants, and farther thus replied:<br /> + “O Latian princes, how severe a fate<br /> + In causeless quarrels has involv’d your state,<br /> + And arm’d against an unoffending man,<br /> + Who sought your friendship ere the war began!<br /> + You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,<br /> + Not only for the slain, but those who live.<br /> + I came not hither but by Heav’n’s command,<br /> + And sent by fate to share the Latian land.<br /> + Nor wage I wars unjust: your king denied<br /> + My proffer’d friendship, and my promis’d bride;<br /> + Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try<br /> + His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.<br /> + My right and his are in dispute: the slain<br /> + Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.<br /> + In equal arms let us alone contend;<br /> + And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.<br /> + This is the way (so tell him) to possess<br /> + The royal virgin, and restore the peace.<br /> + Bear this message back, with ample leave,<br /> + That your slain friends may fun’ral rites receive.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus having said—th’ embassadors, amaz’d,<br /> + Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz’d.<br /> + Drances, their chief, who harbour’d in his breast<br /> + Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess’d,<br /> + Broke silence first, and to the godlike man,<br /> + With graceful action bowing, thus began:<br /> + “Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,<br /> + But yet whose actions far transcend your fame;<br /> + Would I your justice or your force express,<br /> + Thought can but equal; and all words are less.<br /> + Your answer we shall thankfully relate,<br /> + And favours granted to the Latian state.<br /> + If wish’d success our labour shall attend,<br /> + Think peace concluded, and the king your friend:<br /> + Let Turnus leave the realm to your command,<br /> + And seek alliance in some other land:<br /> + Build you the city which your fates assign;<br /> + We shall be proud in the great work to join.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade<br /> + The rest impower’d, that soon a truce is made.<br /> + Twelve days the term allow’d: and, during those,<br /> + Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,<br /> + Mix’d in the woods, for fun’ral piles prepare<br /> + To fell the timber, and forget the war.<br /> + Loud axes thro’ the groaning groves resound;<br /> + Oak, mountain ash, and poplar spread the ground;<br /> + First fall from high; and some the trunks receive<br /> + In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now the fatal news by Fame is blown<br /> + Thro’ the short circuit of th’ Arcadian town,<br /> + Of Pallas slain—by Fame, which just before<br /> + His triumphs on distended pinions bore.<br /> + Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,<br /> + Each with a fun’ral flambeau in his hand.<br /> + Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze:<br /> + The fields are lighten’d with a fiery blaze,<br /> + That cast a sullen splendour on their friends,<br /> + The marching troop which their dead prince attends.<br /> + Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry;<br /> + The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply,<br /> + And their mix’d mourning rends the vaulted sky.<br /> + The town is fill’d with tumult and with tears,<br /> + Till the loud clamours reach Evander’s ears:<br /> + Forgetful of his state, he runs along,<br /> + With a disorder’d pace, and cleaves the throng;<br /> + Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies,<br /> + With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.<br /> + Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks<br /> + A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “O Pallas! thou hast fail’d thy plighted word,<br /> + To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword!<br /> + I warn’d thee, but in vain; for well I knew<br /> + What perils youthful ardour would pursue,<br /> + That boiling blood would carry thee too far,<br /> + Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!<br /> + O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,<br /> + Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!<br /> + Hard elements of unauspicious war,<br /> + Vain vows to Heav’n, and unavailing care!<br /> + Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,<br /> + Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled,<br /> + Prescious of ills, and leaving me behind,<br /> + To drink the dregs of life by fate assign’d!<br /> + Beyond the goal of nature I have gone:<br /> + My Pallas late set out, but reach’d too soon.<br /> + If, for my league against th’ Ausonian state,<br /> + Amidst their weapons I had found my fate,<br /> + (Deserv’d from them,) then I had been return’d<br /> + A breathless victor, and my son had mourn’d.<br /> + Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid,<br /> + Nor grudge th’ alliance I so gladly made.<br /> + ’Twas not his fault, my Pallas fell so young,<br /> + But my own crime, for having liv’d too long.<br /> + Yet, since the gods had destin’d him to die,<br /> + At least he led the way to victory:<br /> + First for his friends he won the fatal shore,<br /> + And sent whole herds of slaughter’d foes before;<br /> + A death too great, too glorious to deplore.<br /> + Nor will I add new honours to thy grave,<br /> + Content with those the Trojan hero gave:<br /> + That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design’d,<br /> + In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join’d.<br /> + Great spoils and trophies, gain’d by thee, they bear:<br /> + Then let thy own achievements be thy share.<br /> + Even thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood,<br /> + Whose mighty trunk had better grac’d the wood,<br /> + If Pallas had arriv’d, with equal length<br /> + Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.<br /> + But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain<br /> + These troops, to view the tears thou shedd’st in vain?<br /> + Go, friends, this message to your lord relate:<br /> + Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate,<br /> + And, after Pallas’ death, live ling’ring on,<br /> + ’Tis to behold his vengeance for my son.<br /> + I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head<br /> + Is owing to the living and the dead.<br /> + My son and I expect it from his hand;<br /> + ’Tis all that he can give, or we demand.<br /> + Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,<br /> + To greet my Pallas with such news below.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The morn had now dispell’d the shades of night,<br /> + Restoring toils, when she restor’d the light.<br /> + The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command<br /> + To raise the piles along the winding strand.<br /> + Their friends convey the dead fun’ral fires;<br /> + Black smould’ring smoke from the green wood expires;<br /> + The light of heav’n is chok’d, and the new day retires.<br /> + Then thrice around the kindled piles they go<br /> + (For ancient custom had ordain’d it so)<br /> + Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led;<br /> + And thrice, with loud laments, they hail the dead.<br /> + Tears, trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground,<br /> + And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.<br /> + Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw<br /> + The spoils, in battle taken from the foe:<br /> + Helms, bits emboss’d, and swords of shining steel;<br /> + One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;<br /> + Some to their fellows their own arms restore:<br /> + The falchions which in luckless fight they bore,<br /> + Their bucklers pierc’d, their darts bestow’d in vain,<br /> + And shiver’d lances gather’d from the plain.<br /> + Whole herds of offer’d bulls, about the fire,<br /> + And bristled boars, and woolly sheep expire.<br /> + Around the piles a careful troop attends,<br /> + To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burning friends;<br /> + Ling’ring along the shore, till dewy night<br /> + New decks the face of heav’n with starry light.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The conquer’d Latians, with like pious care,<br /> + Piles without number for their dead prepare.<br /> + Part in the places where they fell are laid;<br /> + And part are to the neighb’ring fields convey’d.<br /> + The corps of kings, and captains of renown,<br /> + Borne off in state, are buried in the town;<br /> + The rest, unhonour’d, and without a name,<br /> + Are cast a common heap to feed the flame.<br /> + Trojans and Latians vie with like desires<br /> + To make the field of battle shine with fires,<br /> + And the promiscuous blaze to heav’n aspires.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now had the morning thrice renew’d the light,<br /> + And thrice dispell’d the shadows of the night,<br /> + When those who round the wasted fires remain,<br /> + Perform the last sad office to the slain.<br /> + They rake the yet warm ashes from below;<br /> + These, and the bones unburn’d, in earth bestow;<br /> + These relics with their country rites they grace,<br /> + And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But, in the palace of the king, appears<br /> + A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.<br /> + Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans;<br /> + Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.<br /> + All in that universal sorrow share,<br /> + And curse the cause of this unhappy war:<br /> + A broken league, a bride unjustly sought,<br /> + A crown usurp’d, which with their blood is bought!<br /> + These are the crimes with which they load the name<br /> + Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim:<br /> + “Let him who lords it o’er th’ Ausonian land<br /> + Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand:<br /> + His is the gain; our lot is but to serve;<br /> + ’Tis just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve.”<br /> + This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite:<br /> + “His foe expects, and dares him to the fight.”<br /> + Nor Turnus wants a party, to support<br /> + His cause and credit in the Latian court.<br /> + His former acts secure his present fame,<br /> + And the queen shades him with her mighty name.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While thus their factious minds with fury burn,<br /> + The legates from th’ Aetolian prince return:<br /> + Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost<br /> + And care employ’d, their embassy is lost;<br /> + That Diomedes refus’d his aid in war,<br /> + Unmov’d with presents, and as deaf to pray’r.<br /> + Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought,<br /> + Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late,<br /> + A foreign son is pointed out by fate;<br /> + And, till Aeneas shall Lavinia wed,<br /> + The wrath of Heav’n is hov’ring o’er his head.<br /> + The gods, he saw, espous’d the juster side,<br /> + When late their titles in the field were tried:<br /> + Witness the fresh laments, and fun’ral tears undried.<br /> + Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all<br /> + The Latian senate to the council hall.<br /> + The princes come, commanded by their head,<br /> + And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.<br /> + Supreme in pow’r, and reverenc’d for his years,<br /> + He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.<br /> + Majestically sad, he sits in state,<br /> + And bids his envoys their success relate.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When Venulus began, the murmuring sound<br /> + Was hush’d, and sacred silence reign’d around.<br /> + “We have,” said he, “perform’d your high command,<br /> + And pass’d with peril a long tract of land:<br /> + We reach’d the place desir’d; with wonder fill’d,<br /> + The Grecian tents and rising tow’rs beheld.<br /> + Great Diomede has compass’d round with walls<br /> + The city, which Argyripa he calls,<br /> + From his own Argos nam’d. We touch’d, with joy,<br /> + The royal hand that raz’d unhappy Troy.<br /> + When introduc’d, our presents first we bring,<br /> + Then crave an instant audience from the king.<br /> + His leave obtain’d, our native soil we name,<br /> + And tell th’ important cause for which we came.<br /> + Attentively he heard us, while we spoke;<br /> + Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look,<br /> + Made this return: ‘Ausonian race, of old<br /> + Renown’d for peace, and for an age of gold,<br /> + What madness has your alter’d minds possess’d,<br /> + To change for war hereditary rest,<br /> + Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword,<br /> + A needless ill your ancestors abhorr’d?<br /> + We—for myself I speak, and all the name<br /> + Of Grecians, who to Troy’s destruction came,<br /> + (Omitting those who were in battle slain,<br /> + Or borne by rolling Simois to the main)<br /> + Not one but suffer’d, and too dearly bought<br /> + The prize of honour which in arms he sought;<br /> + Some doom’d to death, and some in exile driv’n.<br /> + Outcasts, abandon’d by the care of Heav’n;<br /> + So worn, so wretched, so despis’d a crew,<br /> + As ev’n old Priam might with pity view.<br /> + Witness the vessels by Minerva toss’d<br /> + In storms; the vengeful Capharean coast;<br /> + Th’ Euboean rocks! the prince, whose brother led<br /> + Our armies to revenge his injur’d bed,<br /> + In Egypt lost! Ulysses with his men<br /> + Have seen Charybdis and the Cyclops’ den.<br /> + Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain<br /> + Restor’d to scepters, and expell’d again?<br /> + Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?<br /> + Ev’n he, the King of Men, the foremost name<br /> + Of all the Greeks, and most renown’d by fame,<br /> + The proud revenger of another’s wife,<br /> + Yet by his own adult’ress lost his life;<br /> + Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy<br /> + The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.<br /> + The gods have envied me the sweets of life,<br /> + My much lov’d country, and my more lov’d wife:<br /> + Banish’d from both, I mourn; while in the sky,<br /> + Transform’d to birds, my lost companions fly:<br /> + Hov’ring about the coasts, they make their moan,<br /> + And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.<br /> + What squalid spectres, in the dead of night,<br /> + Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!<br /> + I might have promis’d to myself those harms,<br /> + Mad as I was, when I, with mortal arms,<br /> + Presum’d against immortal pow’rs to move,<br /> + And violate with wounds the Queen of Love.<br /> + Such arms this hand shall never more employ;<br /> + No hate remains with me to ruin’d Troy.<br /> + I war not with its dust; nor am I glad<br /> + To think of past events, or good or bad.<br /> + Your presents I return: whate’er you bring<br /> + To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.<br /> + We met in fight; I know him, to my cost:<br /> + With what a whirling force his lance he toss’d!<br /> + Heav’ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw!<br /> + How high he held his shield, and rose at ev’ry blow!<br /> + Had Troy produc’d two more his match in might,<br /> + They would have chang’d the fortune of the fight:<br /> + Th’ invasion of the Greeks had been return’d,<br /> + Our empire wasted, and our cities burn’d.<br /> + The long defence the Trojan people made,<br /> + The war protracted, and the siege delay’d,<br /> + Were due to Hector’s and this hero’s hand:<br /> + Both brave alike, and equal in command;<br /> + Aeneas, not inferior in the field,<br /> + In pious reverence to the gods excell’d.<br /> + Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care<br /> + Th’ impending dangers of a fatal war.’<br /> + He said no more; but, with this cold excuse,<br /> + Refus’d th’ alliance, and advis’d a truce.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus Venulus concluded his report.<br /> + A jarring murmur fill’d the factious court:<br /> + As, when a torrent rolls with rapid force,<br /> + And dashes o’er the stones that stop the course,<br /> + The flood, constrain’d within a scanty space,<br /> + Roars horrible along th’ uneasy race;<br /> + White foam in gath’ring eddies floats around;<br /> + The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The murmur ceas’d: then from his lofty throne<br /> + The king invok’d the gods, and thus begun:<br /> + “I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate<br /> + Had been resolv’d before it was too late.<br /> + Much better had it been for you and me,<br /> + Unforc’d by this our last necessity,<br /> + To have been earlier wise, than now to call<br /> + A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.<br /> + O citizens, we wage unequal war,<br /> + With men not only Heav’n’s peculiar care,<br /> + But Heav’n’s own race; unconquer’d in the field,<br /> + Or, conquer’d, yet unknowing how to yield.<br /> + What hopes you had in Diomedes, lay down:<br /> + Our hopes must centre on ourselves alone.<br /> + Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,<br /> + You see too well; nor need my words explain.<br /> + Vanquish’d without resource; laid flat by fate;<br /> + Factions within, a foe without the gate!<br /> + Not but I grant that all perform’d their parts<br /> + With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:<br /> + With our united strength the war we wag’d;<br /> + With equal numbers, equal arms, engag’d.<br /> + You see th’ event.—Now hear what I propose,<br /> + To save our friends, and satisfy our foes.<br /> + A tract of land the Latins have possess’d<br /> + Along the Tiber, stretching to the west,<br /> + Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till,<br /> + And their mix’d cattle graze the fruitful hill.<br /> + Those mountains fill’d with firs, that lower land,<br /> + If you consent, the Trojan shall command,<br /> + Call’d into part of what is ours; and there,<br /> + On terms agreed, the common country share.<br /> + There let them build and settle, if they please;<br /> + Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,<br /> + In search of seats remote from Italy,<br /> + And from unwelcome inmates set us free.<br /> + Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed,<br /> + Or twice as many more, if more they need.<br /> + Materials are at hand; a well-grown wood<br /> + Runs equal with the margin of the flood:<br /> + Let them the number and the form assign;<br /> + The care and cost of all the stores be mine.<br /> + To treat the peace, a hundred senators<br /> + Shall be commission’d hence with ample pow’rs,<br /> + With olive the presents they shall bear,<br /> + A purple robe, a royal iv’ry chair,<br /> + And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear,<br /> + And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate<br /> + This great affair, and save the sinking state.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Drances took the word, who grudg’d, long since,<br /> + The rising glories of the Daunian prince.<br /> + Factious and rich, bold at the council board,<br /> + But cautious in the field, he shunn’d the sword;<br /> + A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.<br /> + Noble his mother was, and near the throne;<br /> + But, what his father’s parentage, unknown.<br /> + He rose, and took th’ advantage of the times,<br /> + To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.<br /> + “Such truths, O king,” said he, “your words contain,<br /> + As strike the sense, and all replies are vain;<br /> + Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek<br /> + What common needs require, but fear to speak.<br /> + Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,<br /> + Whose pride this unauspicious war began;<br /> + For whose ambition (let me dare to say,<br /> + Fear set apart, tho’ death is in my way)<br /> + The plains of Latium run with blood around.<br /> + So many valiant heroes bite the ground;<br /> + Dejected grief in ev’ry face appears;<br /> + A town in mourning, and a land in tears;<br /> + While he, th’ undoubted author of our harms,<br /> + The man who menaces the gods with arms,<br /> + Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,<br /> + And sought his safety in ignoble flight.<br /> + Now, best of kings, since you propose to send<br /> + Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend;<br /> + Add yet a greater at our joint request,<br /> + One which he values more than all the rest:<br /> + Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride;<br /> + With that alliance let the league be tied,<br /> + And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.<br /> + Let insolence no longer awe the throne;<br /> + But, with a father’s right, bestow your own.<br /> + For this maligner of the general good,<br /> + If still we fear his force, he must be woo’d;<br /> + His haughty godhead we with pray’rs implore,<br /> + Your scepter to release, and our just rights restore.<br /> + O cursed cause of all our ills, must we<br /> + Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight, for thee!<br /> + What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,<br /> + And send us out to meet our certain fate?<br /> + ’Tis a destructive war: from Turnus’ hand<br /> + Our peace and public safety we demand.<br /> + Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain;<br /> + If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.<br /> + Turnus, I know you think me not your friend,<br /> + Nor will I much with your belief contend:<br /> + I beg your greatness not to give the law<br /> + In others’ realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.<br /> + Pity your own, or pity our estate;<br /> + Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.<br /> + Your interest is, the war should never cease;<br /> + But we have felt enough to wish the peace:<br /> + A land exhausted to the last remains,<br /> + Depopulated towns, and driven plains.<br /> + Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow’r,<br /> + A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow’r,<br /> + So fire your mind, in arms assert your right,<br /> + And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.<br /> + Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone;<br /> + We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne:<br /> + A base ignoble crowd, without a name,<br /> + Unwept, unworthy, of the fun’ral flame,<br /> + By duty bound to forfeit each his life,<br /> + That Turnus may possess a royal wife.<br /> + Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew<br /> + Should share such triumphs, and detain from you<br /> + The post of honour, your undoubted due.<br /> + Rather alone your matchless force employ,<br /> + To merit what alone you must enjoy.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + These words, so full of malice mix’d with art,<br /> + Inflam’d with rage the youthful hero’s heart.<br /> + Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast,<br /> + He heav’d for wind, and thus his wrath express’d:<br /> + “You, Drances, never want a stream of words,<br /> + Then, when the public need requires our swords.<br /> + First in the council hall to steer the state,<br /> + And ever foremost in a tongue-debate,<br /> + While our strong walls secure us from the foe,<br /> + Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:<br /> + But let the potent orator declaim,<br /> + And with the brand of coward blot my name;<br /> + Free leave is giv’n him, when his fatal hand<br /> + Has cover’d with more corps the sanguine strand,<br /> + And high as mine his tow’ring trophies stand.<br /> + If any doubt remains, who dares the most,<br /> + Let us decide it at the Trojan’s cost,<br /> + And issue both abreast, where honour calls—<br /> + (Foes are not far to seek without the walls)<br /> + Unless his noisy tongue can only fight,<br /> + And feet were giv’n him but to speed his flight.<br /> + I beaten from the field? I forc’d away?<br /> + Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?<br /> + Had he but ev’n beheld the fight, his eyes<br /> + Had witness’d for me what his tongue denies:<br /> + What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,<br /> + And how the bloody Tiber swell’d the main.<br /> + All saw, but he, th’ Arcadian troops retire<br /> + In scatter’d squadrons, and their prince expire.<br /> + The giant brothers, in their camp, have found,<br /> + I was not forc’d with ease to quit my ground.<br /> + Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos’d,<br /> + I singly their united arms oppos’d:<br /> + First forc’d an entrance thro’ their thick array;<br /> + Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.<br /> + ’Tis a destructive war? So let it be,<br /> + But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee!<br /> + Meantime proceed to fill the people’s ears<br /> + With false reports, their minds with panic fears:<br /> + Extol the strength of a twice-conquer’d race;<br /> + Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.<br /> + Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town<br /> + Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o’erthrown;<br /> + Suppliant at Hector’s feet Achilles lies,<br /> + And Diomede from fierce Aeneas flies.<br /> + Say rapid Aufidus with awful dread<br /> + Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,<br /> + When the great Trojan on his bank appears;<br /> + For that’s as true as thy dissembled fears<br /> + Of my revenge. Dismiss that vanity:<br /> + Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.<br /> + Let that vile soul in that vile body rest;<br /> + The lodging is well worthy of the guest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Now, royal father, to the present state<br /> + Of our affairs, and of this high debate:<br /> + If in your arms thus early you diffide,<br /> + And think your fortune is already tried;<br /> + If one defeat has brought us down so low,<br /> + As never more in fields to meet the foe;<br /> + Then I conclude for peace: ’tis time to treat,<br /> + And lie like vassals at the victor’s feet.<br /> + But, O! if any ancient blood remains,<br /> + One drop of all our fathers’, in our veins,<br /> + That man would I prefer before the rest,<br /> + Who dar’d his death with an undaunted breast;<br /> + Who comely fell, by no dishonest wound,<br /> + To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw’d the ground.<br /> + But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,<br /> + If our confederates can afford us more;<br /> + If the contended field we bravely fought,<br /> + And not a bloodless victory was bought;<br /> + Their losses equal’d ours; and, for their slain,<br /> + With equal fires they fill’d the shining plain;<br /> + Why thus, unforc’d, should we so tamely yield,<br /> + And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?<br /> + Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,<br /> + Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene:<br /> + Some, rais’d aloft, come tumbling down amain;<br /> + Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.<br /> + If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,<br /> + The great Messapus yet remains our friend:<br /> + Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours;<br /> + Th’ Italian chiefs and princes join their pow’rs:<br /> + Nor least in number, nor in name the last,<br /> + Your own brave subjects have your cause embrac’d<br /> + Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon<br /> + Contains an army in herself alone,<br /> + And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,<br /> + With glitt’ring shields, in brazen armour bright.<br /> + Yet, if the foe a single fight demand,<br /> + And I alone the public peace withstand;<br /> + If you consent, he shall not be refus’d,<br /> + Nor find a hand to victory unus’d.<br /> + This new Achilles, let him take the field,<br /> + With fated armour, and Vulcanian shield!<br /> + For you, my royal father, and my fame,<br /> + I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,<br /> + Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand,<br /> + And I alone will answer his demand.<br /> + Drances shall rest secure, and neither share<br /> + The danger, nor divide the prize of war.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While they debate, nor these nor those will yield,<br /> + Aeneas draws his forces to the field,<br /> + And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed<br /> + Return, and thro’ the frighted city spread<br /> + Th’ unpleasing news, the Trojans are descried,<br /> + In battle marching by the river side,<br /> + And bending to the town. They take th’ alarm:<br /> + Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm.<br /> + Th’ impetuous youth press forward to the field;<br /> + They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield:<br /> + The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;<br /> + Old feeble men with fainter groans reply;<br /> + A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,<br /> + Like that of swans remurm’ring to the floods,<br /> + Or birds of diff’ring kinds in hollow woods.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Turnus th’ occasion takes, and cries aloud:<br /> + “Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd:<br /> + Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls,<br /> + And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls.”<br /> + He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace,<br /> + Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place:<br /> + “Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command<br /> + To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.<br /> + Messapus and Catillus, post your force<br /> + Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.<br /> + Some guard the passes, others man the wall;<br /> + Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + They swarm from ev’ry quarter of the town,<br /> + And with disorder’d haste the rampires crown.<br /> + Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,<br /> + The gath’ring storm just breaking on the state,<br /> + Dismiss’d the council till a fitter time,<br /> + And own’d his easy temper as his crime,<br /> + Who, forc’d against his reason, had complied<br /> + To break the treaty for the promis’d bride.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Some help to sink new trenches; others aid<br /> + To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.<br /> + Hoarse trumpets sound th’ alarm; around the walls<br /> + Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labour calls.<br /> + A sad procession in the streets is seen,<br /> + Of matrons, that attend the mother queen:<br /> + High in her chair she sits, and, at her side,<br /> + With downcast eyes, appears the fatal bride.<br /> + They mount the cliff, where Pallas’ temple stands;<br /> + Pray’rs in their mouths, and presents in their hands,<br /> + With censers first they fume the sacred shrine,<br /> + Then in this common supplication join:<br /> + “O patroness of arms, unspotted maid,<br /> + Propitious hear, and lend thy Latins aid!<br /> + Break short the pirate’s lance; pronounce his fate,<br /> + And lay the Phrygian low before the gate.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast<br /> + Well-temper’d steel and scaly brass invest:<br /> + The cuishes which his brawny thighs infold<br /> + Are mingled metal damask’d o’er with gold.<br /> + His faithful falchion sits upon his side;<br /> + Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide:<br /> + But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends,<br /> + With godlike grace, he from the tow’r descends.<br /> + Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare<br /> + His absent rival, and to promise war.<br /> + Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins,<br /> + The wanton courser prances o’er the plains,<br /> + Or in the pride of youth o’erleaps the mounds,<br /> + And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds.<br /> + Or seeks his wat’ring in the well-known flood,<br /> + To quench his thirst, and cool his fiery blood:<br /> + He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain,<br /> + And o’er his shoulder flows his waving mane:<br /> + He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high;<br /> + Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Soon as the prince appears without the gate,<br /> + The Volscians, with their virgin leader, wait<br /> + His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien,<br /> + Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen:<br /> + Her squadron imitates, and each descends;<br /> + Whose common suit Camilla thus commends:<br /> + “If sense of honour, if a soul secure<br /> + Of inborn worth, that can all tests endure,<br /> + Can promise aught, or on itself rely<br /> + Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die;<br /> + Then, I alone, sustain’d by these, will meet<br /> + The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.<br /> + Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown:<br /> + You, gen’ral, stay behind, and guard the town.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Turnus a while stood mute, with glad surprise,<br /> + And on the fierce Virago fix’d his eyes;<br /> + Then thus return’d: “O grace of Italy,<br /> + With what becoming thanks can I reply?<br /> + Not only words lie lab’ring in my breast,<br /> + But thought itself is by thy praise oppress’d.<br /> + Yet rob me not of all; but let me join<br /> + My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.<br /> + The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill’d,<br /> + Sends his light horse before to scour the field:<br /> + Himself, thro’ steep ascents and thorny brakes,<br /> + A larger compass to the city takes.<br /> + This news my scouts confirm, and I prepare<br /> + To foil his cunning, and his force to dare;<br /> + With chosen foot his passage to forelay,<br /> + And place an ambush in the winding way.<br /> + Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse;<br /> + The brave Messapus shall thy troops enforce<br /> + With those of Tibur, and the Latian band,<br /> + Subjected all to thy supreme command.”<br /> + This said, he warns Messapus to the war,<br /> + Then ev’ry chief exhorts with equal care.<br /> + All thus encourag’d, his own troops he joins,<br /> + And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Inclos’d with hills, a winding valley lies,<br /> + By nature form’d for fraud, and fitted for surprise.<br /> + A narrow track, by human steps untrode,<br /> + Leads, thro’ perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode.<br /> + High o’er the vale a steepy mountain stands,<br /> + Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.<br /> + The top is level, an offensive seat<br /> + Of war; and from the war a safe retreat:<br /> + For, on the right and left, is room to press<br /> + The foes at hand, or from afar distress;<br /> + To drive ’em headlong downward, and to pour<br /> + On their descending backs a stony show’r.<br /> + Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,<br /> + Possess’d the pass, and in blind ambush lay.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,<br /> + Beheld th’ approaching war with hateful eyes,<br /> + And call’d the light-foot Opis to her aid,<br /> + Her most belov’d and ever-trusty maid;<br /> + Then with a sigh began: “Camilla goes<br /> + To meet her death amidst her fatal foes:<br /> + The nymphs I lov’d of all my mortal train,<br /> + Invested with Diana’s arms, in vain.<br /> + Nor is my kindness for the virgin new:<br /> + ’Twas born with her; and with her years it grew.<br /> + Her father Metabus, when forc’d away<br /> + From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,<br /> + Snatch’d up, and sav’d from his prevailing foes,<br /> + This tender babe, companion of his woes.<br /> + Casmilla was her mother; but he drown’d<br /> + One hissing letter in a softer sound,<br /> + And call’d Camilla. Thro’ the woods he flies;<br /> + Wrapp’d in his robe the royal infant lies.<br /> + His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;<br /> + With shout and clamours they pursue the chase.<br /> + The banks of Amasene at length he gains:<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The raging flood his farther flight restrains,<br /> + Rais’d o’er the borders with unusual rains.<br /> + Prepar’d to plunge into the stream, he fears,<br /> + Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.<br /> + Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste;<br /> + Then, desp’rate in distress, resolves at last.<br /> + A knotty lance of well-boil’d oak he bore;<br /> + The middle part with cork he cover’d o’er:<br /> + He clos’d the child within the hollow space;<br /> + With twigs of bending osier bound the case;<br /> + Then pois’d the spear, heavy with human weight,<br /> + And thus invok’d my favour for the freight:<br /> + ‘Accept, great goddess of the woods,’ he said,<br /> + ‘Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!<br /> + Thro’ air she flies a suppliant to thy shrine;<br /> + And the first weapons that she knows, are thine.’<br /> + He said; and with full force the spear he threw:<br /> + Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.<br /> + Then, press’d by foes, he stemm’d the stormy tide,<br /> + And gain’d, by stress of arms, the farther side.<br /> + His fasten’d spear he pull’d from out the ground,<br /> + And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound;<br /> + Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,<br /> + Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;<br /> + But, rough, in open air he chose to lie;<br /> + Earth was his couch, his cov’ring was the sky.<br /> + On hills unshorn, or in a desert den,<br /> + He shunn’d the dire society of men.<br /> + A shepherd’s solitary life he led;<br /> + His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.<br /> + The dugs of bears, and ev’ry salvage beast,<br /> + He drew, and thro’ her lips the liquor press’d.<br /> + The little Amazon could scarcely go:<br /> + He loads her with a quiver and a bow;<br /> + And, that she might her stagg’ring steps command,<br /> + He with a slender jav’lin fills her hand.<br /> + Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;<br /> + Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.<br /> + Instead of these, a tiger’s hide o’erspread<br /> + Her back and shoulders, fasten’d to her head.<br /> + The flying dart she first attempts to fling,<br /> + And round her tender temples toss’d the sling;<br /> + Then, as her strength with years increas’d, began<br /> + To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,<br /> + And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.<br /> + The Tuscan matrons with each other vied,<br /> + To bless their rival sons with such a bride;<br /> + But she disdains their love, to share with me<br /> + The sylvan shades and vow’d virginity.<br /> + And, O! I wish, contented with my cares<br /> + Of salvage spoils, she had not sought the wars!<br /> + Then had she been of my celestial train,<br /> + And shunn’d the fate that dooms her to be slain.<br /> + But since, opposing Heav’n’s decree, she goes<br /> + To find her death among forbidden foes,<br /> + Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight.<br /> + Where, with the gods, averse, the Latins fight.<br /> + This bow to thee, this quiver I bequeath,<br /> + This chosen arrow, to revenge her death:<br /> + By whate’er hand Camilla shall be slain,<br /> + Or of the Trojan or Italian train,<br /> + Let him not pass unpunish’d from the plain.<br /> + Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid<br /> + To bear the breathless body of my maid:<br /> + Unspoil’d shall be her arms, and unprofan’d<br /> + Her holy limbs with any human hand,<br /> + And in a marble tomb laid in her native land.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said. The faithful nymph descends from high<br /> + With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:<br /> + Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,<br /> + Drawn up in squadrons, with united force,<br /> + Approach the walls: the sprightly coursers bound,<br /> + Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.<br /> + Shields, arms, and spears flash horribly from far;<br /> + And the fields glitter with a waving war.<br /> + Oppos’d to these, come on with furious force<br /> + Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;<br /> + These in the body plac’d, on either hand<br /> + Sustain’d and clos’d by fair Camilla’s band.<br /> + Advancing in a line, they couch their spears;<br /> + And less and less the middle space appears.<br /> + Thick smoke obscures the field; and scarce are seen<br /> + The neighing coursers, and the shouting men.<br /> + In distance of their darts they stop their course;<br /> + Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.<br /> + The face of heav’n their flying jav’lins hide,<br /> + And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.<br /> + Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,<br /> + By mettled coursers borne in full career,<br /> + Meet first oppos’d; and, with a mighty shock,<br /> + Their horses’ heads against each other knock.<br /> + Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,<br /> + As with an engine’s force, or lightning’s blast:<br /> + He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.<br /> + The Latin squadrons take a sudden fright,<br /> + And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight<br /> + Spurring at speed to their own walls they drew;<br /> + Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue,<br /> + And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;<br /> + Till, seiz’d, with shame, they wheel about and face,<br /> + Receive their foes, and raise a threat’ning cry.<br /> + The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.<br /> + So swelling surges, with a thund’ring roar,<br /> + Driv’n on each other’s backs, insult the shore,<br /> + Bound o’er the rocks, incroach upon the land,<br /> + And far upon the beach eject the sand;<br /> + Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,<br /> + Repuls’d from upper ground, and seek their mother sea;<br /> + With equal hurry quit th’ invaded shore,<br /> + And swallow back the sand and stones they spew’d before.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field,<br /> + Twice by the Latins, in their turn, repell’d.<br /> + Asham’d at length, to the third charge they ran;<br /> + Both hosts resolv’d, and mingled man to man.<br /> + Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow’d<br /> + With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.<br /> + Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie:<br /> + Confus’d the fight, and more confus’d the cry.<br /> + Orsilochus, who durst not press too near<br /> + Strong Remulus, at distance drove his spear,<br /> + And stuck the steel beneath his horse’s ear.<br /> + The fiery steed, impatient of the wound,<br /> + Curvets, and, springing upward with a bound,<br /> + His helpless lord cast backward on the ground.<br /> + Catillus pierc’d Iolas first; then drew<br /> + His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw,<br /> + The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew.<br /> + His neck and throat unarm’d, his head was bare,<br /> + But shaded with a length of yellow hair:<br /> + Secure, he fought, expos’d on ev’ry part,<br /> + A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart.<br /> + Across the shoulders came the feather’d wound;<br /> + Transfix’d he fell, and doubled to the ground.<br /> + The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dyed,<br /> + And death with honour sought on either side.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Resistless thro’ the war Camilla rode,<br /> + In danger unappall’d, and pleas’d with blood.<br /> + One side was bare for her exerted breast;<br /> + One shoulder with her painted quiver press’d.<br /> + Now from afar her fatal jav’lins play;<br /> + Now with her ax’s edge she hews her way:<br /> + Diana’s arms upon her shoulder sound;<br /> + And when, too closely press’d, she quits the ground,<br /> + From her bent bow she sends a backward wound.<br /> + Her maids, in martial pomp, on either side,<br /> + Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride:<br /> + Italians all; in peace, their queen’s delight;<br /> + In war, the bold companions of the fight.<br /> + So march’d the Thracian Amazons of old,<br /> + When Thermodon with bloody billows roll’d:<br /> + Such troops as these in shining arms were seen,<br /> + When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen:<br /> + Such to the field Penthesilea led,<br /> + From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled;<br /> + With such, return’d triumphant from the war,<br /> + Her maids with cries attend the lofty car;<br /> + They clash with manly force their moony shields;<br /> + With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid,<br /> + On the cold earth were by thy courage laid?<br /> + Thy spear, of mountain ash, Eumenius first,<br /> + With fury driv’n, from side to side transpierc’d:<br /> + A purple stream came spouting from the wound;<br /> + Bath’d in his blood he lies, and bites the ground.<br /> + Liris and Pegasus at once she slew:<br /> + The former, as the slacken’d reins he drew<br /> + Of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch’d<br /> + His arm to prop his friend, the jav’lin reach’d.<br /> + By the same weapon, sent from the same hand,<br /> + Both fall together, and both spurn the sand.<br /> + Amastrus next is added to the slain:<br /> + The rest in rout she follows o’er the plain:<br /> + Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,<br /> + And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun.<br /> + Of all her deadly darts, not one she lost;<br /> + Each was attended with a Trojan ghost.<br /> + Young Ornithus bestrode a hunter steed,<br /> + Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed.<br /> + Him from afar she spied, in arms unknown:<br /> + O’er his broad back an ox’s hide was thrown;<br /> + His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread<br /> + A cov’ring for his cheeks, and grinn’d around his head,<br /> + He clench’d within his hand an iron prong,<br /> + And tower’d above the rest, conspicuous in the throng.<br /> + Him soon she singled from the flying train,<br /> + And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain:<br /> + “Vain hunter, didst thou think thro’ woods to chase<br /> + The savage herd, a vile and trembling race?<br /> + Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory:<br /> + A woman warrior was too strong for thee.<br /> + Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu’ror’s name,<br /> + Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame.”<br /> + Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew,<br /> + The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew;<br /> + But Butes breast to breast: the spear descends<br /> + Above the gorget, where his helmet ends,<br /> + And o’er the shield which his left side defends.<br /> + Orsilochus and she their courses ply:<br /> + He seems to follow, and she seems to fly;<br /> + But in a narrower ring she makes the race;<br /> + And then he flies, and she pursues the chase.<br /> + Gath’ring at length on her deluded foe,<br /> + She swings her ax, and rises to the blow<br /> + Full on the helm behind, with such a sway<br /> + The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way:<br /> + He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace;<br /> + Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Astonish’d Aunus just arrives by chance,<br /> + To see his fall; nor farther dares advance;<br /> + But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye,<br /> + He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly;<br /> + Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat,<br /> + (At least while fortune favour’d his deceit,)<br /> + Cries out aloud: “What courage have you shown,<br /> + Who trust your courser’s strength, and not your own?<br /> + Forego the vantage of your horse, alight,<br /> + And then on equal terms begin the fight:<br /> + It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can,<br /> + When, foot to foot, you combat with a man,”<br /> + He said. She glows with anger and disdain,<br /> + Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain,<br /> + And leaves her horse at large among her train;<br /> + With her drawn sword defies him to the field,<br /> + And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield.<br /> + The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed,<br /> + Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed;<br /> + Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides<br /> + The goring rowels in his bleeding sides.<br /> + “Vain fool, and coward!” cries the lofty maid,<br /> + “Caught in the train which thou thyself hast laid!<br /> + On others practice thy Ligurian arts;<br /> + Thin stratagems and tricks of little hearts<br /> + Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire,<br /> + With vaunting lies, to thy fallacious sire.”<br /> + At this, so fast her flying feet she sped,<br /> + That soon she strain’d beyond his horse’s head:<br /> + Then turning short, at once she seiz’d the rein,<br /> + And laid the boaster grov’ling on the plain.<br /> + Not with more ease the falcon, from above,<br /> + Trusses in middle air the trembling dove,<br /> + Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound:<br /> + The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now mighty Jove, from his superior height,<br /> + With his broad eye surveys th’ unequal fight.<br /> + He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain,<br /> + And sends him to redeem th’ abandon’d plain.<br /> + Betwixt the broken ranks the Tuscan rides,<br /> + And these encourages, and those he chides;<br /> + Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight;<br /> + Renews their ardour, and restores the fight.<br /> + “What panic fear has seiz’d your souls? O shame,<br /> + O brand perpetual of th’ Etrurian name!<br /> + Cowards incurable, a woman’s hand<br /> + Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band!<br /> + Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield!<br /> + What use of weapons which you dare not wield?<br /> + Not thus you fly your female foes by night,<br /> + Nor shun the feast, when the full bowls invite;<br /> + When to fat off’rings the glad augur calls,<br /> + And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals.<br /> + These are your studied cares, your lewd delight:<br /> + Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight.”<br /> + Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes,<br /> + Not managing the life he meant to lose.<br /> + The first he found he seiz’d with headlong haste,<br /> + In his strong gripe, and clasp’d around the waist;<br /> + ’Twas Venulus, whom from his horse he tore,<br /> + And, laid athwart his own, in triumph bore.<br /> + Loud shouts ensue; the Latins turn their eyes,<br /> + And view th’ unusual sight with vast surprise.<br /> + The fiery Tarchon, flying o’er the plains,<br /> + Press’d in his arms the pond’rous prey sustains;<br /> + Then, with his shorten’d spear, explores around<br /> + His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound.<br /> + Nor less the captive struggles for his life:<br /> + He writhes his body to prolong the strife,<br /> + And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts<br /> + His utmost vigour, and the point averts.<br /> + So stoops the yellow eagle from on high,<br /> + And bears a speckled serpent thro’ the sky,<br /> + Fast’ning his crooked talons on the prey:<br /> + The pris’ner hisses thro’ the liquid way;<br /> + Resists the royal hawk; and, tho’ oppress’d,<br /> + She fights in volumes, and erects her crest:<br /> + Turn’d to her foe, she stiffens ev’ry scale,<br /> + And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat’ning tail.<br /> + Against the victor, all defence is weak:<br /> + Th’ imperial bird still plies her with his beak;<br /> + He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores;<br /> + Then claps his pinions, and securely soars.<br /> + Thus, thro’ the midst of circling enemies,<br /> + Strong Tarchon snatch’d and bore away his prize.<br /> + The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press<br /> + The Latins, and presume the like success.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Aruns, doom’d to death, his arts assay’d,<br /> + To murder, unespied, the Volscian maid:<br /> + This way and that his winding course he bends,<br /> + And, whereso’er she turns, her steps attends.<br /> + When she retires victorious from the chase,<br /> + He wheels about with care, and shifts his place;<br /> + When, rushing on, she seeks her foes in fight,<br /> + He keeps aloof, but keeps her still in sight:<br /> + He threats, and trembles, trying ev’ry way,<br /> + Unseen to kill, and safely to betray.<br /> + Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far,<br /> + Glitt’ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war,<br /> + Was by the virgin view’d. The steed he press’d<br /> + Was proud with trappings, and his brawny chest<br /> + With scales of gilded brass was cover’d o’er;<br /> + A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore.<br /> + With deadly wounds he gall’d the distant foe;<br /> + Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow:<br /> + A golden helm his front and head surrounds<br /> + A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds.<br /> + Gold, weav’d with linen, on his thighs he wore,<br /> + With flowers of needlework distinguish’d o’er,<br /> + With golden buckles bound, and gather’d up before.<br /> + Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes,<br /> + Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize,<br /> + Or that the temple might his trophies hold,<br /> + Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold.<br /> + Blind in her haste, she chases him alone.<br /> + And seeks his life, regardless of her own.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This lucky moment the sly traitor chose:<br /> + Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose,<br /> + And threw, but first to Heav’n address’d his vows:<br /> + “O patron of Socrates’ high abodes,<br /> + Phoebus, the ruling pow’r among the gods,<br /> + Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous pine<br /> + Are fell’d for thee, and to thy glory shine;<br /> + By thee protected with our naked soles,<br /> + Thro’ flames unsing’d we march, and tread the kindled coals<br /> + Give me, propitious pow’r, to wash away<br /> + The stains of this dishonourable day:<br /> + Nor spoils, nor triumph, from the fact I claim,<br /> + But with my future actions trust my fame.<br /> + Let me, by stealth, this female plague o’ercome,<br /> + And from the field return inglorious home.”<br /> + Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray’r,<br /> + Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss’d in empty air.<br /> + He gives the death desir’d; his safe return<br /> + By southern tempests to the seas is borne.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, when the jav’lin whizz’d along the skies,<br /> + Both armies on Camilla turn’d their eyes,<br /> + Directed by the sound. Of either host,<br /> + Th’ unhappy virgin, tho’ concern’d the most,<br /> + Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent<br /> + On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;<br /> + Till in her pap the winged weapon stood<br /> + Infix’d, and deeply drunk the purple blood.<br /> + Her sad attendants hasten to sustain<br /> + Their dying lady, drooping on the plain.<br /> + Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,<br /> + With beating heart, and fear confus’d with joys;<br /> + Nor dares he farther to pursue his blow,<br /> + Or ev’n to bear the sight of his expiring foe.<br /> + As, when the wolf has torn a bullock’s hide<br /> + At unawares, or ranch’d a shepherd’s side,<br /> + Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies,<br /> + And claps his quiv’ring tail between his thighs:<br /> + So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,<br /> + But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She wrench’d the jav’lin with her dying hands,<br /> + But wedg’d within her breast the weapon stands;<br /> + The wood she draws, the steely point remains;<br /> + She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains:<br /> + (A gath’ring mist o’erclouds her cheerful eyes,<br /> + And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies:)<br /> + Then turns to her, whom of her female train<br /> + She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:<br /> + “Acca, ’tis past! he swims before my sight,<br /> + Inexorable Death; and claims his right.<br /> + Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed,<br /> + And bid him timely to my charge succeed,<br /> + Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:<br /> + Farewell! and in this kiss my parting breath receive.”<br /> + She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain:<br /> + Dying, her open’d hand forsakes the rein;<br /> + Short, and more short, she pants; by slow degrees<br /> + Her mind the passage from her body frees.<br /> + She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest,<br /> + Her drooping head declining on her breast:<br /> + In the last sigh her struggling soul expires,<br /> + And, murm’ring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensued;<br /> + Despair and rage the languish’d fight renew’d.<br /> + The Trojan troops and Tuscans, in a line,<br /> + Advance to charge; the mix’d Arcadians join.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But Cynthia’s maid, high seated, from afar<br /> + Surveys the field, and fortune of the war,<br /> + Unmov’d a while, till, prostrate on the plain,<br /> + Welt’ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain,<br /> + And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.<br /> + Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew<br /> + A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue:<br /> + “Too dear a fine, ah, much lamented maid,<br /> + For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid!<br /> + Nor aught avail’d, in this unhappy strife,<br /> + Diana’s sacred arms, to save thy life.<br /> + Yet unreveng’d thy goddess will not leave<br /> + Her vot’ry’s death, nor; with vain sorrow grieve.<br /> + Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr’d;<br /> + But after ages shall thy praise record.<br /> + Th’ inglorious coward soon shall press the plain:<br /> + Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + High o’er the field there stood a hilly mound,<br /> + Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around,<br /> + Where, in a marble tomb, Dercennus lay,<br /> + A king that once in Latium bore the sway.<br /> + The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,<br /> + To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.<br /> + Him in refulgent arms she soon espied,<br /> + Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried:<br /> + “Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late;<br /> + Turn like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.<br /> + Charg’d with my message, to Camilla go,<br /> + And say I sent thee to the shades below,<br /> + An honour undeserv’d from Cynthia’s bow.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + She said, and from her quiver chose with speed<br /> + The winged shaft, predestin’d for the deed;<br /> + Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied,<br /> + Till the far distant horns approach’d on either side.<br /> + The bowstring touch’d her breast, so strong she drew;<br /> + Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.<br /> + At once the twanging bow and sounding dart<br /> + The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.<br /> + Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death,<br /> + His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.<br /> + The conqu’ring damsel, with expanded wings,<br /> + The welcome message to her mistress brings.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field,<br /> + And, unsustain’d, the chiefs of Turnus yield.<br /> + The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly,<br /> + More on their speed than on their strength rely.<br /> + Confus’d in flight, they bear each other down,<br /> + And spur their horses headlong to the town.<br /> + Driv’n by their foes, and to their fears resign’d,<br /> + Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind.<br /> + These drop the shield, and those the lance forego,<br /> + Or on their shoulders bear the slacken’d bow.<br /> + The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound,<br /> + Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.<br /> + Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky,<br /> + And o’er the darken’d walls and rampires fly.<br /> + The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,<br /> + Rend heav’n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.<br /> + All pressing on, pursuers and pursued,<br /> + Are crush’d in crowds, a mingled multitude.<br /> + Some happy few escape: the throng too late<br /> + Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.<br /> + Ev’n in the sight of home, the wretched sire<br /> + Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.<br /> + Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,<br /> + But leave their friends excluded with their foes.<br /> + The vanquish’d cry; the victors loudly shout;<br /> + ’Tis terror all within, and slaughter all without.<br /> + Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,<br /> + Or, to the moats pursued, precipitate their fall.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,<br /> + Arm’d on the tow’rs, the common danger share:<br /> + So much of zeal their country’s cause inspir’d;<br /> + So much Camilla’s great example fir’d.<br /> + Poles, sharpen’d in the flames, from high they throw,<br /> + With imitated darts, to gall the foe.<br /> + Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath,<br /> + And crowd each other to be first in death.<br /> + Meantime to Turnus, ambush’d in the shade,<br /> + With heavy tidings came th’ unhappy maid:<br /> + “The Volscians overthrown, Camilla kill’d;<br /> + The foes, entirely masters of the field,<br /> + Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:<br /> + The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Inflam’d with rage, (for so the Furies fire<br /> + The Daunian’s breast, and so the Fates require,)<br /> + He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain<br /> + Possess’d, and downward issues on the plain.<br /> + Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed<br /> + From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed.<br /> + Thro’ the black forest and the ferny brake,<br /> + Unknowingly secure, their way they take;<br /> + From the rough mountains to the plain descend,<br /> + And there, in order drawn, their line extend.<br /> + Both armies now in open fields are seen;<br /> + Nor far the distance of the space between.<br /> + Both to the city bend. Aeneas sees,<br /> + Thro’ smoking fields, his hast’ning enemies;<br /> + And Turnus views the Trojans in array,<br /> + And hears th’ approaching horses proudly neigh.<br /> + Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join’d;<br /> + But westward to the sea the sun declin’d.<br /> + Intrench’d before the town both armies lie,<br /> + While night with sable wings involves the sky. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>BOOK XII</h2> + + <h5> THE ARGUMENT. </h5> + + <p> + Turnus challenges Aeneas to a single combat: articles are agreed on, but + broken by the Rutuli, who wound Aeneas. He is miraculously cured by Venus, + forces Turnus to a duel, and concludes the poem with his death. + <br /><br /> + </p> + + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,<br /> + Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,<br /> + Himself become the mark of public spite,<br /> + His honour question’d for the promis’d fight;<br /> + The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d,<br /> + The more his fury boil’d within his breast:<br /> + He rous’d his vigour for the last debate,<br /> + And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,<br /> + He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;<br /> + But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,<br /> + The lordly beast returns with double pride:<br /> + He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;<br /> + His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:<br /> + So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire,<br /> + Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,<br /> + At length approach’d the king, and thus began:<br /> + “No more excuses or delays: I stand<br /> + In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand,<br /> + This base deserter of his native land.<br /> + The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take<br /> + The same conditions which himself did make.<br /> + Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,<br /> + And to my single virtue trust the war.<br /> + The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;<br /> + This arm unaided shall assert your right:<br /> + Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,<br /> + To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To whom the king sedately thus replied:<br /> + “Brave youth, the more your valour has been tried,<br /> + The more becomes it us, with due respect,<br /> + To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.<br /> + You want not wealth, or a successive throne,<br /> + Or cities which your arms have made your own:<br /> + My towns and treasures are at your command,<br /> + And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;<br /> + Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,<br /> + Unmarried, fair, of noble families.<br /> + Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,<br /> + Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,<br /> + But sound advice, proceeding from a heart<br /> + Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.<br /> + The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,<br /> + No prince Italian born should heir my throne:<br /> + Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,<br /> + And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.<br /> + Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,<br /> + Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,<br /> + Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied,<br /> + I promis’d my Lavinia for your bride:<br /> + Her from her plighted lord by force I took;<br /> + All ties of treaties, and of honour, broke:<br /> + On your account I wag’d an impious war—<br /> + With what success, ’tis needless to declare;<br /> + I and my subjects feel, and you have had your share.<br /> + Twice vanquish’d while in bloody fields we strive,<br /> + Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive:<br /> + The rolling flood runs warm with human gore;<br /> + The bones of Latians blanch the neighb’ring shore.<br /> + Why put I not an end to this debate,<br /> + Still unresolv’d, and still a slave to fate?<br /> + If Turnus’ death a lasting peace can give,<br /> + Why should I not procure it whilst you live?<br /> + Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,<br /> + What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say?<br /> + And, should you fall in fight, (which Heav’n defend!)<br /> + How curse the cause which hasten’d to his end<br /> + The daughter’s lover and the father’s friend?<br /> + Weigh in your mind the various chance of war;<br /> + Pity your parent’s age, and ease his care.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Such balmy words he pour’d, but all in vain:<br /> + The proffer’d med’cine but provok’d the pain.<br /> + The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief,<br /> + With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief:<br /> + “The care, O best of fathers, which you take<br /> + For my concerns, at my desire forsake.<br /> + Permit me not to languish out my days,<br /> + But make the best exchange of life for praise.<br /> + This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize;<br /> + And the blood follows, where the weapon flies.<br /> + His goddess mother is not near, to shroud<br /> + The flying coward with an empty cloud.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But now the queen, who fear’d for Turnus’ life,<br /> + And loath’d the hard conditions of the strife,<br /> + Held him by force; and, dying in his death,<br /> + In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath:<br /> + “O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears,<br /> + And whate’er price Amata’s honour bears<br /> + Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope,<br /> + My sickly mind’s repose, my sinking age’s prop;<br /> + Since on the safety of thy life alone<br /> + Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne:<br /> + Refuse me not this one, this only pray’r,<br /> + To waive the combat, and pursue the war.<br /> + Whatever chance attends this fatal strife,<br /> + Think it includes, in thine, Amata’s life.<br /> + I cannot live a slave, or see my throne<br /> + Usurp’d by strangers or a Trojan son.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;<br /> + A crimson blush her beauteous face o’erspread,<br /> + Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.<br /> + The driving colours, never at a stay,<br /> + Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.<br /> + Delightful change! Thus Indian iv’ry shows,<br /> + Which with the bord’ring paint of purple glows;<br /> + Or lilies damask’d by the neighb’ring rose.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The lover gaz’d, and, burning with desire,<br /> + The more he look’d, the more he fed the fire:<br /> + Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,<br /> + Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.<br /> + Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,<br /> + Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:<br /> + “O mother, do not by your tears prepare<br /> + Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.<br /> + Resolv’d on fight, I am no longer free<br /> + To shun my death, if Heav’n my death decree.”<br /> + Then turning to the herald, thus pursues:<br /> + “Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news;<br /> + Denounce from me, that, when tomorrow’s light<br /> + Shall gild the heav’ns, he need not urge the fight;<br /> + The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more<br /> + Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:<br /> + Our single swords the quarrel shall decide,<br /> + And to the victor be the beauteous bride.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said, and striding on, with speedy pace,<br /> + He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.<br /> + At his approach they toss their heads on high,<br /> + And, proudly neighing, promise victory.<br /> + The sires of these Orythia sent from far,<br /> + To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.<br /> + The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white,<br /> + Nor northern winds in fleetness match’d their flight.<br /> + Officious grooms stand ready by his side;<br /> + And some with combs their flowing manes divide,<br /> + And others stroke their chests and gently soothe their pride.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He sheath’d his limbs in arms; a temper’d mass<br /> + Of golden metal those, and mountain brass.<br /> + Then to his head his glitt’ring helm he tied,<br /> + And girt his faithful falchion to his side.<br /> + In his Aetnaean forge, the God of Fire<br /> + That falchion labour’d for the hero’s sire;<br /> + Immortal keenness on the blade bestow’d,<br /> + And plung’d it hissing in the Stygian flood.<br /> + Propp’d on a pillar, which the ceiling bore,<br /> + Was plac’d the lance Auruncan Actor wore;<br /> + Which with such force he brandish’d in his hand,<br /> + The tough ash trembled like an osier wand:<br /> + Then cried: “O pond’rous spoil of Actor slain,<br /> + And never yet by Turnus toss’d in vain,<br /> + Fail not this day thy wonted force; but go,<br /> + Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe!<br /> + Give me to tear his corslet from his breast,<br /> + And from that eunuch head to rend the crest;<br /> + Dragg’d in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil,<br /> + Hot from the vexing ir’n, and smear’d with fragrant oil!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies<br /> + A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.<br /> + So fares the bull in his lov’d female’s sight:<br /> + Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight;<br /> + He tries his goring horns against a tree,<br /> + And meditates his absent enemy;<br /> + He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand<br /> + With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,<br /> + To future fight his manly courage warms:<br /> + He whets his fury, and with joy prepares<br /> + To terminate at once the ling’ring wars;<br /> + To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates<br /> + What Heav’n had promis’d, and expounds the fates.<br /> + Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease<br /> + The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The morn ensuing, from the mountain’s height,<br /> + Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light;<br /> + Th’ ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea,<br /> + From out their flaming nostrils breath’d the day;<br /> + When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,<br /> + In friendly labour join’d, the list prepar’d.<br /> + Beneath the walls they measure out the space;<br /> + Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass,<br /> + Where, with religious rites their common gods they place.<br /> + In purest white the priests their heads attire;<br /> + And living waters bear, and holy fire;<br /> + And, o’er their linen hoods and shaded hair,<br /> + Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In order issuing from the town appears<br /> + The Latin legion, arm’d with pointed spears;<br /> + And from the fields, advancing on a line,<br /> + The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join:<br /> + Their various arms afford a pleasing sight;<br /> + A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar’d for fight.<br /> + Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,<br /> + Glitt’ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed;<br /> + Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line,<br /> + And there Messapus, born of seed divine.<br /> + The sign is giv’n; and, round the listed space,<br /> + Each man in order fills his proper place.<br /> + Reclining on their ample shields, they stand,<br /> + And fix their pointed lances in the sand.<br /> + Now, studious of the sight, a num’rous throng<br /> + Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,<br /> + Swarm the town: by those who rest behind,<br /> + The gates and walls and houses’ tops are lin’d.<br /> + Meantime the Queen of Heav’n beheld the sight,<br /> + With eyes unpleas’d, from Mount Albano’s height<br /> + (Since call’d Albano by succeeding fame,<br /> + But then an empty hill, without a name).<br /> + She thence survey’d the field, the Trojan pow’rs,<br /> + The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow’rs.<br /> + Then thus the goddess of the skies bespoke,<br /> + With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake,<br /> + King Turnus’ sister, once a lovely maid,<br /> + Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray’d:<br /> + Compress’d by force, but, by the grateful god,<br /> + Now made the Nais of the neighb’ring flood.<br /> + “O nymph, the pride of living lakes,” said she,<br /> + “O most renown’d, and most belov’d by me,<br /> + Long hast thou known, nor need I to record,<br /> + The wanton sallies of my wand’ring lord.<br /> + Of ev’ry Latian fair whom Jove misled<br /> + To mount by stealth my violated bed,<br /> + To thee alone I grudg’d not his embrace,<br /> + But gave a part of heav’n, and an unenvied place.<br /> + Now learn from me thy near approaching grief,<br /> + Nor think my wishes want to thy relief.<br /> + While fortune favour’d, nor Heav’n’s King denied<br /> + To lend my succour to the Latian side,<br /> + I sav’d thy brother, and the sinking state:<br /> + But now he struggles with unequal fate,<br /> + And goes, with gods averse, o’ermatch’d in might,<br /> + To meet inevitable death in fight;<br /> + Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.<br /> + Thou, if thou dar’st thy present aid supply;<br /> + It well becomes a sister’s care to try.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress’d,<br /> + Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.<br /> + To whom Saturnia thus: “Thy tears are late:<br /> + Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch’d from fate:<br /> + New tumults kindle; violate the truce:<br /> + Who knows what changeful fortune may produce?<br /> + ’Tis not a crime t’ attempt what I decree;<br /> + Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me.”<br /> + She said, and, sailing on the winged wind,<br /> + Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear:<br /> + Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear;<br /> + Twelve golden beams around his temples play,<br /> + To mark his lineage from the God of Day.<br /> + Two snowy coursers Turnus’ chariot yoke,<br /> + And in his hand two massy spears he shook:<br /> + Then issued from the camp, in arms divine,<br /> + Aeneas, author of the Roman line;<br /> + And by his side Ascanius took his place,<br /> + The second hope of Rome’s immortal race.<br /> + Adorn’d in white, a rev’rend priest appears,<br /> + And off’rings to the flaming altars bears;<br /> + A porket, and a lamb that never suffer’d shears.<br /> + Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes,<br /> + And strews the beasts, design’d for sacrifice,<br /> + With salt and meal: with like officious care<br /> + He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.<br /> + Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds;<br /> + With the same gen’rous juice the flame he feeds.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Aeneas then unsheath’d his shining sword,<br /> + And thus with pious pray’rs the gods ador’d:<br /> + “All-seeing sun, and thou, Ausonian soil,<br /> + For which I have sustain’d so long a toil,<br /> + Thou, King of Heav’n, and thou, the Queen of Air,<br /> + Propitious now, and reconcil’d by pray’r;<br /> + Thou, God of War, whose unresisted sway<br /> + The labours and events of arms obey;<br /> + Ye living fountains, and ye running floods,<br /> + All pow’rs of ocean, all ethereal gods,<br /> + Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,<br /> + Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,<br /> + My Trojans shall encrease Evander’s town;<br /> + Ascanius shall renounce th’ Ausonian crown:<br /> + All claims, all questions of debate, shall cease;<br /> + Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.<br /> + But, if my juster arms prevail in fight,<br /> + (As sure they shall, if I divine aright,)<br /> + My Trojans shall not o’er th’ Italians reign:<br /> + Both equal, both unconquer’d shall remain,<br /> + Join’d in their laws, their lands, and their abodes;<br /> + I ask but altars for my weary gods.<br /> + The care of those religious rites be mine;<br /> + The crown to King Latinus I resign:<br /> + His be the sov’reign sway. Nor will I share<br /> + His pow’r in peace, or his command in war.<br /> + For me, my friends another town shall frame,<br /> + And bless the rising tow’rs with fair Lavinia’s name.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus he. Then, with erected eyes and hands,<br /> + The Latian king before his altar stands.<br /> + “By the same heav’n,” said he, “and earth, and main,<br /> + And all the pow’rs that all the three contain;<br /> + By hell below, and by that upper god<br /> + Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod;<br /> + So let Latona’s double offspring hear,<br /> + And double-fronted Janus, what I swear:<br /> + I touch the sacred altars, touch the flames,<br /> + And all those pow’rs attest, and all their names;<br /> + Whatever chance befall on either side,<br /> + No term of time this union shall divide:<br /> + No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind,<br /> + Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind;<br /> + Not tho’ the circling seas should break their bound,<br /> + O’erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground;<br /> + Not tho’ the lamps of heav’n their spheres forsake,<br /> + Hurl’d down, and hissing in the nether lake:<br /> + Ev’n as this royal scepter” (for he bore<br /> + A scepter in his hand) “shall never more<br /> + Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth:<br /> + An orphan now, cut from the mother earth<br /> + By the keen ax, dishonour’d of its hair,<br /> + And cas’d in brass, for Latian kings to bear.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When thus in public view the peace was tied<br /> + With solemn vows, and sworn on either side,<br /> + All dues perform’d which holy rites require;<br /> + The victim beasts are slain before the fire,<br /> + The trembling entrails from their bodies torn,<br /> + And to the fatten’d flames in chargers borne.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Already the Rutulians deem their man<br /> + O’ermatch’d in arms, before the fight began.<br /> + First rising fears are whisper’d thro’ the crowd;<br /> + Then, gath’ring sound, they murmur more aloud.<br /> + Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes<br /> + The champions’ bulk, their sinews, and their size:<br /> + The nearer they approach, the more is known<br /> + Th’ apparent disadvantage of their own.<br /> + Turnus himself appears in public sight<br /> + Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.<br /> + Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands<br /> + With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands;<br /> + And, while he mutters undistinguish’d pray’rs,<br /> + A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + With anxious pleasure when Juturna view’d<br /> + Th’ increasing fright of the mad multitude,<br /> + When their short sighs and thick’ning sobs she heard,<br /> + And found their ready minds for change prepar’d;<br /> + Dissembling her immortal form, she took<br /> + Camertus’ mien, his habit, and his look;<br /> + A chief of ancient blood; in arms well known<br /> + Was his great sire, and he his greater son.<br /> + His shape assum’d, amid the ranks she ran,<br /> + And humoring their first motions, thus began:<br /> + “For shame, Rutulians, can you bear the sight<br /> + Of one expos’d for all, in single fight?<br /> + Can we, before the face of heav’n, confess<br /> + Our courage colder, or our numbers less?<br /> + View all the Trojan host, th’ Arcadian band,<br /> + And Tuscan army; count ’em as they stand:<br /> + Undaunted to the battle if we go,<br /> + Scarce ev’ry second man will share a foe.<br /> + Turnus, ’tis true, in this unequal strife,<br /> + Shall lose, with honour, his devoted life,<br /> + Or change it rather for immortal fame,<br /> + Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came:<br /> + But you, a servile and inglorious band,<br /> + For foreign lords shall sow your native land,<br /> + Those fruitful fields your fighting fathers gain’d,<br /> + Which have so long their lazy sons sustain’d.”<br /> + With words like these, she carried her design:<br /> + A rising murmur runs along the line.<br /> + Then ev’n the city troops, and Latians, tir’d<br /> + With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir’d:<br /> + Their champion’s fate with pity they lament,<br /> + And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage<br /> + With lying wonders, and a false presage;<br /> + But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes,<br /> + Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.<br /> + For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above,<br /> + Appears in pomp th’ imperial bird of Jove:<br /> + A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes,<br /> + And o’er their heads his sounding pinions shakes;<br /> + Then, stooping on the fairest of the train,<br /> + In his strong talons truss’d a silver swan.<br /> + Th’ Italians wonder at th’ unusual sight;<br /> + But, while he lags, and labours in his flight,<br /> + Behold, the dastard fowl return anew,<br /> + And with united force the foe pursue:<br /> + Clam’rous around the royal hawk they fly,<br /> + And, thick’ning in a cloud, o’ershade the sky.<br /> + They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course;<br /> + Nor can th’ incumber’d bird sustain their force;<br /> + But vex’d, not vanquish’d, drops the pond’rous prey,<br /> + And, lighten’d of his burthen, wings his way.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Th’ Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight,<br /> + Eager of action, and demand the fight.<br /> + Then King Tolumnius, vers’d in augurs’ arts,<br /> + Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:<br /> + “At length ’tis granted, what I long desir’d!<br /> + This, this is what my frequent vows requir’d.<br /> + Ye gods, I take your omen, and obey.<br /> + Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way.<br /> + These are the foreign foes, whose impious band,<br /> + Like that rapacious bird, infest our land:<br /> + But soon, like him, they shall be forc’d to sea<br /> + By strength united, and forego the prey.<br /> + Your timely succour to your country bring,<br /> + Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said; and, pressing onward thro’ the crew,<br /> + Pois’d in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.<br /> + The winged weapon, whistling in the wind,<br /> + Came driving on, nor miss’d the mark design’d.<br /> + At once the cornel rattled in the skies;<br /> + At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise.<br /> + Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,<br /> + Born of Arcadian mix’d with Tuscan blood,<br /> + Gylippus’ sons: the fatal jav’lin flew,<br /> + Aim’d at the midmost of the friendly crew.<br /> + A passage thro’ the jointed arms it found,<br /> + Just where the belt was to the body bound,<br /> + And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.<br /> + Then, fir’d with pious rage, the gen’rous train<br /> + Run madly forward to revenge the slain.<br /> + And some with eager haste their jav’lins throw;<br /> + And some with sword in hand assault the foe.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The wish’d insult the Latine troops embrace,<br /> + And meet their ardour in the middle space.<br /> + The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line,<br /> + With equal courage obviate their design.<br /> + Peace leaves the violated fields, and hate<br /> + Both armies urges to their mutual fate.<br /> + With impious haste their altars are o’erturn’d,<br /> + The sacrifice half-broil’d, and half-unburn’d.<br /> + Thick storms of steel from either army fly,<br /> + And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky;<br /> + Brands from the fire are missive weapons made,<br /> + With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.<br /> + Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray,<br /> + And bears his unregarded gods away.<br /> + These on their horses vault; those yoke the car;<br /> + The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Messapus, eager to confound the peace,<br /> + Spurr’d his hot courser thro’ the fighting press,<br /> + At King Aulestes, by his purple known<br /> + A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown;<br /> + And, with a shock encount’ring, bore him down.<br /> + Backward he fell; and, as his fate design’d,<br /> + The ruins of an altar were behind:<br /> + There, pitching on his shoulders and his head,<br /> + Amid the scatt’ring fires he lay supinely spread.<br /> + The beamy spear, descending from above,<br /> + His cuirass pierc’d, and thro’ his body drove.<br /> + Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries:<br /> + “The gods have found a fitter sacrifice.”<br /> + Greedy of spoils, th’ Italians strip the dead<br /> + Of his rich armour, and uncrown his head.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Priest Corynaeus, arm’d his better hand,<br /> + From his own altar, with a blazing brand;<br /> + And, as Ebusus with a thund’ring pace<br /> + Advanc’d to battle, dash’d it on his face:<br /> + His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires;<br /> + The crackling crop a noisome scent expires.<br /> + Following the blow, he seiz’d his curling crown<br /> + With his left hand; his other cast him down.<br /> + The prostrate body with his knees he press’d,<br /> + And plung’d his holy poniard in his breast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While Podalirius, with his sword, pursued<br /> + The shepherd Alsus thro’ the flying crowd,<br /> + Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow<br /> + Full on the front of his unwary foe.<br /> + The broad ax enters with a crashing sound,<br /> + And cleaves the chin with one continued wound;<br /> + Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arms around<br /> + An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress’d,<br /> + And seal’d their heavy lids in endless rest.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But good Aeneas rush’d amid the bands;<br /> + Bare was his head, and naked were his hands,<br /> + In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud:<br /> + “What sudden rage, what new desire of blood,<br /> + Inflames your alter’d minds? O Trojans, cease<br /> + From impious arms, nor violate the peace!<br /> + By human sanctions, and by laws divine,<br /> + The terms are all agreed; the war is mine.<br /> + Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue;<br /> + This hand alone shall right the gods and you:<br /> + Our injur’d altars, and their broken vow,<br /> + To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defence,<br /> + A winged arrow struck the pious prince.<br /> + But, whether from some human hand it came,<br /> + Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame:<br /> + No human hand or hostile god was found,<br /> + To boast the triumph of so base a wound.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,<br /> + His chiefs dismay’d, his troops a fainting train,<br /> + Th’ unhop’d event his heighten’d soul inspires:<br /> + At once his arms and coursers he requires;<br /> + Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,<br /> + And with a ready hand assumes the reins.<br /> + He drives impetuous, and, where’er he goes,<br /> + He leaves behind a lane of slaughter’d foes.<br /> + These his lance reaches; over those he rolls<br /> + His rapid car, and crushes out their souls:<br /> + In vain the vanquish’d fly; the victor sends<br /> + The dead men’s weapons at their living friends.<br /> + Thus, on the banks of Hebrus’ freezing flood,<br /> + The God of Battles, in his angry mood,<br /> + Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,<br /> + Let loose the reins, and scours along the field:<br /> + Before the wind his fiery coursers fly;<br /> + Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.<br /> + Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair<br /> + (Dire faces, and deform’d) surround the car;<br /> + Friends of the god, and followers of the war.<br /> + With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,<br /> + Exulting Turnus flies along the plain:<br /> + His smoking horses, at their utmost speed,<br /> + He lashes on, and urges o’er the dead.<br /> + Their fetlocks run with blood; and, when they bound,<br /> + The gore and gath’ring dust are dash’d around.<br /> + Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,<br /> + He kill’d at hand, but Sthenelus afar:<br /> + From far the sons of Imbracus he slew,<br /> + Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew;<br /> + Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join’d,<br /> + Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,<br /> + New fir’d the Trojans, and their foes repell’d.<br /> + This son of Dolon bore his grandsire’s name,<br /> + But emulated more his father’s fame;<br /> + His guileful father, sent a nightly spy,<br /> + The Grecian camp and order to descry:<br /> + Hard enterprise! and well he might require<br /> + Achilles’ car and horses, for his hire:<br /> + But, met upon the scout, th’ Aetolian prince<br /> + In death bestow’d a juster recompense.<br /> + Fierce Turnus view’d the Trojan from afar,<br /> + And launch’d his jav’lin from his lofty car;<br /> + Then lightly leaping down, pursued the blow,<br /> + And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe,<br /> + Wrench’d from his feeble hold the shining sword,<br /> + And plung’d it in the bosom of its lord.<br /> + “Possess,” said he, “the fruit of all thy pains,<br /> + And measure, at thy length, our Latian plains.<br /> + Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand;<br /> + Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then Dares, Butes, Sybaris he slew,<br /> + Whom o’er his neck his flound’ring courser threw.<br /> + As when loud Boreas, with his blust’ring train,<br /> + Stoops from above, incumbent on the main;<br /> + Where’er he flies, he drives the rack before,<br /> + And rolls the billows on th’ Aegaean shore:<br /> + So, where resistless Turnus takes his course,<br /> + The scatter’d squadrons bend before his force;<br /> + His crest of horses’ hair is blown behind<br /> + By adverse air, and rustles in the wind.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain,<br /> + And, as the chariot roll’d along the plain,<br /> + Light from the ground he leapt, and seiz’d the rein.<br /> + Thus hung in air, he still retain’d his hold,<br /> + The coursers frighted, and their course controll’d.<br /> + The lance of Turnus reach’d him as he hung,<br /> + And pierc’d his plated arms, but pass’d along,<br /> + And only raz’d the skin. He turn’d, and held<br /> + Against his threat’ning foe his ample shield;<br /> + Then call’d for aid: but, while he cried in vain,<br /> + The chariot bore him backward on the plain.<br /> + He lies revers’d; the victor king descends,<br /> + And strikes so justly where his helmet ends,<br /> + He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk<br /> + With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield,<br /> + The wounded prince is forc’d to leave the field:<br /> + Strong Mnestheus, and Achates often tried,<br /> + And young Ascanius, weeping by his side,<br /> + Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear<br /> + His limbs from earth, supported on his spear.<br /> + Resolv’d in mind, regardless of the smart,<br /> + He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart.<br /> + The steel remains. No readier way he found<br /> + To draw the weapon, than t’ inlarge the wound.<br /> + Eager of fight, impatient of delay,<br /> + He begs; and his unwilling friends obey.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Iapis was at hand to prove his art,<br /> + Whose blooming youth so fir’d Apollo’s heart,<br /> + That, for his love, he proffer’d to bestow<br /> + His tuneful harp and his unerring bow.<br /> + The pious youth, more studious how to save<br /> + His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,<br /> + Preferr’d the pow’r of plants, and silent praise<br /> + Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Propp’d on his lance the pensive hero stood,<br /> + And heard and saw, unmov’d, the mourning crowd.<br /> + The fam’d physician tucks his robes around<br /> + With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.<br /> + With gentle touches he performs his part,<br /> + This way and that, soliciting the dart,<br /> + And exercises all his heav’nly art.<br /> + All soft’ning simples, known of sov’reign use,<br /> + He presses out, and pours their noble juice.<br /> + These first infus’d, to lenify the pain,<br /> + He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.<br /> + Then to the patron of his art he pray’d:<br /> + The patron of his art refus’d his aid.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime the war approaches to the tents;<br /> + Th’ alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments:<br /> + The driving dust proclaims the danger near;<br /> + And first their friends, and then their foes appear:<br /> + Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear.<br /> + The camp is fill’d with terror and affright:<br /> + The hissing shafts within the trench alight;<br /> + An undistinguish’d noise ascends the sky,<br /> + The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But now the goddess mother, mov’d with grief,<br /> + And pierc’d with pity, hastens her relief.<br /> + A branch of healing dittany she brought,<br /> + Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought:<br /> + Rough is the stem, which woolly leafs surround;<br /> + The leafs with flow’rs, the flow’rs with purple crown’d,<br /> + Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief<br /> + To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.<br /> + This Venus brings, in clouds involv’d, and brews<br /> + Th’ extracted liquor with ambrosian dews,<br /> + And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands,<br /> + Temp’ring the mixture with her heav’nly hands,<br /> + And pours it in a bowl, already crown’d<br /> + With juice of med’c’nal herbs prepar’d to bathe the wound.<br /> + The leech, unknowing of superior art<br /> + Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;<br /> + And in a moment ceas’d the raging smart.<br /> + Stanch’d is the blood, and in the bottom stands:<br /> + The steel, but scarcely touch’d with tender hands,<br /> + Moves up, and follows of its own accord,<br /> + And health and vigour are at once restor’d.<br /> + Iapis first perceiv’d the closing wound,<br /> + And first the footsteps of a god he found.<br /> + “Arms! arms!” he cries; “the sword and shield prepare,<br /> + And send the willing chief, renew’d, to war.<br /> + This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,<br /> + Nor art’s effect, but done by hands divine.<br /> + Some god our general to the battle sends;<br /> + Some god preserves his life for greater ends.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The hero arms in haste; his hands infold<br /> + His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold:<br /> + Inflam’d to fight, and rushing to the field,<br /> + That hand sustaining the celestial shield,<br /> + This gripes the lance, and with such vigour shakes,<br /> + That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.<br /> + Then with a close embrace he strain’d his son,<br /> + And, kissing thro’ his helmet, thus begun:<br /> + “My son, from my example learn the war,<br /> + In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare;<br /> + But happier chance than mine attend thy care!<br /> + This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,<br /> + And crown with honours of the conquer’d field:<br /> + Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth<br /> + To toils of war, be mindful of my worth;<br /> + Assert thy birthright, and in arms be known,<br /> + For Hector’s nephew, and Aeneas’ son.”<br /> + He said; and, striding, issued on the plain.<br /> + Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num’rous train,<br /> + Attend his steps; the rest their weapons take,<br /> + And, crowding to the field, the camp forsake.<br /> + A cloud of blinding dust is rais’d around,<br /> + Labours beneath their feet the trembling ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Turnus, posted on a hill, from far<br /> + Beheld the progress of the moving war:<br /> + With him the Latins view’d the cover’d plains,<br /> + And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.<br /> + Juturna saw th’ advancing troops appear,<br /> + And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.<br /> + Aeneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,<br /> + Clos’d in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.<br /> + As when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore<br /> + From the mid ocean, drives the waves before;<br /> + The painful hind with heavy heart foresees<br /> + The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;<br /> + With like impetuous rage the prince appears<br /> + Before his doubled front, nor less destruction bears.<br /> + And now both armies shock in open field;<br /> + Osiris is by strong Thymbraeus kill’d.<br /> + Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain<br /> + (All fam’d in arms, and of the Latian train)<br /> + By Gyas’, Mnestheus’, and Achates’ hand.<br /> + The fatal augur falls, by whose command<br /> + The truce was broken, and whose lance, embrued<br /> + With Trojan blood, th’ unhappy fight renew’d.<br /> + Loud shouts and clamours rend the liquid sky,<br /> + And o’er the field the frighted Latins fly.<br /> + The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,<br /> + Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few;<br /> + Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,<br /> + He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.<br /> + Juturna heard, and, seiz’d with mortal fear,<br /> + Forc’d from the beam her brother’s charioteer;<br /> + Assumes his shape, his armour, and his mien,<br /> + And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As the black swallow near the palace plies;<br /> + O’er empty courts, and under arches, flies;<br /> + Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,<br /> + To furnish her loquacious nest with food:<br /> + So drives the rapid goddess o’er the plains;<br /> + The smoking horses run with loosen’d reins.<br /> + She steers a various course among the foes;<br /> + Now here, now there, her conqu’ring brother shows;<br /> + Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight,<br /> + She turns, and bends, but shuns the single fight.<br /> + Aeneas, fir’d with fury, breaks the crowd,<br /> + And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:<br /> + He runs within a narrower ring, and tries<br /> + To stop the chariot; but the chariot flies.<br /> + If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,<br /> + And far away the Daunian hero bears.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + What should he do! Nor arts nor arms avail;<br /> + And various cares in vain his mind assail.<br /> + The great Messapus, thund’ring thro’ the field,<br /> + In his left hand two pointed jav’lins held:<br /> + Encount’ring on the prince, one dart he drew,<br /> + And with unerring aim and utmost vigour threw.<br /> + Aeneas saw it come, and, stooping low<br /> + Beneath his buckler, shunn’d the threat’ning blow.<br /> + The weapon hiss’d above his head, and tore<br /> + The waving plume which on his helm he wore.<br /> + Forced by this hostile act, and fir’d with spite,<br /> + That flying Turnus still declin’d the fight,<br /> + The Prince, whose piety had long repell’d<br /> + His inborn ardour, now invades the field;<br /> + Invokes the pow’rs of violated peace,<br /> + Their rites and injur’d altars to redress;<br /> + Then, to his rage abandoning the rein,<br /> + With blood and slaughter’d bodies fills the plain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + What god can tell, what numbers can display,<br /> + The various labours of that fatal day;<br /> + What chiefs and champions fell on either side,<br /> + In combat slain, or by what deaths they died;<br /> + Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill’d;<br /> + Who shar’d the fame and fortune of the field!<br /> + Jove, could’st thou view, and not avert thy sight,<br /> + Two jarring nations join’d in cruel fight,<br /> + Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite!<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Aeneas first Rutulian Sucro found,<br /> + Whose valour made the Trojans quit their ground;<br /> + Betwixt his ribs the jav’lin drove so just,<br /> + It reach’d his heart, nor needs a second thrust.<br /> + Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew;<br /> + First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw:<br /> + Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail’d<br /> + Diores, and in equal fight prevail’d.<br /> + Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;<br /> + Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw,<br /> + Whom without respite at one charge he slew:<br /> + Cethegus, Tanais, Tagus, fell oppress’d,<br /> + And sad Onythes, added to the rest,<br /> + Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore,<br /> + And from Apollo’s fane to battle sent,<br /> + O’erthrew; nor Phoebus could their fate prevent.<br /> + Peaceful Menoetes after these he kill’d,<br /> + Who long had shunn’d the dangers of the field:<br /> + On Lerna’s lake a silent life he led,<br /> + And with his nets and angle earn’d his bread;<br /> + Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew,<br /> + But wisely from th’ infectious world withdrew:<br /> + Poor was his house; his father’s painful hand<br /> + Discharg’d his rent, and plow’d another’s land.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + As flames among the lofty woods are thrown<br /> + On diff’rent sides, and both by winds are blown;<br /> + The laurels crackle in the sputt’ring fire;<br /> + The frighted sylvans from their shades retire:<br /> + Or as two neighb’ring torrents fall from high;<br /> + Rapid they run; the foamy waters fry;<br /> + They roll to sea with unresisted force,<br /> + And down the rocks precipitate their course:<br /> + Not with less rage the rival heroes take<br /> + Their diff’rent ways, nor less destruction make.<br /> + With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike;<br /> + And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike.<br /> + Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field;<br /> + And hearts are pierc’d, unknowing how to yield:<br /> + They blow for blow return, and wound for wound;<br /> + And heaps of bodies raise the level ground.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs<br /> + From a long royal race of Latian kings,<br /> + Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown,<br /> + Crush’d with the weight of an unwieldy stone:<br /> + Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore<br /> + His living load, his dying body tore.<br /> + His starting steeds, to shun the glitt’ring sword,<br /> + Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Fierce Hyllus threaten’d high, and, face to face,<br /> + Affronted Turnus in the middle space:<br /> + The prince encounter’d him in full career,<br /> + And at his temples aim’d the deadly spear;<br /> + So fatally the flying weapon sped,<br /> + That thro’ his brazen helm it pierc’d his head.<br /> + Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou scape from Turnus’ hand,<br /> + In vain the strongest of th’ Arcadian band:<br /> + Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford<br /> + Availing aid against th’ Aenean sword,<br /> + Which to his naked heart pursued the course;<br /> + Nor could his plated shield sustain the force.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Iolas fell, whom not the Grecian pow’rs,<br /> + Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow’rs,<br /> + Were doom’d to kill, while Heav’n prolong’d his date;<br /> + But who can pass the bounds, prefix’d by fate?<br /> + In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held<br /> + Two palaces, and was from each expell’d:<br /> + Of all the mighty man, the last remains<br /> + A little spot of foreign earth contains.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + And now both hosts their broken troops unite<br /> + In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight.<br /> + Seresthus and undaunted Mnestheus join<br /> + The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line:<br /> + Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads<br /> + The Latin squadrons, and to battle leads.<br /> + They strike, they push, they throng the scanty space,<br /> + Resolv’d on death, impatient of disgrace;<br /> + And, where one falls, another fills his place.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son<br /> + To leave th’ unfinish’d fight, and storm the town:<br /> + For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain<br /> + In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain,<br /> + He views th’ unguarded city from afar,<br /> + In careless quiet, and secure of war.<br /> + Occasion offers, and excites his mind<br /> + To dare beyond the task he first design’d.<br /> + Resolv’d, he calls his chiefs; they leave the fight:<br /> + Attended thus, he takes a neighb’ring height;<br /> + The crowding troops about their gen’ral stand,<br /> + All under arms, and wait his high command.<br /> + Then thus the lofty prince: “Hear and obey,<br /> + Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay<br /> + Jove is with us; and what I have decreed<br /> + Requires our utmost vigour, and our speed.<br /> + Your instant arms against the town prepare,<br /> + The source of mischief, and the seat of war.<br /> + This day the Latian tow’rs, that mate the sky,<br /> + Shall level with the plain in ashes lie:<br /> + The people shall be slaves, unless in time<br /> + They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime.<br /> + Twice have our foes been vanquish’d on the plain:<br /> + Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain?<br /> + Your force against the perjur’d city bend.<br /> + There it began, and there the war shall end.<br /> + The peace profan’d our rightful arms requires;<br /> + Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He finish’d; and, one soul inspiring all,<br /> + Form’d in a wedge, the foot approach the wall.<br /> + Without the town, an unprovided train<br /> + Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain.<br /> + Some firebrands, others scaling ladders bear,<br /> + And those they toss aloft, and these they rear:<br /> + The flames now launch’d, the feather’d arrows fly,<br /> + And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky.<br /> + Advancing to the front, the hero stands,<br /> + And, stretching out to heav’n his pious hands,<br /> + Attests the gods, asserts his innocence,<br /> + Upbraids with breach of faith th’ Ausonian prince;<br /> + Declares the royal honour doubly stain’d,<br /> + And twice the rites of holy peace profan’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Dissenting clamours in the town arise;<br /> + Each will be heard, and all at once advise.<br /> + One part for peace, and one for war contends;<br /> + Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends.<br /> + The helpless king is hurried in the throng,<br /> + And, whate’er tide prevails, is borne along.<br /> + Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock,<br /> + Invades the bees with suffocating smoke,<br /> + They run around, or labour on their wings,<br /> + Disus’d to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings;<br /> + To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try;<br /> + Black vapours, issuing from the vent, involve the sky.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + But fate and envious fortune now prepare<br /> + To plunge the Latins in the last despair.<br /> + The queen, who saw the foes invade the town,<br /> + And brands on tops of burning houses thrown,<br /> + Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear—<br /> + No troops of Turnus in the field appear.<br /> + Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain,<br /> + And then concludes the royal youth is slain.<br /> + Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear<br /> + The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air.<br /> + She calls herself the cause of all this ill,<br /> + And owns the dire effects of her ungovern’d will;<br /> + She raves against the gods; she beats her breast;<br /> + She tears with both her hands her purple vest:<br /> + Then round a beam a running noose she tied,<br /> + And, fasten’d by the neck, obscenely died.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Soon as the fatal news by Fame was blown,<br /> + And to her dames and to her daughter known,<br /> + The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair<br /> + And rosy cheeks; the rest her sorrow share:<br /> + With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair.<br /> + The spreading rumour fills the public place:<br /> + Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace,<br /> + And silent shame, are seen in ev’ry face.<br /> + Latinus tears his garments as he goes,<br /> + Both for his public and his private woes;<br /> + With filth his venerable beard besmears,<br /> + And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs.<br /> + And much he blames the softness of his mind,<br /> + Obnoxious to the charms of womankind,<br /> + And soon seduc’d to change what he so well design’d;<br /> + To break the solemn league so long desir’d,<br /> + Nor finish what his fates, and those of Troy, requir’d.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now Turnus rolls aloof o’er empty plains,<br /> + And here and there some straggling foes he gleans.<br /> + His flying coursers please him less and less,<br /> + Asham’d of easy fight and cheap success.<br /> + Thus half-contented, anxious in his mind,<br /> + The distant cries come driving in the wind,<br /> + Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown’d;<br /> + A jarring mixture, and a boding sound.<br /> + “Alas!” said he, “what mean these dismal cries?<br /> + What doleful clamours from the town arise?”<br /> + Confus’d, he stops, and backward pulls the reins.<br /> + She who the driver’s office now sustains,<br /> + Replies: “Neglect, my lord, these new alarms;<br /> + Here fight, and urge the fortune of your arms:<br /> + There want not others to defend the wall.<br /> + If by your rival’s hand th’ Italians fall,<br /> + So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress,<br /> + In honour equal, equal in success.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + To this, the prince: “O sister—for I knew<br /> + The peace infring’d proceeded first from you;<br /> + I knew you, when you mingled first in fight;<br /> + And now in vain you would deceive my sight—<br /> + Why, goddess, this unprofitable care?<br /> + Who sent you down from heav’n, involv’d in air,<br /> + Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain,<br /> + And see your brother bleeding on the plain?<br /> + For to what pow’r can Turnus have recourse,<br /> + Or how resist his fate’s prevailing force?<br /> + These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground:<br /> + Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound.<br /> + I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath,<br /> + My name invoking to revenge his death.<br /> + Brave Ufens fell with honour on the place,<br /> + To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace.<br /> + On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies;<br /> + His vest and armour are the victor’s prize.<br /> + Then, shall I see Laurentum in a flame,<br /> + Which only wanted, to complete my shame?<br /> + How will the Latins hoot their champion’s flight!<br /> + How Drances will insult and point them to the sight!<br /> + Is death so hard to bear? Ye gods below,<br /> + (Since those above so small compassion show,)<br /> + Receive a soul unsullied yet with shame,<br /> + Which not belies my great forefather’s name!”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + He said; and while he spoke, with flying speed<br /> + Came Sages urging on his foamy steed:<br /> + Fix’d on his wounded face a shaft he bore,<br /> + And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before:<br /> + “Turnus, on you, on you alone, depends<br /> + Our last relief: compassionate your friends!<br /> + Like lightning, fierce Aeneas, rolling on,<br /> + With arms invests, with flames invades the town:<br /> + The brands are toss’d on high; the winds conspire<br /> + To drive along the deluge of the fire.<br /> + All eyes are fix’d on you: your foes rejoice;<br /> + Ev’n the king staggers, and suspends his choice;<br /> + Doubts to deliver or defend the town,<br /> + Whom to reject, or whom to call his son.<br /> + The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac’d,<br /> + Herself suborning death, has breath’d her last.<br /> + ’Tis true, Messapus, fearless of his fate,<br /> + With fierce Atinas’ aid, defends the gate:<br /> + On ev’ry side surrounded by the foe,<br /> + The more they kill, the greater numbers grow;<br /> + An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow.<br /> + You, far aloof from your forsaken bands,<br /> + Your rolling chariot drive o’er empty sands.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin’d,<br /> + And various cares revolving in his mind:<br /> + Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast,<br /> + And sorrow mix’d with shame, his soul oppress’d;<br /> + And conscious worth lay lab’ring in his thought,<br /> + And love by jealousy to madness wrought.<br /> + By slow degrees his reason drove away<br /> + The mists of passion, and resum’d her sway.<br /> + Then, rising on his car, he turn’d his look,<br /> + And saw the town involv’d in fire and smoke.<br /> + A wooden tow’r with flames already blaz’d,<br /> + Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais’d;<br /> + And bridges laid above to join the space,<br /> + And wheels below to roll from place to place.<br /> + “Sister, the Fates have vanquish’d: let us go<br /> + The way which Heav’n and my hard fortune show.<br /> + The fight is fix’d; nor shall the branded name<br /> + Of a base coward blot your brother’s fame.<br /> + Death is my choice; but suffer me to try<br /> + My force, and vent my rage before I die.”<br /> + He said; and, leaping down without delay,<br /> + Thro’ crowds of scatter’d foes he freed his way.<br /> + Striding he pass’d, impetuous as the wind,<br /> + And left the grieving goddess far behind.<br /> + As when a fragment, from a mountain torn<br /> + By raging tempests, or by torrents borne,<br /> + Or sapp’d by time, or loosen’d from the roots—<br /> + Prone thro’ the void the rocky ruin shoots,<br /> + Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep;<br /> + Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep:<br /> + Involv’d alike, they rush to nether ground;<br /> + Stunn’d with the shock they fall, and stunn’d from earth rebound:<br /> + So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town,<br /> + Should’ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down.<br /> + Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew,<br /> + Where shafts, and spears, and darts promiscuous flew,<br /> + And sanguine streams the slipp’ry ground embrue.<br /> + First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace,<br /> + He cries aloud, to make the combat cease:<br /> + “Rutulians, hold; and Latin troops, retire!<br /> + The fight is mine; and me the gods require.<br /> + ’Tis just that I should vindicate alone<br /> + The broken truce, or for the breach atone.<br /> + This day shall free from wars th’ Ausonian state,<br /> + Or finish my misfortunes in my fate.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Both armies from their bloody work desist,<br /> + And, bearing backward, form a spacious list.<br /> + The Trojan hero, who receiv’d from fame<br /> + The welcome sound, and heard the champion’s name,<br /> + Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls,<br /> + Greedy of war where greater glory calls.<br /> + He springs to fight, exulting in his force<br /> + His jointed armour rattles in the course.<br /> + Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows,<br /> + Or Father Apennine, when, white with snows,<br /> + His head divine obscure in clouds he hides,<br /> + And shakes the sounding forest on his sides.<br /> + The nations, overaw’d, surcease the fight;<br /> + Immovable their bodies, fix’d their sight.<br /> + Ev’n death stands still; nor from above they throw<br /> + Their darts, nor drive their batt’ring-rams below.<br /> + In silent order either army stands,<br /> + And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands.<br /> + Th’ Ausonian king beholds, with wond’ring sight,<br /> + Two mighty champions match’d in single fight,<br /> + Born under climes remote, and brought by fate,<br /> + With swords to try their titles to the state.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now, in clos’d field, each other from afar<br /> + They view; and, rushing on, begin the war.<br /> + They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet;<br /> + The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet:<br /> + Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high,<br /> + And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly.<br /> + Courage conspires with chance, and both engage<br /> + With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage.<br /> + As when two bulls for their fair female fight<br /> + In Sila’s shades, or on Taburnus’ height;<br /> + With horns adverse they meet; the keeper flies;<br /> + Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes,<br /> + And wait th’ event; which victor they shall bear,<br /> + And who shall be the lord, to rule the lusty year:<br /> + With rage of love the jealous rivals burn,<br /> + And push for push, and wound for wound return;<br /> + Their dewlaps gor’d, their sides are lav’d in blood;<br /> + Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro’ the wood:<br /> + Such was the combat in the listed ground;<br /> + So clash their swords, and so their shields resound.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Jove sets the beam; in either scale he lays<br /> + The champions’ fate, and each exactly weighs.<br /> + On this side, life and lucky chance ascends;<br /> + Loaded with death, that other scale descends.<br /> + Rais’d on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow<br /> + Full on the helm of his unguarded foe:<br /> + Shrill shouts and clamours ring on either side,<br /> + As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide.<br /> + But all in pieces flies the traitor sword,<br /> + And, in the middle stroke, deserts his lord.<br /> + Now is but death, or flight; disarm’d he flies,<br /> + When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies.<br /> + Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join’d,<br /> + Hurrying to war, disorder’d in his mind,<br /> + Snatch’d the first weapon which his haste could find.<br /> + ’Twas not the fated sword his father bore,<br /> + But that his charioteer Metiscus wore.<br /> + This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held;<br /> + But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield,<br /> + The mortal-temper’d steel deceiv’d his hand:<br /> + The shiver’d fragments shone amid the sand.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Surpris’d with fear, he fled along the field,<br /> + And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel’d;<br /> + For here the Trojan troops the list surround,<br /> + And there the pass is clos’d with pools and marshy ground.<br /> + Aeneas hastens, tho’ with heavier pace—<br /> + His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase,<br /> + And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse—<br /> + Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Thus, when a fearful stag is clos’d around<br /> + With crimson toils, or in a river found,<br /> + High on the bank the deep-mouth’d hound appears,<br /> + Still opening, following still, where’er he steers;<br /> + The persecuted creature, to and fro,<br /> + Turns here and there, to scape his Umbrian foe:<br /> + Steep is th’ ascent, and, if he gains the land,<br /> + The purple death is pitch’d along the strand.<br /> + His eager foe, determin’d to the chase,<br /> + Stretch’d at his length, gains ground at ev’ry pace;<br /> + Now to his beamy head he makes his way,<br /> + And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey:<br /> + Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear;<br /> + He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air:<br /> + The rocks, the lakes, the meadows ring with cries;<br /> + The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies.<br /> + Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames<br /> + His tardy troops, and, calling by their names,<br /> + Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats<br /> + The realm with ruin, and their ancient seats<br /> + To lay in ashes, if they dare supply<br /> + With arms or aid his vanquish’d enemy:<br /> + Thus menacing, he still pursues the course,<br /> + With vigour, tho’ diminish’d of his force.<br /> + Ten times already round the listed place<br /> + One chief had fled, and t’ other giv’n the chase:<br /> + No trivial prize is play’d; for on the life<br /> + Or death of Turnus now depends the strife.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Within the space, an olive tree had stood,<br /> + A sacred shade, a venerable wood,<br /> + For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins’ guardian god.<br /> + Here hung the vests, and tablets were engrav’d,<br /> + Of sinking mariners from shipwreck sav’d.<br /> + With heedless hands the Trojans fell’d the tree,<br /> + To make the ground enclos’d for combat free.<br /> + Deep in the root, whether by fate, or chance,<br /> + Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance;<br /> + Then stoop’d, and tugg’d with force immense, to free<br /> + Th’ incumber’d spear from the tenacious tree;<br /> + That, whom his fainting limbs pursued in vain,<br /> + His flying weapon might from far attain.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Confus’d with fear, bereft of human aid,<br /> + Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray’d:<br /> + “O Faunus, pity! and thou Mother Earth,<br /> + Where I thy foster son receiv’d my birth,<br /> + Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand<br /> + Your plant has honour’d, which your foes profan’d,<br /> + Propitious hear my pious pray’r!” He said,<br /> + Nor with successless vows invok’d their aid.<br /> + Th’ incumbent hero wrench’d, and pull’d, and strain’d;<br /> + But still the stubborn earth the steel detain’d.<br /> + Juturna took her time; and, while in vain<br /> + He strove, assum’d Meticus’ form again,<br /> + And, in that imitated shape, restor’d<br /> + To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.<br /> + The Queen of Love, who, with disdain and grief,<br /> + Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief,<br /> + T’ assert her offspring with a greater deed,<br /> + From the tough root the ling’ring weapon freed.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance:<br /> + One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance;<br /> + And both resolv’d alike to try their fatal chance.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke,<br /> + Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock:<br /> + “What new arrest, O Queen of Heav’n, is sent<br /> + To stop the Fates now lab’ring in th’ event?<br /> + What farther hopes are left thee to pursue?<br /> + Divine Aeneas, (and thou know’st it too,)<br /> + Foredoom’d, to these celestial seats are due.<br /> + What more attempts for Turnus can be made,<br /> + That thus thou ling’rest in this lonely shade?<br /> + Is it becoming of the due respect<br /> + And awful honour of a god elect,<br /> + A wound unworthy of our state to feel,<br /> + Patient of human hands and earthly steel?<br /> + Or seems it just, the sister should restore<br /> + A second sword, when one was lost before,<br /> + And arm a conquer’d wretch against his conqueror?<br /> + For what, without thy knowledge and avow,<br /> + Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do?<br /> + At last, in deference to my love, forbear<br /> + To lodge within thy soul this anxious care;<br /> + Reclin’d upon my breast, thy grief unload:<br /> + Who should relieve the goddess, but the god?<br /> + Now all things to their utmost issue tend,<br /> + Push’d by the Fates to their appointed end.<br /> + While leave was giv’n thee, and a lawful hour<br /> + For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow’r,<br /> + Toss’d on the seas, thou couldst thy foes distress,<br /> + And, driv’n ashore, with hostile arms oppress;<br /> + Deform the royal house; and, from the side<br /> + Of the just bridegroom, tear the plighted bride:<br /> + Now cease at my command.” The Thund’rer said;<br /> + And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made:<br /> + “Because your dread decree too well I knew,<br /> + From Turnus and from earth unwilling I withdrew.<br /> + Else should you not behold me here, alone,<br /> + Involv’d in empty clouds, my friends bemoan,<br /> + But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight<br /> + Engag’d against my foes in mortal fight.<br /> + ’Tis true, Juturna mingled in the strife<br /> + By my command, to save her brother’s life,<br /> + At least to try; but, by the Stygian lake,<br /> + (The most religious oath the gods can take,)<br /> + With this restriction, not to bend the bow,<br /> + Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw.<br /> + And now, resign’d to your superior might,<br /> + And tir’d with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight.<br /> + This let me beg (and this no fates withstand)<br /> + Both for myself and for your father’s land,<br /> + That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace,<br /> + (Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless,)<br /> + The laws of either nation be the same;<br /> + But let the Latins still retain their name,<br /> + Speak the same language which they spoke before,<br /> + Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore.<br /> + Call them not Trojans: perish the renown<br /> + And name of Troy, with that detested town.<br /> + Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign<br /> + And Rome’s immortal majesty remain.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then thus the founder of mankind replies<br /> + (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes)<br /> + “Can Saturn’s issue, and heav’n’s other heir,<br /> + Such endless anger in her bosom bear?<br /> + Be mistress, and your full desires obtain;<br /> + But quench the choler you foment in vain.<br /> + From ancient blood th’ Ausonian people sprung,<br /> + Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue.<br /> + The Trojans to their customs shall be tied:<br /> + I will, myself, their common rites provide;<br /> + The natives shall command, the foreigners subside.<br /> + All shall be Latium; Troy without a name;<br /> + And her lost sons forget from whence they came.<br /> + From blood so mix’d, a pious race shall flow,<br /> + Equal to gods, excelling all below.<br /> + No nation more respect to you shall pay,<br /> + Or greater off’rings on your altars lay.”<br /> + Juno consents, well pleas’d that her desires<br /> + Had found success, and from the cloud retires.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The peace thus made, the Thund’rer next prepares<br /> + To force the wat’ry goddess from the wars.<br /> + Deep in the dismal regions void of light,<br /> + Three daughters at a birth were born to Night:<br /> + These their brown mother, brooding on her care,<br /> + Indued with windy wings to flit in air,<br /> + With serpents girt alike, and crown’d with hissing hair.<br /> + In heav’n the Dirae call’d, and still at hand,<br /> + Before the throne of angry Jove they stand,<br /> + His ministers of wrath, and ready still<br /> + The minds of mortal men with fears to fill,<br /> + Whene’er the moody sire, to wreak his hate<br /> + On realms or towns deserving of their fate,<br /> + Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care,<br /> + And terrifies the guilty world with war.<br /> + One sister plague if these from heav’n he sent,<br /> + To fright Juturna with a dire portent.<br /> + The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow<br /> + Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow,<br /> + Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies,<br /> + And drench’d in pois’nous juice, the sure destruction flies.<br /> + With such a sudden and unseen a flight<br /> + Shot thro’ the clouds the daughter of the night.<br /> + Soon as the field inclos’d she had in view,<br /> + And from afar her destin’d quarry knew,<br /> + Contracted, to the boding bird she turns,<br /> + Which haunts the ruin’d piles and hallow’d urns,<br /> + And beats about the tombs with nightly wings,<br /> + Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings.<br /> + Thus lessen’d in her form, with frightful cries<br /> + The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies,<br /> + Flaps on his shield, and flutters o’er his eyes.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A lazy chillness crept along his blood;<br /> + Chok’d was his voice; his hair with horror stood.<br /> + Juturna from afar beheld her fly,<br /> + And knew th’ ill omen, by her screaming cry<br /> + And stridor of her wings. Amaz’d with fear,<br /> + Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + “Ah me!” she cries, “in this unequal strife<br /> + What can thy sister more to save thy life?<br /> + Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend<br /> + In arms with that inexorable fiend?<br /> + Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright<br /> + My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night;<br /> + The lashing of your wings I know too well,<br /> + The sounding flight, and fun’ral screams of hell!<br /> + These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove,<br /> + The worthy recompense of ravish’d love!<br /> + Did he for this exempt my life from fate?<br /> + O hard conditions of immortal state,<br /> + Tho’ born to death, not privileg’d to die,<br /> + But forc’d to bear impos’d eternity!<br /> + Take back your envious bribes, and let me go<br /> + Companion to my brother’s ghost below!<br /> + The joys are vanish’d: nothing now remains,<br /> + Of life immortal, but immortal pains.<br /> + What earth will open her devouring womb,<br /> + To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!”<br /> + She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said,<br /> + But in her azure mantle wrapp’d her head,<br /> + Then plung’d into her stream, with deep despair,<br /> + And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now stern Aeneas waves his weighty spear<br /> + Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear:<br /> + “What farther subterfuge can Turnus find?<br /> + What empty hopes are harbour’d in his mind?<br /> + ’Tis not thy swiftness can secure thy flight;<br /> + Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight.<br /> + Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare<br /> + What skill and courage can attempt in war;<br /> + Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky;<br /> + Or hid, within the hollow earth to lie!”<br /> + The champion shook his head, and made this short reply:<br /> + “No threats of thine my manly mind can move;<br /> + ’Tis hostile heav’n I dread, and partial Jove.”<br /> + He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress’d<br /> + The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Then, as he roll’d his troubled eyes around,<br /> + An antique stone he saw, the common bound<br /> + Of neighb’ring fields, and barrier of the ground;<br /> + So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days<br /> + Th’ enormous weight from earth could hardly raise.<br /> + He heav’d it at a lift, and, pois’d on high,<br /> + Ran stagg’ring on against his enemy,<br /> + But so disorder’d, that he scarcely knew<br /> + His way, or what unwieldly weight he threw.<br /> + His knocking knees are bent beneath the load,<br /> + And shiv’ring cold congeals his vital blood.<br /> + The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short<br /> + For want of vigour, mocks his vain effort.<br /> + And as, when heavy sleep has clos’d the sight,<br /> + The sickly fancy labours in the night;<br /> + We seem to run; and, destitute of force,<br /> + Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course:<br /> + In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry;<br /> + The nerves, unbrac’d, their usual strength deny;<br /> + And on the tongue the falt’ring accents die:<br /> + So Turnus far’d; whatever means he tried,<br /> + All force of arms and points of art employ’d,<br /> + The Fury flew athwart, and made th’ endeavor void.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + A thousand various thoughts his soul confound;<br /> + He star’d about, nor aid nor issue found;<br /> + His own men stop the pass, and his own walls surround.<br /> + Once more he pauses, and looks out again,<br /> + And seeks the goddess charioteer in vain.<br /> + Trembling he views the thund’ring chief advance,<br /> + And brandishing aloft the deadly lance:<br /> + Amaz’d he cow’rs beneath his conqu’ring foe,<br /> + Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow.<br /> + Astonish’d while he stands, and fix’d with fear,<br /> + Aim’d at his shield he sees th’ impending spear.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + The hero measur’d first, with narrow view,<br /> + The destin’d mark; and, rising as he threw,<br /> + With its full swing the fatal weapon flew.<br /> + Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls,<br /> + Or stones from batt’ring-engines break the walls:<br /> + Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong,<br /> + The lance drove on, and bore the death along.<br /> + Naught could his sev’nfold shield the prince avail,<br /> + Nor aught, beneath his arms, the coat of mail:<br /> + It pierc’d thro’ all, and with a grisly wound<br /> + Transfix’d his thigh, and doubled him to ground.<br /> + With groans the Latins rend the vaulted sky:<br /> + Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply.<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Now low on earth the lofty chief is laid,<br /> + With eyes cast upward, and with arms display’d,<br /> + And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray’d:<br /> + “I know my death deserv’d, nor hope to live:<br /> + Use what the gods and thy good fortune give.<br /> + Yet think, O think, if mercy may be shown,<br /> + Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son.<br /> + Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave;<br /> + And for Anchises’ sake old Daunus save!<br /> + Or, if thy vow’d revenge pursue my death,<br /> + Give to my friends my body void of breath!<br /> + The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life;<br /> + Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife:<br /> + Against a yielded man, ’tis mean ignoble strife.”<br /> + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + In deep suspense the Trojan seem’d to stand,<br /> + And, just prepar’d to strike, repress’d his hand.<br /> + He roll’d his eyes, and ev’ry moment felt<br /> + His manly soul with more compassion melt;<br /> + When, casting down a casual glance, he spied<br /> + The golden belt that glitter’d on his side,<br /> + The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore<br /> + From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore.<br /> + Then, rous’d anew to wrath, he loudly cries<br /> + (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes)<br /> + “Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend,<br /> + Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend?<br /> + To his sad soul a grateful off’ring go!<br /> + ’Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow.”<br /> + He rais’d his arm aloft, and, at the word,<br /> + Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword.<br /> + The streaming blood distain’d his arms around;<br /> + And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; 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