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diff --git a/29358.txt b/29358.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68ca07b --- /dev/null +++ b/29358.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11340 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The AEneids of Virgil, by Virgil + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The AEneids of Virgil + Done into English Verse + +Author: Virgil + +Translator: William Morris + +Release Date: July 9, 2009 [EBook #29358] +[Last updated: September 25, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL + +DONE INTO ENGLISH VERSE + +BY + +WILLIAM MORRIS + +AUTHOR OF 'THE EARTHLY PARADISE' + +_THIRD IMPRESSION_ + +LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. +39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON +NEW YORK AND BOMBAY + +1900 + + + + +THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL. + + + + +BOOK I. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS AND HIS TROJANS BEING DRIVEN TO LIBYA BY A TEMPEST, HAVE GOOD +WELCOME OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. + + _Lo I am he who led the song through slender reed to cry,_ + _And then, come forth from out the woods, the fields that are thereby_ + _In woven verse I bade obey the hungry tillers' need:_ + _Now I, who sang their merry toil, sing Mars and dreadful deed._ + + + I sing of arms, I sing of him, who from the Trojan land + Thrust forth by Fate, to Italy and that Lavinian strand + First came: all tost about was he on earth and on the deep + By heavenly might for Juno's wrath, that had no mind to sleep: + And plenteous war he underwent ere he his town might frame + And set his Gods in Latian earth, whence is the Latin name, + And father-folk of Alba-town, and walls of mighty Rome. + + Say, Muse, what wound of godhead was whereby all this must come, + How grieving, she, the Queen of Gods, a man so pious drave + To win such toil, to welter on through such a troublous wave: 10 + --Can anger in immortal minds abide so fierce and fell? + + There was a city of old time where Tyrian folk did dwell, + Called Carthage, facing far away the shores of Italy + And Tiber-mouth; fulfilled of wealth and fierce in arms was she, + And men say Juno loved her well o'er every other land, + Yea e'en o'er Samos: there were stored the weapons of her hand, + And there her chariot: even then she cherished the intent + To make her Lady of all Lands, if Fate might so be bent; + Yet had she heard how such a stem from Trojan blood should grow, + As, blooming fair, the Tyrian towers should one day overthrow, 20 + That thence a folk, kings far and wide, most noble lords of fight, + Should come for bane of Libyan land: such web the Parcae dight. + The Seed of Saturn, fearing this, and mindful how she erst + For her beloved Argive walls by Troy the battle nursed-- + --Nay neither had the cause of wrath nor all those hurts of old + Failed from her mind: her inmost heart still sorely did enfold + That grief of body set at nought in Paris' doomful deed, + The hated race, and honour shed on heaven-rapt Ganymede-- + So set on fire, that Trojan band o'er all the ocean tossed, + Those gleanings from Achilles' rage, those few the Greeks had lost, 30 + She drave far off the Latin Land: for many a year they stray + Such wise as Fate would drive them on by every watery way. + --Lo, what there was to heave aloft in fashioning of Rome! + + Now out of sight of Sicily the Trojans scarce were come + And merry spread their sails abroad and clave the sea with brass, + When Juno's heart, who nursed the wound that never thence would pass, + Spake out: + "And must I, vanquished, leave the deed I have begun, + Nor save the Italian realm a king who comes of Teucer's son? + The Fates forbid it me forsooth? And Pallas, might not she + Burn up the Argive fleet and sink the Argives in the sea 40 + For Oileus' only fault and fury that he wrought? + She hurled the eager fire of Jove from cloudy dwelling caught, + And rent the ships and with the wind the heaped-up waters drew, + And him a-dying, and all his breast by wildfire smitten through, + The whirl of waters swept away on spiky crag to bide. + While I, who go forth Queen of Gods, the very Highest's bride + And sister, must I wage a war for all these many years + With one lone race? What! is there left a soul that Juno fears + Henceforth? or will one suppliant hand gifts on mine altar lay?" + + So brooding in her fiery heart the Goddess went her way 50 + Unto the fatherland of storm, full fruitful of the gale, + AEolia hight, where AEolus is king of all avail, + And far adown a cavern vast the bickering of the winds + And roaring tempests of the world with bolt and fetter binds: + They set the mountains murmuring much, a-growling angrily + About their bars, while AEolus sits in his burg on high, + And, sceptre-holding, softeneth them, and strait their wrath doth keep: + Yea but for that the earth and sea, and vault of heaven the deep, + They eager-swift would roll away and sweep adown of space: + For fear whereof the Father high in dark and hollow place 60 + Hath hidden them, and high above a world of mountains thrown + And given them therewithal a king, who, taught by law well known, + Now draweth, and now casteth loose the reins that hold them in: + To whom did suppliant Juno now in e'en such words begin: + + "The Father of the Gods and men hath given thee might enow, + O AEolus, to smooth the sea, and make the storm-wind blow. + Hearken! a folk, my very foes, saileth the Tyrrhene main + Bearing their Troy to Italy, and Gods that were but vain: + Set on thy winds, and overwhelm their sunken ships at sea, + Or prithee scattered cast them forth, things drowned diversedly. 70 + Twice seven nymphs are in my house of body passing fair: + Of whom indeed Deiopea is fairest fashioned there. + I give her thee in wedlock sure, and call her all thine own + To wear away the years with thee, for thy deserving shown + To me this day; of offspring fair she too shall make thee sire." + + To whom spake AEolus: "O Queen, to search out thy desire + Is all thou needest toil herein; from me the deed should wend. + Thou mak'st my realm; the sway of all, and Jove thou mak'st my friend, + Thou givest me to lie with Gods when heavenly feast is dight, + And o'er the tempest and the cloud thou makest me of might." 80 + + Therewith against the hollow hill he turned him spear in hand + And hurled it on the flank thereof, and as an ordered band + By whatso door the winds rush out o'er earth in whirling blast, + And driving down upon the sea its lowest deeps upcast. + The East, the West together there, the Afric, that doth hold + A heart fulfilled of stormy rain, huge billows shoreward rolled. + Therewith came clamour of the men and whistling through the shrouds + And heaven and day all suddenly were swallowed by the clouds + Away from eyes of Teucrian men; night on the ocean lies, + Pole thunders unto pole, and still with wildfire glare the skies, 90 + And all things hold the face of death before the seamen's eyes. + + Now therewithal AEneas' limbs grew weak with chilly dread, + He groaned, and lifting both his palms aloft to heaven, he said: + "O thrice and four times happy ye, that had the fate to fall + Before your fathers' faces there by Troy's beloved wall! + Tydides, thou of Danaan folk the mightiest under shield, + Why might I never lay me down upon the Ilian field, + Why was my soul forbid release at thy most mighty hand, + Where eager Hector stooped and lay before Achilles' wand, + Where huge Sarpedon fell asleep, where Simois rolls along 100 + The shields of men, and helms of men, and bodies of the strong?" + + Thus as he cried the whistling North fell on with sudden gale + And drave the seas up toward the stars, and smote aback the sail; + Then break the oars, the bows fall off, and beam on in the trough + She lieth, and the sea comes on a mountain huge and rough. + These hang upon the topmost wave, and those may well discern + The sea's ground mid the gaping whirl: with sand the surges churn. + Three keels the South wind cast away on hidden reefs that lie + Midmost the sea, the Altars called by men of Italy, + A huge back thrusting through the tide: three others from the deep 110 + The East toward straits, and swallowing sands did miserably sweep, + And dashed them on the shoals, and heaped the sand around in ring: + And one, a keel the Lycians manned, with him, the trusty King + Orontes, in AEneas' sight a toppling wave o'erhung, + And smote the poop, and headlong rolled, adown the helmsman flung; + Then thrice about the driving flood hath hurled her as she lay, + The hurrying eddy swept above and swallowed her from day: + And lo! things swimming here and there, scant in the unmeasured seas, + The arms of men, and painted boards, and Trojan treasuries. + And now Ilioneus' stout ship, her that Achates leal 120 + And Abas ferried o'er the main, and old Aletes' keel + The storm hath overcome; and all must drink the baneful stream + Through opening leaky sides of them that gape at every seam. + + But meanwhile Neptune, sorely moved, hath felt the storm let go, + And all the turmoil of the main with murmur great enow; + The deep upheaved from all abodes the lowest that there be: + So forth he put his placid face o'er topmost of the sea, + And there he saw AEneas' ships o'er all the main besprent, + The Trojans beaten by the flood and ruin from heaven sent. + But Juno's guile and wrathful heart her brother knew full well: 130 + So East and West he called to him, and spake such words to tell: + + "What mighty pride of race of yours hath hold upon your minds, + That earth and sea ye turmoil so without my will, O winds; + That such upheaval and so great ye dare without my will? + Whom I--But first it comes to hand the troubled flood to still: + For such-like fault henceforward though with nought so light ye pay. + Go get you gone, and look to it this to your king to say: + That ocean's realm and three-tined spear of dread are given by Fate + Not unto him but unto me? he holds the cliffs o'ergreat, + Thine houses, Eurus; in that hall I bid him then be bold, 140 + Thine AEolus, and lord it o'er his winds in barred hold." + + So saying and swifter than his word he layed the troubled main, + And put to flight the gathered clouds, and brought the sun again; + And with him Triton fell to work, and fair Cymothoe, + And thrust the ships from spiky rocks; with triple spear wrought he + To lift, and opened swallowing sands, and laid the waves alow. + Then on light wheels o'er ocean's face soft gliding did he go. + And, like as mid a people great full often will arise + Huge riot, and all the low-born herd to utter anger flies, + And sticks and stones are in the air, and fury arms doth find: 150 + Then, setting eyes perchance on one of weight for noble mind, + And noble deeds, they hush them then and stand with pricked-up ears, + And he with words becomes their lord, and smooth their anger wears; + --In such wise fell all clash of sea when that sea-father rose, + And looked abroad: who turned his steeds, and giving rein to those, + Flew forth in happy-gliding car through heaven's all-open way. + + AEneas' sore forewearied host the shores that nearest lay + Stretch out for o'er the sea, and turn to Libyan land this while. + There goes a long firth of the sea, made haven by an isle, 159 + Against whose sides thrust out abroad each wave the main doth send + Is broken, and must cleave itself through hollow bights to wend: + Huge rocks on this hand and on that, twin horns of cliff, cast dread + On very heaven; and far and wide beneath each mighty head + Hushed are the harmless waters; lo, the flickering wood above + And wavering shadow cast adown by darksome hanging grove: + In face hereof a cave there is of rocks o'erhung, made meet + With benches of the living stone and springs of water sweet, + The house of Nymphs: a-riding there may way-worn ships be bold + To lie without the hawser's strain or anchor's hooked hold. + + That bight with seven of all his tale of ships AEneas gained, 170 + And there, by mighty love of land the Trojans sore constrained, + Leap off-board straight, and gain the gift of that so longed-for sand, + And lay their limbs with salt sea fouled adown upon the strand: + And first Achates smote alive the spark from out the flint, + And caught the fire in tinder-leaves, and never gift did stint + Of feeding dry; and flame enow in kindled stuff he woke; + Then Ceres' body spoilt with sea, and Ceres' arms they took, + And sped the matter spent with toil, and fruit of furrows found + They set about to parch with fire and 'twixt of stones to pound. + + Meanwhile AEneas scaled the cliff and far and wide he swept 180 + The main, if anywhere perchance the sea his Antheus kept, + Tossed by the wind, if he might see the twi-banked Phrygians row; + If Capys, or Caicus' arms on lofty deck might show. + Nor any ship there was in sight, but on the strand he saw + Three stags a-wandering at their will, and after them they draw + The whole herd following down the dales long strung out as they feed: + So still he stood, and caught in hand his bow and shafts of speed, + The weapons that Achates staunch was bearing then and oft; + And first the very lords of those, that bore their heads aloft + With branching horns, he felled, and then the common sort, and so 190 + Their army drave he with his darts through leafy woods to go: + Nor held his hand till on the earth were seven great bodies strown, + And each of all his ships might have one head of deer her own. + Thence to the haven gat he gone with all his folk to share, + And that good wine which erst the casks Acestes made to bear, + And gave them as they went away on that Trinacrian beach, + He shared about; then fell to soothe their grieving hearts with speech: + + "O fellows, we are used ere now by evil ways to wend; + O ye who erst bore heavier loads, this too the Gods shall end. + Ye, ye have drawn nigh Scylla's rage and rocks that inly roar, 200 + And run the risk of storm of stones upon the Cyclops' shore: + Come, call aback your ancient hearts and put your fears away! + This too shall be for joy to you remembered on a day. + Through diverse haps, through many risks wherewith our way is strown, + We get us on to Latium, the land the Fates have shown + To be for peaceful seats for us: there may we raise up Troy. + Abide, endure, and keep yourselves for coming days of joy." + + So spake his voice: but his sick heart did mighty trouble rack, + As, glad of countenance, he thrust the heavy anguish back. + But they fall to upon the prey, and feast that was to dight, 210 + And flay the hide from off the ribs, and bare the flesh to sight. + Some cut it quivering into steaks which on the spits they run, + Some feed the fire upon the shore, and set the brass thereon. + And so meat bringeth might again, and on the grass thereby, + Fulfilled with fat of forest deer and ancient wine, they lie. + But when all hunger was appeased and tables set aside, + Of missing fellows how they fared the talk did long abide; + Whom, weighing hope and weighing fear, either alive they trow, + Or that the last and worst has come, that called they hear not now. + And chief of all the pious King AEneas moaned the pass 220 + Of brisk Orontes, Amycus, and cruel fate that was + Of Lycus, and of Bias strong, and strong Cloanthus gone. + + But now an end of all there was, when Jove a-looking down + From highest lift on sail-skimmed sea, and lands that round it lie, + And shores and many folk about, in topmost burg of sky + Stood still, and fixed the eyes of God on Libya's realm at last: + To whom, as through his breast and mind such cares of godhead passed, + Spake Venus, sadder than her due with bright eyes gathering tears: + + "O thou, who rulest with a realm that hath no days nor years, + Both Gods and men, and mak'st them fear thy thunder lest it fall, 230 + What then hath mine AEneas done so great a crime to call? + What might have Trojan men to sin? So many deaths they bore + 'Gainst whom because of Italy is shut the wide world's door. + Was it not surely promised me that as the years rolled round + The blood of Teucer come again should spring from out the ground, + The Roman folk, such very lords, that all the earth and sea + Their sway should compass? Father, doth the counsel shift in thee? + This thing indeed atoned to me for Troy in ashes laid, + And all the miserable end, as fate 'gainst fate I weighed: + But now the self-same fortune dogs men by such troubles driven 240 + So oft and oft. What end of toil then giv'st thou, King of heaven? + Antenor was of might enow to 'scape the Achaean host, + And safe to reach the Illyrian gulf and pierce Liburnia's coast, + And through the inmost realms thereof to pass Timavus' head, + Whence through nine mouths midst mountain roar is that wild water shed, + To cast itself on fields below with all its sounding sea: + And there he made Patavium's town and Teucrian seats to be, + And gave the folk their very name and Trojan arms did raise: + Now settled in all peace and rest he passeth quiet days. + But we, thy children, unto whom thou giv'st with bowing head 250 + The heights of heaven, our ships are lost, and we, O shame! betrayed, + Are driven away from Italy for anger but of one. + Is this the good man's guerdon then? is this the promised throne?" + + The Sower of the Gods and men a little smiled on her + With such a countenance as calms the storms and upper air; + He kissed his daughter on the lips, and spake such words to tell: + "O Cytherean, spare thy dread! unmoved the Fates shall dwell + Of thee and thine, and thou shalt see the promised city yet, + E'en that Lavinium's walls, and high amidst the stars shalt set + Great-souled AEneas: nor in me doth aught of counsel shift 260 + But since care gnaws upon thine heart, the hidden things I lift + Of Fate, and roll on time for thee, and tell of latter days. + Great war he wars in Italy, and folk full wild of ways + He weareth down, and lays on men both laws and walled steads, + Till the third summer seeth him King o'er the Latin heads, + And the third winter's wearing brings the fierce Rutulians low. + Thereon the lad Ascanius, Iulus by-named now, + (And Ilus was he once of old, when Ilium's city was,) + Fulfilleth thirty orbs of rule with rolling months that pass, + And from the town Lavinium shifts the dwelling of his race, 270 + And maketh Alba-town the Long a mighty fenced place. + Here when for thrice an hundred years untouched the land hath been + Beneath the rule of Hector's folk, lo Ilia, priestess-queen, + Goes heavy with the love of Mars, and bringeth twins to birth. + 'Neath yellow hide of foster-wolf thence, mighty in his mirth, + Comes Romulus to bear the folk, and Mavors' walls to frame, + And by the word himself was called the Roman folk to name. + On them I lay no bonds of time, no bonds of earthly part; + I give them empire without end: yea, Juno, hard of heart, + Who wearieth now with fear of her the heavens and earth and sea, 280 + Shall gather better counsel yet, and cherish them with me; + The Roman folk, the togaed men, lords of all worldly ways. + Such is the doom. As weareth time there come those other days, + Wherein Assaracus shall bind Mycenae of renown, + And Phthia, and shall lord it o'er the Argives beaten down. + Then shall a Trojan Caesar come from out a lovely name, + The ocean-stream shall bound his rule, the stars of heaven his fame, + Julius his name from him of old, the great Iulus sent: + Him too in house of heaven one day 'neath spoils of Eastlands bent + Thou, happy, shalt receive; he too shall have the prayers of men. 290 + The wars of old all laid aside, the hard world bettereth then, + And Vesta and the hoary Faith, Quirinus and his twin + Now judge the world; the dreadful doors of War now shut within + Their iron bolts and strait embrace the godless Rage of folk, + Who, pitiless, on weapons set, and bound in brazen yoke + Of hundred knots aback of him foams fell from bloody mouth." + + Such words he spake, and from aloft he sent down Maia's youth + To cause the lands and Carthage towers new-built to open gate + And welcome in the Teucrian men; lest Dido, fooled of fate, 299 + Should drive them from her country-side. The unmeasured air he beat + With flap of wings, and speedily in Libya set his feet: + And straightway there his bidding wrought, and from the Tyrians fall, + God willing it, their hearts of war; and Dido first of all + Took peace for Teucrians to her soul, and quiet heart and kind. + + Now good AEneas through the night had many things in mind, + And set himself to fare abroad at first of holy day + To search the new land what it was, and on what shore he lay + Driven by the wind; if manfolk there abode, or nought but deer, + (For waste it seemed), and tidings true back to his folk to bear. + So in that hollow bight of groves beneath the cavern cleft, 310 + All hidden by the leafy trees and quavering shades, he left + His ships: and he himself afoot went with Achates lone, + Shaking in hand two slender spears with broad-beat iron done. + But as he reached the thicket's midst his mother stood before, + Who virgin face, and virgin arms, and virgin habit bore, + A Spartan maid; or like to her who tames the Thracian horse, + Harpalyce, and flies before the hurrying Hebrus' course. + For huntress-wise on shoulder she had hung the handy bow, + And given all her hair abroad for any wind to blow, + And, naked-kneed, her kirtle long had gathered in a lap: 320 + She spake the first: + "Ho youths," she said, "tell me by any hap + If of my sisters any one ye saw a wandering wide + With quiver girt, and done about with lynx's spotted hide, + Or following of the foaming boar with shouts and eager feet?" + + So Venus; and so Venus' son began her words to meet: + "I have not seen, nor have I heard thy sisters nigh this place, + O maid:--and how to call thee then? for neither is thy face + Of mortals, nor thy voice of men: O very Goddess thou! + What! Phoebus' sister? or of nymphs whom shall I call thee now? + But whosoe'er thou be, be kind and lighten us our toil, 330 + And teach us where beneath the heavens, which spot of earthly soil + We are cast forth; unlearned of men, unlearned of land we stray, + By might of wind and billows huge here driven from out our way. + Our right hands by thine altar-horns shall fell full many a host." + + Spake Venus: "Nowise am I worth so much of honour's cost: + The Tyrian maids are wont to bear the quiver even as I, + And even so far upon the leg the purple shoe-thong tie. + The Punic realm thou seest here, Agenor's town and folk, + But set amidst of Libyan men unused to bear the yoke. + Dido is Lady of the Land, who fled from Tyre the old, 340 + And from her brother: weary long were all the ill deed told, + And long its winding ways, but I light-foot will overpass. + Her husband was Sychaeus hight, of land most rich he was + Of all Phoenicians: she, poor wretch! loved him with mighty love, + Whose father gave her, maid, to him, and first the rites did move + Of wedlock: but as King of Tyre her brother did abide, + Pygmalion, more swollen up in sin than any man beside: + Mad hatred yoked the twain of them, he blind with golden lust, + Godless with stroke of iron laid Sychaeus in the dust + Unwares before the altar-horns; nor of the love did reck 350 + His sister had, but with vain hope played on the lover sick, + And made a host of feignings false, and hid the matter long. + Till in her sleep the image came of that unburied wrong, + Her husband dead; in wondrous wise his face was waxen pale: + His breast with iron smitten through, the altar of his bale, + The hooded sin of evil house, to her he open laid, + And speedily to flee away from fatherland he bade; + And for the help of travel showed earth's hidden wealth of old, + A mighty mass that none might tell of silver and of gold. + Sore moved hereby did Dido straight her flight and friends prepare: 360 + They meet together, such as are or driven by biting fear, + Or bitter hatred of the wretch: such ships as hap had dight + They fall upon and lade with gold; forth fare the treasures bright + Of wretch Pygmalion o'er the sea, a woman first therein. + And so they come unto the place where ye may see begin + The towers of Carthage, and the walls new built that mighty grow, + And bought the Byrsa-field good cheap, as still the name shall show, + So much of land as one bull's hide might scantly go about + --But ye forsooth, what men are ye, from what land fare ye out, + And whither go ye on your ways?" 370 + Her questioning in speech + He answered, and a heavy sigh from inmost heart did reach: + "O Goddess, might I tread again first footsteps of our way, + And if the annals of our toil thine hearkening ears might stay, + Yet Vesper first on daylight dead should shut Olympus' door. + From Troy the old, if yet perchance your ears have felt before + That name go by, do we come forth, and, many a water past, + A chance-come storm hath drifted us on Libyan shores at last. + I am AEneas, God-lover; I snatched forth from the foe + My Gods to bear aboard with me, a fame for heaven to know. + I seek the Italian fatherland, and Jove-descended line; 380 + Twice ten the ships were that I manned upon the Phrygian brine, + My Goddess-mother led the way, we followed fate god-given; + And now scarce seven are left to me by wave and east-wind riven; + And I through Libyan deserts stray, a man unknown and poor, + From Asia cast, from Europe cast," + She might abide no more + To hear his moan: she thrusts a word amidst his grief and saith: + "Nay thou art not God's castaway, who drawest mortal breath, + And fairest to the Tyrian town, if aught thereof I know. + Set on to Dido's threshold then e'en as the way doth show. + For take the tidings of thy ships and folk brought back again 390 + By shifting of the northern wind all safe from off the main: + Unless my parents learned me erst of soothsaying to wot + But idly. Lo there twice seven swans disporting in a knot, + Whom falling from the plain of air drave down the bird of Jove + From open heaven: strung out at length they hang the earth above, + And now seem choosing where to pitch, now on their choice to gaze, + As wheeling round with whistling wings they sport in diverse ways + And with their band ring round the pole and cast abroad their song. + Nought otherwise the ships and youth that unto thee belong + Hold haven now, or else full sail to harbour-mouth are come. 400 + Set forth, set forth and tread the way e'en as it leadeth home." + + She spake, she turned, from rosy neck the light of heaven she cast, + And from her hair ambrosial the scent of Gods went past + Upon the wind, and o'er her feet her skirts fell shimmering down, + And very God she went her ways. Therewith his mother known, + With such a word he followed up a-fleeing from his eyes: + + "Ah cruel as a God! and why with images and lies + Dost thou beguile me? wherefore then is hand to hand not given + And we to give and take in words that come from earth and heaven?" + + Such wise he chided her, and then his footsteps townward bent: 410 + But Venus with a dusky air did hedge them as they went, + And widespread cloak of cloudy stuff the Goddess round them wrapped, + Lest any man had seen them there, or bodily had happed + Across their road their steps to stay, and ask their dealings there. + But she to Paphos and her home went glad amidst the air: + There is her temple, there they stand, an hundred altars meet, + Warm with Sabaean incense-smoke, with new-pulled blossoms sweet. + + But therewithal they speed their way as led the road along; + And now they scale a spreading hill that o'er the town is hung, + And looking downward thereupon hath all the burg in face. 420 + AEneas marvels how that world was once a peasants' place, + He marvels at the gates, the roar and rattle of the ways. + Hot-heart the Tyrians speed the work, and some the ramparts raise, + Some pile the burg high, some with hand roll stones up o'er the ground; + Some choose a place for dwelling-house and draw a trench around; + Some choose the laws, and lords of doom, the holy senate choose. + These thereaway the havens dig, and deep adown sink those + The founding of the theatre walls, or cleave the living stone + In pillars huge, one day to show full fair the scene upon. + As in new summer 'neath the sun the bees are wont to speed 430 + Their labour in the flowery fields, whereover now they lead + The well-grown offspring of their race, or when the cells they store + With flowing honey, till fulfilled of sweets they hold no more; + Or take the loads of new-comers, or as a watch well set + Drive off the lazy herd of drones that they no dwelling get; + Well speeds the work, and thymy sweet the honey's odour is. + + "Well favoured of the Fates are ye, whose walls arise in bliss!" + AEneas cries, a-looking o'er the housetops spread below; + Then, wonderful to tell in tale, hedged round with cloud doth go + Amid the thickest press of men, and yet of none is seen. 440 + + A grove amid the town there is, a pleasant place of green, + Where erst the Tyrians, beat by waves and whirling of the wind, + Dug out the token Juno once had bidden them hope to find, + An eager horse's head to wit: for thus their folk should grow + Far-famed in war for many an age, of victual rich enow. + There now did Dido, Sidon-born, uprear a mighty fane + To Juno, rich in gifts, and rich in present godhead's gain: + On brazen steps its threshold rose, and brass its lintel tied, + And on their hinges therewithal the brazen door-leaves cried. + And now within that grove again a new thing thrusting forth 450 + 'Gan lighten fear; for here to hope AEneas deemed it worth, + And trust his fortune beaten down that yet it might arise. + For there while he abode the Queen, and wandered with his eyes + O'er all the temple, musing on the city's fate to be, + And o'er the diverse handicraft and works of mastery, + Lo there, set out before his face the battles that were Troy's, + And wars, whereof all folk on earth had heard the fame and noise; + King Priam, the Atridae twain, Achilles dire to both. + He stood, and weeping spake withal: + "Achates, lo! forsooth + What place, what land in all the earth but with our grief is stored? 460 + Lo Priam! and even here belike deed hath its own reward. + Lo here are tears for piteous things that touch men's hearts anigh: + Cast off thy fear! this fame today shall yet thy safety buy." + + And with the empty painted thing he feeds his mind withal, + Sore groaning, and a very flood adown his face did fall. + For there he saw, as war around of Pergamus they cast, + Here fled the Greeks, the Trojan youth for ever following fast; + There fled the Phrygians, on their heels high-helmed Achilles' car; + Not far off, fair with snowy cloths, the tents of Rhesus are; + He knew them weeping: they of old in first of sleep betrayed, 470 + Tydides red with many a death a waste of nothing made, + And led those fiery steeds to camp ere ever they might have + One mouthful of the Trojan grass, or drink of Xanthus' wave. + And lo again, where Troilus is fleeing weaponless, + Unhappy youth, and all too weak to bear Achilles' stress, + By his own horses, fallen aback, at empty chariot borne, + Yet holding on the reins thereof; his neck, his tresses torn + O'er face of earth, his wrested spear a-writing in the dust. + Meanwhile were faring to the fane of Pallas little just + The wives of Troy with scattered hair, bearing the gown refused, 480 + Sad they and suppliant, whose own hands their very bosoms bruised, + While fixed, averse, the Goddess kept her eyes upon the ground. + Thrice had Achilles Hector dragged the walls of Troy around, + And o'er his body, reft of soul, was chaffering now for gold. + Deep groaned AEneas from his heart in such wise to behold + The car, the spoils, the very corpse of him, his fellow dead, + To see the hands of Priam there all weaponless outspread. + Yea, thrust amidst Achaean lords, his very self he knew; + The Eastland hosts he saw, and arms of Memnon black of hue. + There mad Penthesilea leads the maids of moony shield, 490 + The Amazons, and burns amidst the thousands of the field, + And with her naked breast thrust out above the golden girth, + The warrior maid hath heart to meet the warriors of the earth. + + But while AEneas, Dardan lord, beholds the marvels there, + And, all amazed, stands moving nought with eyes in one set stare, + Lo cometh Dido, very queen of fairest fashion wrought, + By youths close thronging all about unto the temple brought. + Yea, e'en as on Eurotas' rim or Cynthus' ridges high + Diana leadeth dance about, a thousandfold anigh + The following Oreads gather round, with shoulder quiver-hung 500 + She overbears the Goddesses her swift feet fare among, + And great Latona's silent breast the joys of godhead touch. + Lo, such was Dido; joyously she bore herself e'en such + Amidst them, eager for the work and ordered rule to come; + Then through the Goddess' door she passed, and midmost 'neath the dome, + High raised upon a throne she sat, with weapons hedged about, + And doomed, and fashioned laws for men, and fairly sifted out + And dealt their share of toil to them, or drew the lot as happed. + There suddenly AEneas sees amidst a concourse wrapped + Antheus, Sergestus, and the strong Cloanthus draw anigh, 510 + And other Teucrians whom the whirl, wild, black, all utterly + Had scattered into other lands afar across the sea. + Amazed he stood, nor stricken was Achates less than he + By joy, by fear: they hungered sore hand unto hand to set; + But doubt of dealings that might be stirred in their hearts as yet; + So lurking, cloaked in hollow cloud they note what things betide + Their fellows there, and on what shore the ships they manned may bide, + And whence they come; for chosen out of all the ships they bear + Bidding of peace, and, crying out, thus temple-ward they fare. + + But now when they were entered in, and gained the grace of speech, 520 + From placid heart Ilioneus the elder 'gan beseech: + "O Queen, to whom hath Jove here given a city new to raise, + And with thy justice to draw rein on men of wilful ways, + We wretched Trojans, tossed about by winds o'er every main, + Pray thee forbid it from our ships, the dreadful fiery bane. + Spare pious folk, and look on us with favouring kindly eyes! + We are not come with sword to waste the Libyan families, + Nor drive adown unto the strand the plunder of the strong: + No such high hearts, such might of mind to vanquished folk belong. + There is a place, Hesperia called of Greeks in days that are, 530 + An ancient land, a fruitful soil, a mighty land in war. + Oenotrian folk first tilled the land, whose sons, as rumours run, + Now call it nought but Italy from him who led them on. + And thitherward our course was turned, + When sudden, stormy, tumbling seas, Orion rose on us, + And wholly scattering us abroad with fierce blasts from the south, + Drave us, sea-swept, by shallows blind, to straits with wayless mouth: + But to thy shores we few have swum, and so betake us here. + What men among men are ye then? what country's soil may bear + Such savage ways? ye grudge us then the welcome of your sand, 540 + And fall to arms, and gainsay us a tide-washed strip of strand. + But if men-folk and wars of men ye wholly set at nought, + Yet deem the Gods bear memory still of good and evil wrought + AEneas was the king of us; no juster was there one, + No better lover of the Gods, none more in battle shone: + And if the Fates have saved that man, if earthly air he drink, + Nor 'neath the cruel deadly shades his fallen body shrink, + Nought need we fear, nor ye repent to strive in kindly deed + With us: we have in Sicily fair cities to our need. + And fields we have; Acestes high of Trojan blood is come. 550 + Now suffer us our shattered ships in haven to bring home, + To cut us timber in thy woods, and shave us oars anew. + Then if the Italian cruise to us, if friends and king are due, + To Italy and Latium then full merry wend we on. + But if, dear father of our folk, hope of thy health be gone, + And thee the Libyan water have, nor hope Iulus give, + Then the Sicanian shores at least, and seats wherein to live, + Whence hither came we, and the King Acestes let us seek." + + So spake he, and the others made as they the same would speak, + The Dardan-folk with murmuring mouth. 560 + + But Dido, with her head hung down, in few words answer gave: + "Let fear fall from you, Teucrian men, and set your cares aside; + Hard fortune yet constraineth me and this my realm untried + To hold such heed, with guard to watch my marches up and down. + Who knoweth not AEneas' folk? who knoweth not Troy-town, + The valour, and the men, and all the flame of such a war? + Nay, surely nought so dull as this the souls within us are, + Nor turns the sun from Tyrian town, so far off yoking steed. + So whether ye Hesperia great, and Saturn's acres need, + Or rather unto Eryx turn, and King Acestes' shore, 570 + Safe, holpen will I send you forth, and speed you with my store: + Yea and moreover, have ye will in this my land to bide. + This city that I build is yours: here leave your ships to ride: + Trojan and Tyrian no two wise at hands of me shall fare. + And would indeed the King himself, AEneas, with us were, + Driven by that self-same southern gale: but sure men will I send, + And bid them search through Libya from end to utmost end, + Lest, cast forth anywhere, he stray by town or forest part." + + Father AEneas thereupon high lifted up his heart, + Nor stout Achates less, and both were fain the cloud to break; 580 + And to AEneas first of all the leal Achates spake: + + "O Goddess-born, what thought hereof ariseth in thy mind? + All safe thou seest thy ships; thy folk fair welcomed dost thou find: + One is away, whom we ourselves saw sunken in the deep; + But all things else the promised word thy mother gave us keep." + + Lo, even as he spake the word the cloud that wrapped them cleaves, + And in the open space of heaven no dusk behind it leaves; + And there AEneas stood and shone amid the daylight clear, + With face and shoulders of a God: for loveliness of hair + His mother breathed upon her son, and purple light of youth, 590 + And joyful glory of the eyes: e'en as in very sooth + The hand gives ivory goodliness, or when the Parian stone, + Or silver with the handicraft of yellow gold is done: + And therewithal unto the Queen doth he begin to speak, + Unlooked-for of all men: + "Lo here the very man ye seek, + Trojan AEneas, caught away from Libyan seas of late! + Thou, who alone of toils of Troy hast been compassionate, + Who takest us, the leavings poor of Danaan sword, outworn + With every hap of earth and sea, of every good forlorn, + To city and to house of thine: to thank thee to thy worth, 600 + Dido, my might may compass not; nay, scattered o'er the earth + The Dardan folk, for what thou dost may never give thee meed: + But if somewhere a godhead is the righteous man to heed, + If justice is, or any soul to note the right it wrought, + May the Gods give thee due reward. What joyful ages brought + Thy days to birth? what mighty ones gave such an one today? + Now while the rivers seaward run, and while the shadows stray + O'er hollow hills, and while the pole the stars is pasturing wide, + Still shall thine honour and thy name, still shall thy praise abide + What land soever calleth me." 610 + Therewith his right hand sought + His very friend Ilioneus, his left Serestus caught, + And then the others, Gyas strong, Cloanthus strong in fight. + + Sidonian Dido marvelled much, first at the hero's sight, + Then marvelled at the haps he had, and so such word doth say: + + "O Goddess-born, what fate is this that ever dogs thy way + With such great perils? What hath yoked thy life to this wild shore? + And art thou that AEneas then, whom holy Venus bore + Unto Anchises, Dardan lord, by Phrygian Simois' wave? + Of Teucer unto Sidon come a memory yet I have, + Who, driven from out his fatherland, was seeking new abode 620 + By Belus' help: but Belus then, my father, over-rode + Cyprus the rich, and held the same as very conquering lord: + So from that tide I knew of Troy and bitter Fate's award, + I knew of those Pelasgian kings--yea, and I knew thy name. + He then, a foeman, added praise to swell the Teucrian fame, + And oft was glad to deem himself of ancient Teucer's line. + So hasten now to enter in 'neath roofs of me and mine. + Me too a fortune such as yours, me tossed by many a toil, + Hath pleased to give abiding-place at last upon this soil, + Learned in illhaps full wise am I unhappy men to aid." 630 + + Such tale she told, and therewith led to house full kingly made + AEneas, bidding therewithal the Gods with gifts to grace; + Nor yet their fellows she forgat upon the sea-beat place, + But sendeth them a twenty bulls, an hundred bristling backs + Of swine, an hundred fatted lambs, whereof his ewe none lacks, + And gifts and gladness of the God. + Meanwhile the gleaming house within with kingly pomp is dight, + And in the midmost of the hall a banquet they prepare: + Cloths laboured o'er with handicraft, and purple proud is there; + Great is the silver on the board, and carven out of gold 640 + The mighty deeds of father-folk, a long-drawn tale, is told, + Brought down through many and many an one from when their race began. + + AEneas, through whose father's heart unquiet love there ran, + Sent on the swift Achates now unto the ships to speed, + To bear Ascanius all these haps, and townward him to lead; + For on Ascanius well beloved was all his father's thought: + And therewithal gifts good to give from Ilium's ruin caught + He bade him bring: a cope all stiff with golden imagery; + With saffron soft acanthus twine a veil made fair to see; + The Argive Helen's braveries, brought from Mycenae erst, 650 + When she was seeking Pergamos and wedding all accursed: + Her mother Leda gave her these and marvellous they were. + A sceptre too that Ilione in days agone did bear, + The eldest-born of Priam's maids; a neckchain pearl bestrown, + And, doubly wrought with gold and gems, a kingly-fashioned crown. + So to the ships Achates went these matters forth to speed. + + But Cytherea in her heart turned over new-wrought rede, + New craft; how, face and fashion changed, her son the very Love + For sweet Ascanius should come forth, and, gift-giving, should move + The Queen to madness, make her bones the yoke-fellows of flame. 660 + Forsooth the doubtful house she dreads, the two-tongued Tyrian name; + And bitter Juno burneth her, and care the night doth wake: + Now therefore to the winged Love such words as this she spake: + + "O son, my might, my only might, who fearest nought at all + How his, the highest Father's bolts, Typhoeus' bane, may fall, + To thee I flee, and suppliant so thy godhead's power beseech: + Thy brother, e'en AEneas, tossed on every sea-side beach + Thou knowest; all the fashioning of wrongful Juno's hate + Thou knowest; oft upon my grief with sorrow wouldst thou wait. + Him now Phoenician Dido holds, and with kind words enow 670 + Delays him there, but unto what Junonian welcomes grow + I fear me: will she hold her hand when thus the hinge is dight? + Now therefore am I compassing to catch their craft in flight, + To ring the Queen about with flame that her no power may turn, + That she may cling to me and sore for mine AEneas yearn. + Now hearken how I counsel thee to bring about my will: + The kingly boy his father calls, he whom I cherish still, + To that Sidonian city now is ready dight to fare, + And gifts, the gleanings of the sea and flames of Troy, doth bear, + Whom soaked in sleep forthwith will I in high Cythera hide, 680 + Or in Idalium's holy place where I am wont to bide, + Lest any one the guile should know and thrust themselves between: + But thou with craft his fashion feign, and with his face be seen + Well known of all, for no more space than one night's wearing by; + And so, when Dido, gladdest grown, shall take thee up to lie + Upon her breast 'twixt queenly board and great Lyaeus' wave, + And thou the winding of her arms and kisses sweet shalt have, + Then breathe the hidden flame in her and forge thy venomed guile." + + His lovesome mother Love obeyed, and doffed his wings awhile, + And as Iulus goeth now rejoicing on his way. 690 + But Venus all Ascanius' limbs in quiet rest doth lay, + And cherished in her goddess' breast unto Idalian groves + She bears him, where the marjoram still soft about him moves + And breatheth sweet from scented shade and blossoms on the air. + Love wrought her will, and bearing now those royal gifts and rare, + Unto the Tyrians joyous went, e'en as Achates led. + But when he came into the house, there on her golden bed + With hangings proud Queen Dido lay amidmost of the place: + The father then, AEneas, then the youth of Trojan race, + There gather, and their bodies cast on purple spread abroad. 700 + Folk serve them water for their hands, and speed the baskets stored + With Ceres, and the towels soft of close-clipped nap they bear. + Within were fifty serving-maids, whose long array had care + To furnish forth the meat and drink, and feed the house-gods' flame; + An hundred more, and youths withal of age and tale the same, + Set on the meat upon the board and lay the cups about. + And now through that wide joyous door came thronging from without + The Tyrians, and, so bidden, lie on benches painted fair. + They wonder at AEneas' gifts, and at Iulus there, + The flaming countenance of God, and speech so feigned and fine; 710 + They wonder at the cope and veil with that acanthus twine. + And chiefly that unhappy one doomed to the coming ill, + Nor hungry hollow of her heart nor burning eyes may fill + With all beholding: gifts and child alike her heart do move. + But he, when he had satisfied his feigned father's love, + And clipped AEneas all about, and round his neck had hung, + Went to the Queen, who with her eyes and heart about him clung, + And whiles would strain him to her breast--poor Dido! knowing nought + What God upon her bosom sat; who ever had in thought + His Acidalian mother's word, and slowly did begin 720 + To end Sychaeus quite, and with a living love to win + Her empty soul at rest, and heart unused a weary tide. + + But when the feasting first was stayed, and boards were done aside, + Great beakers there they set afoot, and straight the wine they crowned. + A shout goes up within the house, great noise they roll around + The mighty halls: the candles hang adown from golden roof + All lighted, and the torches' flame keeps dusky night aloof. + And now a heavy bowl of gold and gems the Queen bade bring + And fill with all unwatered wine, which erst used Belus king, 729 + And all from Belus come: therewith through the hushed house she said: + + "O Jupiter! they say by thee the guesting laws were made; + Make thou this day to Tyrian folk, and folk come forth from Troy, + A happy day, and may our sons remember this our joy! + Mirth-giver Bacchus, fail thou not from midst our mirth! be kind, + O Juno! and ye Tyrian folk, be glad this bond to bind!" + + She spake, and on the table poured the glorious wave of wine, + Then touched the topmost of the bowl with dainty lip and fine, + And, egging on, to Bitias gave: nought slothful to be told + The draught he drained, who bathed himself within the foaming gold; + Then drank the other lords of them: long-haired Iopas then 740 + Maketh the golden harp to sing, whom Atlas most of men + Erst taught: he sings the wandering moon and toiling of the sun, + And whence the kind of men and beasts, how rain and fire begun, + Arcturus, the wet Hyades, and twin-wrought Northern Bears: + And why so swift the winter sun unto his sea-bath fares, + And what delayeth night so long upon the daylight's hem. + Then praise on praise the Tyrians shout, the Trojans follow them. + + Meanwhile unhappy Dido wore the night-tide as it sank + In diverse talk, and evermore long draughts of love she drank, + And many a thing of Priam asked, of Hector many a thing: 750 + With what-like arms Aurora's son had come unto the King; + What were the steeds of Diomed, how great Achilles was. + At last she said: + "But come, O guest, tell all that came to pass + From earliest tide; of Danaan craft, and how thy land was lorn, + And thine own wanderings; for as now the seventh year is worn + That thee a-straying wide away o'er earth and sea hath borne." + + + + +BOOK II. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS TELLETH TO DIDO AND THE TYRIANS THE STORY OF TROY'S OVERTHROW. + + + All hearkened hushed, and fixed on him was every face of man, + As from the couch high set aloft AEneas thus began: + + "Unutterable grief, O Queen, thou biddest me renew + The falling of the Trojan weal and realm that all shall rue + 'Neath Danaan might; which thing myself unhappy did behold, + Yea, and was no small part thereof. What man might hear it told + Of Dolopes, or Myrmidons, or hard Ulysses' band, + And keep the tears back? Dewy night now falleth from the land + Of heaven, and all the setting stars are bidding us to sleep: + But if to know our evil hap thy longing is so deep, 10 + If thou wilt hear a little word of Troy's last agony, + Though memory shuddereth, and my heart shrunk up in grief doth lie, + I will begin. + By battle broke, and thrust aback by Fate + Through all the wearing of the years, the Danaan lords yet wait + And build a horse up mountain-huge by Pallas' art divine, + Fair fashioning the ribs thereof with timbers of the pine, + And feign it vowed for safe return, and let the fame fly forth. + Herein by stealth a sort of men chosen for bodies' worth + Amid its darkness do they shut; the caverns inly lost + Deep in the belly of the thing they fill with armed host. 20 + + In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an island known of all, + And rich in wealth before the realm of Priam had its fall, + Now but a bay and roadstead poor, where scarcely ships may ride. + So thither now they sail away in desert place to hide. + We thought them gone, and that they sought Mycenae on a wind, + Whereat the long-drawn grief of Troy fell off from every mind. + + The gates are opened; sweet it is the Dorian camp to see, + The dwellings waste, the shore all void where they were wont to be: + Here dwelt the band of Dolopes, here was Achilles set, 29 + And this was where their ships were beached; here edge to edge we met. + Some wonder at unwedded maid Minerva's gift of death, + That baneful mountain of a horse; and first Thymoetes saith + 'Twere good in walls to lead the thing, on topmost burg to stand; + Whether such word the fate of Troy or evil treason planned + I know not: Capys and the rest, who better counsel have, + Bid take the fashioned guile of Greeks, the doubtful gift they gave, + To tumble it adown to sea, with piled-up fire to burn, + Or bore the belly of the beast its hidden holes to learn; + So cleft atwain is rede of men abiding there in doubt. + + But first before all others now with much folk all about 40 + Laocoon the fiery man runs from the burg adown, + And shouts from far: + 'O wretched men, how hath such madness grown? + Deem ye the foe hath fared away? Deem ye that Danaan gifts + May ever lack due share of guile? Are these Ulysses' shifts? + For either the Achaeans lurk within this fashioned tree, + Or 'tis an engine wrought with craft bane of our walls to be, + To look into our very homes, and scale the town perforce: + Some guile at least therein abides: Teucrians, trust not the horse! + Whatso it is, the Danaan folk, yea gift-bearing I fear.' 49 + + Thus having said, with valiant might he hurled a huge-wrought spear + Against the belly of the beast swelled out with rib and stave; + It stood a-trembling therewithal; its hollow caverns gave + From womb all shaken with the stroke a mighty sounding groan. + And but for God's heart turned from us, for God's fate fixed and known, + He would have led us on with steel to foul the Argive den, + And thou, O Troy, wert standing now, thou Priam's burg as then! + + But lo, where Dardan shepherds lead, with plenteous clamour round, + A young man unto Priam's place with hands behind him bound, + Who privily had thrust himself before their way e'en now + The work to crown, and into Troy an open way to show 60 + Unto the Greeks; a steadfast soul, prepared for either end, + Or utterly to work his craft or unto death to bend. + Eager to see him as he went around the Trojans flock + On every side, and each with each contend the man to mock. + Lo now, behold the Danaan guile, and from one wrong they wrought + Learn ye what all are like to be. + For as he stood in sight of all, bewildered, weaponless, + And let his eyes go all around the gazing Phrygian press, + He spake: + 'What land shall have me now, what sea my head shall hide? + What then is left of deed to do that yet I must abide? 70 + No place I have among the Greeks, and Dardan folk withal + My foemen are, and bloody end, due doom, upon me call.' + + And with that wail our hearts were turned, and somewhat backward hung + The press of men: we bade him say from whence his blood was sprung, + And what he did, and if indeed a captive we might trust; + So thus he spake when now all fear from off his heart was thrust: + + 'Whatso betide, to thee, O King, the matter's verity + Will I lay bare unto the end, nor Argive blood deny: + This firstly; for if Fate indeed shaped Sinon for all bale + To make him liar and empty fool her worst may not avail. 80 + Perchance a rumour of men's talk about your ears hath gone, + Telling of Palamedes' fame and glory that he won, + The son of Belus: traitors' word undid him innocent; + By unjust doom for banning war the way of death he went, + Slain by Pelasgian men, that now his quenched light deplore. + Fellow to him, and nigh akin, I went unto the war, + Sent by my needy father forth, e'en from my earliest years; + Now while he reigned in health, a king fair blooming mid his peers + In council of the kings, I too had share of name and worth. + But after he had gone his way from land of upper earth, 90 + Thrust down by sly Ulysses' hate, (I tell all men's belief), + Then beaten down I dragged my life through shadowy ways of grief, + And heavily I took the death of him my sackless friend, + Nor held my peace, O fool! but vowed revenge if time should send + A happy tide; if I should come to Argos any more, + A victor then: so with my words I drew down hatred sore. + This was the first fleck of my ill; Ulysses ever now + Would threaten with some new-found guilt, and mid the folk would sow + Dark sayings, and knowing what was toward, sought weapons new at need; + Nor wearied till with Calchas now to help him to the deed.-- 100 + --But why upturn these ugly things, or spin out time for nought? + For if ye deem all Greekish men in one same mould are wrought: + It is enough. Come make an end; Ulysses' hope fulfil! + With great price would the Atridae buy such working of their will.' + + Then verily to know the thing and reach it deep we burned, + So little in Pelasgian guile and evil were we learned. + He takes the tale up; fluttering-voiced from lying heart he speaks: + + 'The longing to be gone from Troy fell oft upon the Greeks, + And oft they fain had turned their backs on war without an end, + (I would they had), and oft as they were e'en at point to wend 110 + A tempest would forbid the sea, or southern gale would scare, + And chiefly when with maple-beams this horse that standeth here + They fashioned, mighty din of storm did all the heavens fulfil. + So held aback, Eurypylus we sent to learn the will + Of Phoebus: from the shrine he brought such heavy words as these: + _With blood and with a virgin's death did ye the winds appease_ + _When first ye came, O Danaan folk, unto the Ilian shore;_ + _With blood and with an Argive soul the Gods shall ye adore_ + _For your return._ + 'Now when that word men's ears had gone about + Their hearts stood still, and tremors cold took all their bones for doubt + What man the Fates had doomed thereto, what man Apollo would. 121 + Amidst us then the Ithacan drags in with clamour rude + Calchas the seer, and wearieth him the Gods' will to declare. + Of that craftsmaster's cruel guile had many bade beware + In words, and many silently foresaw the coming death. + Twice five days Calchas holdeth peace and, hidden, gainsayeth + To speak the word that any man to very death should cast, + Till hardly, by Ulysses' noise sore driven, at the last + He brake out with the speech agreed, and on me laid the doom; + All cried assent, and what each man feared on himself might come, 130 + 'Gainst one poor wretch's end of days with ready hands they bear. + Now came the evil day; for me the rites do men prepare, + The salted cakes, the holy strings to do my brows about. + I needs must say I brake my bonds, from Death's house gat me out, + And night-long lay amid the sedge by muddy marish side + Till they spread sail, if they perchance should win their sailing tide. + Nor have I hope to see again my fatherland of old; + My longed-for father and sweet sons I never shall behold; + On whom the guilt of me who fled mayhappen men will lay, + And with their death for my default the hapless ones shall pay. 140 + But by the might of very God, all sooth that knoweth well, + By all the unstained faith that yet mid mortal men doth dwell, + If aught be left, I pray you now to pity such distress! + Pity a heart by troubles tried beyond its worthiness!' + + His weeping won his life of us, and pity thereunto, + And Priam was the first who bade his irons to undo, + And hand-bonds, and in friendly words unto the man he speaks: + + 'Whoso thou art, henceforward now forget thy missing Greeks; + Thou shalt be ours: but learn me now, who fain the sooth would wot, + Wherefore they built this world of horse, what craftsman him begot, 150 + And what to do? What gift for Gods; what gin of war is he?' + + He spake. The other, wise in guile and Greekish treachery, + Both palms of his from bonds new-freed raised toward the stars above, + And, 'O eternal fires!' he cried, 'O might that none may move, + Bear witness now! ye altar-stones, ye wicked swords I fled, + Ye holy fillets of the Gods bound round my fore-doomed head, + That I all hallowed Greekish rites may break and do aright, + That I may hate the men and bring all hidden things to light + If aught lie hid; nor am I held by laws my country gave! + But thou, O Troy, abide by troth, and well thy saviour save, 160 + If truth I bear thee, if great things for great I pay thee o'er! + + 'All hope the Danaans had, all trust for speeding on the war + On Pallas' aid was ever set: yet came a day no less + When godless Diomed and he, well-spring of wickedness, + Ulysses, brake the holy place that they by stealth might gain + The fate-fulfilled Palladium, when, all the burg-guards slain, + They caught the holy image up, and durst their bloody hands + Lay on the awful Goddess there and touch her holy bands: + The flood-tide of the Danaan hope ebbed from that very day; + Might failed them, and the Goddess-maid turned all her heart away: 170 + Token whereof Tritonia gave by portent none might doubt: + Scarce was the image set in camp when suddenly flashed out + Fierce fire from staring eyes of her, and salt sweat oozed and fell + O'er all her limbs, and she from earth, O wonderful to tell! + Leapt thrice, still holding in her hand the quivering spear and shield: + Then Calchas bade us turn to flight across the wavy field, + Singing how ruin of Pergamos the Argive steel shall lack, + Till Argos give the signs again, and we the God bring back + In hollow of the curved keel across the tumbling main. + And this is why they sought their home, Mycenae's land, again, 180 + And there they dight them arms and God, and presently unwares + Will be on you across the sea--Calchas such doom declares. + So warned hereby for Godhead's hurt, in stolen Palladium's stead, + Atonement for their heavy guilt, this horse they fashioned. + But him indeed did Calchas bid to pile so mountain-high + With such a might of mingled beams, and lead up to the sky, + Lest it within the gates should come, or mid the walls, and lest + Beneath their ancient Pallas-faith the people safe should rest. + For if upon Minerva's gift ye lay a godless hand, + Then mighty ruin (and would to God before his face might stand 190 + That ruin instead) on Priam's might, and Phrygian folk shall fall. + But if your hands shall lead it up within the city wall, + Then Asia, free and willing it, to Pelops' house shall come + With mighty war; and that same fate our sons shall follow home.' + + Caught by such snares and crafty guile of Sinon the forsworn, + By lies and lies, and tears forced forth there were we overborne; + We, whom Tydides might not tame, nor Larissaean king + Achilles; nor the thousand ships, and ten years' wearying. + + But now another, greater hap, a very birth of fear, + Was thrust before us wretched ones, our sightless hearts to stir. 200 + Laocoon, chosen out by lot for mighty Neptune's priest, + Would sacrifice a mighty bull at altars of the feast; + When lo, away from Tenedos, o'er quiet of the main + (I tremble in the tale) we see huge coils of serpents twain + Breasting the sea, and side by side swift making for the shore; + Whose fronts amid the flood were strained, and high their crests upbore + Blood-red above the waves, the rest swept o'er the sea behind, + And all the unmeasured backs of them coil upon coil they wind, + While sends the sea great sound of foam. And now the meads they gained, + The burning eyes with flecks of blood and streaks of fire are stained, + Their mouths with hisses all fulfilled are licked by flickering tongue. 211 + Bloodless we flee the sight, but they fare steadfastly along + Unto Laocoon; and first each serpent round doth reach + One little body of his sons, and knitting each to each, + And winding round and round about, the unhappy body gnaws: + And then himself, as sword in hand anigh for help he draws, + They seize and bind about in coils most huge, and presently + Are folded twice about his midst, twice round his neck they tie + Their scaly backs, and hang above with head and toppling mane, + While he both striveth with his hands to rend their folds atwain, 220 + His fillets covered o'er with blood and venom black and fell, + And starward sendeth forth withal a cry most horrible, + The roaring of a wounded bull who flees the altar-horn + And shaketh from his crest away the axe unhandy borne. + + But fleeing to the shrines on high do those two serpents glide, + And reach the hard Tritonia's house, and therewithin they hide + Beneath the Goddess' very feet and orbed shield of dread; + Then through our quaking hearts indeed afresh the terror spread, + And all men say Laocoon hath paid but worthily + For guilt of his, and hurt of steel upon the holy tree, 230 + When that unhappy wicked spear against its flank he threw. + They cry to lead the image on to holy house and due, + And Pallas' godhead to adore. + We break adown our rampart walls and bare the very town: + All gird themselves unto the work, set wheels that it may glide + Beneath his feet, about his neck the hempen bond is tied + To warp it on: up o'er the walls so climbs the fateful thing + Fruitful of arms; and boys about and unwed maidens sing + The holy songs, and deem it joy hand on the ropes to lay. + It enters; through the city's midst it wends its evil way. 240 + --O land! O Ilium, house of Gods! O glorious walls of war! + O Dardan walls!--four times amidst the threshold of our door + It stood: four times with sound of arms the belly of it rung; + But heedless, maddened hearts and blind, hard on the ropes we hung, + Nor but amidst the holy burg the monster's feet we stay. + And then Cassandra oped her mouth to tell the fateful day,-- + Her mouth that by the Gods' own doom the Teucrians ne'er might trow. + Then on this day that was our last we bear the joyous bough, + Poor wretches! through the town to deck each godhead's holy place. + + Meanwhile the heavens are faring round, night falls on ocean's face, 250 + Enwrapping in her mighty shade all earthly things and sky, + And all the guile of Myrmidons: silent the Teucrians lie + Through all the town, and Sleep her arms o'er wearied bodies slips. + + And now the Argive host comes forth upon its ordered ships + From Tenedos, all hushed amid the kind moon's silent ways, + Seeking the well-known strand, when forth there breaks the bale-fire's blaze + On the king's deck: and Sinon, kept by Gods' unequal fate, + For Danaans hid in horse's womb undoes the piny gate + In stealthy wise: them now the horse, laid open to the air, + Gives forth again, and glad from out the hollow wood they fare; 260 + Thessandrus, Sthenelus, the dukes, and dire Ulysses pass; + Slipped down along a hanging rope, Thoas and Acamas, + Peleian Neoptolemus, and Machaon the first, + And Menelaues, and the man who forged the guile accursed, + Epeos. Through the city sunk in sleep and wine they break, + Slain are the guards, at gates all oped their fellows in they take, + Till all their bands confederate are met at last in one. + + It was the time when that first peace of sick men hath begun, + By very gift of God o'er all in sweetest wise to creep, + When Hector comes before mine eyes amid the dreams of sleep, 270 + Most sorrowful to see he was, and weeping plenteous flood, + And e'en as torn behind the car, black with the dust and blood, + His feet all swollen with the thong that pierced them through and through. + Woe worth the while for what he was! How changed from him we knew! + The Hector come from out the fight in arms Achilles lost, + The Hector that on Danaan decks the Phrygian firebrands tost. + Foul was his beard, and all his hair was matted up with gore, + And on his body were the wounds, the many wounds he bore + Around his Troy. I seemed in sleep, I weeping e'en as he, + To speak unto the hero first in voice of misery: 280 + + 'O Light of Troy, most faithful hope of all the Teucrian men, + What stay hath held thee back so long? from what shore com'st thou then, + Long-looked-for Hector? that at last, so many died away, + Such toil of city, toil of men, we see thy face today, + We so forewearied? What hath fouled in such an evil wise + Thy cheerful face? what mean these hurts thou showest to mine eyes?' + + Nought: nor my questions void and vain one moment turned his speech; + Who from the inmost of his heart a heavy groan did reach: + 'O Goddess-born, flee forth,' he said, 'and snatch thee from the fire! + The foeman hath the walls, and Troy is down from topmost spire. 290 + For Priam and for country now enough. If any hand + Might have kept Pergamos, held up by mine it yet should stand. + Her holy things and household gods Troy gives in charge to thee; + Take these as fellows of thy fate: go forth the walls to see, + The great walls thou shalt build, when thou the sea hast wandered o'er.' + + He spake, and from the inner shrine forth in his hands he bore + Great Vesta, and the holy bands, and fire that never dies. + + Meanwhile the city's turmoiled woe was wrought in diverse wise, + And though my father's house aback apart from all was set, + And hedged about with many trees, clearer and clearer yet 300 + The sounds grew on us, ever swelled the weapons' dread and din. + I shake off sleep and forthwithal climb up aloft and win + To topmost roof: with ears pricked up I stand to hearken all. + As when before the furious South the driven flame doth fall + Among the corn: or like as when the hill-flood rolls in haste + To waste the fields and acres glad, the oxen's toil to waste, + Tearing the headlong woods along, while high upon a stone + The unready shepherd stands amazed, and hears the sound come on. + + Then was their faith made manifest, then Danaan guile lay bare; + Deiphobus' wide house e'en now, o'ertopped by Vulcan's flare, + Shows forth its fall; Ucalegon's is burning by its side: 310 + The narrow seas Sigaeum guards gleam litten far and wide. + The shout of men ariseth now, and blaring of the horn, + And mad, I catch my weapons up though idly they be borne; + But burned my heart to gather folk for battle, and set forth + Upon the burg in fellowship; for fury and great wrath + Thrust on my heart: to die in arms, it seemed a good reward. + + But lo, now Panthus newly slipped from 'neath the Achean sword, + Panthus the son of Othrys, priest of Phoebus' house on high; + His holy things and vanquished Gods, his little lad thereby 320 + He drags, and as a madman runs, to gain our doorway set. + 'Panthus, how fares it at the worst? what stronghold keep we yet?' + Scarce had I said, when from his mouth a groan and answer fares: + + 'Troy's latest day has come on us, a tide no struggling wears: + Time was, the Trojans were; time was, and Ilium stood; time was, + And glory of the Teucrian folk! Jove biddeth all to pass + To Argos now: in Troy afire the Danaans now are lords; + The horse high set amidst the town pours forth a flood of swords, + And Sinon, of the victors now, the flame is driving home + High mocking: by the open gates another sort is come, 330 + As many thousands as ere flocked from great Mycenae yet: + Others with weapons ready dight the narrow ways beset, + And ban all passage; point and edge are glittering drawn and bare + Ready for death: and scarcely now the first few gatewards dare + The battle, and blind game of Mars a little while debate.' + + Spurred by such speech of Othrys' son, and force of godhead great, + Mid fire and steel I follow on as grim Erinnys shows, + Where call the cries, where calls the shout that ever heavenward goes, + Rhipeus therewith, and Epytus the mighty under shield, + Dymas and Hypanis withal their fellowship now yield; 340 + Met by the moon they join my side with young Coroebus; he + The son of Mygdon, at that tide in Troy-town chanced to be; + Drawn thither by Cassandra's love that burned within his heart. + So he to Priam service gave, and helped the Phrygian part: + Unhappy! that the warning word of his God-maddened love + He might not hearken on that day. + Now when I see them gathered so to dare the battle's pain, + Thus I begin: + 'O fellows fair, O hardy hearts in vain! + If now ye long to follow me who dares the utterance + And certain end, ye see indeed what wise our matters chance. 350 + The Gods, who in the other days our lordship mighty made, + Are gone from altar and from shrine: a town of flames ye aid. + Fall on a very midst the fire and die in press of war! + One hope there is for vanquished men, to cherish hope no more.' + + Therewith the fury of their minds I feed, and thence away, + As ravening wolves by night and cloud their bellies' lust obey, + That bitter-sharp is driving on, the while their whelps at home + Dry-jawed await them, so by steel, by crowd of foes we come + Into the very death; we hold the city's midmost street, + Black night-tide's wings with hollow shade about our goings meet. 360 + + O ruin and death of that ill night, what tongue may set it forth! + Or who may pay the debt of tears that agony was worth! + The ancient city overthrown, lord for so many a year, + The many bodies of the slain, that, moveless, everywhere + Lie in the street, in houses lie, lie round the holy doors + Of Gods. But not alone that night the blood of Teucrians pours, + For whiles the valour comes again in vanquished hearts to bide, + And conquering Danaans fall and die: grim grief on every side, + And fear on every side there is, and many-faced is death. + + Androgeus, whom a mighty band of Danaans followeth, 370 + First falleth on the road of us, and, deeming us to be + His fellow-folk, in friendly words he speaketh presently: + + 'Haste on, O men! what sloth is this delayeth so your ways? + While others hand and haul away in Pergamos ablaze; + What! fellows, from the lofty ships come ye but even now?' + + But with the word, no answer had wherein at all to trow, + He felt him fallen amid the foe, and taken in the snare; + Then foot and voice aback he drew, and stood amazed there, + As one who through the thicket thrusts, and unawares doth tread + Upon a snake, and starts aback with sudden rush of dread 380 + From gathering anger of the thing and swelling neck of blue: + So, quaking at the sight of us, Androgeus backward drew. + But we fall on with serried arms and round their rout we crowd, + And fell them knowing nought the place, and with all terror cowed: + So sweet the breath of fortune was on our first handicraft. + + But with good-hap and hardihood Coroebus' spirit laughed; + 'Come, fellows, follow up,' he cries, 'the way that fortune shows + This first of times, and where belike a little kind she grows. + Change we our shields, and do on us the tokens of the Greeks; + Whether with fraud or force he play what man of foeman seeks, 390 + Yea, these themselves shall give us arms.' + He spake, and forth did bear + Androgeus' high-crested helm and shield emblazoned fair, + And did it on, and Argive sword he girt unto his thigh: + So Rhipeus did, and Dymas did, and all did joyously, + And each man wholly armed himself with plunder newly won. + Then mingled with the Greeks we fare, and no God helps us on, + And many a battle there we join amid the eyeless night, + And many a Danaan send adown to Orcus from the light: + Some fled away unto the ships, some to the safe sea-shore, 399 + Or smitten with the coward's dread climbed the great horse once more + And there they lie all close within the well-known womb of wood. + + Alas! what skills it man to trust in Gods compelled to good? + For lo, Cassandra, Priam's maid, with hair cast all about, + From Pallas' house and innermost of holy place dragged out, + And straining with her burning eyes in vain to heaven aloft; + Her eyes, for they in bonds had bound her tender palms and soft. + Nought bore Coroebus' maddened mind to see that show go by, + And in the middle of their host he flung himself to die, + And all we follow and fall on with points together set. + And first from that high temple-top great overthrow we get 410 + From weapons of our friends, and thence doth hapless death arise + From error of the Greekish crests and armour's Greekish guise; + Then crying out for taken maid, fulfilled thereat with wrath, + The gathered Greeks fall in on us: comes keenest Ajax forth; + The sons of Atreus, all the host of Dolopes are there:-- + As whiles, the knit whirl broken up, the winds together bear + And strive, the West wind and the South, the East wind glad and free + With Eastland steeds; sore groan the woods; and Nereus stirs the sea + From lowest deeps, and trident shakes, and foams upon the wave:-- + They even to whom by night and cloud great overthrow we gave, 420 + Through craft of ours, and drave about through all the town that while, + Now show themselves, and know our shields and weapons worn for guile + The first of all; our mouths unmeet for Greekish speech they tell + Then o'er us sweeps the multitude; and first Coroebus fell + By Peneleus before the Maid who ever in the fight + Prevaileth most; fell Rhipeus there, the heedfullest of right + Of all among the Teucrian folk, the justest man of men; + The Gods deemed otherwise. Dymas and Hypanis died then, + Shot through by friends, and not a whit availed to cover thee, + O Panthus, thine Apollo's bands or plenteous piety. 430 + Ashes of Ilium, ye last flames where my beloved ones burned, + Bear witness mid your overthrow my face was never turned + From Danaan steel and Danaan deed! if fate had willed it so + That I should fall, I earned my wage. + Borne thence away, we go + Pelias and Iphitus and I; but Iphitus was spent + By eld, and by Ulysses' hurt half halting Pelias went. + So unto Priam's house we come, called by the clamour there, + Where such a mighty battle was as though none otherwhere + Yet burned: as though none others fell in all the town beside. + There all unbridled Mars we saw, the Danaans driving wide 440 + Against the house; with shield-roofs' rush the doors thereof beset. + The ladders cling unto the walls, men by the door-posts get + Some foothold up; with shielded left they meet the weapons' rain, + While on the battlements above grip with the right they gain. + The Dardans on the other side pluck roof and pinnacle + From off the house; with such-like shot they now, beholding well + The end anigh, all death at hand, make ready for the play: + And gilded beams, the pomp and joy of fathers passed away. + They roll adown, and other some with naked point and edge + The nether doorways of the place in close arrayment hedge. 450 + Blazed up our hearts again to aid this palace of a king, + To stead their toil, to vanquished men a little help to bring. + + A door there was, a secret pass into the common way + Of all King Priam's houses there, that at the backward lay + As one goes by: in other days, while yet the lordship was, + Hapless Andromache thereby unto the twain would pass + Alone, or leading to the king Astyanax her boy. + And thereby now I gain the tower, whence wretched men of Troy + In helpless wise from out their hands were casting darts aloof. + There was a tower, a sheer height down, builded from highest roof 460 + Up toward the stars; whence we were wont on Troy to look adown, + And thence away the Danaan ships, the Achaean tented town. + Against the highest stage hereof the steel about we bear, + Just where the joints do somewhat give: this from its roots we tear, + And heave it up and over wall, whose toppling at the last + Bears crash and ruin, and wide away the Danaans are down cast + Beneath its fall: but more come on: nor drift of stones doth lack, + Nor doth all kind of weapon-shot at any while grow slack. + Lo, Pyrrhus in the very porch forth to the door doth pass + Exulting; bright with glittering points and flashing of the brass; 470 + --E'en as a snake to daylight come, on evil herbage fed, + Who, swollen, 'neath the chilly soil hath had his winter bed, + And now, his ancient armour doffed, and sleek with youth new found, + With front upreared his slippery back he coileth o'er the ground + Up 'neath the sun; his three-cleft tongue within his mouth gleams clear:-- + And with him Periphas the huge, Achilles' charioteer, + Now shield-bearer Automedon and all the Scyrian host + Closed on the walls and on the roof the blazing firebrands tost. + Pyrrhus in forefront of them all catches a mighty bill, + Beats in the hardened door, and tears perforce from hinge and sill 480 + The brazen leaves; a beam hewn through, wide gaped the oak hard knit + Into a great-mouthed window there, and through the midst of it + May men behold the inner house; the long halls open lie; + Bared is the heart of Priam's home, the place of kings gone by; + And close against the very door all armed men they see. + + That inner house indeed was mazed with wail and misery, + The inmost chambers of the place an echoing hubbub hold + Of women's cries, whose clamour smites the far-off stars of gold, + And through the house so mighty great the fearful mothers stray, + And wind their arms about the doors, and kisses on them lay. 490 + + But Pyrrhus with his father's might comes on; no bolt avails, + No man against the might of him; the door all battered fails, + The door-leaves torn from off of hinge tumble and lie along: + Might maketh road; through passage forced the entering Danaans throng, + And slay the first and fill the place with armour of their ranks. + Nay nought so great is foaming flood that through its bursten banks + Breaks forth, and beateth down the moles that 'gainst its going stand. + And falls a fierce heap on the plain, and over all the land + Drags off the herds and herd-houses. + There saw I Pyrrhus wild + With death of men amidst the door, and either Atreus' child; 500 + And Hecuba and hundred wives her sons wed saw I there, + And Priam fouling with his blood the very altars fair + Whose fires he hallowed: fifty beds the hope of house to be, + The doorways proud with outland gold and war-got bravery + Sunk into ash; where fire hath failed the Danaans are enow. + + Belike what fate on Priam fell thou askest me to show: + For when he saw the city lost, and his own house-door stormed, + And how in bowels of his house the host of foemen swarmed, + The ancient man in vain does on the arms long useless laid + About his quaking back of eld, and girds himself with blade 510 + Of no avail, and fareth forth amid the press to die. + A very midmost of the courts beneath the naked sky + A mighty altar stood: anear a bay exceeding old, + The altar and the Gods thereof did all in shadow hold; + And round about that altar-stead sat Hecuba the queen, + And many daughters: e'en as doves all huddled up are seen + 'Neath the black storm they cling about the dear God's images. + + But when in arms of early days King Priam now she sees, + She crieth: 'O unhappy spouse! what evil heart hast thou, + With weapons thus to gird thyself, or whither wilt thou now? 520 + Today availeth no such help, and no such warder's stay + May better aught; not even were my Hector here today. + But come thou hither unto me; this altar all shall save, + Or we shall die together here!' + Her arms about she gave + And took him, and the elder set adown in holy stead. + + But lo! now one of Priam's sons, Polites, having fled + From Pyrrhus' murder through the swords and through the foeman's throng, + Runs wounded through the empty hall from out the cloister long, + And burning Pyrrhus, hard at heel, the deadly hurt doth bear, + And grip of hand is on him now, and now the point of spear. 530 + But as he rushed before their eyes, his parents' face beneath + He fell, and with most plenteous blood shed forth his latest breath; + Then Priam, howsoever nigh the very death might grip, + Refrained him nothing at the sight, but voice and wrath let slip: + 'Ah, for such wickedness,' he cried, 'for daring such a deed, + If aught abide in heaven as yet such things as this to heed, + May the Gods give thee worthy thanks, and pay thee well-earned prize, + That thou hast set the death of sons before my father's eyes, + That thou thy murder's fouling thus in father's face hast flung. + Not he, Achilles, whence indeed thou liar hast never sprung, 540 + Was such a foe to Priam erst; for shamfast meed he gave + To law and troth of suppliant men, and rendered to the grave + The bloodless Hector dead, and me sent to mine own again.' + + So spake the elder, and cast forth a toothless spear and vain, + That forthwith from the griding brass was put aback all spent, + And from the shield-boss' outer skin hung down, for nothing sent. + Then Pyrrhus cried: 'Yea tell him this, go take the tidings down + To Peleus' son my father then, of Pyrrhus worser grown + And all these evil deeds of mine! take heed to tell the tale! + Now die!' + And to the altar-stone him quivering did he hale, 550 + And sliding in his own son's blood so plenteous: in his hair + Pyrrhus his left hand wound, his right the gleaming sword made bare, + That even to the hilts thereof within his flank he hid. + Such was the end of Priam's day, such faring forth fate bid, + Troy all aflame upon the road, all Pergamus adown. + He, of so many peoples once the mighty lord and crown, + So many lands of Asia once, a trunk beside the sea + Huge with its headless shoulders laid, a nameless corpse is he. + + Then first within the compassing of bitter fear I was; + The image of my father dear by me all mazed did pass, 560 + When I beheld the like-aged king gasping his life away + Through cruel wound: upon mine eyes forlorn Creusa lay, + The wasted house, my little one, Iulus', evil end. + I look aback to see what folk about me yet do wend, + But all, foredone, had fallen away, their weary bodies spent, + Some all amid the fire had cast, some unto earth had sent. + + Alone was I of all men now, when lo, in Vesta's house + Abiding, and in inmost nook silent and lurking close, + Helen the seed of Tyndarus! the clear fires give her light + As there she strayeth, turning eyes on every shifting sight; 570 + She, fearful of the Teucrian wrath for Pergamus undone, + And fearful of the Danaan wrath and husband left alone, + The wasting fury both of Troy and land where she was born, + She hid her by the altar-stead, a thing of Gods forlorn. + + Forth blazed the wildfire in my soul, wrath stirred me up to slake + My vengeance for my dying home, and ill's atonement take. + What! should she come to Sparta safe, and her Mycenae then, + And in the hard-won triumphing go forth a Queen of men, + And see her husband and her home, her parents and her sons, + Served by the throng of Ilian wives and Phrygian vanquished ones? 580 + Shall Priam so be slain with sword; shall Troy so blaze aloft; + Shall the sea-beach the Dardan blood have sweat so oft and oft + For this? Nay, nay: and though forsooth no deed to blaze abroad + The slaying of a woman be, nor gaineth fame's reward, + Yet still to quench an evil thing and pay the well-earned meed + Is worthy praise, and joy it were unto the full to feed + My heart's fell flame, and satisfy these ashes well beloved. + + Such things my soul gave forth; such things in furious heart I moved. + When lo, my holy mother now, ne'er seen by eyes of mine + So clear before, athwart the dark in simple light did shine; 590 + All God she was; of countenance and measure was she nought, + But her the heaven-abiders see; so my right hand she caught, + And held me, and from rosy mouth moreover added word: + + 'O son, what anger measureless thy mighty grief hath stirred? + Why ragest thou? or whither then is gone thy heed of me? + Wilt thou not first behold the place where worn by eld is he, + Anchises, left? Wilt thou not see if yet thy wife abide + Creusa, or Ascanius yet? The Greekish bands fare wide + About them now on every hand, and but my care withstood + The fire had wafted them away or sword had drunk their blood. 600 + Laconian Helen's beauty cursed this overthrow ne'er wrought. + Nor guilty Paris; nay, the Gods, the Gods who pity nought, + Have overturned your lordship fair, and laid your Troy alow. + Behold! I draw aside the cloud that all abroad doth flow, + Dulling the eyes of mortal men, and darkening dewily + The world about. And look to it no more afeard to be + Of what I bid, nor evermore thy mother's word disown. + There where thou seest the great walls cleft, and stone torn off from stone, + And seest the waves of smoke go by with mingled dust-cloud rolled,-- + There Neptune shakes the walls and stirs the foundings from their hold + With mighty trident, tumbling down the city from its base. 611 + There by the Scaean gates again hath bitter Juno place + The first of all, and wild and mad, herself begirt with steel, + Calls up her fellows from the ships. + Look back! Tritonian Pallas broods o'er topmost burg on high, + All flashing bright with Gorgon grim from out her stormy sky; + The very Father hearteneth on, and stays with happy might + The Danaans, crying on the Gods against the Dardan fight. + Snatch flight, O son, whiles yet thou may'st, and let thy toil be o'er, + I by thy side will bring thee safe unto thy father's door.' 620 + + She spake, and hid herself away where thickest darkness poured. + Then dreadful images show forth, great Godheads are abroad, + The very haters of our Troy. + And then indeed before mine eyes all Ilium sank in flame, + And overturned was Neptune's Troy from its foundations deep. + E'en as betideth with an ash upon the mountain steep, + Round which sore smitten by the steel the acre-biders throng, + And strive in speeding of the axe: and there it threateneth long, + And, shaken, trembleth nodding still with heavy head of leaf; + Till overcome by many hurts it groans its latest grief, 630 + And torn from out the ridgy hill, drags all its ruin alow. + + I get me down, and, Goddess-led, speed on 'twixt fire and foe, + And point and edge give place to me, before me sinks the flame; + But when unto my father's door and ancient house I came, + And I was fain of all things first my father forth to bear + Unto the mountain-tops, and first I sought to find him there, + Still he gainsayed to spin out life now Troy was lost and dead, + Or suffer exile: 'Ye whose blood is hale with youth,' he said, + 'Ye other ones, whose might and main endureth and is stout, + See ye to flight while yet ye may! 640 + Full surely if the heavenly ones my longer life had willed, + They would have kept me this abode: the measure is fulfilled + In that the murder I have seen, and lived when Troy-town fell. + O ye, depart, when ye have bid my body streaked farewell. + My hand itself shall find out death, or pity of my foes, + Who seek my spoils: the tomb methinks a little thing to lose. + Forsooth I tarry overlong, God-cursed, a useless thing, + Since when the Father of the Gods, the earth-abiders' King, + Blew on me blast of thunder-wind and touched me with his flame.' + + His deed was stubborn as his word, no change upon him came. 650 + But all we weeping many tears, my wife Creusa there, + Ascanius, yea and all the house, besought him not to bear + All things to wrack with him, nor speed the hastening evil tide. + He gainsaith all, and in his will and home will yet abide. + So wretchedly I rush to arms with all intent to die; + For what availeth wisdom now, what hope in fate may lie? + + 'And didst thou hope, O father, then, that thou being left behind, + My foot would fare? Woe worth the word that in thy mouth I find! + But if the Gods are loth one whit of such a town to save, + And thou with constant mind wilt cast on dying Troy-town's grave 660 + Both thee and thine, wide is the door to wend adown such ways; + For Pyrrhus, red with Priam's blood, is hard at hand, who slays + The son before the father's face, the father slays upon + The altar. Holy Mother, then, for this thou ledst me on + Through fire and sword!--that I might see our house filled with the foe, + My father old, Ascanius, Creusa lying low, + All weltering in each other's blood, and murdered wretchedly. + Arms, fellows, arms! the last day's light on vanquished men doth cry. + Ah! give me to the Greeks again, that I may play the play + Another while: not unavenged shall all we die today.' 670 + + So was I girt with sword again, and in my shield would set + My left hand now, and was in point from out of doors to get, + When lo, my wife about my feet e'en in the threshold clung, + Still to his father reaching out Iulus tender-young: + 'If thou art on thy way to die, then bear us through it all; + But if to thee the wise in arms some hope of arms befall, + Then keep this house first! Unto whom giv'st thou Iulus' life, + Thy father's, yea and mine withal, that once was called thy wife?' + + So crying out, the house she filled with her exceeding moan, + When sudden, wondrous to be told, a portent was there shown; 680 + For as his woeful parents' hands and lips he hangs between, + On topmost of Iulus' head a thin peaked flame is seen, + That with the harmless touch of fire, whence clearest light is shed, + Licks his soft locks and pastures round the temples of his head. + Quaking with awe from out his hair we fall the fire to shake, + And bring the water of the well the holy flame to slake. + But joyous to the stars aloft Anchises raiseth eyes, + And with his hands spread out abroad to very heaven he cries: + 'Almighty Jove, if thou hast will toward any prayers to turn, + Look down on us this while alone; if aught our goodness earn, 690 + Father, give help and strengthen us these omens from the sky!' + + Scarce had the elder said the word ere crashing suddenly + It thundered on the left, and down across the shades of night + Ran forth a great brand-bearing star with most abundant light; + And clear above the topmost house we saw it how it slid + Lightening the ways, and at the last in Ida's forest hid. + Then through the sky a furrow ran drawn out a mighty space, + Giving forth light, and sulphur-fumes rose all about the place. + + My father vanquished therewithal his visage doth upraise, + And saith a word unto the Gods that holy star to praise: 700 + 'Now, now, no tarrying is at all, I follow where ye lead; + O Father-Gods heed ye our house and this my son's son heed! + This is your doom; and Troy is held beneath your majesty. + I yield, O son, nor more gainsay to go my ways with thee.' + + He spake; and mid the walls meanwhile we hear the fire alive + Still clearer, and the burning place more nigh the heat doth drive. + + 'O hasten, father well-beloved, to hang about my neck! + Lo, here my shoulders will I stoop, nor of the labour reck. + And whatsoever may befall, the two of us shall bide + One peril and one heal and end: Iulus by my side 710 + Shall wend, and after us my wife shall follow on my feet + Ye serving-folk, turn ye your minds these words of mine to meet: + Scant from the city is a mound and temple of old tide, + Of Ceres' lone, a cypress-tree exceeding old beside. + Kept by our fathers' worshipping through many years agone: + Thither by divers roads go we to meet at last in one. + Now, father, take thy fathers' Gods and holy things to hold, + For me to touch them fresh from fight and murder were o'erbold, + A misdeed done against the Gods, till in the living flood + I make a shift to wash me clean.' 720 + + I stooped my neck and shoulders broad e'en as the word I said, + A forest lion's yellow fell for cloth upon them laid, + And took my burden up: my young Iulus by my side, + Holding my hand, goes tripping short unto his father's stride; + My wife comes after: on we fare amidst a mirky world. + And I, erewhile as nothing moved by storm of weapons hurled, + I, who the gathering of the Greeks against me nothing feared, + Now tremble at each breath of wind, by every sound am stirred, + Sore troubled for my fellows both, and burden that I bore. + + And now we draw anigh the gates, and all the way seemed o'er, 730 + When sudden sound of falling feet was borne upon our ears, + And therewithal my father cries, as through the dusk he peers, + 'Haste, son, and get thee swift away, for they are on us now; + I see the glittering of the brass and all their shields aglow.' + + What Godhead nought a friend to me amidst my terror there + Snatched wit away I nothing know: for while I swiftly fare + By wayless places, wandering wide from out the road I knew, + Creusa, whether her the Fates from me unhappy drew, + Whether she wandered from the way, or weary lagged aback, + Nought know I, but that her henceforth mine eyes must ever lack. 740 + Nor turned I round to find her lost, nor had it in my thought, + Till to that mound and ancient house of Ceres we were brought; + Where, all being come together now, there lacked but her alone, + And there her fellows' hopes, her son's, her husband's were undone. + + On whom of men, on whom of Gods, then laid I not the guilt? + What saw I bitterer to be borne in all the city spilt? + Ascanius and Anchises set the Teucrian Gods beside, + I give unto my fellows there in hollow dale to hide, + But I unto the city turn with glittering weapons girt; + Needs must I search all Troy again, and open every hurt, 750 + And into every peril past must thrust my head once more. + And first I reach the walls again and mirk ways of the door + Whereby I wended out erewhile; and my old footsteps' track + I find, and mid the dusk of night with close eyes follow back; + While on the heart lies weight of fear, and e'en the hush brings dread, + Thence to the house, if there perchance, if there again she tread, + I go: infall of Greeks had been, and all the house they hold, + And 'neath the wind the ravening fire to highest ridge is rolled. + The flames hang o'er, with raging heat the heavens are hot withal; + Still on: I look on Priam's house and topmost castle-wall; 760 + And in the desert cloisters there and Juno's very home + Lo, Phoenix and Ulysses cursed, the chosen wards, are come + To keep the spoil; fair things of Troy, from everywhither brought, + Rapt from the burning of the shrines, Gods' tables rudely caught, + And beakers utterly of gold and raiment snatched away + Are there heaped up; and boys and wives drawn out in long array + Stand trembling round about the heap. + And now withal I dared to cast my cries upon the dark, + I fill the streets with clamour great, and, groaning woefully, + 'Creusa,' o'er and o'er again without avail I cry. 770 + + But as I sought and endlessly raved all the houses through + A hapless shape, Creusa's shade, anigh mine eyen drew, + And greater than the body known her image fashioned was; + I stood amazed, my hair rose up, nor from my jaws would pass + My frozen voice, then thus she spake my care to take away: + 'Sweet husband, wherefore needest thou with such mad sorrow play? + Without the dealing of the Gods doth none of this betide; + And they, they will not have thee bear Creusa by thy side, + Nor will Olympus' highest king such fellowship allow. + Long exile is in store for thee, huge plain of sea to plough, 780 + Then to Hesperia shalt thou come, where Lydian Tiber's wave + The wealthiest meads of mighty men with gentle stream doth lave: + There happy days and lordship great, and kingly wife, are born + For thee. Ah! do away thy tears for loved Creusa lorn. + I shall not see the Myrmidons' nor Dolopes' proud place, + Nor wend my ways to wait upon the Greekish women's grace; + I, daughter of the Dardan race, I, wife of Venus' son; + Me the great Mother of the Gods on Trojan shore hath won. + Farewell, and love the son we loved together once, we twain.' + + She left me when these words were given, me weeping sore, and fain 790 + To tell her much, and forth away amid thin air she passed: + And there three times about her neck I strove mine arms to cast, + And thrice away from out my hands the gathered image streams, + E'en as the breathing of the wind or winged thing of dreams. + + And so at last, the night all spent, I meet my folk anew; + And there I found great multitude that fresh unto us drew, + And wondered thereat: wives were there, and men, and plenteous youth; + All gathered for the faring forth, a hapless crowd forsooth: + From everywhere they draw to us, with goods and courage set, + To follow o'er the sea where'er my will may lead them yet. 800 + + And now o'er Ida's topmost ridge at last the day-star rose + With dawn in hand: all gates and doors by host of Danaan foes + Were close beset, and no more hope of helping may I bide. + I turned and took my father up and sought the mountain-side. + + + + +BOOK III. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS TELLS OF HIS WANDERINGS AND MISHAPS BY LAND AND BY SEA. + + + Now after it had pleased the Gods on high to overthrow + The Asian weal and sackless folk of Priam, and alow + Proud Ilium lay, and Neptune's Troy was smouldering on the ground, + For diverse outlands of the earth and waste lands are we bound, + Driven by omens of the Gods. Our fleet we built beneath + Antandros, and the broken steeps of Phrygian Ida's heath, + Unwitting whither Fate may drive, or where the Gods shall stay + And there we draw together men. + Now scarce upon the way + Was summer when my father bade spread sails to Fate at last. + Weeping I leave my fatherland, and out of haven passed 10 + Away from fields where Troy-town was, an outcast o'er the deep, + With folk and son and Household Gods and Greater Gods to keep. + + Far off a peopled land of Mars lies midst its mighty plain, + Tilled of the Thracians; there whilom did fierce Lycurgus reign. + 'Twas ancient guesting-place of Troy: our Gods went hand in hand + While bloomed our weal: there are we borne, and on the hollow strand + I set my first-born city down, 'neath evil fates begun, + And call the folk AEneadae from name myself had won. + + Unto Dione's daughter there, my mother, and the rest, + I sacrificed upon a day to gain beginning blest, 20 + And to the King of Heavenly folk was slaying on the shore + A glorious bull: at hand by chance a mound at topmost bore + A cornel-bush and myrtle stiff with shafts close set around: + Thereto I wend and strive to pluck a green shoot from the ground, + That I with leafy boughs thereof may clothe the altars well; + When lo, a portent terrible and marvellous to tell! + For the first stem that from the soil uprooted I tear out + Oozes black drops of very blood, that all the earth about + Is stained with gore: but as for me, with sudden horror chill + My limbs fall quaking, and my blood with freezing fear stands still. 30 + Yet I go on and strive from earth a new tough shoot to win, + That I may search out suddenly what causes lurk within; + And once again from out the bark blood followeth as before. + + I turn the matter in my mind: the Field-Nymphs I adore, + And him, Gradivus, father dread, who rules the Thracian plain, + And pray them turn the thing to good and make its threatenings vain. + But when upon a third of them once more I set my hand, + And striving hard thrust both my knees upon the opposing sand-- + --Shall I speak now or hold my peace?--a piteous groan is heard + From out the mound, and to mine ears is borne a dreadful word: 40 + 'Why manglest thou a wretched man? O spare me in my tomb! + Spare to beguilt thy righteous hand, AEneas! Troy's own womb + Bore me, thy kinsman; from this stem floweth no alien gore: + Woe's me! flee forth the cruel land, flee forth the greedy shore; + For I am Polydore: pierced through, by harvest of the spear + O'ergrown, that such a crop of shafts above my head doth bear.' + + I stood amazed: the wildering fear the heart in me down-weighed. + My hair rose up, my frozen breath within my jaws was stayed. + Unhappy Priam privily had sent this Polydore, + For fostering to the Thracian king with plenteous golden store. 50 + In those first days when he began to doubt the Dardan might, + Having the leaguered walls of Troy for ever in his sight. + This king, as failed the weal of Troy and fortune fell away, + Turned him about to conquering arms and Agamemnon's day. + He brake all right, slew Polydore, and all the gold he got + Perforce: O thou gold-hunger cursed, and whither driv'st thou not + The hearts of men? + But when at length the fear from me did fall, + Unto the chosen of the folk, my father first of all, + I show those portents of the Gods and ask them of their will, + All deem it good that we depart that wicked land of ill, 60 + And leave that blighted guesting-place and give our ships the breeze. + Therefore to Polydore we do the funeral services, + The earth is heaped up high in mound; the Death-Gods' altars stand + Woeful with bough of cypress black and coal-blue holy band; + The wives of Ilium range about with due dishevelled hair; + Cups of the warm and foaming milk unto the dead we bear, + And bowls of holy blood we bring, and lay the soul in grave, + And cry a great farewell to him, the last that he shall have. + But now, when we may trust the sea and winds the ocean keep + Unangered, and the South bids on light whispering to the deep, 70 + Our fellows crowd the sea-beach o'er and run the ships adown, + And from the haven are we borne, and fadeth field and town. + + Amid the sea a land there lies, sweet over everything, + Loved of the Nereids' mother, loved by that AEgean king + Great Neptune: this, a-wandering once all coasts and shores around, + The Bow-Lord good to Gyaros and high Myconos bound, + And bade it fixed to cherish folk nor fear the wind again: + There come we; and that gentlest isle receives us weary men; + In haven safe we land, and thence Apollo's town adore; + King Anius, who, a king of men, Apollo's priesthood bore, 80 + His temples with the fillets done and crowned with holy bays, + Meets us, and straight Anchises knows, his friend of early days. + So therewith hand to hand we join and houseward get us gone. + + There the God's fane I pray unto, the place of ancient stone: + 'Thymbraean, give us house and home, walls to the weary give, + In folk and city to endure: let Pergamus twice live, + In Troy twice built, left of the Greeks, left of Achilles' wrath! + Ah, whom to follow? where to go? wherein our home set forth? + O Father, give us augury and sink into our heart! + + Scarce had I said the word, when lo all doors with sudden start 90 + Fell trembling, and the bay of God, and all the mountain side, + Was stirred, and in the opened shrine the holy tripod cried: + There as a voice fell on our ears we bowed ourselves to earth: + 'O hardy folk of Dardanus, the land that gave you birth + From root and stem of fathers old, its very bosom kind, + Shall take you back: go fare ye forth, your ancient mother find: + There shall AEneas' house be lords o'er every earth and sea, + The children of his children's sons, and those that thence shall be.' + + So Phoebus spake, and mighty joy arose with tumult mixed, + As all fell wondering where might be that seat of city fixed, 100 + Where Phoebus called us wandering folk, bidding us turn again. + Thereat my father, musing o'er the tales of ancient men, + Saith: 'Hearken, lords, and this your hope a little learn of me! + There is an isle of mightiest Jove called Crete amid the sea; + An hundred cities great it hath, that most abundant place; + And there the hill of Ida is, and cradle of our race. + Thence Teucer our first father came, if right the tale they tell, + When borne to those Rhoetean shores he chose a place to dwell + A very king: no Ilium was, no Pergamus rose high; + He and his folk abode as then in dales that lowly lie: 110 + Thence came Earth-mother Cybele and Corybantian brass, + And Ida's thicket; thence the hush all hallowed came to pass, + And thence the lions yoked and tame, the Lady's chariot drag. + On then! and led by God's command for nothing let us lag! + Please we the winds, and let our course for Gnosian land be laid; + Nor long the way shall be for us: with Jupiter to aid, + The third-born sun shall stay our ships upon the Cretan shore.' + + So saying, all the offerings due he to the altar bore, + A bull to Neptune, and a bull to thee, Apollo bright, + A black ewe to the Storm of sea, to Zephyr kind a white. 120 + Fame went that Duke Idomeneus, thrust from his fathers' land, + Had gone his ways, and desert now was all the Cretan strand, + That left all void of foes to us those habitations lie. + Ortygia's haven then we leave, and o'er the sea we fly + By Naxos of the Bacchus ridge, Donusa's green-hued steep, + And Olearon, and Paros white, and scattered o'er the deep + All Cyclades; we skim the straits besprent with many a folk; + And diverse clamour mid the ships seafarers striving woke; + Each eggs his fellow; On for Crete, and sires of time agone! + And rising up upon our wake a fair wind followed on. 130 + + And so at last we glide along the old Curetes' strand, + And straightway eager do I take the city wall in hand, + And call it Pergamea, and urge my folk that name who love, + For love of hearth and home to raise a burg their walls above. + + And now the more part of the ships are hauled up high and dry, + To wedding and to work afield the folk fall presently, + And I give laws and portion steads; when suddenly there fell + From poisoned heaven a wasting plague, a wretched thing to tell, + On limbs of men, on trees and fields; and deadly was the year, + And men must leave dear life and die, or weary sick must bear 140 + Their bodies on: then Sirius fell to burn the acres dry; + The grass was parched, the harvest sick all victual did deny. + Then bids my father back once more o'er the twice-measured main, + To Phoebus and Ortygia's strand, some grace of prayer to gain: + What end to our outworn estate he giveth? whence will he + That we should seek us aid of toil; where turn to o'er the sea? + Night falleth, and all lives of earth doth sleep on bosom bear, + When lo, the holy images, the Phrygian House-gods there, + E'en them I bore away from Troy and heart of burning town, + Were present to the eyes of me in slumber laid adown, 150 + Clear shining in the plenteous light that over all was shed + By the great moon anigh her full through windows fashioned. + Then thus they fall to speech with me, end of my care to make: + + 'The thing that in Ortygia erst the seer Apollo spake + Here telleth he, and to thy doors come we of his good will: + Thee and thine arms from Troy aflame fast have we followed still. + We 'neath thy care and in thy keel have climbed the swelling sea, + And we shall bear unto the stars thy sons that are to be, + And give thy city majesty: make ready mighty wall + For mighty men, nor toil of way leave thou, though long it fall. 160 + Shift hence abode; the Delian-born Apollo ne'er made sweet + These shores for thee, nor bade thee set thy city down in Crete: + There is a place, the Westland called of Greeks in days that are, + An ancient land, a fruitful soil, a mighty land of war; + Oenotrian folk first tilled the land, whose sons, as rumours run, + Now call it nought but Italy, from him who led them on. + This is our very due abode: thence Dardanus outbroke, + Iasius our father thence, beginner of our folk. + Come rise, and glad these tidings tell unto thy father old, + No doubtful tale: now Corythus, Ausonian field and fold 170 + Let him go seek, for Jupiter banneth Dictaean mead.' + + All mazed was I with sight and voice of Gods; because indeed + This was not sleep, but face to face, as one a real thing sees. + I seemed to see their coifed hair and very visages, + And over all my body too cold sweat of trembling flowed. + I tore my body from the bed, and, crying out aloud, + I stretched my upturned hands to heaven and unstained gifts I spilled + Upon the hearth, and joyfully that worship I fulfilled. + Anchises next I do to wit and all the thing unlock; + And he, he saw the twi-branched stem, twin fathers of our stock, 180 + And how by fault of yesterday through steads of old he strayed. + + 'O son, well learned in all the lore of Ilium's fate,' he said, + 'Cassandra only of such hap would sing; I mind me well + Of like fate meted to our folk full oft would she foretell; + And oft would call to Italy and that Hesperian home. + But who believed that Teucrian folk on any day might come + Unto Hesperia's shores? or who might trow Cassandra then? + Yield we to Phoebus, follow we as better counselled men + The better part.' + We, full of joy, obey him with one mind; + From this seat too we fare away and leave a few behind; 190 + With sail abroad in hollow tree we skim the ocean o'er. + + But when our keels the deep sea made, nor had we any more + The land in sight, but sea around, and sky around was spread, + A coal-blue cloud drew up to us that, hanging overhead, + Bore night and storm, and mirky gloom o'er all the waters cast: + Therewith the winds heap up the waves, the seas are rising fast + And huge; and through the mighty whirl scattered we toss about; + The storm-clouds wrap around the day, and wet mirk blotteth out + The heavens, and mid the riven clouds the ceaseless lightnings live. + So are we blown from out our course, through might of seas we drive, 200 + Nor e'en might Palinurus self the day from night-tide sift, + Nor have a deeming of the road atwixt the watery drift. + Still on for three uncertain suns, that blind mists overlay, + And e'en so many starless nights, across the sea we stray; + But on the fourth day at the last afar upon us broke + The mountains of another land, mid curling wreaths of smoke. + Then fall the sails, we rise on oars, no sloth hath any place, + The eager seamen toss the spray and sweep the blue sea's face; + And me first saved from whirl of waves the Strophades on strand + Now welcome; named by Greekish name Isles of the Sea, they stand 210 + Amid the great Ionian folk: Celaeno holds the shores, + And others of the Harpies grim, since shut were Phineus' doors + Against them, and they had to leave the tables they had won. + No monster woefuller than they, and crueller is none + Of all God's plagues and curses dread from Stygian waters sent. + A winged thing with maiden face, whose bellies' excrement + Is utter foul; and hooked hands, and face for ever pale + With hunger that no feeding stints. + + Borne thither, into haven come, we see how everywhere + The merry wholesome herds of neat feed down the meadows fair, 220 + And all untended goatish flocks amid the herbage bite. + With point and edge we fall on them, and all the Gods invite, + Yea very Jove, to share the spoil, and on the curved strand + We strew the beds, and feast upon rich dainties of the land. + When lo, with sudden dreadful rush from out the mountains hap + The Harpy folk, and all about their clanging wings they flap, + And foul all things with filthy touch as at the food they wrench, + And riseth up their grisly voice amid the evilest stench. + + Once more then 'neath a hollow rock at a long valley's head, 229 + Where close around the boughs of trees their quavering shadows shed, + We dight the boards, and once again flame on the altars raise. + Again from diverse parts of heaven, from dusky lurking-place, + The shrieking rout with hooked feet about the prey doth fly, + Fouling the feast with mouth: therewith I bid my company + To arms, that with an evil folk the war may come to pass. + They do no less than my commands, and lay along the grass + Their hidden swords, and therewithal their bucklers cover o'er. + Wherefore, when swooping down again, they fill the curved shore + With noise, Misenus blows the call from off a watch-stead high + With hollow brass; our folk fall on and wondrous battle try, 240 + Striving that sea-fowl's filthy folk with point and edge to spill. + But nought will bite upon their backs, and from their feathers still + Glanceth the sword, and swift they flee up 'neath the stars of air, + Half-eaten meat and token foul leaving behind them there. + But on a rock exceeding high yet did Celaeeno rest, + Unhappy seer! there breaks withal a voice from out her breast: + + 'What, war to pay for slaughtered neat, war for our heifers slain? + O children of Laomedon, the war then will ye gain? + The sackless Harpies will ye drive from their own land away? + Then let this sink into your souls, heed well the words I say; 250 + The Father unto Phoebus told a tale that Phoebus told + To me, and I the first-born fiend that same to you unfold: + Ye sail for Italy, and ye, the winds appeased by prayer, + Shall come to Italy, and gain the grace of haven there: + Yet shall ye gird no wall about the city granted you, + Till famine, and this murder's wrong that ye were fain to do, + Drive you your tables gnawed with teeth to eat up utterly.' + + She spake, and through the woody deeps borne off on wings did fly. + But sudden fear fell on our folk, and chilled their frozen blood; 259 + Their hearts fell down; with weapon-stroke no more they deem it good + To seek for peace: but rather now sore prayers and vows they will, + Whether these things be goddesses or filthy fowls of ill. + Father Anchises on the strand stretched both his hands abroad, + And, bidding all their worship due, the Mighty Ones adored: + 'Gods, bring their threats to nought! O Gods, turn ye the curse, we pray! + Be kind, and keep the pious folk!' + Then bade he pluck away + The hawser from the shore and slack the warping cable's strain: + The south wind fills the sails, we fare o'er foaming waves again, + E'en as the helmsman and the winds have will that we should fare. + + And now amidmost of the flood Zacynthus' woods appear, 270 + Dulichium, Samos, Neritos, with sides of stony steep: + Wide course from cliffs of Ithaca, Laertes' land, we keep, + Cursing the soil that bore and nursed Ulysses' cruelty. + Now open up Leucata's peaks, that fare so cloudy high + Over Apollo, mighty dread to all seafarers grown; + But weary thither do we steer and make the little town, + We cast the anchors from the bows and swing the sterns a-strand. + And therewithal since we at last have gained the longed-for land, + We purge us before Jupiter and by the altars pray, + Then on the shores of Actium's head the Ilian plays we play. 280 + Anointed with the sleeking oil there strive our fellows stripped + In wrestling game of fatherland: it joys us to have slipped + By such a host of Argive towns amidmost of the foe. + + Meanwhile, the sun still pressing on, the year about doth go, + And frosty winter with his north the sea's face rough doth wear; + A buckler of the hollow brass of mighty Abas' gear + I set amid the temple-doors with singing scroll thereon, + AENEAS HANGETH ARMOUR HERE FROM CONQUERING DANAANS WON. + And then I bid to leave the shore and man the thwarts again. + Hard strive the folk in smiting sea, and oar-blades brush the main. 290 + The airy high Phaeacian towers sink down behind our wake, + And coasting the Epirote shores Chaonia's bay we make, + And so Buthrotus' city-walls high set we enter in. + + There tidings hard for us to trow unto our ears do win, + How Helenus, e'en Priam's son, hath gotten wife and crown + Of Pyrrhus come of AEacus, and ruleth Greekish town, + And that Andromache hath wed one of her folk once more. + All mazed am I; for wondrous love my heart was kindling sore + To give some word unto the man, of such great things to learn: + So from the haven forth I fare, from ships and shore I turn. 300 + + But as it happed Andromache was keeping yearly day, + Pouring sad gifts unto the dead, amidst a grove that lay + Outside the town, by wave that feigned the Simois that had been, + Blessing the dead by Hector's mound empty and grassy green, + Which she with altars twain thereby had hallowed for her tears. + But when she saw me drawing nigh with armour that Troy bears + About me, senseless, throughly feared with marvels grown so great, + She stiffens midst her gaze; her bones are reft of life-blood's heat, + She totters, scarce, a long while o'er, this word comes forth from her: + + 'Is the show true, O Goddess-born? com'st thou a messenger 310 + Alive indeed? or if from thee the holy light is fled, + Where then is Hector?' + Flowed the tears e'en as the word she said, + And with her wailing rang the place: sore moved I scarce may speak + This word to her, grown wild with grief, in broken voice and weak: + 'I live indeed, I drag my life through outer ways of ill; + Doubt not, thou seest the very sooth. + Alas! what hap hath caught thee up from such a man downcast? + Hath any fortune worthy thee come back again at last? + Doth Hector's own Andromache yet serve in Pyrrhus' bed?' + + She cast her countenance adown, and in a low voice said: 320 + 'O thou alone of Trojan maids that won a little joy, + Bidden to die on foeman's tomb before the walls of Troy! + Who died, and never had to bear the sifting lot's award, + Whose slavish body never touched the bed of victor lord! + We from our burning fatherland carried o'er many a sea, + Of Achillaean offspring's pride the yoke-fellow must be, + Must bear the childbed of a slave: thereafter he, being led + To Leda's child Hermione and that Laconian bed, + To Helenus his very thrall me very thrall gave o'er: + But there Orestes, set on fire by all the love he bore 330 + His ravished wife, and mad with hate, comes on him unaware + Before his fathers' altar-stead and slays him then and there. + + By death of Neoptolemus his kingdom's leavings came + To Helenus, who called the fields Chaonian fields by name, + And all the land Chaonia, from Chaon of Troy-town; + And Pergamus and Ilian burg on ridgy steep set down. + What winds, what fates gave thee the road to cross the ocean o'er? + Or what of Gods hath borne thee on unwitting to our shore? + What of the boy Ascanius? lives he and breathes he yet? + Whom unto thee when Troy yet was---- 340 + The boy then, of his mother lost, hath he a thought of her? + Do him AEneas, Hector gone, father and uncle, stir, + To valour of the ancient days, and great hearts' glorious gain?' + + Such tale she poured forth, weeping sore, and long she wept in vain + Great floods of tears: when lo, from out the city draweth nigh + Lord Helenus the Priam-born midst mighty company, + And knows his kin, and joyfully leads onward to his door, + Though many a tear 'twixt broken words the while doth he outpour. + So on; a little Troy I see feigned from great Troy of fame, + A Pergamus, a sandy brook that hath the Xanthus name, 350 + On threshold of a Scaean gate I stoop to lay a kiss. + Soon, too, all Teucrian folk are wrapped in friendly city's bliss, + And them the King fair welcomes in amid his cloisters broad, + And they amidmost of the hall the bowls of Bacchus poured, + The meat was set upon the gold, and cups they held in hand. + + So passed a day and other day, until the gales command + The sails aloft, and canvas swells with wind from out the South: + Therewith I speak unto the seer, such matters in my mouth: + 'O Troy-born, O Gods' messenger, who knowest Phoebus' will, + The tripods and the Clarian's bay, and what the stars fulfil, 360 + And tongues of fowl, and omens brought by swift foreflying wing, + Come, tell the tale! for of my way a happy heartening thing + All shrines have said, and all the Gods have bid me follow on + To Italy, till outland shores, far off, remote were won: + Alone Celaeno, Harpy-fowl, new dread of fate set forth, + Unmeet to tell, and bade us fear the grimmest day of wrath, + And ugly hunger. How may I by early perils fare? + Or doing what may I have might such toil to overbear?' + + So Helenus, when he hath had the heifers duly slain, + Prays peace of Gods, from hallowed head he doffs the bands again, 370 + And then with hand he leadeth me, O Phoebus, to thy door, + My fluttering soul with all thy might of godhead shadowed o'er. + There forth at last from God-loved mouth the seer this word did send: + + 'O Goddess-born, full certainly across the sea ye wend + By mightiest bidding, such the lot the King of Gods hath found + All fateful; so he rolls the world, so turns its order round. + Few things from many will I tell that thou the outland sea + May'st sail the safer, and at last make land in Italy; + The other things the Parcae still ban Helenus to wot, + Saturnian Juno's will it is that more he utter not. 380 + First, from that Italy, which thou unwitting deem'st anigh, + Thinking to make in little space the haven close hereby, + Long is the wayless way that shears, and long the length of land; + And first in the Trinacrian wave must bend the rower's wand. + On plain of that Ausonian salt your ships must stray awhile, + And thou must see the nether meres, AEaean Circe's isle, + Ere thou on earth assured and safe thy city may'st set down. + I show thee tokens; in thy soul store thou the tokens shown. + When thou with careful heart shalt stray the secret stream anigh, + And 'neath the holm-oaks of the shore shalt see a great sow lie, 390 + That e'en now farrowed thirty head of young, long on the ground + She lieth white, with piglings white their mother's dugs around,-- + That earth shall be thy city's place, there rest from toil is stored. + Nor shudder at the coming curse, the gnawing of the board, + The Fates shall find a way thereto; Apollo called shall come. + But flee these lands of Italy, this shore so near our home, + That washing of the strand thereof our very sea-tide seeks; + For in all cities thereabout abide the evil Greeks. + There now have come the Locrian folk Narycian walls to build; + And Lyctian Idomeneus Sallentine meads hath filled 400 + With war-folk; Philoctetes there holdeth Petelia small, + Now by that Meliboean duke fenced round with mighty wall. + Moreover, when your ships have crossed the sea, and there do stay, + And on the altars raised thereto your vows ashore ye pay, + Be veiled of head, and wrap thyself in cloth of purple dye, + Lest 'twixt you and the holy fires ye light to God on high + Some face of foeman should thrust in the holy signs to spill. + Now let thy folk, yea and thyself, this worship thus fulfil, + And let thy righteous sons of sons such fashion ever mind. + But when, gone forth, to Sicily thou comest on the wind, 410 + And when Pelorus' narrow sea is widening all away, + Your course for leftward lying land and leftward waters lay, + How long soe'er ye reach about: flee right-hand shore and wave. + In time agone some mighty thing this place to wrack down drave, + So much for changing of the world doth lapse of time avail. + + It split atwain, when heretofore the two lands, saith the tale, + Had been but one, the sea rushed in and clave with mighty flood + Hesperia's side from Italy, and field and city stood + Drawn back on either shore, along a sundering sea-race strait. + There Scylla on the right hand lurks, the left insatiate 420 + Charybdis holds, who in her maw all whirling deep adown + Sucketh the great flood tumbling in thrice daily, which out-thrown + Thrice daily doth she spout on high, smiting the stars with brine. + But Scylla doth the hidden hole of mirky cave confine; + With face thrust forth she draweth ships on to that stony bed; + Manlike above, with maiden breast and lovely fashioned + Down to the midst, she hath below huge body of a whale, + And unto maw of wolfish heads is knit a dolphin's tail. + 'Tis better far to win about Pachynus, outer ness + Of Sicily, and reach long round, despite the weariness, 430 + Than have that ugly sight of her within her awful den, + And hear her coal-blue baying dogs and rocks that ring again. + + Now furthermore if Helenus in anything have skill, + Or aught of trust, or if his soul with sooth Apollo fill, + Of one thing, Goddess-born, will I forewarn thee over all, + And spoken o'er and o'er again my word on thee shall fall: + The mighty Juno's godhead first let many a prayer seek home; + To Juno sing your vows in joy, with suppliant gifts o'ercome + That Lady of all Might; and so, Trinacria overpast, + Shalt thou be sped to Italy victorious at the last. 440 + When there thou com'st and Cumae's town amidst thy way hast found, + The Holy Meres, Avernus' woods fruitful of many a sound, + There the wild seer-maid shalt thou see, who in a rock-hewn cave + Singeth of fate, and letteth leaves her names and tokens have: + But whatso song upon those leaves the maiden seer hath writ + She ordereth duly, and in den of live stone leaveth it: + There lie the written leaves unmoved, nor shift their ordered rows. + But when the hinge works round, and thence a light air on them blows, + Then, when the door doth disarray among the frail leaves bear, + To catch them fluttering in the cave she never hath a care, 450 + Nor will she set them back again nor make the song-words meet; + So folk unanswered go their ways and loathe the Sibyl's seat. + But thou, count not the cost of time that there thou hast to spend; + Although thy fellows blame thee sore, and length of way to wend + Call on thy sails, and thou may'st fill their folds with happy gale, + Draw nigh the seer, and strive with prayers to have her holy tale; + Beseech her sing, and that her words from willing tongue go free: + So reverenced shall she tell thee tale of folk of Italy + And wars to come; and how to 'scape, and how to bear each ill, + And with a happy end at last thy wandering shall fulfil. 460 + Now is this all my tongue is moved to tell thee lawfully: + Go, let thy deeds Troy's mightiness exalt above the sky!' + + So when the seer from loving mouth such words as this had said, + Then gifts of heavy gold and gifts of carven tooth he bade + Be borne a-shipboard; and our keels he therewithal doth stow + With Dodonaean kettle-ware and silver great enow, + A coat of hooked woven mail and triple golden chain, + A helm with noble towering crest crowned with a flowing mane, + The arms of Pyrrhus: gifts most meet my father hath withal; + And steeds he gives and guides he gives, 470 + Fills up the tale of oars, and arms our fellows to their need. + Anchises still was bidding us meanwhile to have a heed + Of setting sail, nor with the wind all fair to make delay; + To whom with words of worship now doth Phoebus' servant say: + 'Anchises, thou whom Venus' bed hath made so glorious, + Care of the Gods, twice caught away from ruin of Pergamus, + Lo, there the Ausonian land for thee, set sail upon the chase: + Yet needs must thou upon the sea glide by its neighbouring face. + Far off is that Ausonia yet that Phoebus open lays. + Fare forth, made glad with pious son! why tread I longer ways 480 + Of speech, and stay the rising South with words that I would tell?' + + And therewithal Andromache, sad with the last farewell, + Brings for Ascanius raiment wrought with picturing wool of gold, + And Phrygian coat; nor will she have our honour wax acold, + But loads him with the woven gifts, and such word sayeth she: + 'Take these, fair boy; keep them to be my hands' last memory, + The tokens of enduring love thy younger days did win + From Hector's wife Andromache, the last gifts of thy kin. + O thou, of my Astyanax the only image now! + Such eyes he had, such hands he had, such countenance as thou, 490 + And now with thee were growing up in equal tale of years.' + + Then I, departing, spake to them amid my rising tears: + 'Live happy! Ye with fortune's game have nothing more to play, + While we from side to side thereof are hurried swift away. + Your rest hath blossomed and brought forth; no sea-field shall ye till, + Seeking the fields of Italy that fade before you still. + Ye see another Xanthus here, ye see another Troy, + Made by your hands for better days mehopes, and longer joy: + And soothly less it lies across the pathway of the Greek, + If ever I that Tiber flood and Tiber fields I seek 500 + Shall enter, and behold the walls our folk shall win of fate. + Twin cities some day shall we have, and folks confederate, + Epirus and Hesperia; from Dardanus each came, + One fate had each: them shall we make one city and the same, + One Troy in heart: lo, let our sons of sons' sons see to it!' + + Past nigh Ceraunian mountain-sides thence o'er the sea we flit, + Whence the sea-way to Italy the shortest may be made. + But in the meanwhile sets the sun, the dusk hills lie in shade, + And, choosing oar-wards, down we lie on bosom of the land + So wished for: by the water-side and on the dry sea-strand 510 + We tend our bodies here and there; sleep floodeth every limb. + But ere the hour-bedriven night in midmost orb did swim, + Nought slothful Palinurus rose, and wisdom strives to win + Of all the winds: with eager ear the breeze he drinketh in; + He noteth how through silent heaven the stars soft gliding fare, + Arcturus, the wet Hyades, and either Northern Bear, + And through and through he searcheth out Orion girt with gold. + So when he sees how everything a peaceful sky foretold, + He bloweth clear from off the poop, and we our campment shift, + And try the road and spread abroad our sail-wings to the lift. 520 + + And now, the stars all put to flight, Aurora's blushes grow, + When we behold dim fells afar and long lands lying low, + --E'en Italy. Achates first cries out on Italy; + To Italy our joyous folk glad salutation cry. + Anchises then a mighty bowl crowned with a garland fair, + And filled it with unwatered wine and called the Gods to hear, + High standing on the lofty deck: + 'O Gods that rule the earth and sea, and all the tides of storm, + Make our way easy with the wind, breathe on us kindly breath!' + + Then riseth up the longed-for breeze, the haven openeth 530 + As nigh we draw, and on the cliff a fane of Pallas shows: + Therewith our fellow-folk furl sail and shoreward turn the prows. + Bow-wise the bight is hollowed out by eastward-setting flood, + But over-foamed by salt-sea spray thrust out its twin horns stood, + While it lay hidden; tower-like rocks let down on either hand + Twin arms of rock-wall, and the fane lies backward from the stand. + + But I beheld upon the grass four horses, snowy white, + Grazing the meadows far and wide, first omen of my sight. + Father Anchises seeth and saith: 'New land, and bear'st thou war? + For war are horses dight; so these war-threatening herd-beasts are. 540 + Yet whiles indeed those four-foot things in car will well refrain, + And tamed beneath the yoke will bear the bit and bridle's strain, + So there is yet a hope of peace.' + Then on the might we call + Of Pallas of the weapon-din, first welcomer of all, + And veil our brows before the Gods with cloth of Phrygian dye; + And that chief charge of Helenus we do all rightfully, + And Argive Juno worship there in such wise as is willed. + + We tarry not, but when all vows are duly there fulfilled, + Unto the wind our sail-yard horns we fall to turn about, + And leave the houses of the Greeks, and nursing fields of doubt. 550 + And next is seen Tarentum's bay, the Herculean place + If fame tell true; Lacinia then, the house of Gods, we face; + And Caulon's towers, and Scylaceum, of old the shipman's bane. + Then see we AEtna rise far off above Trinacria's main; + Afar the mighty moan of sea, and sea-cliffs beaten sore, + We hearken, and the broken voice that cometh from the shore: + The sea leaps high upon the shoals, the eddy churns the sand. + + Then saith Anchises: 'Lo forsooth, Charybdis is at hand, + Those rocks and stones the dread whereof did Helenus foretell. + Save ye, O friends! swing out the oars together now and well!' 560 + + Nor worser than his word they do, and first the roaring beaks + Doth Palinurus leftward wrest; then all the sea-host seeks + With sail and oar the waters wild upon the left that lie: + Upheaved upon the tossing whirl we fare unto the sky, + Then down unto the nether Gods we sink upon the wave: + Thrice from the hollow-carven rocks great roar the sea-cliffs gave; + Thrice did we see the spray cast forth and stars with sea-dew done; + But the wind left us weary folk at sinking of the sun, + And on the Cyclops' strand we glide unwitting of the way. + + Locked from the wind the haven is, itself an ample bay; 570 + But hard at hand mid ruin and fear doth AEtna thunder loud; + And whiles it blasteth forth on air a black and dreadful cloud, + That rolleth on a pitchy wreath, where bright the ashes mix, + And heaveth up great globes of flame and heaven's high star-world licks, + And other whiles the very cliffs, and riven mountain-maw + It belches forth; the molten stones together will it draw + Aloft with moan, and boileth o'er from lowest inner vale. + This world of mountain presseth down, as told it is in tale, + Enceladus the thunder-scorched; huge AEtna on him cast, + From all her bursten furnaces breathes out his fiery blast; 580 + And whensoe'er his weary side he shifteth, all the shore + Trinacrian trembleth murmuring, and heaven is smoke-clad o'er. + + In thicket close we wear the night amidst these marvels dread, + Nor may we see what thing it is that all that noise hath shed: + For neither showed the planet fires, nor was the heaven bright + With starry zenith; mirky cloud hung over all the night, + In mist of dead untimely tide the moon was hidden close. + + But when from earliest Eastern dawn the following day arose, + And fair Aurora from the heaven the watery shades had cleared, + Lo, suddenly from out the wood new shape of man appeared. 590 + Unknown he was, most utter lean, in wretchedest of plight: + Shoreward he stretched his suppliant hands; we turn back at the sight, + And gaze on him: all squalor there, a mat of beard we see, + And raiment clasped with wooden thorns; and yet a Greek is he, + Yea, sent erewhile to leaguered Troy in Greekish weed of war. + But when he saw our Dardan guise and arms of Troy afar, + Feared at the sight he hung aback at first a little space, + But presently ran headlong down into our sea-side place + With tears and prayers: + 'O Teucrian men, by all the stars,' he cried, + 'By all the Gods, by light of heaven ye breathe, O bear me wide 600 + Away from here! to whatso land henceforth ye lead my feet + It is enough. That I am one from out the Danaan fleet, + And that I warred on Ilian house erewhile, most true it is; + For which, if I must pay so much wherein I wrought amiss, + Then strew me on the flood and sink my body in the sea! + To die by hands of very men shall be a joy to me.' + + He spake with arms about our knees, and wallowing still he clung + Unto our knees: but what he was and from what blood he sprung + We bade him say, and tell withal what fate upon him drave. + His right hand with no tarrying then Father Anchises gave 610 + Unto the youth, and heartened him with utter pledge of peace. + So now he spake when fear of us amid his heart did cease: + + 'Luckless Ulysses' man am I, and Ithaca me bore, + Hight Achemenides, who left that Adamastus poor + My father (would I still were there!) by leaguered Troy to be. + Here while my mates aquake with dread the cruel threshold flee, + They leave me in the Cyclops' den unmindful of their friend; + A house of blood and bloody meat, most huge from end to end, + Mirky within: high up aloft star-smiting to behold + Is he himself;--such bane, O God, keep thou from field and fold! 620 + Scarce may a man look on his face; no word to him is good; + On wretches' entrails doth he feed and black abundant blood. + Myself I saw him of our folk two hapless bodies take + In his huge hand, whom straight he fell athwart a stone to break + As there he lay upon his back; I saw the threshold swim + With spouted blood, I saw him grind each bloody dripping limb, + I saw the joints amidst his teeth all warm and quivering still. + --He payed therefore, for never might Ulysses bear such ill, + Nor was he worser than himself in such a pinch bestead: + For when with victual satiate, deep sunk in wine, his head 630 + Fell on his breast, and there he lay enormous through the den, + Snorting out gore amidst his sleep, with gobbets of the men + And mingled blood and wine; then we sought the great Gods with prayer + And drew the lots, and one and all crowded about him there, + And bored out with a sharpened pike the eye that used to lurk + Enormous lonely 'neath his brow overhanging grim and mirk, + As great a shield of Argolis, or Phoebus' lamp on high; + And so our murdered fellows' ghosts avenged we joyously. + --But ye, O miserable men, flee forth! make haste to pluck + The warping hawser from the shore! 640 + For even such, and e'en so great as Polypheme in cave + Shuts in the wealth of woolly things and draws the udders' wave, + An hundred others commonly dwell o'er these curving bights, + Unutterable Cyclop folk, or stray about the heights. + Thrice have the twin horns of the moon fulfilled the circle clear + While I have dragged out life in woods and houses of the deer, + And gardens of the beasts; and oft from rocky place on high + Trembling I note the Cyclops huge, hear foot and voice go by. + And evil meat of wood-berries, and cornel's flinty fruit 649 + The bush-boughs give; on grass at whiles I browse, and plucked-up root + So wandering all about, at last I see unto the shore + Your ships a-coming: thitherward my steps in haste I bore: + Whate'er might hap enough it was to flee this folk of ill; + Rather do ye in any wise the life within me spill.' + + And scarcely had he said the word ere on the hill above + The very shepherd Polypheme his mountain mass did move, + A marvel dread, a shapeless trunk, an eyeless monstrous thing, + Who down unto the shore well known his sheep was shepherding; + A pine-tree in the hand of him leads on and stays his feet; + The woolly sheep his fellows are, his only pleasure sweet, 660 + The only solace of his ill. + But when he touched the waters deep, and mid the waves was come, + He falls to wash the flowing blood from off his eye dug out; + Gnashing his teeth and groaning sore he walks the sea about, + But none the less no wave there was up to his flank might win. + Afeard from far we haste to flee, and, having taken in + Our suppliant, who had earned it well, cut cable silently, + And bending to the eager oars sweep out along the sea. + He heard it, and his feet he set to follow on the sound; + But when his right hand failed to reach, and therewithal he found 670 + He might not speed as fast as fares the Ionian billow lithe, + Then clamour measureless he raised, and ocean quaked therewith + Through every wave, and inwardly the land was terrified + Of Italy, and AEtna boomed from many-hollowed side. + But all the race of Cyclops stirred from woods and lofty hills, + Down rushes to the haven-side and all the haven fills; + And AEtna's gathered brethren there we see; in vain they stand + Glowering grim-eyed with heads high up in heaven, a dreadful band + Of councillors: they were as when on ridge aloft one sees + The oaks stand thick against the sky, and cone-hung cypresses, 680 + Jove's lofty woods, or thicket where Diana's footsteps stray. + + Then headlong fear fell on our folk in whatsoever way + To shake the reefs out spreading sail to any wind that blew; + But Helenus had bid us steer a midmost course and true + 'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis, lest to death we sail o'er-close: + So safest seemed for backward course to let the sails go loose. + But lo, from out Pelorus' strait comes down the northern flaw, + And past Pantagia's haven-mouth of living stone we draw, + And through the gulf of Megara by Thapsus lying low. + Such names did Achemenides, Ulysses' fellow, show, 690 + As now he coasted back again the shore erst wandered by. + + In jaws of the Sicanian bay there doth an island lie + Against Plemyrium's wavy face; folk called it in old days + Ortygia: there, as tells the tale, Alpheus burrowed ways + From his own Elis 'neath the sea, and now by mouth of thine, + O Arethusa, blendeth him with that Sicilian brine. + We pray the isle's great deities, e'en as we bidden were: + And thence we pass the earth o'erfat about Helorus' mere; + Then by Pachynus' lofty crags and thrust-forth rocks we skim, + And Camarina showeth next a long way off and dim; 700 + Her whom the Fates would ne'er be moved: then comes the plain in sight + Of Gela, yea, and Gela huge from her own river hight: + Then Acragas the very steep shows great walls far away, + Begetter of the herds of horse high-couraged on a day. + Then thee, Selinus of the palms, I leave with happy wind, + And coast the Lilybean shoals and tangled skerries blind. + + But next the firth of Drepanum, the strand without a joy, + Will have me. There I tossed so sore, the tempests' very toy, + O woe is me! my father lose, lightener of every care, + Of every ill: me all alone, me weary, father dear, 710 + There wouldst thou leave; thou borne away from perils all for nought! + Ah, neither Helenus the seer, despite the fears he taught, + Nor grim Celaeno in her wrath, this grief of soul forebode. + This was the latest of my toils, the goal of all my road, + For me departed thence some God to this your land did bear." + + So did the Father AEneas, with all at stretch to hear, + Tell o'er the fateful ways of God, and of his wanderings teach: + But here he hushed him at the last and made an end of speech. + + + + +BOOK IV. + +ARGUMENT. + +HEREIN IS TOLD OF THE GREAT LOVE OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE, AND THE +WOEFUL ENDING OF HER. + + + Meanwhile the Queen, long smitten sore with sting of all desire, + With very heart's blood feeds the wound and wastes with hidden fire. + And still there runneth in her mind the hero's valiancy, + And glorious stock; his words, his face, fast in her heart they lie: + Nor may she give her body peace amid that restless pain. + + But when the next day Phoebus' lamp lit up the lands again, + And now Aurora from the heavens had rent the mist apart, + Sick-souled her sister she bespeaks, the sharer of her heart: + "Sister, O me, this sleepless pain that fears me with unrest! + O me, within our house and home this new-come wondrous guest! 10 + Ah, what a countenance and mien! in arms and heart how strong! + Surely to trow him of the Gods it doth no wisdom wrong; + For fear it is shows base-born souls. Woe's me! how tossed about + By fortune was he! how he showed war's utter wearing out! + And, but my heart for ever now were set immovably + Never to let me long again the wedding bond to tie, + Since love betrayed me first of all with him my darling dead, + And were I not all weary-sick of torch and bridal bed, + This sin alone of all belike my falling heart might trap; + For, Anna, I confess it thee, since poor Sychaeus' hap, 20 + My husband dead, my hearth acold through murderous brother's deed, + This one alone hath touched the quick; this one my heart may lead + Unto its fall: I feel the signs of fire of long agone. + And yet I pray the deeps of earth beneath my feet may yawn, + I pray the Father send me down bolt-smitten to the shades, + The pallid shades of Erebus, the night that never fades, + Before, O Shame, I shame thy face, or loose what thou hast tied! + He took away the love from me, who bound me to his side + That first of times. Ah, in the tomb let love be with him still!" + + The tears arisen as she spake did all her bosom fill. 30 + But Anna saith: "Dearer to me than very light of day, + Must thou alone and sorrowing wear all thy youth away, + Nor see sweet sons, nor know the joys that gentle Venus brings? + Deem'st thou dead ash or buried ghosts have heed of such-like things? + So be it that thy sickened soul no man to yield hath brought + In Libya as in Tyre; let be Iarbas set at nought, + And other lords, whom Africa, the rich in battle's bliss, + Hath nursed: but now, with love beloved,--must thou be foe to this? + Yea, hast thou not within thy mind amidst whose bounds we are? + Here the Gaetulian cities fierce, a folk unmatched in war, 40 + And hard Numidia's bitless folk, and Syrtes' guestless sand + Lie round thee: there Barcaeans wild, the rovers of the land, + Desert for thirst: what need to tell of wars new-born in Tyre, + And of thy murderous brother's threats? + Meseems by very will of Gods, by Juno's loving mind, + The Ilian keels run down their course before the following wind. + Ah, what a city shalt thou see! how shall the lordship wax + With such a spouse! with Teucrian arms our brothers at our backs + Unto what glory of great deeds the Punic realm may reach! + But thou, go seek the grace of Gods, with sacrifice beseech; 50 + Then take thy fill of guest-serving; weave web of all delays: + The wintry raging of the sea, Orion's watery ways, + The way-worn ships, the heavens unmeet for playing seaman's part." + + So saying, she blew the flame of love within her kindled heart, + And gave her doubtful soul a hope and loosed the girth of shame. + + Then straight they fare unto the shrines, by every altar's flame + Praying for peace; and hosts they slay, chosen as custom would, + To Phoebus, Ceres wise of law, Father Lyaeus good, + But chiefest unto Juno's might, that wedlock hath in care. + There bowl in hand stands Dido forth, most excellently fair, 60 + And pours between the sleek cow's horns; or to and fro doth pace + Before the altars fat with prayer, 'neath very godhead's face, + And halloweth in the day with gifts, and, gazing eagerly + Amid the host's yet beating heart, for answering rede must try. + --Woe's me! the idle mind of priests! what prayer, what shrine avails + The wild with love!--and all the while the smooth flame never fails + To eat her heart: the silent wound lives on within her breast: + Unhappy Dido burneth up, and, wild with all unrest, + For ever strays the city through: as arrow-smitten doe, + Unwary, whom some herd from far hath drawn upon with bow 70 + Amid the Cretan woods, and left the swift steel in the sore, + Unknowing: far in flight she strays the woods and thickets o'er, + 'Neath Dictae's heights; but in her flank still bears the deadly reed. + + Now midmost of the city-walls AEneas doth she lead, + And shows him the Sidonian wealth, the city's guarded ways; + And now she falls to speech, and now amidst a word she stays. + Then at the dying of the day the feast she dights again, + And, witless, once again will hear the tale of Ilium's pain; + And once more hangeth on the lips that tell the tale aloud. + But after they were gone their ways, and the dusk moon did shroud 80 + Her light in turn, and setting stars bade all to sleep away, + Lone in the empty house she mourns, broods over where he lay, + Hears him and sees him, she apart from him that is apart + Or, by his father's image smit, Ascanius to her heart + She taketh, if her utter love she may thereby beguile. + No longer rise the walls begun, nor play the youth this while + In arms, or fashion havens forth, or ramparts of the war: + Broken is all that handicraft and mastery; idle are + The mighty threatenings of the walls and engines wrought heaven high. + + Now when the holy wife of Jove beheld her utterly 90 + Held by that plague, whose madness now not e'en her fame might stay, + Then unto Venus, Saturn's seed began such words to say: + "Most glorious praise ye carry off, meseems, most wealthy spoil, + Thou and thy Boy; wondrous the might, and long to tell the toil, + Whereas two Gods by dint of craft one woman have o'erthrown. + But well I wot, that through your fear of walls I call mine own, + In welcome of proud Carthage doors your hearts may never trow. + But what shall be the end hereof? where wends our contest now? + What if a peace that shall endure, and wedlock surely bound, 99 + We fashion? That which all thine heart was set on thou hast found. + For Dido burns: bone of her bone thy madness is today: + So let us rule these folks as one beneath an equal sway: + Let the doom be that she shall take a Phrygian man for lord, + And to thine hand for dowry due her Tyrian folk award." + + But Venus felt that Juno's guile within the word did live, + Who lordship due to Italy to Libya fain would give, + So thus she answered her again: "Who were so overbold + To gainsay this? or who would wish war against thee to hold, + If only this may come to pass, and fate the deed may seal? + But doubtful drifts my mind of fate, if one same town and weal 110 + Jove giveth to the Tyrian folk and those from Troy outcast, + If he will have those folks to blend and bind the treaty fast + Thou art his wife: by prayer mayst thou prove all his purpose weighed. + Set forth, I follow." + Juno then took up the word and said: + "Yea, that shall be my very work: how that which presseth now + May be encompassed, hearken ye, in few words will I show: + AEneas and the hapless queen are minded forth to fare + For hunting to the thicket-side, when Titan first shall bear + Tomorrow's light aloft, and all the glittering world unveil: + On them a darkening cloud of rain, blended with drift of hail, 120 + Will I pour down, while for the hunt the feathered snare-lines shake, + And toils about the thicket go: all heaven will I awake + With thunder, and their scattered folk the mid-mirk shall enwrap: + Then Dido and the Trojan lord on one same cave shall hap; + I will be there, and if to me thy heart be stable grown, + In wedlock will I join the two and deem her all his own: + And there shall be their bridal God." + Then Venus nought gainsaid, + But, nodding yea, she smiled upon the snare before her laid. + + Meanwhile Aurora risen up had left the ocean stream, + And gateward throng the chosen youth in first of morning's beam, 130 + And wide-meshed nets, and cordage-toils and broad-steeled spears abound, + Massylian riders go their ways with many a scenting hound. + The lords of Carthage by the door bide till the tarrying queen + Shall leave her chamber: there, with gold and purple well beseen, + The mettled courser stands, and champs the bit that bids him bide. + At last she cometh forth to them with many a man beside: + A cloak of Sidon wrapped her round with pictured border wrought, + Her quiver was of fashioned gold, and gold her tresses caught; + The gathering of her purple gown a golden buckle had. + + Then come the Phrygian fellows forth; comes forth Iulus glad; 140 + Yea and AEneas' very self is of their fellowship, + And joins their band: in goodliness all those did he outstrip: + E'en such as when Apollo leaves the wintry Lycian shore, + And Xanthus' stream, and Delos sees, his mother's isle once more; + And halloweth in the dance anew, while round the altars shout + The Cretans and the Dryopes, and painted Scythian rout: + He steps it o'er the Cynthus' ridge, and leafy crown to hold + His flowing tresses doth he weave, and intertwines the gold, + And on his shoulders clang the shafts. Nor duller now passed on + AEneas, from his noble face such wondrous glory shone. 150 + So come they to the mountain-side and pathless deer-fed ground, + And lo, from hill-tops driven adown, how swift the wild goats bound + Along the ridges: otherwhere across the open lea + Run hart and hind, and gathering up their horned host to flee, + Amid a whirling cloud of dust they leave the mountain-sides. + But here the boy Ascanius the midmost valley rides, + And glad, swift-horsed, now these he leaves, now those he flees before, + And fain were he mid deedless herds to meet a foaming boar, + Or see some yellow lion come the mountain-slopes adown. 159 + + Meanwhile with mighty murmuring sound confused the heavens are grown, + And thereupon the drift of rain and hail upon them broke; + Therewith the scattered Trojan youth, the Tyrian fellow-folk, + The son of Venus' Dardan son, scared through the meadows fly + To diverse shelter, while the streams rush from the mountains high. + + Then Dido and the Trojan lord meet in the self-same cave; + Then Earth, first-born of everything, and wedding Juno gave + The token; then the wildfires flashed, and air beheld them wed, + And o'er their bridal wailed the nymphs in hill-tops overhead. + + That day began the tide of death; that day the evil came; + No more she heedeth eyes of men; no more she heedeth fame; 170 + No more hath Dido any thought a stolen love to win, + But calls it wedlock: yea, e'en so she weaveth up the sin. + + Straight through the mighty Libyan folks is Rumour on the wing-- + Rumour, of whom nought swifter is of any evil thing: + She gathereth strength by going on, and bloometh shifting oft! + A little thing, afraid at first, she springeth soon aloft; + Her feet are on the worldly soil, her head the clouds o'erlay. + Earth, spurred by anger 'gainst the Gods, begot her as they say, + Of Coeus and Enceladus the latest sister-birth. + Swift are her wings to cleave the air, swift-foot she treads the earth: 180 + A monster dread and huge, on whom so many as there lie + The feathers, under each there lurks, O strange! a watchful eye; + And there wag tongues, and babble mouths, and hearkening ears upstand + As many: all a-dusk by night she flies 'twixt sky and land + Loud clattering, never shutting eye in rest of slumber sweet. + By day she keepeth watch high-set on houses of the street, + Or on the towers aloft she sits for mighty cities' fear! + And lies and ill she loves no less than sooth which she must bear. + + She now, rejoicing, filled the folk with babble many-voiced, + And matters true and false alike sang forth as she rejoiced: 190 + How here was come AEneas now, from Trojan blood sprung forth, + Whom beauteous Dido deemed indeed a man to mate her worth: + How winter-long betwixt them there the sweets of sloth they nursed, + Unmindful of their kingdoms' weal, by ill desire accursed. + This in the mouth of every man the loathly Goddess lays, + And thence to King Iarbas straight she wendeth on her ways, + To set his mind on fire with words, and high his wrath to lead. + + He, sprung from Garamantian nymph and very Ammon's seed, + An hundred mighty fanes to Jove, an hundred altars fair, + Had builded in his wide domain, and set the watch-fire there, 200 + The everlasting guard of God: there fat the soil was grown + With blood of beasts; the threshold bloomed with garlands diverse blown. + He, saith the tale, all mad at heart, and fired with bitter fame, + Amidmost of the might of God before the altars came, + And prayed a many things to Jove with suppliant hands outspread: + + "O Jupiter, almighty lord, to whom from painted bed + The banqueting Maurusian folk Lenaean joy pours forth, + Dost thou behold? O Father, is our dread of nothing worth + When thou art thundering? Yea, forsooth, a blind fire of the clouds, + An idle hubbub of the sky, our souls with terror loads! 210 + A woman wandering on our shore, who set her up e'en now + A little money-cheapened town, to whom a field to plough + And lordship of the place we gave, hath thrust away my word + Of wedlock, and hath taken in AEneas for her lord: + And now this Paris, hedged around with all his gelding rout, + Maeonian mitre tied to chin, and wet hair done about, + Sits on the prey while to thine house a many gifts we bear, + Still cherishing an idle tale who our begetters were." + + The Almighty heard him as he prayed holding the altar-horns, + And to the war-walls of the Queen his eyes therewith he turns, 220 + And sees the lovers heeding nought the glory of their lives; + Then Mercury he calls to him, and such a bidding gives: + "Go forth, O Son, the Zephyrs call, and glide upon the wing + Unto the duke of Dardan men in Carthage tarrying, + Who hath no eyes to see the walls that fate to him hath given: + Speak to him, Son, and bear my words down the swift air of heaven: + His fairest mother promised us no such a man at need, + Nor claimed him twice from Greekish sword to live for such a deed. + But Italy, the fierce in war, the big with empire's brood, + Was he to rule; to get for us from glorious Teucer's blood 230 + That folk of folks, and all the world beneath his laws to lay. + But if such glory of great deeds nought stirreth him today, + Nor for his own fame hath he heart the toil to overcome, + Yet shall the father grudge the son the towered heights of Rome? + What doth he? tarrying for what hope among the enemy? + And hath no eyes Ausonian sons, Lavinian land to see? + Let him to ship! this is the doom; this word I bid thee bear." + + He spake: his mighty father's will straight did the God prepare + To compass, and his golden shoes first bindeth on his feet, + E'en those which o'er the ocean plain aloft on feathers fleet, 240 + Or over earth swift bear him on before the following gale: + And then his rod he takes, wherewith he calleth spirits pale + From Orcus, or those others sends sad Tartarus beneath, + And giveth sleep and takes away, and openeth eyes to death; + The rod that sways the ocean-winds and rules the cloudy rack. + Now winging way he comes in sight of peak and steepy back + Of flinty Atlas, on whose head all heaven is set adown-- + Of Atlas with the piny head, and never-failing crown + Of mirky cloud, beat on with rain and all the winds that blow: 249 + A snow-cloak o'er his shoulders falls, and headlong streams overflow + His ancient chin; his bristling beard with plenteous ice is done. + There hovering on his poised wings stayed that Cyllenian one, + And all his gathered body thence sent headlong toward the waves; + Then like a bird the shores about, about the fishy caves, + Skims low adown upon the wing the sea-plain's face anigh, + Not otherwise 'twixt heaven and earth Cyllene's God did fly; + And now, his mother's father great a long way left behind, + Unto the sandy Libya's shore he clave the driving wind. + But when the cot-built place of earth he felt beneath his feet, + He saw AEneas founding towers and raising houses meet: 260 + Starred was the sword about him girt with yellow jasper stone, + The cloak that from his shoulders streamed with Tyrian purple shone: + Fair things that wealthy Dido's hand had given him for a gift, + Who with the gleam of thready gold the purple web did shift. + + Then brake the God on him: "Forsooth, tall Carthage wilt thou found, + O lover, and a city fair raise up from out the ground? + Woe's me! thy lordship and thy deeds hast thou forgotten quite? + The very ruler of the Gods down from Olympus bright + Hath sent me, he whose majesty the earth and heavens obey; + This was the word he bade me bear adown the windy way. 270 + What dost thou? hoping for what hope in Libya dost thou wear + Thy days? if glorious fated things thine own soul may not stir, + And heart thou lackest for thy fame the coming toil to wed, + Think on Ascanius' dawn of days and hope inherited, + To whom is due the Italian realm and all the world of Rome!" + + But when from out Cyllenius' mouth such word as this had come, + Amidst his speech he left the sight of men that die from day, + And mid thin air from eyes of folk he faded far away. + But sore the sight AEneas feared, and wit from out him drave; + His hair stood up, amidst his jaws the voice within him clave. 280 + Bewildered by that warning word, and by that God's command, + He yearneth to depart and flee, and leave the lovely land. + Ah, what to do? and with what word may he be bold to win + Peace of the Queen all mad with love? what wise shall he begin? + Hither and thither now he sends his mind all eager-swift, + And bears it diversely away and runs o'er every shift: + At last, as many things he weighed, this seemed the better rede. + Mnestheus, Sergestus, straight he calls, Sergestus stout at need, + And bids them dight ship silently and bring their folk to shore, + And dight their gear, and cause thereof with lying cover o'er; 290 + While he himself, since of all this kind Dido knoweth nought, + Nor of the ending of such love may ever have a thought, + Will seek to draw anigh the Queen, seek time wherein the word + May softliest be said to her, the matter lightliest stirred. + So all they glad his bidding do, and get them to the work. + + But who may hoodwink loving eyes? She felt the treason lurk + About her life, and from the first saw all that was to be; + Fearing indeed where no fear was. That Rumour wickedly + Told her wild soul of ship-host armed and ready to set out; + The heart died in her; all aflame she raves the town about, 300 + E'en as a Thyad, who, soul-smit by holy turmoil, hears + The voice of Bacchus on the day that crowns the triple years, + And mirk Cithaeron through the night hath called her clamorous. + + Unto AEneas at the last herself she speaketh thus: + "O thou forsworn! and hast thou hoped with lies to cover o'er + Such wickedness, and silently to get thee from my shore? + Our love, it hath not held thee back? nor right hand given in faith + Awhile agone? nor Dido doomed to die a bitter death? + Yea, e'en beneath the winter heavens thy fleet thou gatherest + In haste to fare across the main amid the north's unrest 310 + O cruel! What if land unknown and stranger field and fold + Thou sought'st not; if the ancient Troy stood as in days of old; + Wouldst thou not still be seeking Troy across the wavy brine? + --Yea, me thou fleest. O by these tears, by that right hand of thine, + Since I myself have left myself unhappy nought but this, + And by our bridal of that day and early wedding bliss, + If ever I were worthy thanks, if sweet in aught I were, + Pity a falling house! If yet be left a space for prayer, + O then I pray thee put away this mind of evil things! + Because of thee the Libyan folks, and those Numidian kings, 320 + Hate me, and Tyrians are my foes: yea, and because of thee + My shame is gone, and that which was my heavenward road to be. + My early glory.--Guest, to whom leav'st thou thy dying friend? + Since of my husband nought but this is left me in the end. + Why bide I till Pygmalion comes to lay my walls alow, + Till taken by Getulian kings, Iarbas' slave I go? + Ah! if at least ere thou wert gone some child of thee I had! + If yet AEneas in mine house might play a little lad, + E'en but to bring aback the face of that beloved one, + Then were I never vanquished quite, nor utterly undone." 330 + + She spake: he, warned by Jove's command, his eyes still steadfast held, + And, striving, thrust his sorrow back, howso his heart-strings swelled: + At last he answered shortly thus: + "O Queen, though words may fail + To tell thy lovingkindness, ne'er my heart belies the tale: + Still shall it be a joy to think of sweet Elissa's days + While of myself I yet may think, while breath my body sways. + Few words about the deed in hand: ne'er in my mind it came + As flees a thief to flee from thee; never the bridal flame + Did I hold forth, or plight my troth such matters to fulfil. + If fate would let me lead a life according to my will, 340 + Might I such wise as pleaseth me my troubles lay to rest, + By Troy-town surely would I bide among the ashes blest + Of my beloved, and Priam's house once more aloft should stand; + New Pergamus for vanquished men should rise beneath my hand. + But now Grynean Phoebus bids toward Italy the great + To reach my hand; to Italy biddeth the Lycian fate: + There is my love, there is my land. If Carthage braveries + And lovely look of Libyan walls hold fast thy Tyrian eyes, + Why wilt thou grudge the Teucrian men Ausonian dwelling-place? + If we too seek the outland realm, for us too be there grace! 350 + Father Anchises, whensoever night covereth up the earth + With dewy dark, and whensoe'er the bright stars come to birth, + His troubled image midst of sleep brings warning word and fear. + Ascanius weigheth on my heart with wrong of head so dear, + Whom I beguile of fateful fields and realm of Italy. + Yea, even now God's messenger sent from the Jove on high, + (Bear witness either head of us!) bore doom of God adown + The eager wind: I saw the God enter the fair-walled town + In simple light: I drank his voice, yea with these ears of mine. + Cease then to burn up with thy wail my burdened heart and thine! 360 + Perforce I follow Italy." + + But now this long while, as he spake, athwart and wild she gazed, + And here and there her eyeballs rolled, and strayed with silent look + His body o'er; and at the last with heart of fire outbroke: + "Traitor! no Goddess brought thee forth, nor Dardanus was first + Of thine ill race; but Caucasus on spiky crags accurst + Begot thee; and Hyrcanian dugs of tigers suckled thee. + Why hide it now? why hold me back lest greater evil be? + For did he sigh the while I wept? his eyes--what were they moved? + Hath he been vanquished unto tears, or pitied her that loved? 370 + --Ah, is aught better now than aught, when Juno utter great, + Yea and the Father on all this with evil eyen wait? + All faith is gone! I took him in a stranded outcast, bare: + Yea in my very throne and land, ah fool! I gave him share. + His missing fleet I brought aback; from death I brought his friends. + --Woe! how the furies burn me up!--Now seer Apollo sends, + Now bidding send the Lycian lots; now sendeth Jove on high + His messenger to bear a curse adown the windy sky! + Such is the toil of Gods aloft; such are the cares that rack + Their souls serene.--I hold thee not, nor cast thy words aback. 380 + Go down the wind to Italy! seek lordship o'er the sea! + Only I hope amid the rocks, if any God there be, + Thou shalt drink in thy punishment and call on Dido's name + Full oft: and I, though gone away, will follow with black flame; + And when cold death from out my limbs my soul hath won away, + I will be with thee everywhere; O wretch, and thou shalt pay. + Ah, I shall hear; the tale of all shall reach me midst the dead." + + Therewith she brake her speech athwart, and sick at heart she fled + The outer air, and turned away, and gat her from his eyes; + Leaving him dallying with his fear, and turning many wise 390 + The words to say. Her serving-maids the fainting body weak, + Bear back unto the marble room and on the pillows streak. + + But god-fearing AEneas now, however fain he were + To soothe her grief and with soft speech assuage her weary care, + Much groaning, and the heart of him shaken with loving pain. + Yet went about the God's command and reached his ships again. + Then fall the Teucrians on indeed, and over all the shore + Roll the tall ships; the pitchy keel swims in the sea once more: + They bear the oars still leaf-bearing: they bring the might of wood, + Unwrought, so fain of flight they are, 400 + Lo now their flitting! how they run from all the town in haste! + E'en as the ants, the winter-wise, are gathered whiles to waste + A heap of corn, and toil that same beneath their roof to lay, + Forth goes the black troop mid the mead, and carries forth the prey + Over the grass in narrow line: some strive with shoulder-might + And push along a grain o'ergreat, some drive the line aright, + Or scourge the loiterers: hot the work fares all along the road. + + Ah Dido, when thou sawest all what heart in thee abode! + What groans thou gavest when thou saw'st from tower-top the long strand + A-boil with men all up and down; the sea on every hand 410 + Before thine eyes by stir of men torn into all unrest! + O evil Love, where wilt thou not drive on a mortal breast? + Lo, she is driven to weep again and pray him to be kind, + And suppliant, in the bonds of love her lofty heart to bind, + Lest she should leave some way untried and die at last for nought. + + "Anna, thou seest the strand astir, the men together brought + From every side, the canvas spread calling the breezes down. + While joyful on the quarter-deck the sea-folk lay the crown. + Sister, since I had might to think that such a thing could be, + I shall have might to bear it now: yet do one thing for me, 420 + Poor wretch, O Anna: for to thee alone would he be kind, + That traitor, and would trust to thee the inmost of his mind; + And thou alone his softening ways and melting times dost know. + O sister, speak a suppliant word to that high-hearted foe: + I never swore at Aulis there to pluck up root and branch + The Trojan folk; for Pergamus no war-ship did I launch: + Anchises' buried ghost from tomb I never tore away: + Why will his ears be ever deaf to any word I say? + Where hurrieth he? O let him give his wretched love one gift; + Let him but wait soft sailing-tide, when fair the breezes shift. 430 + No longer for the wedding past, undone, I make my prayer, + Nor that he cast his lordship by, and promised Latium fair. + For empty time, for rest and stay of madness now I ask, + Till Fortune teach the overthrown to learn her weary task. + Sister, I pray this latest grace; O pity me today, + And manifold when I am dead the gift will I repay." + + So prayed she: such unhappy words of weeping Anna bears, + And bears again and o'er again: but him no weeping stirs, + Nor any voice he hearkeneth now may turn him from his road: + God shut the hero's steadfast ears; fate in the way abode. 440 + As when against a mighty oak, strong growth of many a year, + On this side and on that the blasts of Alpine Boreas bear, + Contending which shall root it up: forth goes the roar, deep lie + The driven leaves upon the earth from shaken bole on high. + But fast it clingeth to the crag, and high as goes its head + To heaven aloft, so deep adown to hell its roots are spread. + E'en so by ceaseless drift of words the hero every wise + Is battered, and the heavy care deep in his bosom lies; + Steadfast the will abides in him; the tears fall down for nought. + Ah, and unhappy Dido then the very death besought, 450 + Outworn by fate: the hollow heaven has grown a sight to grieve. + And for the helping of her will, that she the light may leave, + She seeth, when mid the frankincense her offering she would lay, + The holy water blackening there, O horrible to say! + The wine poured forth turned into blood all loathly as it fell. + Which sight to none, not e'en unto her sister, would she tell. + Moreover, to her first-wed lord there stood amidst the house + A marble shrine, the which she loved with worship marvellous, + And bound it was with snowy wool and leafage of delight; 459 + Thence heard she, when the earth was held in mirky hand of night, + Strange sounds come forth, and words as if her husband called his own. + And o'er and o'er his funeral song the screech-owl wailed alone, + And long his lamentable tale from high aloft was rolled. + And many a saying furthermore of god-loved seers of old + Fears her with dreadful memory: all wild amid her dreams + Cruel AEneas drives her on, and evermore she seems + Left all alone; and evermore a road that never ends, + Mateless, and seeking through the waste her Tyrian folk, she wends. + As raving Pentheus saw the rout of that Well-willing Folk, + When twofold sun and twofold Thebes upon his eyes outbroke: 470 + Or like as Agamemnon's son is driven across the stage, + Fleeing his mother's fiery hand that bears the serpent's rage, + While there the avenging Dreadful Ones upon the threshold sit. + + But when she gave the horror birth, and, grief-worn, cherished it, + And doomed her death, then with herself she planned its time and guise, + And to her sister sorrowing sore spake word in such a wise, + Covering her end with cheerful face and calm and hopeful brow: + "Kinswoman, I have found a way, (joy with thy sister now!) + Whereby to bring him back to me or let me loose from him. + Adown beside the setting sun, hard on the ocean's rim, 480 + Lies the last world of AEthiops, where Atlas mightiest grown + Upon his shoulder turns the pole with burning stars bestrown. + A priestess thence I met erewhile, come of Massylian seed, + The warden of the West-maid's fane, and wont the worm to feed, + Mingling for him the honey-juice with poppies bearing sleep, + Whereby she maketh shift on tree the hallowed bough to keep. + She by enchantment takes in hand to loose what hearts she will, + But other ones at need will she with heavy sorrows fill; + And she hath craft to turn the stars and back the waters beat, + Call up the ghosts that fare by night, make earth beneath thy feet 490 + Cry out, and ancient ash-trees draw the mountain-side adown. + Dear heart, I swear upon the Gods, I swear on thee, mine own + And thy dear head, that I am loath with magic craft to play. + But privily amid the house a bale for burning lay + 'Neath the bare heaven, and pile on it the arms that evil one + Left in the chamber: all he wore, the bridal bed whereon + My days were lost: for so 'tis good: the priestess showeth me + All tokens of the wicked man must perish utterly." + + No more she spake, but with the word her face grew deadly white. + But Anna sees not how she veiled her death with new-found rite, 500 + Nor any thought of such a deed her heart encompasseth; + Nor fears she heavier things to come than at Sychaeus' death. + Wherefore she takes the charge in hand. + + But now the Queen, that bale being built amid the inner house + 'Neath the bare heavens, piled high with fir and cloven oak enow, + Hangeth the garlands round the place, and crowns the bale with bough + That dead men use: the weed he wore, his very effigy, + His sword, she lays upon the bed, well knowing what shall be. + There stand the altars, there the maid, wild with her scattered hair, + Calls Chaos, Erebus, and those three hundred godheads there, 510 + And Hecate triply fashioned to maiden Dian's look; + Water she scattered, would-be wave of dark Avernus' brook; + And herbs she brought, by brazen shears 'neath moonlight harvested, + All downy-young, though inky milk of venomed ill they shed. + She brings the love-charm snatched away from brow of new-born foal + Ere yet the mother snatcheth it. + Dido herself the altars nigh, meal in her hallowed hands, + With one foot of its bindings bare, and ungirt raiment stands, + And dying calls upon the Gods, and stars that fateful fare; + And then if any godhead is, mindful and just to care 520 + For unloved lovers, unto that she sendeth up the prayer. + + Now night it was, and everything on earth had won the grace + Of quiet sleep: the woods had rest, the wildered waters' face: + It was the tide when stars roll on amid their courses due, + And all the tilth is hushed, and beasts, and birds of many a hue; + And all that is in waters wide, and what the waste doth keep + In thicket rough, amid the hush of night-tide lay asleep, + And slipping off the load of care forgat their toilsome part. + But ne'er might that Phoenician Queen, that most unhappy heart, + Sink into sleep, or take the night unto her eyes and breast: 530 + Her sorrows grow, and love again swells up with all unrest, + And ever midst her troubled wrath rolls on a mighty tide; + And thus she broods and turns it o'er and o'er on every side. + + "Ah, whither now? Shall I bemocked my early lovers try, + And go Numidian wedlock now on bended knee to buy: + I, who so often scorned to take their bridal-bearing hands? + Or shall I, following Ilian ships, bear uttermost commands + Of Teucrian men, because my help their lightened hearts makes kind; + Because the thank for deed I did lies ever on their mind? + But if I would, who giveth leave, or takes on scornful keel 540 + The hated thing? Thou knowest not, lost wretch, thou may'st not feel, + What treason of Laomedon that folk for ever bears. + What then? and shall I follow lone the joyous mariners? + Or, hedged with all my Tyrian host, upon them shall I bear, + Driving again across the sea those whom I scarce might tear + From Sidon's city, forcing them to spread their sails abroad? + Nay, stay thy grief with steel, and die, and reap thy due reward! + Thou, sister, conquered by my tears, wert first this bane to lay + On my mad soul, and cast my heart in that destroyer's way. + Why was I not allowed to live without the bridal bed, 550 + Sackless and free as beasts afield, with no woes wearied? + Why kept I not the faith of old to my Sychaeus sworn?" + Such wailing of unhappy words from out her breast was torn. + + AEneas on the lofty deck meanwhile, assured of flight, + Was winning sleep, since every need of his was duly dight; + When lo! amid the dreams of sleep that shape of God come back, + Seemed once again to warn him thus: nor yet the face did lack + Nor anything of Mercury; both voice and hue was there, + And loveliness of youthful limbs and length of yellow hair: 559 + "O Goddess-born, and canst thou sleep through such a tide as this? + And seest thou not how round about the peril gathered is? + And, witless, hear'st not Zephyr blow with gentle, happy wind? + For treason now and dreadful deed she turneth in her mind, + Assured of death; and diversely the tide of wrath sets in. + Why fleest thou not in haste away, while haste is yet to win? + Thou shalt behold the sea beat up with oar-blade, and the brand + Gleam dire against thee, and one flame shall run adown the strand, + If thee tomorrow's dawn shall take still lingering on this shore. + Up! tarry not! for woman's heart is shifting evermore." + + So saying, amid the mirk of night he mingled and was lost. 570 + And therewithal AEneas, feared by sudden-flitting ghost, + Snatching his body forth from sleep, stirs up his folk at need: + "Wake ye, and hurry now, O men! get to the thwarts with speed, + And bustle to unfurl the sails! here sent from heaven again + A God hath spurred us on to flight, and biddeth hew atwain + The hempen twine. O holy God, we follow on thy way, + Whatso thou art; and glad once more thy bidding we obey. + O be with us! give gracious aid; set stars the heaven about + To bless our ways!" + And from the sheath his lightning sword flew out + E'en as he spake: with naked blade he smote the hawser through, 580 + And all are kindled at his flame; they hurry and they do. + The shore is left, with crowd of keels the sight of sea is dim; + Eager they whirl the spray aloft, as o'er the blue they skim. + + And now Aurora left alone Tithonus' saffron bed, + And first light of another day across the world she shed. + But when the Queen from tower aloft beheld the dawn grow white, + And saw the ships upon their way with fair sails trimmed aright, + And all the haven shipless left, and reach of empty strand, + Then thrice and o'er again she smote her fair breast with her hand, + And rent her yellow hair, and cried, "Ah, Jove! and is he gone? 590 + And shall a very stranger mock the lordship I have won? + Why arm they not? Why gather not from all the town in chase? + Ho ye! why run ye not the ships down from their standing-place? + Quick, bring the fire! shake out the sails! hard on the oars to sea! + --What words are these, or where am I? What madness changeth me? + Unhappy Dido! now at last thine evil deed strikes home. + Ah, better when thou mad'st him lord--lo whereunto are come + His faith and troth who erst, they say, his country's house-gods held + The while he took upon his back his father spent with eld? 599 + Why! might I not have shred him up, and scattered him piecemeal + About the sea, and slain his friends, his very son, with steel, + Ascanius on his father's board for dainty meat to lay? + But doubtful, say ye, were the fate of battle? Yea, O yea! + What might I fear, who was to die?--if I had borne the fire + Among their camp, and filled his decks with flame, and son and sire + Quenched with their whole folk, and myself had cast upon it all! + --O Sun, whose flames on every deed earth doeth ever fall, + O Juno, setter-forth and seer of these our many woes, + Hecate, whose name howled out a-nights o'er city crossway goes, + Avenging Dread Ones, Gods that guard Elissa perishing, 610 + O hearken! turn your might most meet against the evil thing! + O hearken these our prayers! and if the doom must surely stand, + And he, the wicked head, must gain the port and swim aland, + If Jove demand such fixed fate and every change doth bar, + Yet let him faint mid weapon-strife and hardy folk of war! + And let him, exiled from his house, torn from Iulus, wend, + Beseeching help mid wretched death of many and many a friend. + And when at last he yieldeth him to pact of grinding peace, + Then short-lived let his lordship be, and loved life's increase. + And let him fall before his day, unburied on the shore! 620 + Lo this I pray, this last of words forth with my blood I pour. + And ye, O Tyrians, 'gainst his race that is, and is to be, + Feed full your hate! When I am dead send down this gift to me: + No love betwixt the peoples twain, no troth for anything! + And thou, Avenger of my wrongs, from my dead bones outspring, + To bear the fire and the sword o'er Dardan-peopled earth + Now or hereafter; whensoe'er the day brings might to birth. + I pray the shore against the shore, the sea against the sea, + The sword 'gainst sword--fight ye that are, and ye that are to be!" + + So sayeth she, and everywise she turns about her mind 630 + How ending of the loathed light she speediest now may find. + And few words unto Barce spake, Sychaeus' nurse of yore; + For the black ashes held her own upon the ancient shore: + "Dear nurse, my sister Anna now bring hither to my need, + And bid her for my sprinkling-tide the running water speed; + And bid her have the hosts with her, and due atoning things: + So let her come; but thou, thine head bind with the holy strings; + For I am minded now to end what I have set afoot, + And worship duly Stygian Jove and all my cares uproot; + Setting the flame beneath the bale of that Dardanian head." 640 + + She spake; with hurrying of eld the nurse her footsteps sped. + But Dido, trembling, wild at heart with her most dread intent, + Rolling her blood-shot eyes about, her quivering cheeks besprent + With burning flecks, and otherwhere dead white with death drawn nigh + Burst through the inner doorways there and clomb the bale on high, + Fulfilled with utter madness now, and bared the Dardan blade, + Gift given not for such a work, for no such ending made. + There, when upon the Ilian gear her eyen had been set, + And bed well known, 'twixt tears and thoughts awhile she lingered yet; + Then brooding low upon the bed her latest word she spake: 650 + + "O raiment dear to me while Gods and fate allowed, now take + This soul of mine and let me loose from all my woes at last! + I, I have lived, and down the way fate showed to me have passed; + And now a mighty shade of me shall go beneath the earth! + A glorious city have I raised, and brought my walls to birth, + Avenged my husband, made my foe, my brother, pay the pain: + Happy, ah, happy overmuch were all my life-days' gain, + If never those Dardanian keels had drawn our shores anigh." + + She spake: her lips lay on the bed: "Ah, unavenged to die! + But let me die! Thus, thus 'tis good to go into the night! 660 + Now let the cruel Dardan eyes drink in the bale-fire's light, + And bear for sign across the sea this token of my death." + + Her speech had end: but on the steel, amid the last word's breath, + They see her fallen; along the blade they see her blood foam out, + And all her hands besprent therewith: wild fly the shrieks about + The lofty halls, and Rumour runs mad through the smitten town. + The houses sound with women's wails and lamentable groan; + The mighty clamour of their grief rings through the upper skies. + 'Twas e'en as if all Carthage fell mid flood of enemies, + Or mighty Tyre of ancient days,--as if the wildfire ran 670 + Rolling about the roof of God and dwelling-place of man. + + Half dead her sister heard, and rushed distraught and trembling there, + With nail and fist befouling all her face and bosom fair: + She thrust amidst them, and by name called on the dying Queen: + "O was it this my sister, then! guile in thy word hath been! + And this was what the bale, the fire, the altars wrought for me! + Where shall I turn so left alone? Ah, scorned was I to be + For death-fellow! thou shouldst have called me too thy way to wend. + One sword-pang should have been for both, one hour to make an end. + Built I with hands, on Father-Gods with crying did I cry 680 + To be away, a cruel heart, from thee laid down to die? + O sister, me and thee, thy folk, the fathers of the land, + Thy city hast thou slain----O give, give water to my hand, + And let me wash the wound, and if some last breath linger there, + Let my mouth catch it!" + Saying so she reached the topmost stair, + And to her breast the dying one she fondled, groaning sore, + And with her raiment strove to staunch the black and flowing gore. + Then Dido strove her heavy lids to lift, but back again + They sank, and deep within her breast whispered the deadly bane: + Three times on elbow struggling up a little did she rise, 690 + And thrice fell back upon the bed, and sought with wandering eyes + The light of heaven aloft, and moaned when it was found at last. + + Then on her long-drawn agony did Juno pity cast, + Her hard departing; Iris then she sent from heaven on high, + And bade her from the knitted limbs the struggling soul untie. + For since by fate she perished not, nor waited death-doom given, + But hapless died before her day by sudden fury driven, + Not yet the tress of yellow hair had Proserpine off-shred, + Nor unto Stygian Orcus yet had doomed her wandering head. + So Iris ran adown the sky on wings of saffron dew, 700 + And colours shifting thousandfold against the sun she drew, + And overhead she hung: "So bid, from off thee this I bear, + Hallowed to Dis, and charge thee now from out thy body fare." + + She spake and sheared the tress away; then failed the life-heat spent + And forth away upon the wind the spirit of her went. + + + + +BOOK V. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS MAKING FOR ITALY IS STAYED BY CONTRARY WINDS, WHEREFORE HE SAILETH +TO SICILY, AND, COMING TO THE TOMB OF HIS FATHER ANCHISES, HOLDETH +SOLEMN GAMES THEREAT, AND IN THE END GOETH HIS WAY TO ITALY AGAIN. + + + Meanwhile AEneas with his ships the mid-sea way did hold + Steadfast, and cut the dusky waves before the north wind rolled, + Still looking back upon the walls now litten by the flame + Of hapless Dido: though indeed whence so great burning came + They knew not; but the thought of grief that comes of love defiled + How great it is, what deed may come of woman waxen wild, + Through woeful boding of the sooth the Teucrians' bosoms bore. + + But when the ships the main sea held, nor had they any more + The land in sight, but sea around and sky around was spread, + A coal-blue cloud drew up to them, that hanging overhead 10 + Bore night and storm: feared 'neath the dark the waters trembling lie. + Then called the helmsman Palinure from lofty deck on high: + "Ah, wherefore doth such cloud of storm gird all the heavens about? + What will ye, Father Neptune, now?" + Therewith he crieth out + To gather all the tackling in, and hard on oars to lay, + And slopeth sail across the wind; and so such word doth say: + "Great-souled AEneas, e'en if Jove my borrow now should be, + 'Neath such a sky I might not hope to make our Italy: + The changed winds roar athwart our course, and from the west grown black + They rise; while o'er the face of heaven gathers the cloudy rack. 20 + Nor have we might to draw a-head, nor e'en to hold our own. + Wherefore since Fortune hath prevailed, by way that she hath shown, + Whither she calleth, let us turn: methinks the way but short + To brother-land of Eryx leal and safe Sicanian port, + If I may read the stars aright that erst I bare in mind." + + Quoth good AEneas: "Now for long that suchwise would the wind + I saw, and how thou heldest head against it all in vain: + Shift sail and go about; what land may sweeter be to gain, + Or whither would I liefer turn my keels from beat of sea, + Than that which yet the Dardan lord Acestes holds for me, 30 + That holds my very father's bones, Anchises, in its breast?" + + They seek the haven therewithal, and fair and happy west + Swelleth the sails: o'er whirl of waves full speedily they wend, + And glad to that familiar sand they turn them in the end: + But there Acestes meeteth them, who from a mountain high + All wondering had seen afar the friendly ships draw nigh. + With darts he bristled, and was clad in fell of Libyan bear. + Him erst unto Crimisus' flood a Trojan mother fair + Brought forth: and now, forgetting nought his mother's folk of old, + He welcomes them come back again with wealth of field and fold, 40 + And solaces the weary men with plenteous friendly cheer. + + But when the stars in first of dawn fled from the morrow clear, + AEneas called upon the shore assembly of his folk, + And standing high aloft on mound such words to tell he spoke: + "O mighty Dardan men, O folk from blood of Godhead born, + The yearly round is all fulfilled, with lapse of months outworn, + Since when my godlike father's husk and bones of him we laid + Amid the mould, and heavy sad the hallowed altars made: + And now meseems the day is here, for evermore to me + A bitter day, a worshipped day.--So God would have it be! 50 + Yea should it find me outcast man on great Getulia's sand, + Or take me in the Argive sea, or mid Mycenae's land, + Yet yearly vows, and pomps that come in due recurring while, + Still should I pay, and gifts most meet upon the altar pile. + Now to my father's bones, indeed, and ashes are we brought + By chance; yet not, meseems, without the Godhead's will and thought + Are we come here, to lie in peace within a friendly bay. + So come, and let all worship here the glory of the day; + Pray we the winds, that year by year this worship may be done + In temples dedicate to him within my city won. 60 + Troy-born Acestes giveth you two head of horned beasts + For every ship; so see ye bid the House-gods to your feasts, + Both them of Troy and them our host Acestes loveth here. + Moreover, if the ninth dawn hence Aurora shall uprear + For health of men, and with her rays earth's coverlit shall lift, + For Teucrians will I fast set forth the race for galleys swift: + Then whosoe'er is fleet of foot, or bold of might and main, + Or with the dart or eager shaft a better prize may gain, + Or whoso hath the heart to play in fight-glove of raw hide, + Let all be there, and victory's palm and guerdon due abide. 70 + Clean be all mouths! and gird with leaves the temple of the head." + + His mother's bush he did on brow e'en as the word he said; + The like did Helymus, the like Acestes ripe of eld, + The like the boy Ascanius, yea, and all that manner held. + Then from that council to the tomb that duke of men did pass; + Mid many thousands, he the heart of all that concourse was. + There, worshipping, on earth he pours in such wise as was good + Two cups of mere wine, two of milk, and two of holy blood, + And scatters purple flowers around; and then such words he said: + "Hail, holy father! hail once more! hail, ashes visited 80 + Once more for nought! hail, father-shade and spirit sweet in vain! + Forbid with me that Italy to seek, that fated plain, + With me Ausonian Tiber-flood, whereso it be, to seek." + + He spake: but from the lowest mound a mighty serpent sleek + Drew seven great circles o'er the earth, and glided sevenfold, + Passing in peace the tomb around, and o'er the altars rolled: + Blue striped was the back of him, and all his scales did glow + With glitter of fine flecks of gold; e'en as the cloud-hung bow + A thousand shifting colours fair back from the sun he cast. + AEneas wondered at the sight; but on the serpent passed, 90 + And 'twixt the bowls and smoothed cups his long array he wound, + Tasting the hallowed things; and so he gat him underground + Beneath the tomb again, and left the altars pastured o'er. + + Heartened hereby, his father's soul AEneas worshipped more, + And, doubtful, deemeth it to be Anchises' guardian ghost + Or godhead of the place: so there he slayeth double host, + As custom would; two black-backed steers, and e'en as many swine, + And calleth on his father's soul with pouring of the wine, + On great Anchises' glorious ghost from Acheron set free. + From out their plenty therewithal his fellows joyfully 100 + Give gifts, and load the altar-stead, and smite the steers adown. + While others serve the seething brass, and o'er the herbage strown + Set coaly morsels 'neath the spit, and roast the inner meat. + + And now the looked-for day was come with simple light and sweet, + And Phaeton's horses shining bright the ninth dawn in did bear. + Fame and the name Acestes had the neighbouring people stir + To fill the shore with joyful throng, AEneas' folk to see: + But some were dight amid the games their strife-fellows to be. + There first before the eyes of men the gifts to come they lay + Amid the course; as hallowed bowls, and garlands of green bay, 110 + And palms, the prize of victory, weapons, and raiment rolled + In purple, and a talent's weight of silver and of gold; + Then blast of horn from midst the mound the great games halloweth in: + Four ships from all the fleet picked out will first the race begin + With heavy oars; well matched are they for speed and rowers' tale: + Hereof did Mnestheus' eager oars drive on the speedy Whale, + Mnestheus to be of Italy, whence cometh Memmius' name. + The huge Chimaera's mountain mass was Gyas set to tame; + There on that city of a ship threesome its rowing plies + The Dardan youth; the banks of oars in threefold order rise. 120 + Sergestus next, the name whereof the Sergian house yet bears, + Is ferried by the Centaur great: last in blue Scylla steers + Cloanthus, whence the name of thee, Cluentius, man of Rome. + + Far mid the sea a rock there is, facing the shore-line's foam, + Which, beat by overtoppling waves, is drowned and hidden oft, + What time the stormy North-west hides the stars in heaven aloft: + But otherwhiles it lies in peace when nought the sea doth move, + And riseth up a meadow fair that sunning sea-gulls love. + There a green goal AEneas raised, dight of a leafy oak, + To be a sign of turning back to that sea-faring folk, 130 + That fetching compass round the same their long course they might turn. + + So then by lot they take their place: there on the deck they burn. + The captains, goodly from afar in gold and purple show: + The other lads with poplar-leaf have garlanded the brow, + And with the oil poured over them their naked shoulders shine. + They man the thwarts; with hearts a-stretch they hearken for the sign, + With arms a-stretch upon the oars; hard tugs the pulse of fear + About their bounding hearts, hard strains the lust of glory dear. + But when the clear horn gives the sound, forthwith from where they lie + They leap away; the seamen's shouts smite up against the sky, 140 + The upturned waters froth about as home the arms are borne: + So timely they the furrows cut, and all the sea uptorn + Is cloven by the sweep of oars and bows' three-headed push. + --Nay, nought so swift in twi-yoke race forth from the barriers rush + The scattered headlong chariots on to wear the space of plain, + Nor eager so the charioteers shake waves along the rein + Above the hurrying yoke, as hung over the lash they go. + --Then with the shouts and praise of men, and hope cast to and fro, + Rings all the grove; the cliff-walled shore rolleth great voice around, + And beating 'gainst the mountain-side the shattering shouts rebound. 150 + + Before the others Gyas flies, and first the waves doth skim + Betwixt the throng and roar, but hard Cloanthus presseth him; + Who, better manned, is held aback by sluggish weight of pine. + 'Twixt Whale and Centaur after these the edge of strife is fine, + And hard they struggle each with each to win the foremost place. + Now the Whale hath it; beaten now is foregone in the race + By the huge Centaur; head and head now follow on the two, + As the long keel of either one the salt sea furrows through. + + But now they drew anigh the holm, the goal close on them gave, + When Gyas first and conquering there amid the whirl of wave 160 + Unto the helmsman of his ship, Menoetes, cries command: + "And why so far unto the right? turn hither to this hand! + Hug thou the shore; let the blades graze the very rocks a-lee. + Let others hold the deep!" + No less unto the wavy sea + Menoetes, fearing hidden rocks, still turns away the bow: + Gyas would shout him back again: "Menoetes, whither now? + Steer for the rocks!" + And therewithal, as back his eyes he cast. + He sees Cloanthus hard at heel and gaining on him fast; + Who, grazing on this hand and that the rocks and Gyas' ship, + Now suddenly by leeward course a-head of all doth slip, 170 + And leaving clear the goal behind hath open water's gain. + Then unto Gyas' very bones deep burns the wrathful pain; + Nor did his cheeks lack tears indeed: forgetting honour's trust, + Forgetting all his fellows' weal, Menoetes doth he thrust + Headlong from off the lofty deck into the sea adown, + And takes the tiller, helmsman now and steering-master grown; + He cheers his men, and toward the shore the rudder wresteth round. + Menoetes, heavy, hardly won up from the ocean's ground, + (For he was old, and floods enow fulfilled his dripping gear,) + Made for the holm and sat him down upon the dry rock there: 180 + The Teucrians laughed to see him fall, and laughed to see him swim, + And laugh to see him spue the brine back from the heart of him. + + Now Mnestheus' and Sergestus' hope began anew to spring, + That they might outgo Gyas yet amid his tarrying: + Of whom Sergestus draws ahead and nears the rocky holm; + But not by all his keel indeed the other did o'ercome, + But by the half; the eager Whale amidships held her place, + Where Mnestheus midst the men themselves now to and fro did pace, + Egging them on: "Now, now!" he cries; "up, up, on oar-heft high! + Fellows of Hector, whom I chose when Troy last threw the die! 190 + Now put ye forth your ancient heart, put forth the might of yore, + Wherewith amid Getulian sand, Ionian sea ye bore; + The heart and might ye had amidst Malea's following wave! + I, Mnestheus, seek not victory now, nor foremost place to save. + --Yet, O my heart! but let them win to whom thou giv'st the crown, + O Neptune!--but the shameful last! O townsmen, beat it down. + And ban such horror!" + Hard on oars they lie mid utter throes, + And quivereth all the brazen ship beneath their mighty blows; + The sea's floor slippeth under them; the ceaseless pantings shake 199 + Their limbs and parched mouths, and still the sweat-streams never slake. + But very chance those strivers gave the prize they struggled for, + Since now Sergestus, hot at heart, while to the stony shore + He clingeth innerward, is come into the treacherous strait, + And hapless driveth on the rocks thrust forth for such a fate: + The cliffs are shaken and the oars against the flinty spikes + Snap crashing, and the prow thrust up yet hangeth where it strikes: + Up start the seafarers, and raise great hubbub tarrying; + Then sprits all iron-shod and poles sharp-ended forth they bring + To bear her off, and gather oars a-floating in the wash. + + But Mnestheus, whetted by his luck, joyful, with hurrying dash 210 + Of timely-beating oars, speeds forth, and praying breezes on, + O'er waters' slope adown the sea's all open way doth run: + --E'en as a pigeon in a cave stirred suddenly from rest, + Who in the shady pumice-rock hath house and happy nest; + Scared 'neath the roof she beateth forth with mighty flap of wings, + And flieth, borne adown the fields, till in soft air she swings, + And floateth on the flowing way, nor scarce a wing doth move; + --So Mnestheus, so the Whale herself, the latter waters clove, + So with the way erst made on her she flew on swift and soft; + And first Sergestus doth she leave stayed on the rock aloft, 220 + Striving in shallows' tanglement, calling for help in vain, + And learning with his broken oars a little way to gain. + Then Gyas and Chimaera's bulk he holdeth hard in chase, + Who, from her lack of helmsman lost, must presently give place. + And now at very end of all Cloanthus is the last + With whom to deal: his most he strives, and presseth on him fast. + Then verily shout thrusts on shout, and all with all goodwill + Cry on the chase; their echoing noise the very lift doth fill. + These, thinking shame of letting fall their hardly-gotten gain + Of glory's meed, to buy the praise with very life are fain; 230 + Those, fed on good-hap, all things may, because they deem they may: + The twain, perchance, head laid to head, had won the prize that day, + But if Cloanthus both his palms had stretched to seaward there, + And called upon the Gods to aid and poured forth eager prayer: + + "O Gods, whose lordship is the sea, whose waters I run o'er, + Now glad will I, your debtor bound, by altars on the shore + Bring forth for you a snow-white bull, and cast amid the brine + His inner meat, and pour abroad a flowing of fair wine." + + He spake, and all the Nereids' choir hearkened the words he said + Down 'neath the waves, and Phorcus' folk, and Panopea the maid; 240 + Yea, and the sire Portunus thrust the keel with mighty hand + Upon its way, and arrow-swift it flew on toward the land, + Swift as the South, and there at rest in haven deep it lies. + + But now Anchises' seed, all men being summoned in due wise, + Proclaims Cloanthus victor there by loud-voiced herald's shout, + And with green garland of the bay he does his brows about; + Then biddeth them to choose the gifts, for every ship three steers, + And wine, and every crew therewith great weight of silver bears. + And glorious gifts he adds withal to every duke of man: + A gold-wrought cloak the victor hath, about whose rim there ran 250 + A plenteous double wavy stream of Meliboean shell, + And leafy Ida's kingly boy thereon was pictured well. + A-following up the fleeing hart with spear and running fleet; + Eager he seemed as one who pants; then him with hooked feet + Jove's shield-bearer hath caught, and up with him from Ida flies, + And there the ancient masters stretch vain palms unto the skies, + While bark of staring hunting-hound beats fierce at upper air. + + Then next for him who second place of might and valour bare + A mail-coat wove of polished rings with threefold wire of gold, + Which from Demoleos the King had stripped in days of old, 260 + A conqueror then by Simois swift beneath high-builded Troy, + He giveth now that lord to have a safeguard and a joy; + Its many folds his serving-men, Phegeus and Sagaris, + Scarce bore on toiling shoulders joined, yet clad in nought but this + Swift ran Demoleos following on the Trojans disarrayed. + + A third gift then he setteth forth, twin cauldrons brazen made, + And silver bowls with picturing fret and wrought with utter pain. + + And now when all had gotten gifts, and glorying in their gain, + Were wending with the filleting of purple round the brow, + Lo, gotten from the cruel rock with craft and toil enow, 270 + With missing oars, and all one board unhandy and foredone, + His ship inglorious and bemocked, Sergestus driveth on. + --As with an adder oft it haps caught on the highway's crown, + Aslant by brazen tire of wheel, or heavy pebble thrown + By wayfarer, hath left him torn and nigh unto his end: + Who writhings wrought for helpless flight through all his length doth send, + And one half fierce with burning eyes uprears a hissing crest, + The other half, with wounds all halt, still holding back the rest; + He knitteth him in many a knot and on himself doth slip. + --E'en such the crawling of the oars that drave the tarrying ship. 280 + But they hoist sail on her, and so the harbour-mouth make shift + To win: and there AEneas gives Sergestus promised gift, + Blithe at his saving of the ship, and fellows brought aback: + A maid he hath, who not a whit of Pallas' art doth lack. + Of Crete she is, and Pholoe called, and twins at breast she bears. + + Now all that strife being overpast, the good AEneas fares + To grassy meads girt all about by hollow wooded hills, + Where theatre-wise the racing-course the midmost valley fills. + Thereto the hero, very heart of many a thousand men, + Now wendeth, and on seat high-piled he sits him down again. 290 + There whosoever may have will to strive in speedy race + He hearteneth on with hope of gift, and shows the prize and grace. + So from all sides Sicilians throng, and Trojan fellowship. + Euryalus and Nisus first. + Euryalus for goodliness and youth's first blossom famed, + Nisus for fair love of the youth; then after these are named + Diores, of the blood of kings from Priam's glorious race; + Salius and Patron next; the one of Acarnanian place, + The other from Arcadian blood of Tegeaea outsprung: + Then two Trinacrians, Helymus and Panopes the young, 300 + In woodcraft skilled, who ever went by old Acestes' side; + And many others else there were whom rumour dimmed doth hide. + + And now amidmost of all these suchwise AEneas spake: + "Now hearken; let your merry hearts heed of my saying take: + No man of all the tale of you shall henceforth giftless go; + Two Gnosian spears to each I give with polished steel aglow, + An axe to carry in the war with silver wrought therein. + This honour is for one and all: the three first prize shall win, + And round about their heads shall do the olive dusky-grey. + A noble horse with trappings dight the first shall bear away; 310 + A quiver of the Amazons with Thracian arrows stored + The second hath; about it goes a gold belt broidered broad, + With gem-wrought buckle delicate to clasp it at the end. + But gladdened with this Argive helm content the third shall wend." + + All said, they take their places due, and when the sign they hear, + Forthwith they leave the bar behind and o'er the course they bear, + Like drift of storm-cloud; on the goal all set their eager eyes: + But far before all shapes of man shows Nisus, and outflies + The very whistling of the winds or lightning on the wing. + Then, though the space be long betwixt, comes Salius following; 320 + And after Salius again another space is left, + And then Euryalus is third; + And after him is Helymus: but lo, how hard on heel + Diores scuds! foot on his foot doth Helymus nigh feel, + Shoulder on shoulder: yea, and if the course held longer out, + He would slip by him and be first, or leave the thing in doubt. + + Now, spent, unto the utmost reach and very end of all + They came, when in the slippery blood doth luckless Nisus fall, + E'en where the ground was all a-slop with bullocks slain that day, + And all the topmost of the grass be-puddled with it lay: 330 + There, as he went the victor now, exulting, failed his feet + From off the earth, and forth he fell face foremost down to meet + The midst of all the filthy slime blent with the holy gore: + Yet for Euryalus his love forgat he none the more, + For rising from the slippery place in Salius' way he thrust, + Who, rolling over, lay along amid the thickened dust. + Forth flies Euryalus, and flies to fame and foremost place, + His own friend's gift, mid beat of hands and shouts that bear him grace. + Next came in Helymus, and next the palm Diores bore. + But over all the concourse set in hollow dale, and o'er 340 + The heads of those first father-lords goes Salius' clamouring speech, + Who for his glory reft away by guile doth still beseech. + But safe goodwill and goodly tears Euryalus do bear, + And lovelier seemeth valour set in body wrought so fair. + Him too Diores backeth now, and crieth out on high, + Whose palm of praise and third-won place shall fail and pass him by, + If the first glory once again at Salius' bidding shift. + + Then sayeth Father AEneas: "O fellows, every gift + Shall bide unmoved: the palm of praise shall no man now displace. + Yet for my sackless friend's mishap give me some pity's grace." 350 + + He spake, and unto Salius gave a mighty lion's hide, + Getulian born, with weight of hair and golden claws beside: + Then Nisus spake: "If such great gifts are toward for beaten men, + And thou must pity those that fall, what gift is worthy then + Of Nisus? I, who should have gained the very victory's crown, + If me, as Salius, Fate my foe had never overthrown." + + And even as he speaks the word he showeth face and limb + Foul with the mud. The kindest lord, the Father, laughed on him, + And bade them bring a buckler forth, wrought of Didymaon, + Spoil of the Greeks, from Neptune's house and holy doors undone; 360 + And there unto the noble youth he gives that noble thing. + But now, the race all overpassed and all the gift-giving, + Quoth he: "If any valour hath, or heart that may withstand, + Let him come forth to raise his arm with hide-begirded hand." + + So saying, for the fight to come he sets forth glories twain; + A steer gilt-horned and garlanded the conquering man should gain, + A sword and noble helm should stay the vanquished in his woe. + No tarrying was there: Dares straight his face to all doth show, + And riseth in his mighty strength amidst the murmur great: + He who alone of all men erst with Paris held debate, 370 + And he who at the mound wherein that mightiest Hector lay, + Had smitten Butes' body huge, the winner of the day, + Who called him come of Amycus and that Bebrycian land: + But Dares stretched him dying there upon the yellow sand. + Such was the Dares that upreared his head against the fight, + And showed his shoulders' breadth and drave his fists to left and right, + With arms cast forth, as heavy strokes he laid upon the air. + But when they sought a man for him, midst all the concourse there + Was none durst meet him: not a hand the fighting-glove would don: + Wherefore, high-hearted, deeming now the prize from all was won, 380 + He stood before AEneas' feet nor longer tarried, + But with his left hand took the steer about the horn and said: + "O Goddess-born, if no man dares to trust him in the play, + What end shall be of standing here; must I abide all day? + Bid them bring forth the gifts." + Therewith they cried out one and all, + The Dardan folk, to give the gifts that due to him did fall. + But with hard words Acestes now Entellus falls to chide, + As on the bank of grassy green they sat there side by side, + "Entellus, bravest hero once of all men, and for nought, + If thou wilt let them bear away without a battle fought 390 + Such gifts as these. And where is he, thy master then, that God, + That Eryx, told of oft in vain? where is thy fame sown broad + Through all Trinacria, where the spoils hung up beneath thy roof?" + + "Nay," said he, "neither love of fame nor glory holds aloof + Beaten by fear, but cold I grow with eld that holdeth back. + My blood is dull, my might gone dry with all my body's lack. + Ah, had I that which once I had, that which the rascal there + Trusts in with idle triumphing, the days of youth the dear, + Then had I come into the fight by no gift-giving led, + No goodly steer: nought heed I gifts." 400 + And with the last word said, + His fighting gloves of fearful weight amidst of them he cast, + Wherewith the eager Eryx' hands amid the play had passed + Full oft; with hardened hide of them his arms he used to bind. + Men's hearts were mazed; such seven bull-hides each other in them lined, + So stiff they were with lead sewn in and iron laid thereby; + And chief of all was Dares mazed, and drew back utterly. + But the great-souled Anchises' seed that weight of gauntlets weighed, + And here and there he turned about their mighty folds o'erlaid. + Then drew the elder from his breast words that were like to these: + + "Ah, had ye seen the gloves that armed the very Hercules, 410 + And that sad battle foughten out upon this country shore! + For these are arms indeed that erst thy kinsmen Eryx bore: + Lo, ye may see them even now flecked with the blood and brain. + With these Alcides he withstood; with these I too was fain + Of war, while mightier blood gave might, nor envious eld as yet + On either temple of my head the hoary hairs had set. + But if this Dares out of Troy refuse our weapons still, + And good AEneas doom it so, and so Acestes will, + My fight-lord; make the weapons like: these gloves of Eryx here + I take aback: be not afraid, but doff thy Trojan gear." 420 + + He spake, and from his back he cast his twifold cloak adown, + And naked his most mighty limbs and shoulders huge were shown, + And on the midmost of the sand a giant there he stood. + Wherewith Anchises' seed brought forth gloves even-matched and good, + And so at last with gear alike the arms of each he bound, + Then straightway each one stretched aloft on tip-toe from the ground: + They cast their mighty arms abroad, nor any fear they know, + The while their lofty heads they draw abackward from the blow: + And so they mingle hands with hands and fall to wake the fight. + The one a-trusting in his youth and nimbler feet and light; 430 + The other's bulk of all avail, but, trembling, ever shrank + His heavy knees, and breathing short for ever shook his flank. + Full many a stroke those mighty men cast each at each in vain; + Thick fall they on the hollow sides; the breasts ring out again + With mighty sound; and eager-swift the hands full often stray + Round ears and temples; crack the jaws beneath that heavy play: + In one set strain, not moving aught, heavy Entellus stands, + By body's sway and watchful eye shunning the dart of hands: + But Dares is as one who brings the gin 'gainst high-built town, + Or round about some mountain-hold the leaguer setteth down: 440 + Now here now there he falleth on, and putteth art to pain + At every place, and holds them strait with onset all in vain. + Entellus, rising to the work, his right hand now doth show + Upreared; but he, the nimble one, foresaw the falling blow + Above him, and his body swift writhed skew-wise from the fall. + Entellus spends his stroke on air, and, overborne withal, + A heavy thing, falls heavily to earth, a mighty weight: + As whiles a hollow-eaten pine on Erymanthus great, + Or mighty Ida, rooted up, to earthward toppling goes. + Then Teucrian and Trinacrian folk with wondrous longing rose, 450 + And shouts went skyward: thither first the King Acestes ran, + And pitying his like-aged friend raised up the fallen man; + Who neither slackened by his fall, nor smit by any fear, + Gets back the eagerer to the fight, for anger strength doth stir, + And shame and conscious valour lights his ancient power again. + In headlong flight his fiery wrath drives Dares o'er the plain, + And whiles his right hand showereth strokes, his left hand raineth whiles. + No tarrying and no rest there is; as hail-storm on the tiles + Rattleth, so swift with either hand the eager hero now + Beats on and batters Dares down, and blow is laid on blow. 460 + + But now the Father AEneas no longer might abide + Entellus' bitter rage of soul or lengthening anger's tide, + But laid an end upon the fight therewith, and caught away + Dares foredone, and soothing words in such wise did he say: + "Unhappy man, what madness then hath hold upon thine heart? + Feel'st not another might than man's, and Heaven upon his part? + Yield to the Gods!" + So 'neath his word the battle sank to peace. + But Dares his true fellows took, trailing his feeble knees, + Lolling his head from side to side, the while his sick mouth sent + The clotted blood from out of it wherewith the teeth were blent. 470 + They lead him to the ships; then, called, they take the helm and sword, + But leave Entellus' bull and palm, the victory's due reward; + Who, high of heart, proud in the beast his conquering hand did earn, + "O Goddess-born," he said, "and ye, O Teucrians, look, and learn + What might was in my body once, ere youth it had to lack, + And what the death whence Dares saved e'en now ye draw aback." + + He spake, and at the great bull's head straightway he took his stand, + As there it bode the prize of fight, and drawing back his hand + Rose to the blow, and 'twixt the horns sent forth the hardened glove, + And back upon his very brain the shattered skull he drove. 480 + Down fell the beast and on the earth lay quivering, outstretched, dead, + While over him from his inmost breast such words Entellus said: + "Eryx, this soul, a better thing, for Dares doomed to die, + I give thee, and victorious here my gloves and craft lay by." + + Forth now AEneas biddeth all who have a mind to strive + At speeding of the arrow swift, and gifts thereto doth give, + And with his mighty hand the mast from out Serestus' keel + Uprears; and there a fluttering dove, mark for the flying steel, + Tied to a string he hangeth up athwart the lofty mast. + Then meet the men; a brazen helm catches the lots down cast: 490 + And, as from out their favouring folk ariseth up the shout, + Hippocoon, son of Hyrtacus, before the rest leaps out; + Then Mnestheus, who was victor erst in ship upon the sea, + Comes after: Mnestheus garlanded with olive greenery. + The third-come was Eurytion, thy brother, O renowned, + O Pandarus, who, bidden erst the peace-troth to confound, + Wert first amid Achaean host to send a winged thing. + But last, at bottom of the helm, Acestes' name did cling, + Who had the heart to try the toil amid the youthful rout. + + Then with their strength of all avail they bend the bows about 500 + Each for himself: from quiver then the arrows forth they take: + And first from off the twanging string through heaven there went the wake + Of shaft of young Hyrtacides, and clave the flowing air, + And, flying home, amid the mast that stood before it there + It stuck: the mast shook therewithal; the frighted, timorous bird, + Fluttered her wings; and mighty praise all round about was heard. + Then stood forth Mnestheus keen, and drew his bow unto the head, + Aiming aloft; and shaft and eyes alike therewith he sped; + But, worthy of all pitying, the very bird he missed, + But had the hap to shear the knots and lines of hempen twist 510 + Whereby, all knitted to her foot, she to the mast was tied: + But flying toward the winds of heaven and mirky mist she hied. + Then swift Eurytion, who for long had held his arrow laid + On ready bow-string, vowed, and called his brother unto aid, + And sighted her all joyful now amidst the void of sky, + And smote her as she clapped her wings 'neath the black cloud on high: + Then dead she fell, and mid the stars of heaven her life she left, + And, falling, brought the shaft aback whereby her heart was cleft. + + Acestes now was left alone, foiled of the victory's prize. + No less the father sent his shot aloft unto the skies, 520 + Fain to set forth his archer-craft and loud-resounding bow. + Then to men's eyes all suddenly a portent there did show, + A mighty sign of things to come, the ending showed how great + When seers, the shakers of men's hearts, sang over it too late. + For, flying through the flowing clouds, the swift reed burned about, + And marked its road with flaming wake, and, eaten up, died out + Mid the thin air: as oft the stars fly loose from heaven's roof, + And run adown the space of sky with hair that flies aloof. + Trinacrian men and Teucrian men, staring aghast they stood, + Praying the Gods: but mightiest AEneas held for good 530 + That tokening, and Acestes takes as one all glad at heart, + And loadeth him with many gifts, and suchwise speaks his part: + + "Take them, O father, for indeed by such a sign I wot + Olympus' King will have thee win all honour without lot. + This gift thou hast, Anchises' self, the ancient, had before, + A bowl all stamped with images, which Cisseus once of yore, + The Thracian, to my father gave, that he might bear the same + A very tokening of his love and memory of his name." + + So saying, a garland of green bay he doth his brows about, + And victor over all the men Acestes giveth out: 540 + Nor did the good Eurytion grudge his honour so preferred, + Though he alone from height of heaven had brought adown the bird: + But he came next in gift-giving who sheared the string, and last + Was he who set his winged reed amidmost of the mast. + + Now had AEneas called to him, ere yet the match was done, + The child of Epytus, the guard, and fellow of his son, + Beardless Iulus, and so spake into his faithful ear: + "Go thou and bid Ascenius straight, if ready dight with gear + He hath that army of the lads, and fair array of steeds, + To bring unto his grandsire now, himself in warlike weeds, 550 + That host of his." + The lord meanwhile biddeth all folk begone + Who into the long course had poured, and leave the meadow lone. + Then come the lads: in equal ranks before their fathers' eyes + They shine upon their bitted steeds, and wondering murmurs rise + From men of Troy and Sicily as on their ways they fare. + Due crown of well-ordained leaves bindeth their flowing hair, + And each a pair of cornel shafts with iron head doth hold; + And some the polished quiver bear at shoulder: limber gold, + Ringing the neck with twisted stem, high on the breast is shown. + Three companies of horse they are by tale, and up and down 560 + Three captains ride, and twice six lads each leadeth to the war: + In bands of even tale they shine, and like their leaders are. + Their first array all glad at heart doth little Priam lead, + Who from his grandsire had his name, thy well-renowned seed, + Polites, fated to beget Italian folk: him bore + A Thracian piebald flecked with white, whose feet were white before, + And white withal the crest of him that high aloft he flung. + Next Atys came, from whence the stem of Latin Atii sprung; + Young Atys, whom Iulus young most well-beloved did call: + Iulus last, in goodliness so far excelling all, 570 + Upon a horse of Sidon came, whom that bright Dido gave + To be a token of her love, her memory to save. + On horses of Acestes old, Trinacrian-nurtured beasts, + The others of the youth are borne. + + With praise they greet their fluttering hearts and look on them with joy, + Those Dardan folk, who see in them the ancient eyes of Troy. + But after they had fared on steed the concourse all about + Before the faces of their folk, Epytides did shout + The looked-for sign afar to them, and cracked withal his whip: + Then evenly they fall apart, in threesome order slip 580 + Their cloven ranks; but, called again, aback upon their way + They turn, and threatening levelled spears against each other lay. + Then they to other onset now and other wheeling take, + In bands opposed, and tanglements of ring on ring they make; + So with their weapons every show of very fight they stir, + And now they bare their backs in flight, and now they turn the spear + In hostile wise; now side by side in plighted peace they meet. + --E'en as they tell of Labyrinth that lies in lofty Crete, + A road with blind walls crossed and crossed, an ever-shifting trap + Of thousand ways, where he who seeks upon no sign may hap, 590 + But midst of error, blind to seize or follow back, 'tis gone. + Not otherwise Troy's little ones the tangle follow on + At top of speed, and interweave the flight and battle's play; + E'en as the dolphins, swimming swift amid the watery way, + Cleave Libyan or Carpathian sea and sport upon the wave. + + This guise of riding, such-like play, his folk Ascanius gave + Once more, when round the Long White Stead the walls of war he drew: + Withal the Ancient Latin Folk he taught the games to do, + Suchwise as he a lad had learned with lads from Troy that came: 599 + That same the Albans taught their sons; most mighty Rome that same + Took to her thence, and honoured so her sires of yore agone: + Now name of Troy and Trojan host the play and boys have won. + + Thus far unto the Holy Sire the games were carried through, + When Fortune turned her faith at last and changed her mind anew: + For while the diverse hallowed games about the tomb they spent, + Saturnian Juno Iris fair from heights of heaven hath sent + Unto the Ilian ships, and breathed fair wind behind her ways, + For sore she brooded, nor had spent her wrath of ancient days. + So now the maid sped swift along her thousand-coloured bow, + And swiftly ran adown the path where none beheld her go. 610 + And there she saw that gathering great, and swept the strand with eye, + And saw the haven void of folk, the ships unheeded lie. + But far away on lonely beach the Trojan women weep + The lost Anchises; and all they look ever on the deep + Amid their weeping: "Woe are we! what waters yet abide! + What ocean-waste for weary folk!" So one and all they cried, + And all they yearn for city's rest: sea-toil is loathsome grown. + + So she, not lacking craft of guile, amidst them lighted down, + When she hath put away from her God's raiment and God's mien, + And but as wife of Doryclus, the Tmarian man, is seen, 620 + Old Beroe, who once had sons and lordly race and name; + Amid the Dardan mother-folk such wise the Goddess came: + + "O wretched ones!" she said, "O ye whom armed Achaean hand + Dragged not to death before the walls that stayed your fatherland! + Unhappy folk! and why hath Fate held back your doom till now? + The seventh year is on the turn since Troy-town's overthrow; + And we all seas the while, all lands, all rocks and skies that hate + The name of guest, have wandered o'er, and through the sea o'ergreat + Still chase that fleeing Italy mid wallowing waters tossed. + Lo, here is Eryx' brother-land; Acestes is our host; 630 + What banneth us to found our walls and lawful cities gain? + O Fatherland! O House-Gods snatched from midst the foe in vain! + Shall no walls more be called of Troy? Shall I see never more + Xanthus or Simois, like the streams where Hector dwelt of yore? + Come on, and those unhappy ships burn up with aid of me; + For e'en now mid the dreams of sleep Cassandra did I see, + Who gave me burning brand, and said, 'Here seek your Troy anew: + This is the house that ye shall have.'--And now is time to do! + No tarrying with such tokens toward! Lo, altars four are here + Of Neptune: very God for us heart and the fire doth bear!" 640 + + So saying, first she caught upon the fiery bane, and raised + Her hand aloft, and mightily she whirled it as it blazed + And cast it: but the Ilian wives, their straining hearts are torn, + Their souls bewildered: one of them, yea, and their eldest-born, + Pyrgo, the queenly fosterer of many a Priam's son, + Cried: "Mothers, nay no Beroe, nay no Rhoeteian one, + The wife of Doryclus is this: lo, Godhead's beauty there! + Behold the gleaming of her eyes, note how she breathes the air; + Note ye her countenance and voice, the gait wherewith she goes. + Yea, I myself left Beroe e'en now amidst her woes; 650 + Sick, sad at heart that she alone must fail from such a deed, + Nor bear unto Anchises' ghost his glory's righteous meed." + + Such were the words she spake to them. + But now those mothers, at the first doubtful, with evil eyes + Gazed on the ships awhile between unhappy craving stayed + For land they stood on, and the thought of land that Fortune bade: + When lo! with even spread of wings the Goddess rose to heaven, + And in her flight the cloudy lift with mighty bow was riven. + Then, wildered by such tokens dread, pricked on by maddened hearts, + Shrieking they snatch the hearthstone's fire and brand from inner parts; + While some, they strip the altars there, and flaming leaf and bough 661 + Cast forth: and Vulcan, let aloose, is swiftly raging now + Along the thwarts, along the oars, and stems of painted fir. + + But now with news of flaming ships there goes a messenger, + Eumelus, to Anchises' tomb, and theatre-seats, and they + Look round themselves and see the soot black in the smoke-cloud play. + Then first Ascanius, e'en as blithe the riding-play he led, + So eager now he rode his ways to camp bewildered, + And nowise might they hold him back, his masters spent of breath. + + "O what new madness then is this? What, what will ye?" he saith. + "O wretched townswomen, no foe, no camp of Argive men 671 + Ye burn, but your own hopes ye burn. Lo, your Ascanius then!" + + Therewith before their feet he cast his empty helm afar, + Dight wherewithal he stirred in sport that image of the war. + And thither now AEneas sped, and crowd of Teucrian folk; + Whereat the women diversely along the sea-shore broke, + Fleeing afeard, and steal to woods and whatso hollow den, + And loathe their deed, and loathe the light, as changed they know again + Their very friends, and Juno now from every heart is cast. + + But none the less the flaming rage for ever holdeth fast 680 + With might untamed; the fire lives on within the timbers wet, + The caulking sends forth sluggish smoke, the slow heat teeth doth set + Upon the keel; to inmost heart down creeps the fiery bale; + Nor all the might of mighty men nor rivers poured avail. + Then good AEneas from his back the raiment off him tore, + And called the Gods to aid, and high his palms to heaven upbore: + + "Great Jove, if not all utterly a hater thou art grown + Of Trojan folk, and if thy love of old yet looketh down + On deeds of men, give to our ships to win from out the flame, + O Father, now, and snatch from death the feeble Teucrian name, 690 + Or else thrust down the remnant left, if so we merit aught, + With bolt of death, and with thine hand sweep us away to nought!" + + Scarce had he given forth the word, ere midst outpouring rain, + The black storm rageth measureless, and earthly height and plain + Shake to the thundering; all the sky casts forth confused flood, + Most black with gathering of the South: then all the ship-hulls stood + Fulfilled with water of the heavens; the half-burned oak was drenched, + Until at last to utmost spark the smouldering fire is quenched, + And all the ships escaped the bane of fiery end save four. + + But, shaken by such bitter hap, Father AEneas bore 700 + This way and that; and turned the cares on all sides in his breast: + Whether amid Sicilian fields to set him down in rest, + Forgetting Fate, or yet to strive for shores of Italy. + Then the old Nautes, whom erewhile had Pallas set on high + By her exceeding plenteous craft and lore that she had taught:-- + She gave him answers; telling him how wrath of God was wrought, + And how it showed, and what the law of fate would ask and have:-- + This man unto AEneas now such words of solace gave: + + "O Goddess-born, Fate's ebb and flow still let us follow on, + Whate'er shall be, by bearing all must Fortune's fight be won. 710 + Dardan Acestes have ye here, sprung of the Godhead's seed; + Take his goodwill and fellowship to help thee in thy rede. + Give him the crews of those burnt ships; to him let such-like go + As faint before thy mighty hope and shifting weal and woe. + The mothers weary of the sea, the elders spent with years, + And whatsoever feeble is and whatsoever fears, + Choose out, and in this land of his walls let the weary frame; + And they their town by leave of thee shall e'en Acesta name." + + So was he kindled by the speech of that wise ancient friend, + Yet still down every way of care his thought he needs must send. 720 + + But now the wain of mirky night was holding middle sky, + When lo, his father's image seemed to fall from heaven the high, + And suddenly Anchises' lips such words to him poured forth: + + "O son, that while my life abode more than my life wert worth; + O son, well learned in Ilium's fates, hither my ways I take + By Jove's commands, who even now the fiery bane did slake + Amid thy ships, and now at last in heaven hath pitied thee: + Yield thou to elder Nautes' redes; exceeding good they be: + The very flower of all thy folk, the hearts that hardiest are, + Take thou to Italy; for thee in Latium bideth war 730 + With hardy folk of nurture rude: but first must thou be gone + To nether dwelling-place of Dis: seek thou to meet me, son, + Across Avernus deep: for me the wicked house of hell + The dusk unhappy holdeth not; in pleasant place I dwell, + Elysium, fellowship of good: there shall the holy Maid, + The Sibyl, bring thee; plenteous blood of black-wooled ewes being paid: + There shalt thou learn of all thy race, and gift of fated walls. + And now farewell: for dewy night from mid way-faring falls, + The panting steeds of cruel dawn are on me with their breath." + + He spake, and midst thin air he fled as smoke-wreath vanisheth. 740 + "Where rushest thou?" AEneas cried: "where hurriest thou again? + Whom fleest thou? who driveth thee from these embraces fain?" + + So saying, the flame asleep in ash he busied him to wake, + And worshipped with the censer full and holy-kneaded cake + The sacred Vesta's shrine and God of Pergamean wall. + Then for his fellows doth he send, Acestes first of all, + And teacheth them of Jove's command, and what his sire beloved + Had bidden him, and whitherwise his heart thereto was moved. + No tarrying there was therein, Acestes gainsaid nought; + They write the mothers on the roll; thither a folk is brought, 750 + Full willing hearts, who nothing crave the great reward of fame: + But they themselves shape thwarts anew; and timbers gnawed by flame + Make new within their ships again, and oars and rudders fit. + A little band it is by tale, but valour lives in it. + + Meanwhile AEneas marketh out the city with the plough, + And, portioning the houses out, bids Troy and Ilium grow: + Therewith Acestes, Trojan king, joys in his lordship fair; + Sets forth the court, and giveth laws to fathers gathered there: + Then on the head of Eryx huge a house that neareth heaven + To Venus of Idalia is reared: a priest is given 760 + And holy grove wide spread around, where old Anchises lay. + + Now all the folk for nine days' space have made them holyday + And worshipped God; and quiet winds have lowly laid the main, + And ever gentle Southern breath woos to the deep again: + Then all along the hollow shore ariseth weeping great, + And 'twixt farewells and many a kiss a night and day they wait: + Yea e'en the mothers, yea e'en they to whom so hard and drear + The sea had seemed, a dreadful name they had no heart to bear, + Are fain to go, are fain to take all toil the way may find. + Whom good AEneas solaceth with friendly words and kind, 770 + As to Acestes' kindred heart weeping he giveth them. + Three calves to Eryx then he bids slay on the ocean's hem; + To wind and weather an ewe lamb; then biddeth cast aloose: + And he himself, begarlanded with olive clipped close, + Stands, cup in hand, on furthest prow, and casts upon the brine + The inner meat, and poureth forth the flowing of the wine. + They gather way; springs up astern the fair and following breeze; + The fellows strive in smiting brine and sweep the level seas. + + But meanwhile Venus, sorely stirred by cares and all unrest, + Hath speech of Neptune, pouring forth complaining from her breast: + "The cruel wrath that Juno bears, and heart insatiate, 781 + Drive me, O Neptune, prayer-fulfilled upon thy power to wait: + She softeneth not by lapse of days nor piety's increase, + Nor yielding unto Jove and Fate from troubling will she cease. + 'Tis not enough to tear away from heart of Phrygian folk + Their city by her cruel hate; nor with all ills to yoke + Troy's remnant; but its ash and bones through death she followeth on. + What! doth her own heart know the deed that all this wrath hath won? + Be thou my witness how of late she stirred up suddenly + Wild tumult of the Libyan sea! all waters with the sky 790 + She mingled, trusting all in vain to storm of AEolus: + This in thy very realm she dared. + E'en now mad hearts to Trojan wives by wickedness she gave, + And foully burned his ships; and him with crippled ship-host drave + To leave his fellow-folk behind upon an outland shore. + I pray thee let the remnant left sail safe thine ocean o'er, + And let them come where into sea Laurentian Tiber falls, + If right I ask, and unto these Fate giveth fateful walls." + + Then Saturn's son, the sea-tamer, gave forth such words as these: + "'Tis utter right, O Cytherean, to trust thee to my seas, 800 + Whence thou wert born; and I myself deserve no less; e'en I, + Who oft for thee refrain the rage of maddened sea and sky. + Nor less upon the earth my care AEneas did embrace; + Xanthus and Simois witness it!--When, following up the chace, + The all-unheartened host of Troy 'gainst Troy Achilles bore, + And many a thousand gave to death; choked did the rivers roar + Nor any way might Xanthus find to roll his flood to sea: + AEneas then in hollow cloud I caught away, when he + Would meet Pelides' might with hands and Gods not strong enow. + Yea, that was when from lowest base I wrought to overthrow 810 + The walls of that same Troy forsworn my very hands had wrought. + And now cast all thy fear away, my mind hath shifted nought; + Avernus' haven shall he reach, e'en as thou deemest good, + And one alone of all his folk shall seek amidst the flood; + One head shall pay for all the rest." + + So when these words had brought to peace the Goddess' joyful heart, + The Father yokes his steeds with gold, and bridles the wild things + With o'erfoamed bit, and loose in hand the rein above them flings, + And light in coal-blue car he flies o'er topmost of the sea: + The waves sink down, the heaped main lays his waters peacefully 820 + Before the thunder of his wheels; from heaven all cloud-flecks fail. + Lo, diverse bodies of his folk; lo, many a mighty whale; + And Glaucus' ancient fellowship, Palaemon Ino's son, + And Tritons swift, and all the host that Phorcus leadeth on; + Maid Panopea and Melite, Cymodoce the fair, + Nesaea, Spio, and Thalia, with Thetis leftward bear. + + Now to AEneas' overstrained heart the kindly joy and soft + Sinks deep: herewith he biddeth men raise all the masts aloft + At swiftest, and along the yards to spread the sails to wind: + So all sheet home together then; then leftward with one mind 830 + They tack; then tack again to right: the yard-horns up in air + They shift and shift, while kindly winds seaward the ship-host bear. + But first before all other keels did Palinurus lead + The close array, and all were charged to have his course in heed. + And now the midmost place of heaven had dewy night drawn nigh, + And 'neath the oars on benches hard scattered the shipmen lie, + Who all the loosened limbs of them to gentle rest had given; + When lo, the very light-winged Sleep stooped from the stars of heaven, + Thrusting aside the dusky air and cleaving night atwain: + The sackless Palinure he sought with evil dreams and vain. 840 + So on the high poop sat the God as Phorbas fashioned, + And as he sat such-like discourse from out his mouth he shed: + "Iasian Palinure, unasked the waves our ship-host bear; + Soft blow the breezes steadily; the hour for rest is here: + Lay down thine head, steal weary eyes from toil a little space, + And I will do thy deeds awhile and hold me in thy place." + + But Palinure with scarce-raised eyes e'en such an answer gave: + "To gentle countenance of sea and quiet of the wave + Deem'st thou me dull? would'st have me trow in such a monster's truth? + And shall I mine AEneas trust to lying breeze forsooth, 850 + I, fool of peaceful heaven and sea so many times of old?" + + So saying to the helm he clung, nor ever left his hold, + And all the while the stars above his eyen toward them drew. + But lo, the God brought forth a bough wet with Lethean dew, + And sleepy with the might of Styx, and shook it therewithal + Over his brow, and loosed his lids delaying still to fall: + But scarce in first of stealthy sleep his limbs all loosened lay, + When, weighing on him, did he tear a space of stern away, + And rolled him, helm and wrack and all, into the flowing wave + Headlong, and crying oft in vain for fellowship to save: 860 + Then Sleep himself amid thin air flew, borne upon the wing. + + No less the ship-host sails the sea, its safe way following + Untroubled 'neath the plighted word of Father Neptune's mouth. + So to the Sirens' rocks they draw, a dangerous pass forsooth + In yore agone, now white with bones of many a perished man. + Thence ever roared the salt sea now as on the rocks it ran; + And there the Father felt the ship fare wild and fitfully, + Her helmsman lost; so he himself steered o'er the night-tide sea, + Sore weeping; for his fellow's end his inmost heart did touch: + "O Palinure, that trowed the sky and soft seas overmuch, 870 + Now naked on an unknown shore thy resting-place shall be!" + + + + +BOOK VI. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS COMETH TO THE SIBYL OF CUMAE, AND BY HER IS LED INTO THE +UNDER-WORLD, AND THERE BEHOLDETH MANY STRANGE THINGS, AND IN THE END +MEETETH HIS FATHER, ANCHISES, WHO TELLETH HIM OF THE DAYS TO COME. + + + So spake he weeping, and his host let loose from every band, + Until at last they draw anigh Cumae's Euboean strand. + They turn the bows from off the main; the toothed anchors' grip + Makes fast the keels; the shore is hid by many a curved ship. + Hot-heart the youthful company leaps on the Westland's shore; + Part falleth on to seek them out the seed of fiery store + That flint-veins hide; part runneth through the dwellings of the deer, + The thicket steads, and each to each the hidden streams they bare. + + But good AEneas seeks the house where King Apollo bides, + The mighty den, the secret place set far apart, that hides 10 + The awful Sibyl, whose great soul and heart he seeketh home, + The Seer of Delos, showing her the hidden things to come: + And so the groves of Trivia and golden house they gain. + + Now Daedalus, as tells the tale, fleeing from Minos' reign, + Durst trust himself to heaven on wings swift hastening, and swim forth + Along the road ne'er tried before unto the chilly north; + So light at last o'er Chalcis' towers he hung amid the air, + Then, come adown to earth once more, to thee he hallowed here, + O Phoebus, all his winged oars, and built thee mighty fane: + Androgeus' death was on the doors; then paying of the pain 20 + By those Cecropians; bid, alas, each year to give in turn + Seven bodies of their sons;--lo there, the lots drawn from the urn. + But facing this the Gnosian land draws up amid the sea: + There is the cruel bull-lust wrought, and there Pasiphae + Embraced by guile: the blended babe is there, the twiformed thing, + The Minotaur, that evil sign of Venus' cherishing; + And there the tangled house and toil that ne'er should be undone: + But ruth of Daedalus himself a queen's love-sorrow won, + And he himself undid the snare and winding wilderment. + Guiding the blind feet with the thread. Thou, Icarus, wert blent 30 + Full oft with such a work be sure, if grief forbade it not; + But twice he tried to shape in gold the picture of thy lot, + And twice the father's hands fell down. + + Long had their eyes read o'er + Such matters, but Achates, now, sent on a while before, + Was come with that Deiphobe, the Glaucus' child, the maid + Of Phoebus and of Trivia, and such a word she said: + "The hour will have no tarrying o'er fair shows for idle eyes; + 'Twere better from an unyoked herd seven steers to sacrifice, + And e'en so many hosts of ewes in manner due culled out." + + She spake; her holy bidding then the warriors go about, 40 + Nor tarry: into temple high she calls the Teucrian men, + Where the huge side of Cumae's rock is carven in a den, + Where are an hundred doors to come, an hundred mouths to go, + Whence e'en so many awful sounds, the Sibyl's answers flow. + But at the threshold cried the maid: "Now is the hour awake + For asking--Ah, the God, the God!" + And as the word she spake + Within the door, all suddenly her visage and her hue + Were changed, and all her sleeked hair, and gasping breath she drew, + And with the rage her wild heart swelled, and greater was she grown, + Nor mortal-voiced; for breath of God upon her heart was blown 50 + As He drew nigher: + "Art thou dumb of vows and prayers, forsooth, + Trojan AEneas, art thou dumb? unprayed, the mighty mouth + Of awe-mazed house shall open not." + Even such a word she said, + Then hushed: through hardened Teucrian bones swift ran the chilly dread, + And straight the king from inmost heart the flood of prayers doth pour: + "Phoebus, who all the woe of Troy hast pitied evermore, + Who Dardan shaft and Paris' hands in time agone didst speed + Against Achilles' body there, who me withal didst lead + Over the seas that go about so many a mighty land, + Through those Massylian folks remote, and length of Syrtes' sand, 60 + Till now I hold that Italy that ever drew aback; + And now perchance a Trojan fate we, even we may lack. + Ye now, O Gods and Goddesses, to whom a stumbling-stone + Was Ilium in the days of old, and Dardan folk's renown, + May spare the folk of Pergamus. But thou, O holiest, + O Maid that knowest things to come, grant thou the Latin rest + To Teucrian men, and Gods of Troy, the straying way-worn powers! + For surely now no realm I ask but such as Fate makes ours. + To Phoebus and to Trivia then a temple will I raise, + A marble world; in Phoebus' name will hallow festal days: 70 + Thee also in our realm to be full mighty shrines await, + There will I set thine holy lots and hidden words of fate + Said to my folk, and hallow there well-chosen men for thee, + O Holy One: But give thou not thy songs to leaf of tree, + Lest made a sport to hurrying gales confusedly they wend; + But sing them thou thyself, I pray!" + Therewith his words had end. + Meanwhile the Seer-maid, not yet tamed to Phoebus, raves about + The cave, still striving from her breast to cast the godhead out; + But yet the more the mighty God her mouth bewildered wears, + Taming her wild heart, fashioning her soul with weight of fears. 80 + At last the hundred mighty doors fly open, touched of none, + And on the air the answer floats of that foreseeing one: + + "O Thou, who dangers of the sea hast throughly worn away, + Abides thee heavier toil of earth: the Dardans on a day + Shall come to that Lavinian land,--leave fear thereof afar: + Yet of their coming shall they rue. Lo, war, war, dreadful war! + And Tiber bearing plenteous blood upon his foaming back. + Nor Simois there, nor Xanthus' stream, nor Dorian camp shall lack: + Yea, once again in Latin land Achilles is brought forth, + God-born no less: nor evermore shall mighty Juno's wrath 90 + Fail Teucrian men. Ah, how shalt thou, fallen on evil days, + To all Italian lands and folks thine hands beseeching raise! + Lo, once again a stranger bride brings woeful days on Troy, + Once more the wedding of a foe. + But thou, yield not to any ill, but set thy face, and wend + The bolder where thy fortune leads; the dawn of perils' end, + Whence least thou mightest look for it, from Greekish folk shall come." + + Suchwise the Seer of Cumae sang from out her inner home + The dreadful double words, wherewith the cavern moans again, + As sooth amid the mirk she winds: Apollo shakes the rein 100 + Over the maddened one, and stirs the strings about her breast; + But when her fury lulled awhile and maddened mouth had rest, + Hero AEneas thus began: + "No face of any care, + O maiden, can arise on me in any wise unware: + Yea, all have I forecast; my mind hath worn through everything. + One prayer I pray, since this they call the gateway of the King + Of Nether-earth, and Acheron's o'erflow this mirky mere: + O let me meet the eyes and mouth of my dead father dear; + O open me the holy gate, and teach me where to go! + I bore him on these shoulders once from midmost of the foe, 110 + From flame and weapons thousandfold against our goings bent; + My yoke-fellow upon the road o'er every sea he went, + 'Gainst every threat of sea and sky a hardy heart he held, + Though worn and feeble past decay and feebleness of eld. + Yea, he it was who bade me wend, a suppliant, to thy door, + And seek thee out: O holy one, cast thou thy pity o'er + Father and son! All things thou canst, nor yet hath Hecate + Set thee to rule Avernus' woods an empty Queen to be. + Yea, Orpheus wrought with Thracian harp and strings of tuneful might + To draw away his perished love from midmost of the night. 120 + Yea, Pollux, dying turn for turn, his brother borrowed well, + And went and came the road full oft--Of Theseus shall I tell? + Or great Alcides? Ah, I too from highest Jove am sprung." + + Such were the words he prayed withal and round the altars clung: + Then she fell speaking: + "Man of Troy, from blood of Godhead grown, + Anchises' child, Avernus' road is easy faring down; + All day and night is open wide the door of Dis the black; + But thence to gain the upper air, and win the footsteps back, + This is the deed, this is the toil: Some few have had the might, + Beloved by Jove the just, upborne to heaven by valour's light, 130 + The Sons of God. 'Twixt it and us great thicket fills the place + That slow Cocytus' mirky folds all round about embrace; + But if such love be in thine heart, such yearning in thee lie, + To swim twice o'er the Stygian mere and twice to see with eye + Black Tartarus, and thou must needs this idle labour win, + Hearken what first there is to do: the dusky tree within + Lurks the gold bough with golden leaves and limber twigs of gold, + To nether Juno consecrate; this all these woods enfold, + Dim shadowy places cover it amid the hollow dale; + To come unto the under-world none living may avail 140 + Till he that growth of golden locks from off the tree hath shorn; + For this fair Proserpine ordained should evermore be borne + Her very gift: but, plucked away, still faileth not the thing, + Another golden stem instead hath leafy tide of spring. + So throughly search with eyes: thine hand aright upon it lay + When thou hast found: for easily 'twill yield and come away + If the Fates call thee: otherwise no might may overbear + Its will, nor with the hardened steel the marvel mayst thou shear. + + --Ah! further,--of thy perished friend as yet thou nothing know'st, + Whose body lying dead and cold defileth all thine host, 150 + While thou beseechest answering words, and hangest on our door: + Go, bring him to his own abode and heap the grave mound o'er; + Bring forth the black-wooled ewes to be first bringing back of grace: + So shalt thou see the Stygian groves, so shalt thou see the place + That hath no road for living men." + So hushed her mouth shut close: + But sad-faced and with downcast eyes therefrom AEneas goes, + And leaves the cave, still turning o'er those coming things, so dim, + So dark to see. Achates fares nigh fellow unto him, + And ever 'neath like load of cares he lets his footsteps fall: + And many diverse words they cast each unto each withal, 160 + What was the dead friend and the grave whereof the seer did teach. + But when they gat them down at last upon the barren beach, + They saw Misenus lying dead by death but lightly earned; + Misenus, son of AEolus; no man more nobly learned + In waking up the war with brass and singing Mars alight. + Great Hector's fellow was he erst, with Hector through the fight + He thrust, by horn made glorious, made glorious by the spear. + But when from Hector life and all Achilles' hand did tear, + Dardan AEneas' man became that mightiest under shield, + Nor unto any worser lord his fellowship would yield. 170 + Now while by chance through hollow shell he blew across the sea, + And witless called the very Gods his singing-foes to be, + The envious Triton caught him up, if ye the tale may trow, + And sank the hero 'twixt the rocks in foaming waters' flow. + Wherefore about him weeping sore were gathered all the men, + And good AEneas chief of all: the Sibyl's bidding then + Weeping they speed, and loiter not, but heap the tree-boughs high + Upon the altar of the dead to raise it to the sky: + Then to the ancient wood they fare, high dwelling of wild things; + They fell the pine, and 'neath the axe the smitten holm-oak rings; 180 + With wedge they cleave the ashen logs, and knitted oaken bole, + Full fain to split; and mighty elms down from the mountains roll. + + Amid the work AEneas is, who hearteneth on his folk, + As with such very tools as they he girds him for the stroke; + But through the sorrow of his heart such thought as this there strays, + And looking toward the waste of wood such word as this he prays: + "O if that very golden bough would show upon the tree, + In such a thicket and so great; since all she told of thee, + The seer-maid, O Misenus lost, was true and overtrue!" + + But scarcely had he spoken thus, when lo, from heaven there flew 190 + Two doves before his very eyes, who settled fluttering + On the green grass: and therewithal that mightiest battle-king + Knoweth his mother's birds new-come, and joyful poureth prayer: + "O, if a way there be at all, lead ye amid the air, + Lead on unto the thicket place where o'er the wealthy soil + The rich bough casteth shadow down! Fail not my eyeless toil, + O Goddess-mother!" + So he saith, and stays his feet to heed + What token they may bring to him, and whitherward they speed. + So on they flutter pasturing, with such a space between, + As they by eyes of following folk may scantly well be seen; 200 + But when Avernus' jaws at last, the noisome place, they reach, + They rise aloft and skim the air, and settle each by each + Upon the very wished-for place, yea high amid the tree, + Where the changed light through twigs of gold shines forth diversedly; + As in the woods mid winter's chill puts forth the mistletoe, + And bloometh with a leafage strange his own tree ne'er did sow, + And with his yellow children hath the rounded trunk in hold, + So in the dusky holm-oak seemed that bough of leafy gold, + As through the tinkling shaken foil the gentle wind went by: + Then straight AEneas caught and culled the tough stem greedily, 210 + And to the Sibyl's dwelling-place the gift in hand he bore. + + Nor less meanwhile the Teucrians weep Misenus on the shore, + And do last service to the dead that hath no thanks to pay. + And first fat fagots of the fir and oaken logs they lay, + And pile a mighty bale and rich, and weave the dusk-leaved trees + Between its sides, and set before the funeral cypresses, + And over all in seemly wise the gleaming weapons pile: + But some speed fire bewaved brass and water's warmth meanwhile, + And wash all o'er and sleek with oil the cold corpse of the dead: + Goes up the wail; the limbs bewept they streak upon the bed, 220 + And cast thereon the purple cloths, the well-known noble gear. + Then some of them, they shoulder up the mighty-fashioned bier, + Sad service! and put forth the torch with faces from him turned, + In fashion of the fathers old: there the heaped offerings burned, + The frankincense, the dainty meats, the bowls o'erflowed with oil. + But when the ashes were sunk down and fire had rest from toil, + The relics and the thirsty ash with unmixed wine they wet. + Then the gleaned bones in brazen urn doth Corynaeus set, + Who thrice about the gathered folk the stainless water bore. + As from the fruitful olive-bough light dew he sprinkled o'er, 230 + And cleansed the men, and spake withal last farewell to the dead. + But good AEneas raised a tomb, a mound huge fashioned, + And laid thereon the hero's arms and oar and battle-horn, + Beneath an airy hill that thence Misenus' name hath borne, + And still shall bear it, not to die till time hath faded out. + + This done, those deeds the Sibyl bade he setteth swift about: + A deep den is there, pebble-piled, with mouth that gapeth wide; + Black mere and thicket shadowy-mirk the secret of it hide. + And over it no fowl there is may wend upon the wing + And 'scape the bane; its blackened jaws bring forth such venoming. 240 + Such is the breath it bears aloft unto the hollow heaven; + So to the place the Greekish folk have name of Fowl-less given. + + Here, first of all, four black-skinned steers the priestess sets in line, + And on the foreheads of all these out-pours the bowl of wine. + Then 'twixt the horns she culleth out the topmost of the hair, + And lays it on the holy fire, the first-fruits offered there, + And cries aloud on Hecate, of might in heaven and hell; + While others lay the knife to throat and catch the blood that fell + Warm in the bowls: AEneas then an ewe-lamb black of fleece + Smites down with sword to her that bore the dread Eumenides, 250 + And her great sister; and a cow yet barren slays aright + To thee, O Proserpine, and rears the altars of the night + Unto the Stygian King, and lays whole bulls upon the flame, + Pouring rich oil upon the flesh that rush of fire o'ercame. + + But now, when sunrise is at hand, and dawning of the day, + The earth falls moaning 'neath their feet, the wooded ridges sway, + And dogs seem howling through the dusk as now she drew anear + The Goddess. "O be far away, ye unclean!" cries the seer. + "Be far away! ah, get ye gone from all the holy wood! + But thou, AEneas, draw thy steel and take thee to the road; 260 + Now needeth all thine hardihood and steadfast heart and brave." + + She spake, and wildly cast herself amidst the hollow cave, + But close upon her fearless feet AEneas followeth. + + O Gods, who rule the ghosts of men, O silent shades of death, + Chaos and Phlegethon, hushed lands that lie beneath the night! + Let me speak now, for I have heard: O aid me with your might + To open things deep sunk in earth, and mid the darkness blent. + + All dim amid the lonely night on through the dusk they went, + On through the empty house of Dis, the land of nought at all. + E'en as beneath the doubtful moon, when niggard light doth fall 270 + Upon some way amid the woods, when God hath hidden heaven, + And black night from the things of earth the colours dear hath driven. + + Lo, in the first of Orcus' jaws, close to the doorway side, + The Sorrows and Avenging Griefs have set their beds to bide; + There the pale kin of Sickness dwells, and Eld, the woeful thing, + And Fear, and squalid-fashioned Lack, and witless Hungering, + Shapes terrible to see with eye; and Toil of Men, and Death, + And Sleep, Death's brother, and the Lust of Soul that sickeneth: + And War, the death-bearer, was set full in the threshold's way, + And those Well-willers' iron beds: there heartless Discord lay, 280 + Whose viper-breeding hair about was bloody-filleted. + + But in the midst a mighty elm, dusk as the night, outspread + Its immemorial boughs and limbs, where lying dreams there lurk, + As tells the tale, still clinging close 'neath every leaf-side mirk. + Withal most wondrous, many-shaped are all the wood-beasts there; + The Centaurs stable by the porch, and twi-shaped Scyllas fare, + And hundred-folded Briareus, and Lerna's Worm of dread + Fell hissing; and Chimaera's length and fire-behelmed head, + Gorgons and Harpies, and the shape of that three-bodied Shade. + Then smitten by a sudden fear AEneas caught his blade, 290 + And turned the naked point and edge against their drawing nigh; + And but for her wise word that these were thin lives flitting by + All bodiless, and wrapped about in hollow shape and vain, + With idle sword had he set on to cleave the ghosts atwain. + + To Acheron of Tartarus from hence the road doth go, + That mire-bemingled, whirling wild, rolls on his desert flow, + And all amid Cocytus' flood casteth his world of sand. + This flood and river's ferrying doth Charon take in hand, + Dread in his squalor: on his chin untrimmed the hoar hair lies + Most plenteous; and unchanging flame bides in his staring eyes: 300 + Down from his shoulders hangs his gear in filthy knot upknit; + And he himself poles on his ship, and tends the sails of it, + And crawls with load of bodies lost in bark all iron-grey, + Grown old by now: but fresh and green is godhead's latter day. + + Down thither rushed a mighty crowd, unto the flood-side borne; + Mothers and men, and bodies there with all the life outworn + Of great-souled heroes; many a boy and never-wedded maid, + And youths before their fathers' eyes upon the death-bale laid: + As many as the leaves fall down in first of autumn cold; + As many as the gathered fowl press on to field and fold, 310 + From off the weltering ocean-flood, when the late year and chill + Hath driven them across the sea the sunny lands to fill. + + There stood the first and prayed him hard to waft their bodies o'er, + With hands stretched out for utter love of that far-lying shore. + But that grim sailor now takes these, now those from out the band, + While all the others far away he thrusteth from the sand. + + AEneas wondered at the press, and moved thereby he spoke: + "Say, Maid, what means this river-side, and gathering of the folk? + What seek the souls, and why must some depart the river's rim, + While others with the sweep of oars the leaden waters skim?" 320 + + Thereon the ancient Maid of Days in few words answered thus: + "Anchises' seed, thou very child of Godhead glorious, + Thou seest the deep Cocytus' pools, thou seest the Stygian mere, + By whose might Gods will take the oath, and all forswearing fear: + But all the wretched crowd thou seest are they that lack a grave, + And Charon is the ferryman: those borne across the wave + Are buried: none may ever cross the awful roaring road + Until their bones are laid at rest within their last abode. + An hundred years they stray about and wander round the shore, + Then they at last have grace to gain the pools desired so sore." 330 + + There tarried then Anchises' child and stayed awhile his feet, + Mid many thoughts, and sore at heart, for such a doom unmeet: + And there he saw all sorrowful, without the death-dues dead, + Leucaspis, and Orontes, he that Lycian ship-host led; + Whom, borne from Troy o'er windy plain, the South wind utterly + O'erwhelming, sank him, ships and men, in swallow of the sea. + And lo ye now, where Palinure the helmsman draweth nigh, + Who lately on the Libyan sea, noting the starry sky, + Fell from the high poop headlong down mid wavy waters cast. + His sad face through the plenteous dusk AEneas knew at last, 340 + And spake: + "What God, O Palinure, did snatch thee so away + From us thy friends and drown thee dead amidst the watery way? + Speak out! for Seer Apollo, found no guileful prophet erst, + By this one answer in my soul a lying hope hath nursed; + Who sang of thee safe from the deep and gaining field and fold + Of fair Ausonia: suchwise he his plighted word doth hold!" + + The other spake: "Apollo's shrine in nowise lied to thee, + King of Anchises, and no God hath drowned me in the sea: + But while I clung unto the helm, its guard ordained of right, + And steered thee on, I chanced to fall, and so by very might 350 + Seaward I dragged it down with me. By the rough seas I swear + My heart, for any hap of mine, had no so great a fear + As for thy ship; lest, rudderless, its master from it torn, + Amid so great o'ertoppling seas it yet might fail forlorn. + Three nights of storm I drifted on, 'neath wind and water's might, + Over the sea-plain measureless; but with the fourth day's light + There saw I Italy rise up from welter of the wave. + Then slow I swam unto the land, that me well-nigh did save, + But fell the cruel folk on me, heavy with raiment wet, + And striving with my hooked hands hold on the rocks to get: 360 + The fools, they took me for a prey, and steel against me bore. + Now the waves have me, and the winds on sea-beach roll me o'er. + But by the breath of heaven above, by daylight's joyous ways, + By thine own father, by the hope of young Iulus' days, + Snatch me, O dauntless, from these woes, and o'er me cast the earth! + As well thou may'st when thou once more hast gained the Veline firth. + Or if a way there be, if way thy Goddess-mother show,-- + For not without the will of Gods meseemeth wouldst thou go + O'er so great floods, or have a mind to swim the Stygian mere,-- + Then give thine hand, and o'er the wave me woeful with thee bear, 370 + That I at least in quiet place may rest when I am dead." + + So spake he, but the priestess straight such word unto him said: + "O Palinure, what godless mind hath gotten hold of thee, + That thou the grim Well-willers' stream and Stygian flood wouldst see + Unburied, and unbidden still the brim wilt draw anear? + Hope not the Fates of very God to change by any prayer. + But take this memory of my words to soothe thy wretched case: + Through all their cities far and wide the people of the place, + Driven by mighty signs from heaven, thy bones shall expiate + And raise thee tomb, and year by year with worship on thee wait; 380 + And there the name of Palinure shall dwell eternally." + + So at that word his trouble lulled, his grief of heart passed by, + A little while he joyed to think of land that bore his name. + + So forth upon their way they went and toward the river came; + But when from Stygian wave their path the shipman's gaze did meet, + As through the dead hush of the grove shoreward they turned their feet, + He fell upon them first with words and unbid chided them: + + "Whoe'er ye be who come in arms unto our river's hem, + Say what ye be! yea, speak from thence and stay your steps forthright! + This is the very place of shades, and sleep, and sleepful night; 390 + And living bodies am I banned in Stygian keel to bear. + Nor soothly did I gain a joy, giving Alcides fare, + Or ferrying of Pirithoues and Theseus time agone, + Though come of God they were and matched in valiancy of none: + He sought the guard of Tartarus chains on his limbs to lay, + And from the King's own seat he dragged the quaking beast away: + Those strove to carry off the Queen from great Dis' very bed." + + The Amphrysian prophet answering, few words unto him said: + "But here are no such guiles as this, so let thy wrath go by: + Our weapons bear no war; for us still shall the door-ward lie 400 + And bark in den, and fright the ghosts, the bloodless, evermore: + Nor shall chaste Proserpine for us pass through her kinsman's door: + Trojan AEneas, great in arms and great in godly grace, + Goes down through dark of Erebus to see his father's face. + But if such guise of piety may move thine heart no whit, + At least this bough "--(bared from her weed therewith she showeth it)-- + "Know ye!" + Then in his swelling heart adown the anger sank, + Nor spake he more; but wondering at that gift a God might thank, + The fateful stem, now seen once more so long a time worn by, + He turned about his coal-blue keel and drew the bank anigh 410 + The souls upon the long thwarts set therewith he thrusteth out, + And clears the gangway, and withal takes in his hollow boat + The huge AEneas, 'neath whose weight the seamed boat groans and creaks, + And plenteous water of the mere lets in at many leaks. + At last the Hero and the Maid safe o'er the watery way + He leaveth on the ugly mire and sedge of sorry grey. + + The three-mouthed bark of Cerberus here filleth all the place, + As huge he lieth in a den that hath them full in face: + But when the adders she beheld upon his crest upborne, + A sleepy morsel honey-steeped, and blent of wizards' corn, 420 + She cast him: then his threefold throat, all wild with hunger's lack, + He opened wide, and caught at it, and sank his monstrous back, + And there he lay upon the earth enormous through the cave. + AEneas caught upon the pass the door-ward's slumber gave, + And fled the bank of that sad stream no man may pass again. + And many sounds they heard therewith, a wailing vast and vain; + For weeping souls of speechless babes round the first threshold lay, + Whom, without share of life's delight, snatched from the breast away, + The black day hurried off, and all in bitter ending hid. + And next were those condemned to die for deed they never did: 430 + For neither doom nor judge nor house may any lack in death: + The seeker Minos shakes the urn, and ever summoneth + The hushed-ones' court, and learns men's lives and what against them stands. + + The next place is of woeful ones, who sackless, with their hands + Compassed their death, and weary-sick of light without avail + Cast life away; but now how fain to bear the poor man's bale + Beneath the heaven, the uttermost of weary toil to bear! + But law forbiddeth: the sad wave of that unlovely mere + Is changeless bond; and ninefold Styx compelleth to abide. + Nor far from thence behold the meads far spread on every side, 440 + The Mourning Meads--in tale have they such very name and sign. + There those whom hard love ate away with cruel wasting pine + Are hidden in the lonely paths with myrtle-groves about, + Nor in the very death itself may wear their trouble out: + Phaedra he saw, Procris he saw, and Eriphyle sad. + Baring that cruel offspring's wound her loving body had: + Evadne and Pasiphae, Laodamia there + He saw, and Caenis, once a youth and then a maiden fair, + And shifted by the deed of fate to his old shape again. + + Midst whom Phoenician Dido now, fresh from the iron bane, 450 + Went wandering in the mighty wood: and when the Trojan man + First dimly knew her standing by amid the glimmer wan + --E'en as in earliest of the month one sees the moon arise, + Or seems to see her at the least in cloudy drift of skies-- + He spake, and let the tears fall down by all love's sweetness stirred: + "Unhappy Dido, was it true, that bitter following word, + That thou wert dead, by sword hadst sought the utter end of all? + Was it thy very death I wrought? Ah! on the stars I call, + I call the Gods and whatso faith the nether earth may hold, + To witness that against my will I left thy field and fold! 460 + But that same bidding of the Gods, whereby e'en now I wend + Through dark, through deserts rusty-rough, through night without an end, + Drave me with doom. Nor held my heart in anywise belief + That my departure from thy land might work thee such a grief. + O stay thy feet! nor tear thyself from my beholding thus. + Whom fleest thou? this word is all that Fate shall give to us." + + Such were the words AEneas spake to soothe her as she stood + With stern eyes flaming, while his heart swelled with the woeful flood: + But, turned away, her sick eyes still she fixed upon the earth; + Nor was her face moved any more by all his sad words' birth 470 + Than if Marpesian crag or flint had held her image so: + At last she flung herself away, and fled, his utter foe, + Unto the shady wood, where he, her husband of old days, + Gives grief for grief, and loving heart beside her loving lays. + Nor less AEneas, smitten sore by her unworthy woes, + With tears and pity followeth her as far away she goes. + + But thence the meted way they wear, and reach the outer field, + Where dwell apart renowned men, the mighty under shield: + There Tydeus meets him; there he sees the great fight-glorious man, + Parthenopaeus; there withal Adrastus' image wan; 480 + And there the Dardans battle-slain, for whom the wailing went + To very heaven: their long array he saw with sad lament: + Glaucus and Medon there he saw, Thersilochus, the three + Antenor-sons, and Polyphoete, by Ceres' mystery + Made holy, and Idaeus still in car with armed hand: + There on the right side and the left the straying spirits stand. + Nor is one sight of him enough; it joyeth them to stay + And pace beside, asking for why he wendeth such a way. + But when the lords of Danaan folk, and Agamemnon's hosts, + Behold the man and gleaming arms amid the dusky ghosts, 490 + They fall a-quaking full of fear: some turn their back to fly + As erst they ran unto the ships; some raise a quavering cry, + But never from their gaping vain will swell the shout begun. + + And now Deiphobus he sees, the glorious Priam's son; + But all his body mangled sore, his face all evilly hacked, + His face and hands; yea, and his head, laid waste, the ear-lobes lacked, + And nostrils cropped unto the root by wicked wound and grim. + Scarcely he knew the trembling man, who strove to hide from him + Those torments dire, but thus at last he spake in voice well known: + + "O great in arms, Deiphobus, from Teucer's blood come down, 500 + Who had the heart to work on thee such bitter wicked bale? + Who had the might to deal thee this? Indeed I heard the tale, + That, tired with slaying of the Greeks on that last night of all, + Upon a heap of mingled death thou didst to slumber fall: + And I myself an empty tomb on that Rhoetean coast + Set up to thee, and thrice aloud cried blessing on thy ghost: + Thy name and arms still keep the place; but thee I found not, friend, + To set thee in thy fathers' earth ere I too needs must wend." + + To him the child of Priam spake: "Friend, nought thou left'st undone; + All things thou gav'st Deiphobus, and this dead shadowy one: 510 + My Fates and that Laconian Bane, the Woman wicked-fair, + Have drowned me in this sea of ills: she set these tokens here. + How midst a lying happiness we wore the last night by + 'Thou know'st: yea; overwell belike thou hold'st that memory + Now when the baneful Horse of Fate high Pergamus leapt o'er, + With womb come nigh unto the birth of weaponed men of war, + She, feigning hallowed dance, led on a holy-shouting band + Of Phrygian maids, and midst of them, the bale-fire in her hand, + Called on the Danaan men to come, high on the castle's steep: + But me, outworn with many cares and weighed adown with sleep, 520 + The hapless bride-bed held meanwhile, and on me did there press + Deep rest and sweet, most like indeed to death's own quietness. + Therewith my glorious wife all arms from out the house withdrew, + And stole away from o'er my head the sword whose faith I knew, + Called Menelaues to the house and opened him the door, + Thinking, forsooth, great gift to give to him who loved so sore, + To quench therewith the tale gone by of how she did amiss. + Why linger? They break in on me, and he their fellow is, + Ulysses, preacher of all guilt.--O Gods, will ye not pay + The Greeks for all? belike with mouth not godless do I pray. 530 + --But tell me, thou, what tidings new have brought thee here alive? + Is it blind strayings o'er the sea that hither doth thee drive, + Or bidding of the Gods? Wherein hath Fortune worn thee so, + That thou, midst sunless houses sad, confused lands, must go?" + + But as they gave and took in talk, Aurora at the last + In rosy wain the topmost crown of upper heaven had passed, + And all the fated time perchance in suchwise had they spent; + But warning of few words enow the Sibyl toward him sent: + "Night falls, AEneas, weeping here we wear the hours in vain; + And hard upon us is the place where cleaves the road atwain; 540 + On by the walls of mighty Dis the right-hand highway goes, + Our way to that Elysium: the left drags on to woes + Ill-doers' souls, and bringeth them to godless Tartarus." + + Then spake Deiphobus: "Great seer, be not o'erwroth with us: + I will depart and fill the tale, and unto dusk turn back: + Go forth, our glory, go and gain the better fate I lack!" + And even with that latest word his feet he tore away. + But suddenly AEneas turned, and lo, a city lay + Wide-spread 'neath crags upon the left, girt with a wall threefold; + And round about in hurrying flood a flaming river rolled, 550 + E'en Phlegethon of Tartarus, with rattling, stony roar: + In face with adamantine posts was wrought the mighty door, + Such as no force of men nor might of heaven-abiders high + May cleave with steel; an iron tower thence riseth to the sky: + And there is set Tisiphone, with girded blood-stained gown, + Who, sleepless, holdeth night and day the doorway of the town. + Great wail and cruel sound of stripes that city sendeth out, + And iron clanking therewithal of fetters dragged about. + + Then fearfully AEneas stayed, and drank the tumult in: + "O tell me, Maiden, what is there? What images of sin? 560 + What torments bear they? What the wail yon city casts abroad?" + + Then so began the seer to speak: "O glorious Teucrian lord, + On wicked threshold of the place no righteous foot may stand: + But when great Hecate made me Queen of that Avernus land, + She taught me of God's punishments and led me down the path. + --There Gnosian Rhadamanthus now most heavy lordship hath, + And heareth lies, and punisheth, and maketh men confess + Their deeds of earth, whereof made glad by foolish wickedness, + They thrust the late repentance off till death drew nigh to grip: + Those guilty drives Tisiphone, armed with avenging whip, 570 + And mocks their writhings, casting forth her other dreadful hand + Filled with the snakes, and crying on her cruel sister's band. + And then at last on awful hinge loud-clanging opens wide + The Door of Doom:--and lo, behold what door-ward doth abide + Within the porch, what thing it is the city gate doth hold! + More dreadful yet the Water-worm, with black mouth fiftyfold, + Hath dwelling in the inner parts. Then Tartarus aright + Gapes sheer adown; and twice so far it thrusteth under night + As up unto the roof of heaven Olympus lifteth high: + And there the ancient race of Earth, the Titan children, lie, 580 + Cast down by thunder, wallowing in bottomless abode. + There of the twin Aloidae the monstrous bodies' load + I saw; who fell on mighty heaven to cleave it with their hands, + That they might pluck the Father Jove from out his glorious lands; + And Salmoneus I saw withal, paying the cruel pain + That fire of Jove and heaven's own voice on earth he needs must feign: + He, drawn by fourfold rush of steeds, and shaking torches' glare, + Amidmost of the Grecian folks, amidst of Elis fair, + Went glorying, and the name of God and utter worship sought. + O fool! the glory of the storm, and lightning like to nought, 590 + He feigned with rattling copper things and beat of horny hoof. + Him the Almighty Father smote from cloudy rack aloof, + But never brand nor pitchy flame of smoky pine-tree cast, + As headlong there he drave him down amid the whirling blast. + And Tityon, too, the child of Earth, great Mother of all things, + There may ye see: nine acres' space his mighty frame he flings; + His deathless liver still is cropped by that huge vulture's beak + That evermore his daily meat doth mid his inwards seek, + Fruitful of woe, and hath his home beneath his mighty breast: + Whose heart-strings eaten, and new-born shall never know of rest. 600 + Of Lapithae, Pirithoues, Ixion, what a tale! + O'er whom the black crag hangs, that slips, and slips, and ne'er shall fail + To seem to fall. The golden feet of feast beds glitter bright, + And there in manner of the kings is glorious banquet dight. + But lo, the Furies' eldest-born is crouched beside it there, + And banneth one and all of them hand on the board to bear, + And riseth up with tossing torch, and crieth, thundering loud. + Here they that hated brethren sore while yet their life abode, + The father-smiters, they that drew the client-catching net, + The brooders over treasure found in earth, who never yet 610 + Would share one penny with their friends--and crowded thick these are-- + Those slain within another's bed; the followers up of war + Unrighteous; they no whit ashamed their masters' hand to fail, + Here prisoned bide the penalty: seek not to know their tale + Of punishment; what fate it is o'erwhelmeth such a folk. + Some roll huge stones; some hang adown, fast bound to tire or spoke + Of mighty wheels. There sitteth now, and shall sit evermore + Theseus undone: wretch Phlegyas is crying o'er and o'er + His warning, and in mighty voice through dim night testifies: + 'Be warned, and learn of righteousness, nor holy Gods despise.' 620 + This sold his fatherland for gold; this tyrant on it laid; + This for a price made laws for men, for price the laws unmade: + This broke into his daughter's bed and wedding-tide accursed: + All dared to think of monstrous deed, and did the deed they durst. + Nor, had I now an hundred mouths, an hundred tongues at need, + An iron voice, might I tell o'er all guise of evil deed, + Or run adown the names of woe those evil deeds are worth." + + So when Apollo's ancient seer such words had given forth: + "Now to the road! fulfil the gift that we so far have brought! 629 + Haste on!" she saith, "I see the walls in Cyclops' furnace wrought; + And now the opening of the gates is lying full in face, + Where we are bidden lay adown the gift that brings us grace." + + She spake, and through the dusk of ways on side by side they wend, + And wear the space betwixt, and reach the doorway in the end. + AEneas at the entering in bedews his body o'er + With water fresh, and sets the bough in threshold of the door. + So, all being done, the Goddess' gift well paid in manner meet, + They come into a joyous land, and green-sward fair and sweet + Amid the happiness of groves, the blessed dwelling-place. + Therein a more abundant heaven clothes all the meadows' face 640 + With purple light, and their own sun and their own stars they have. + Here some in games upon the grass their bodies breathing gave; + Or on the yellow face of sand they strive and play the play; + Some beat the earth with dancing foot, and some, the song they say: + And there withal the Thracian man in flowing raiment sings + Unto the measure of the dance on seven-folded strings; + And now he smites with finger-touch, and now with ivory reed. + And here is Teucer's race of old, most lovely sons indeed; + High-hearted heroes born on earth in better days of joy: + Ilus was there, Assaracus, and he who builded Troy, 650 + E'en Dardanus. Far off are seen their empty wains of war + And war-weed: stand the spears in earth, unyoked the horses are, + And graze the meadows all about; for even as they loved + Chariot and weapons, yet alive, and e'en as they were moved + To feed sleek horses, under earth doth e'en such joy abide. + Others he saw to right and left about the meadows wide + Feasting; or joining merry mouths to sing the battle won + Amidst the scented laurel grove, whence earthward rolleth on + The full flood that Eridanus athwart the wood doth pour. + Lo, they who in their country's fight sword-wounded bodies bore; 660 + Lo, priests of holy life and chaste, while they in life had part; + Lo, God-loved poets, men who spake things worthy Phoebus' heart: + And they who bettered life on earth by new-found mastery; + And they whose good deeds left a tale for men to name them by: + And all they had their brows about with snowy fillets bound. + + Now unto them the Sibyl spake as there they flowed around,-- + Unto Musaeus first; for him midmost the crowd enfolds + Higher than all from shoulders up, and reverently beholds: + "Say, happy souls, and thou, O bard, the best earth ever bare, + What land, what place Anchises hath? for whose sake came we here, 670 + And swam the floods of Erebus and every mighty wave." + + Then, lightly answering her again, few words the hero gave: + "None hath a certain dwelling-place; in shady groves we bide, + And meadows fresh with running streams, and beds by river-side: + But if such longing and so sore the heart within you hath, + O'ertop yon ridge and I will set your feet in easy path." + + He spake and footed it afore, and showeth from above + The shining meads; and thence away from hill-top down they move. + + But Sire Anchises deep adown in green-grown valley lay, + And on the spirits prisoned there, but soon to wend to day, 680 + Was gazing with a fond desire: of all his coming ones + There was he reckoning up the tale, and well-loved sons of sons: + Their fate, their haps, their ways of life, their deeds to come to pass. + But when he saw AEneas now draw nigh athwart the grass, + He stretched forth either palm to him all eager, and the tears + Poured o'er his cheeks, and speech withal forth from his mouth there fares: + + "O come at last, and hath the love, thy father hoped for, won + O'er the hard way, and may I now look on thy face, O son, + And give and take with thee in talk, and hear the words I know? + So verily my mind forebode, I deemed 'twas coming so, 690 + And counted all the days thereto; nor was my longing vain. + And now I have thee, son, borne o'er what lands, how many a main! + How tossed about on every side by every peril still! + Ah, how I feared lest Libyan land should bring thee unto ill!" + + Then he: "O father, thou it was, thine image sad it was, + That, coming o'er and o'er again, drave me these doors to pass: + My ships lie in the Tyrrhene salt--ah, give the hand I lack! + Give it, my father; neither thus from my embrace draw back!" + + His face was wet with plenteous tears e'en as the word he spake, + And thrice the neck of him beloved he strove in arms to take; 700 + And thrice away from out his hands the gathered image streams, + E'en as the breathing of the wind or winged thing of dreams. + + But down amid a hollow dale meanwhile AEneas sees + A secret grove, a thicket fair, with murmuring of the trees, + And Lethe's stream that all along that quiet place doth wend; + O'er which there hovered countless folks and peoples without end: + And as when bees amid the fields in summer-tide the bright + Settle on diverse flowery things, and round the lilies white + Go streaming; so the fields were filled with mighty murmuring. + + Unlearned AEneas fell aquake at such a wondrous thing, 710 + And asketh what it all may mean, what rivers these may be, + And who the men that fill the banks with such a company. + Then spake Anchises: "These are souls to whom fate oweth now + New bodies: there they drink the draught by Lethe's quiet flow, + The draught that is the death of care, the long forgetfulness. + And sure to teach thee of these things, and show thee all their press, + And of mine offspring tell the tale, for long have I been fain, + That thou with me mightst more rejoice in thine Italia's gain." + + "O Father, may we think it then, that souls may get them hence + To upper air and take once more their bodies' hinderance? 720 + How can such mad desire be to win the worldly day?" + + "Son, I shall tell thee all thereof, nor hold thee on the way." + Therewith he takes the tale and all he openeth orderly: + + "In the beginning: earth and sky and flowing fields of sea, + And stars that Titan fashioned erst, and gleaming moony ball, + An inward spirit nourisheth, one soul is shed through all, + That quickeneth all the mass, and with the mighty thing is blent: + Thence are the lives of men and beasts and flying creatures sent, + And whatsoe'er the sea-plain bears beneath its marble face; + Quick in these seeds is might of fire and birth of heavenly place, 730 + Ere earthly bodies' baneful weight upon them comes to lie, + Ere limbs of earth bewilder them and members made to die. + Hence fear they have, and love, and joy, and grief, and ne'er may find + The face of heaven amid the dusk and prison strait and blind: + Yea, e'en when out of upper day their life at last is borne, + Not all the ill of wretched men is utterly outworn, + Not all the bane their bodies bred; and sure in wondrous wise + The plenteous ill they bore so long engrained in them it lies: + So therefore are they worn by woes and pay for ancient wrong: + And some of them are hung aloft the empty winds among; 740 + And some, their stain of wickedness amidst the water's heart + Is washed away; amidst the fire some leave their worser part; + And each his proper death must bear: then through Elysium wide + Are we sent forth; a scanty folk in joyful fields we bide, + Till in the fulness of the time, the day that long hath been + Hath worn away the inner stain and left the spirit clean, + A heavenly essence, a fine flame of all unmingled air. + All these who now have turned the wheel for many and many a year + God calleth unto Lethe's flood in mighty company, + That they, remembering nought indeed, the upper air may see 750 + Once more, and long to turn aback to worldly life anew." + + Anchises therewithal his son, and her the Sibyl drew + Amid the concourse, the great crowd that such a murmuring sent, + And took a mound whence they might see the spirits as they went + In long array, and learn each face as 'neath their eyes it came. + + "Come now, and I of Dardan folk will tell the following fame, + And what a folk from Italy the world may yet await, + Most glorious souls, to bear our name adown the ways of fate. + Yea, I will set it forth in words, and thou thy tale shalt hear: + Lo ye, the youth that yonder leans upon the headless spear, 760 + Fate gives him nighest place today; he first of all shall rise, + Blent blood of Troy and Italy, unto the earthly skies: + Silvius is he, an Alban name, thy son, thy latest born; + He whom thy wife Lavinia now, when thin thy life is worn, + Beareth in woods to be a king and get a kingly race, + Whence comes the lordship of our folk within the Long White Place. + And Procas standeth next to him, the Trojan people's fame; + Then Capys, Numitor, and he who bringeth back thy name, + Silvius AEneas, great in war, and great in godliness, + If ever he in that White Stead may bear the kingdom's stress. 770 + Lo ye, what youths! what glorious might unto thine eyes is shown! + But they who shade their temples o'er with civic oaken crown, + These build for thee Nomentum's walls, and Gabii, and the folk + Fidenian, and the mountains load with fair Collatia's yoke: + Pometii, Bola, Cora, there shall rise beneath their hands, + And Inuus' camp: great names shall spring amid the nameless lands. + + "Then Mavors' child shall come on earth, his grandsire following, + When Ilia's womb, Assaracus' own blood, to birth shall bring + That Romulus:--lo, see ye not the twin crests on his head, + And how the Father hallows him for day with his own dread 780 + E'en now? Lo, son! those signs of his; lo, that renowned Rome! + Whose lordship filleth all the earth, whose heart Olympus' home, + And with begirdling of her wall girds seven great burgs to her, + Rejoicing in her man-born babes: e'en as the Earth-Mother + Amidst the Phrygian cities goes with car and towered crown, + Glad in the Gods, whom hundred-fold she kisseth for her own. + All heaven-abiders, all as kings within the house of air. + Ah, turn thine eyeballs hitherward, look on this people here, + Thy Roman folk! Lo Caesar now! Lo all Iulus' race, + Who 'neath the mighty vault of heaven shall dwell in coming days. 790 + And this is he, this is the man thou oft hast heard foretold, + Augustus Caesar, sprung from God to bring the age of gold + Aback unto the Latin fields, where Saturn once was king. + Yea, and the Garamantian folk and Indians shall he bring + Beneath his sway: beyond the stars, beyond the course of years, + Beyond the Sun-path lies the land, where Atlas heaven upbears, + And on his shoulders turns the pole with burning stars bestrown. + Yea, and e'en now the Caspian realms quake at his coming, shown + By oracles of God; and quakes the far Maeotic mere, 799 + And sevenfold Nile through all his mouths quakes in bewildered fear. + Not so much earth did Hercules o'erpass, though he prevailed + To pierce the brazen-footed hind, and win back peace that failed + The Erymanthus' wood, and shook Lerna with draught of bow; + Nor Liber turning vine-wreathed reins when he hath will to go + Adown from Nysa's lofty head in tiger-yoked car.-- + Forsooth then shall we doubt but deeds shall spread our valour far? + Shall fear forsooth forbid us rest in that Ausonian land? + + "But who is this, the olive-crowned, that beareth in his hand + The holy things? I know the hair and hoary beard of eld + Of him, the Roman king, who first a law-bound city held, 810 + Sent out from little Cures' garth, that unrich land of his, + Unto a mighty lordship: yea, and Tullus next is this, + Who breaks his country's sleep and stirs the slothful men to fight; + And calleth on the weaponed hosts unused to war's delight + But next unto him Ancus fares, a boaster overmuch; + Yea and e'en now the people's breath too nigh his heart will touch. + And wilt thou see the Tarquin kings and Brutus' lofty heart, + And fasces brought aback again by his avenging part? + He first the lordship consular and dreadful axe shall take; 819 + The father who shall doom the sons, that war and change would wake, + To pain of death, that he thereby may freedom's fairness save. + Unhappy! whatso tale of thee the after-time may have, + The love of country shall prevail, and boundless lust of praise. + + "Drusi and Decii lo afar! On hard Torquatus gaze, + He of the axe: Camillus lo, the banner-rescuer! + But note those two thou seest shine in arms alike and clear, + Now souls of friends, and so to be while night upon them weighs: + Woe's me! what war shall they awake if e'er the light of days + They find: what host each sets 'gainst each, what death-field shall they dight! + The father from the Alpine wall, and from Monoecus' height 830 + Comes down; the son against him turns the East's embattlement. + O children, in such evil war let not your souls be spent, + Nor turn the valour of your might against the heart of home. + Thou first, refrain, O thou my blood from high Olympus come; + Cast thou the weapons from thine hand! + + "Lo to the Capitol aloft, for Corinth triumphing, + One glorious with Achaean deaths in victor's chariot goes; + Mycenae, Agamemnon's house, and Argos he o'erthrows, + Yea and AEacides himself the great Achilles' son; + Avenging so the sires of Troy and Pallas' house undone. 840 + Great Cato, can I leave thee then untold? pass Cossus o'er? + Or house of Gracchus? Yea, or ye, twin thunderbolts of war, + Ye Scipios, bane of Libyan land? Fabricius, poor and strong? + Or thee, Serranus, casting seed adown the furrows long? + Fabii, where drive ye me outworn? Thou Greatest, thou art he, + Who bringest back thy country's weal by tarrying manfully. + + "Others, I know, more tenderly may beat the breathing brass, + And better from the marble block bring living looks to pass; + Others may better plead the cause, may compass heaven's face, + And mark it out, and tell the stars, their rising and their place: 850 + But thou, O Roman, look to it the folks of earth to sway; + For this shall be thine handicraft, peace on the world to lay, + To spare the weak, to wear the proud by constant weight of war." + + So mid their marvelling he spake, and added furthermore: + "Marcellus lo! neath Spoils of Spoils how great and glad he goes, + And overtops all heroes there, the vanquisher of foes: + Yea, he shall prop the Roman weal when tumult troubleth all, + And ride amid the Punic ranks, and crush the rising Gaul, + And hang in sire Quirinus' house the third war-taken gear." + + Then spake AEneas, for he saw following Marcellus near 860 + A youth of beauty excellent, with gleaming arms bedight, + Yet little glad of countenance with eyes that shunned the light: + "O father, who is he that wends beside the hero's hem, + His son belike, or some one else from out that mighty stem? + What murmuring of friends about! How mighty is he made! + But black Night fluttereth over him with woeful mirky shade." + + Then midst the rising of his tears father Anchises spoke: + "O son, search not the mighty woe and sorrow of thy folk! + The Fates shall show him to the world, nor longer blossoming + Shall give. O Gods that dwell on high, belike o'ergreat a thing 870 + The Roman tree should seem to you, should this your gift endure! + How great a wail of mighty men that Field of Fame shall pour + On Mavors' mighty city walls: what death-rites seest thou there, + O Tiber, as thou glidest by his new-wrought tomb and fair! + No child that is of Ilian stock in Latin sires shall raise + Such glorious hope; nor shall the land of Romulus e'er praise + So fair and great a nursling child mid all it ever bore. + Goodness, and faith of ancient days, and hand unmatched in war, + Alas for all! No man unhurt had raised a weaponed hand + Against him, whether he afoot had met the foeman's band, 880 + Or smitten spur amid the flank of eager foaming horse. + O child of all men's ruth, if thou the bitter Fates mayst force, + Thou art Marcellus. Reach ye hands of lily-blooms fulfilled; + For I will scatter purple flowers, and heap such offerings spilled + Unto the spirit of my child, and empty service do." + + Thereafter upon every side they strayed that country through, + Amid wide-spreading airy meads, and sight of all things won. + But after old Anchises now through all had led his son, + And kindled love within his heart of fame that was to be, + Then did he tell him of the wars that he himself should see, 890 + And of Laurentian peoples taught, and town of Latin folk; + And how from every grief to flee, or how to bear its stroke. + + Now twofold are the Gates of Sleep, whereof the one, men say, + Is wrought of horn, and ghosts of sooth thereby win easy way, + The other clean and smooth is wrought of gleaming ivory, + But lying dreams the nether Gods send up to heaven thereby. + All said, Anchises on his son and Sibyl-maid doth wait + Unto the last, and sends them up by that same ivory gate. + He wears the way and gains his fleet and fellow-folk once more. + + So for Caieta's haven-mouth by straightest course they bore, 900 + Till fly the anchors from the bows and sterns swing round ashore. + + + + +BOOK VII. + +ARGUMENT. + +AENEAS AND HIS TROJANS TAKE LAND BY THE TIBER-MOUTH, AND KING LATINUS +PLIGHTETH PEACE WITH THEM; WHICH PEACE IS BROKEN BY THE WILL OF JUNO, +AND ALL MEN MAKE THEM READY FOR WAR. + + + Thou also, O AEneas' nurse, Caieta, didst avail, + E'en dying, unto these our shores to leave a deathless tale: + And yet thy glory guards the place, thy bones have won it name + Within the great Hesperian land, if that be prize of fame. + + But good AEneas, when at last all funeral rites were paid + And the grave heaped, when in a while the ocean's face was laid, + Went on his way with sails aloft, and left the port behind: + The faint winds breathe about the night, the moon shines clear and kind; + Beneath the quivering shining road the wide seas gleaming lie. + + But next the beach of Circe's land their swift ships glide anigh, 10 + Where the rich daughter of the Sun with constant song doth rouse + The groves that none may enter in, or in her glorious house + Burneth the odorous cedar-torch amidst the dead of night, + While through the slender warp she speeds the shrilling shuttle light. + And thence they hear the sound of groans, and wrath of lions dread + Fretting their chains; and roaring things o'er night-tide fallen dead; + And bristled swine and caged bears cried bitter-wild, and sore; + And from the shapes of monstrous wolves the howling seaward bore. + These from the likeness of mankind had cruel Circe won + By herbs of might, and shape and hide of beasts upon them done. 20 + But lest the godly Trojan folk such wickedness should bear, + Lest borne into the baneful bay they bring their keels o'er near, + Their sails did Father Neptune fill with fair and happy breeze, + And sped their flight and sent them swift across the hurrying seas. + + Now reddened all the sea with rays, and from the heavenly plain + The golden-hued Aurora shone amidst her rosy wain, + Then fell the winds and every air sank down in utter sleep, + And now the shaven oars must strive amid the sluggish deep: + Therewith AEneas sees a wood rise from the water's face, + And there it is the Tiber's flood amidst a pleasant place, 30 + With many a whirling eddy swift and yellowing with sand + Breaks into sea; and diversely above on either hand + The fowl that love the river-bank and haunt the river-bed + Sweetened the air with plenteous song and through the thicket fled. + So there AEneas bids his folk shoreward their bows to lay, + And joyfully he entereth in the stream's o'ershadowed way. + + To aid, Erato! while I tell what kings, what deedful tide, + What manner life, in Latin land did anciently abide + When first the stranger brought his ships to that Ausonian shore; + Yea help me while I call aback beginnings of the war. 40 + O Goddess, hearten thou thy seer! dread war my song-speech saith: + It tells the battle in array, and kings full fain of death, + The Tyrrhene host, all Italy, spurred on the sword to bear: + Yea, greater matters are afoot, a mightier deed I stir. + + The king Latinus, old of days, ruled o'er the fields' increase, + And cities of the people there at rest in long-drawn peace: + Of Faunus and Laurentian nymph, Marica, do we learn + That he was born: but Faunus came of Picus, who must turn + To thee, O Saturn, for his sire: 'twas he that blood began. + Now, as God would, this king had got no son to grow a man, 50 + For he who first had dawned on him in earliest youth had waned: + A daughter only such a house, so great a world sustained, + Now ripe for man, the years fulfilled that made her meet for bed: + And her much folk of Latin land were fain enow to wed, + And all Ausonia: first of whom, and fairest to be seen, + Was Turnus, great from fathers great; and him indeed the queen + Was fain of for her son-in-law with wondrous love of heart: + But dreadful portents of the Gods the matter thrust apart. + Amidmost of the inner house a laurel-tree upbore + Its hallowed leaves, that fear of God had kept through years of yore: 60 + Father Latinus first, they said, had found it there, when he + Built there his burg and hallowed it to Phoebus' deity, + And on Laurentian people thence the name thereof had laid; + On whose top now the gathered bees, O wondrous to be said! + Borne on with mighty humming noise amid the flowing air, + Had settled down, and foot to foot all interwoven there, + In sudden swarm they hung adown from off the leafy bough. + + But straight the seer cries out: "Ah me! I see him coming now, + The stranger man; I see a host from that same quarter come + To this same quarter, to be lords amidst our highest home." 70 + + But further, while the altar-fires she feeds with virgin brands, + The maid Lavinia, and beside her ancient father stands, + Out! how along her length of hair the grasp of fire there came, + And all the tiring of her head was caught in crackling flame. + And there her royal tresses blazed, and blazed her glorious crown + Gem-wrought, and she one cloud of smoke and yellow fire was grown: + And wrapped therein, the fiery God she scattered through the house: + And sure it seemed a dreadful thing, a story marvellous: + For they fell singing she should grow glorious of fame and fate, + But unto all her folk should be the seed of huge debate. 80 + + So troubled by this tokening dread forth fareth now the king + To Faunus' fane, his father-seer, to ask him counselling + 'Neath Albunea the high, whose wood, the thicket most of worth, + Resoundeth with the holy well and breathes the sulphur forth. + From whence the folk of Italy and all Oenotrian land + Seek rede amidst of troublous time. Here, when the priest in hand + Hath borne the gifts, and laid him down amidst the hush of night + On the strown fells of slaughtered ewes, and sought him sleep aright, + He seeth wondrous images about him flit and shift, + He hearkeneth many a changing voice, of talk with Gods hath gift, 90 + And holdeth speech with Acheron, from deep Avernus come. + There now the sire Latinus went seeking the answers home, + And there an hundred woolly ewes in order due did slay, + And propped upon the fells thereof on bed of fleeces lay, + Till from the thickets inner depths the sudden answer came: + + "Seek not thy daughter, O my son, to wed to Latin name; + Unto the bridal set on foot let not thy troth be given: + Thy sons are coming over sea to raise our blood to heaven, + And sons of sons' sons from their stem shall see beneath their feet + All things for them to shift and doom; all things the sun may meet, 100 + As to and fro he wendeth way 'twixt either ocean wave." + + Such warnings of the silent night that father Faunus gave, + Shut up betwixt his closed lips Latinus held no whit, + But through Ausonia flying fame had borne the noise of it, + When that Laomedontian folk at last had moored their ships + Unto the grassy-mounded bank whereby the river slips. + + AEneas and Iulus fair, and all their most and best, + Beneath a tall tree's boughs had laid their bodies down to rest: + They dight the feast; about the grass on barley-cakes they lay + What meat they had,--for even so Jove bade them do that day,-- 110 + And on the ground that Ceres gave the woodland apples pile. + And so it happed, that all being spent, they turn them in a while + To Ceres' little field, and eat, egged on by very want, + And dare to waste with hands and teeth the circle thin and scant + Where fate lay hid, nor spare upon the trenchers wide to fall. + + "Ah!" cries Iulus, "so today we eat up board and all." + + 'Twas all his jest-word; but its sound their labour slew at last, + And swift his father caught it up, as from his mouth it passed, + And stayed him, by the might of God bewildered utterly. 119 + Then forthwith: "Hail," he cried, "O land that Fate hath owed to me! + And ye, O House-gods of our Troy, hail ye, O true and kind! + This is your house, this is your land: my father, as I mind, + Such secrets of the deeds of Fate left me in days of yore: + 'O son, when hunger driveth thee stranded on outland shore + To eat the very boards beneath thy victual scant at need, + There hope for house, O weary one, and in that place have heed + To set hand first unto the roof, and heap the garth around.' + So this will be that hunger-tide: this waited us to bound + Our wasting evils at the last. + So come, and let us joyfully upon the first of dawn 130 + Seek out the land, what place it is, what men-folk there abide, + And where their city; diversely leaving the haven-side. + But now pour out the bowls to Jove, send prayer upon the way + To sire Anchises, and the wine again on table lay." + + He spake, and with the leafy bough his temples garlanded, + And to the Spirit of the Soil forthwith the prayer he said, + To Earth, the eldest-born of Gods, to Nymphs, to Streams unknown + As yet: he called upon the Night, and night-tide's signs new shown; + Idaean Jove, the Phrygian Queen, the Mother, due and well + He called on; and his parents twain in Heaven and in Hell. 140 + But thrice the Almighty Father then from cloudless heaven on high + Gave thunder, showing therewithal the glory of his sky + All burning with the golden gleam, and shaken by his hand. + Then sudden rumour ran abroad amid the Trojan band, + That now the day was come about their fateful walls to raise; + So eagerly they dight the feast, gladdened by omen's grace, + And bring the beakers forth thereto and garland well the wine. + But when the morrow's lamp of dawn across the earth 'gan shine, + The shore, the fields, the towns of folk they search, wide scattering: + And here they come across the pools of that Numician spring: 150 + This is the Tiber-flood; hereby the hardy Latins dwell. + But therewithal Anchises' seed from out them chose him well + An hundred sweet-mouthed men to go unto the walls renowned, + Where dwelt the king, and every one with Pallas' olive crowned, + To carry gifts unto the lord and peace for Teucrians pray. + So, bidden, nought they tarry now, but swift-foot wear the way. + + But he himself marks out the walls with shallow ditch around, + And falls to work upon the shore his first abode to found, + In manner of a camp, begirt with bank and battlement. + + Meanwhile his men beheld at last, when all the way was spent, 160 + The Latin towers and roofs aloft, and drew the walls anigh: + There were the lads and flower of youth afield the city by + Backing the steed, or mid the dust a-steering of the car, + Or bending of the bitter bow, hurling tough darts afar + By strength of arm; for foot or fist crying the challenging. + Then fares a well-horsed messenger, who to the ancient king + Bears tidings of tall new-comers in outland raiment clad: + So straight Latinus biddeth them within his house be had, + And he upon his father's throne sat down amidmost there. + + High on an hundred pillars stood that mighty house and fair, 170 + High in the burg, the dwelling-place Laurentian Picus won, + Awful with woods, and worshipping of sires of time agone: + Here was it wont for kings to take the sceptre in their hand, + Here first to raise the axe of doom: 'twas court-house of the land, + This temple, and the banquet-hall; here when the host was slain + The fathers at the endlong boards would sit the feast to gain. + There too were dight in cedar old the sires of ancient line + For there was fashioned Italus, and he who set the vine, + Sabinus, holding yet in hand the image of the hook; + And Saturn old, and imaging of Janus' double look, 180 + Stood in the porch; and many a king was there from ancient tide, + Who in their country's battle erst the wounds of Mars would bide: + And therewithal were many arms hung on the holy door. + There hung the axes crooked-horned, and taken wains of war, + And crested helms, and bolts and locks that city-gates had borne; + And spears and shields, and thrusting-beaks from ships of battle torn. + There with Quirinus' crooked staff, girt in the shortened gown, + With target in his left hand held, was Picus set adown,-- + The horse-tamer, whom Circe fair, caught with desire erewhile, + Smote with that golden rod of hers, and, sprinkling venom's guile, 190 + Made him a fowl, and colours fair blent on his shifting wings. + + In such a temple of the Gods, in such a house of kings, + Latinus sat when he had called those Teucrian fellows in, + And from his quiet mouth and grave such converse did begin: + "What seek ye, sons of Dardanus? for not unknown to me + Is that your city or your blood; and how ye crossed the sea, + That have I heard. But these your ships, what counsel or what lack + Hath borne them to Ausonian strand o'er all the blue sea's back? + If ye have strayed from out your course, or, driven by stormy tide + (For such things oft upon the sea must seafarers abide), 200 + Have entered these our river-banks in haven safe to lie, + Flee not our welcome, nor unknown the Latin folk pass by; + The seed of Saturn, bound to right by neither law nor chain, + But freely following in the ways whereof the God was fain. + Yea now indeed I mind a tale, though now with years outworn, + How elders of Aurunce said that mid these fields was born + That Dardanus, who reached at last the Phrygian Ida's walls, + And Thracian Samos, that the world now Samothracia calls: + From Tuscan stead of Corythus he went upon his ways; + Whose throne is set in golden heaven, the star-besprinkled place, 210 + Who adds one other to the tale of altared deities." + + He ended, but Ilioneus followed in words like these: + "O king, O glorious Faunus' child, no storm upon the main + Drave us amid the drift of waves your country coast to gain; + And neither star nor strand made blind the region of our road; + But we by counsel and free will have sought out thine abode, + Outcast from such a realm as once was deemed the mightiest + The Sun beheld, as o'er the heaven she ran from east to west. + Jove is the well-spring of our race; the Dardan children joy + In Jove for father; yea, our king, AEneas out of Troy, 220 + Who sends us to thy door, himself is of the Highest's seed. + How great a tempest was let loose o'er our Idaean mead, + From dire Mycenae Sent; what fate drave either clashing world, + Europe and Asia, till the war each against each they hurled, + His ears have heard, who dwells afar upon the land alone + That ocean beats; and his no less the bondman of the zone, + That midmost lieth of the four, by cruel sun-blaze worn. + Lo, from that flood we come to thee, o'er waste of waters borne, + Praying a strip of harmless shore our House-Gods' home to be, + And grace of water and of air to all men lying free. 230 + We shall not foul our land's renown; and thou, thy glory fair + We know, and plenteous fruit of thanks this deed of thine shall bear: + Nor ever may embrace of Troy Ausonia's soul despite. + Now by AEneas' fates I swear, and by his hand of might, + Whether in troth it hath been tried, or mid the hosts of war, + That many folks--yea, scorn us not that willingly we bore + These fillets in our hands today with words beseeching peace-- + That many lands have longed for us, and yearned for our increase. + But fate of Gods and Gods' command would ever drive us home + To this your land: this is the place whence Dardanus was come, 240 + And hither now he comes again: full sore Apollo drave + To Tuscan Tiber, and the place of dread Numicius' wave. + Moreover, here some little gifts of early days of joy + Giveth our king, a handful gleaned from burning-tide of Troy: + Anchises at the altar erst would pour from out this gold; + This was the gear that Priam used when in the guise of old + He gave his gathered folk the law; sceptre, and holy crown, + And weed the work of Ilian wives." + + Now while Ilioneus so spake Latinus held his face, + Musing and steadfast, on the ground setting his downcast gaze, 250 + Rolling his eyes all thought-fulfilled; nor did the broidered gear + Of purple move the King so much, nor Priam's sceptre fair, + As on his daughter's bridal bed the thoughts in him had rest, + For ancient Faunus' fateful word he turned within his breast. + Here was the son, the fate-foretold, the outland wanderer, + Called on by equal doom of God the equal throne to share; + He from whose loins those glorious sons of valour should come forth + To take the whole world for their own by utter might of worth. + + At last he spake out joyfully: "God grace our deed begun, + And his own bidding! man of Troy, thine asking shall be done: 260 + I take your gifts: nought shall ye lack from King Latinus' hand, + Riches of Troy, nor health and wealth of fat and fruitful land. + But let AEneas come himself if he so yearn for me, + If he be eager for our house, and would our fellow be; + Nor let him fear to look upon friends' faces close anigh, + Part of the peace-troth shall be this, my hand in his to lie. + And now bear back unto your king this bidding that I send: + I have a daughter; her indeed with countryman to blend + The answers of my father's house forbid, and many a sign + Sent down from heaven: from over sea comes one to wed our line; 270 + They say this bideth Latin Land; a man to raise our blood + Up to the very stars of heaven: that this is he fate would, + I think, yea hope, if any whit my heart herein avail." + + He spake, and bade choose horses out from all his noble tale, + Whereof three hundred sleek and fair stood in the stables high: + These biddeth he for Teucrian men be led forth presently, + Wing-footed purple-bearing beasts, with pictures o'er them flung + Of woven stuff, and, on their breasts are golden collars hung: + Gold-housed are they, and champ in teeth the yellow-golden chain + But to AEneas, absent thence, a car and yoke-beasts twain 280 + He sends: the seed of heaven are they, and breathing very fire, + The blood of those that Circe stole when she beguiled her sire, + That crafty mistress, winning them, bastards, from earthy mare. + So back again AEneas' folk high on their horses fare, + Bearing Latinus' gifts and words, and all the tale of peace. + + But lo, where great Jove's bitter wife comes from the town of Greece, + From Argos wrought of Inachus, and holds the airy way. + Far off she sees AEneas' joy, and where the ship-host lay + Of Dardans: yea from Sicily and far Pachynus head + She seeth him on earth at last and raising roofed stead, 290 + And all the ships void: fixed she stood, smit through with bitter wrath, + And shook her head: then from her breast the angry words came forth: + + "Ah, hated race! Ah, Phrygian fates that shear my fates atwain! + Was there no dead man's place for you on that Sigean plain? + Had ye no might to wend as slaves? gave Troy so poor a flame + To burn her men, that through the fire and through the swords ye came? + I think at last my godhead's might is wearied and gone by, + That I have drunk enough of hate, and now at rest may lie:-- I, + who had heart to follow up those outcasts from their land, + And as they fled o'er all the sea still in their path would stand. 300 + Against these Teucrians sea and sky have spent their strength for nought: + Was Syrtes aught, or Scylla aught, or huge Charybdis aught? + Lo now the longed-for Tiber's breast that nation cherisheth + Safe from the deep and safe from me: while Mars might do to death + Those huge-wrought folk of Lapithae: the very Father-God + Gave up the ancient Calydon to Dian's wrath and rod. + What was the guilt of Lapithae? what crime wrought Calydon? + But I, the mighty spouse of Jove, who nought have left undone + My evil hap might compass, I who ran through all craft's tale + Am vanquished of AEneas now. But if of no avail 310 + My godhead be, I will not spare to pray what is of might, + Since Heaven I move not, needs must I let loose the Nether Night. + Ah! say it is not fated me the Latin realm to ban, + Lavinia must be fated wife of this same Trojan man, + Yet may I draw out time at least, and those great things delay; + At least may I for either king an host of people slay: + For father and for son-in-law shall plenteous price be paid, + With Trojan and Rutulian blood shalt thou be dowered, O maid; + Bellona's self shall bridal thee; not Cisseus' seed alone + Was big with brand; not she alone with wedding-ring has shone: 320 + Yea, and this too is Venus' child; another Paris comes + To kindle deadly torch again in new-born Trojan homes." + + So spake she terrible, and sank into the earth below, + Yea to the nether night, and stirred Alecto, forge of woe, + From the dread Goddesses' abode: sad wars she loveth well, + And murderous wrath, and lurking guile, and evil deeds and fell: + E'en Pluto loathes her; yea, e'en they of that Tartarean place, + Her sisters, hate her: sure she hath as many a changing face, + As many a cruel body's form, as her black snakes put forth. + To whom in such wise Juno spake and whetted on her wrath: 330 + + "Win me a work after thine heart, O Virgin of the night, + Lest all my fame, unstained of old, my glory won aright, + Give place: lest there AEneas' sons Latinus overcome + By wedlock, and in Italy set up their house and home: + Thou, who the brothers of one heart canst raise up each 'gainst each, + And overturn men's homes with hate, and through the house-walls' breach + Bear in the stroke and deadly brand--a thousand names hast thou,-- + A thousand arts of ill: Stir up thy fruitful bosom now; + Be render of the plighted peace; of war-seed be the sower; 339 + That men may yearn for arms, and ask, and snatch in one same hour." + + Thereon Alecto, steeped at heart with Gorgon venoming. + Sought Latium first and high-built house of that Laurentian king, + And by the silent threshold stood whereby Amata lay, + In whose hot heart a woman's woe and woman's wrath did play, + About those Teucrian new-comers and Turnus' bridal bed: + On her she cast an adder blue, a tress from off her head, + And sent it to her breast to creep her very heart-strings through, + That she, bewildered by the bane, may all the house undo. + So he betwixt her bosom smooth and dainty raiment slid, + And crawled as if he touched her not, and maddened her yet hid, 350 + And breathed the adder's soul in her: the dreadful wormy thing + Seemed the wrought gold about her neck, or the long silken string + That knit her hair, and slippery soft it glided o'er her limbs. + And now while first the plague begins, and soft the venom swims, + Touching her sense, and round her bones the fiery web is pressed, + Nor yet her soul had caught the flame through all her poisoned breast, + Still soft, and e'en as mothers will, she spake the word and said + Her woes about her daughter's case, and Phrygian bridal bed. + + "To Teucrian outcasts shall our maid, Lavinia, wedded be? + O Father, hast thou nought of ruth of her, forsooth, and thee? 360 + Nor of the mother, whom that man forsworn shall leave behind, + Bearing the maiden o'er the sea with the first northern wind? + Nay, not e'en so the Phrygian herd pierced Lacedaemon's fold, + And bore Ledaean Helen off unto the Trojan hold. + Nay, where is gone thine hallowed faith, thy kinsomeness of yore? + Thine hand that oft to Turnus' hand, thy kinsman, promise bore? + Lo, if we needs must seek a son strange to the Latin folk, + And Father Faunus' words on thee are e'en so strait a yoke, + I deem, indeed, that every land free from our kingdom's sway + Is stranger land, and even so I deem the Gods would say: 370 + And Turnus comes, if we shall seek beginning of his race. + From Inachus, Acrisius old, and mid Mycenae's place." + + But when she thus had said in vain, and saw Latinus still + Withstand her: when all inwardly the maddening serpent's ill + Hath smitten through her heart of hearts and passed through all her frame, + Then verily the hapless one, with dreadful things aflame, + Raves through the city's length and breadth in God-wrought agonies: + As 'neath the stroke of twisted lash at whiles the whip-top flies, + Which lads all eager for the game drive, ever circling wide + Round some void hall; it, goaded on beneath the strip of hide, 380 + From circle unto circle goes; the silly childish throng + Still hanging o'er, and wondering how the box-tree spins along, + The while their lashes make it live: no quieter she ran + Through the mid city, borne amid fierce hearts of many a man. + Then in the wilderness she feigns the heart that Bacchus fills, + And stirs a greater madness up, beginning greater ills, + And mid the leafy mountain-side her daughter hides away, + To snatch her from the Teucrian bed, the bridal torch to stay; + Foaming: "Hail, Bacchus! thou alone art worthy lord to wed + This virgin thing: for thee she takes the spear's soft-fruited head, 390 + For thee she twinkleth dancing feet, and feeds her holy hair." + + The rumour flies, and one same rage all mother-folk doth bear, + Heart-kindled by the Fury's ill, to roofs of all unrest: + They flee the house and let the wind play free o'er hair and breast: + While others fill the very heavens with shrilly quivering wail, + And skin-clad toss about the spear the wreathing vine-leaves veil: + But she ablaze amidst of them upholds the fir-lit flame, + And sings her daughter's bridal song, and sings of Turnus' name, + Rolling her blood-shot eyes about; then eager suddenly + She shouts: "Ho, mothers! Latin wives, wherever ye may be, 400 + Hearken! if in your righteous souls abideth any love + Of lorn Amata; if your souls a mother's right may move, + Cast off the fillets from your locks, with me the madness bear." + + So through the woodland wilderness and deserts of the deer + Alecto drave the Queen around, with Bacchus' stings beset + But when she deemed enough was wrought that rage of hers to whet, + And that Latinus' rede and house was utterly undone, + Forthwith away on dusky wings is borne that evil one + Unto the bold Rutulian's wall: a city, saith the tale, + Raised up by Danae for her Acrisian folks' avail 410 + When on the hurrying South she fled: Ardea in days of yore + Our fathers called it; nor as yet is name thereof passed o'er, + Though wealth be gone: there Turnus lay within his house on high, + And midmost sleep of dusky night was winning peacefully. + When there Alecto cruel face and hellish body shed, + And to an ancient woman's like her shape she fashioned, + Wrinkling her forehead villanous; and hoary coifed hair + She donned, and round about it twined the olive-garland fair, + And seemed the ancient Calybe of Juno's holy place; + And so with such a word she thrust before the hero's face: 420 + + "Turnus, and wilt thou bear it now, such labour spent in vain, + And give thy folk to Dardan men, the outcasts of the main? + The King gainsays thy wedding couch, and dowry justly bought + By very blood, and for his throne an outland heir is sought. + Go, thou bemocked, and thrust thyself mid perils none shall thank; + For cloaking of the Latin peace o'erthrow the Tuscan rank! + The mighty Saturn's Seed herself hath bid me openly + To bear thee this, while thou in peace of middle night shouldst lie. + So up! be merry! arm the lads! bid wend from out the gate. + Up, up, and arm! The Phrygian folk who in the fair stream wait, + Burn thou their dukes of men with fire! burn every painted keel! + 'Tis heavenly might that biddeth this. Let King Latinus feel + Thy strength, and learn to know at last what meaneth Turnus' sword, + Unless he grant the wedding yet, and hold his plighted word." + + But therewithal the young man spake, and answered her in scorn: + "Thou errest: tidings of all this failed nowise to be borne + Unto mine ears, how stranger ships the Tiber-flood beset. + Nay, make me not so sore afeared,--belike she minds me yet, + Juno, the Queen of Heaven aloft. + Nay, mother, Eld the mouldy-dull, the empty of all sooth, 440 + Tormenteth thee with cares in vain, and mid the arms of kings + Bemocks the seer with idle shows of many fearful things. + Nay, 'tis for thee to watch God's house, and ward the images, + And let men deal with peace and war; for they were born for these." + + But at such word Alecto's wrath in utter fire outbrake; + A tremor ran throughout his limbs e'en as the word he spake; + Fixed stared his eyes, the Fury hissed with Serpent-world so dread, + And such a mighty body woke: then rolling in her head + Her eyes of flame, she thrust him back, stammering and seeking speech, + As on her head she reared aloft two adders each by each, 450 + And sounded all her fearful whip, and cried from raving mouth: + + "Lo, I am she, the mouldy-dull, whom Eld, the void of sooth, + Bemocks amid the arms of kings with empty lies of fear! + Look, look! for from the Sisters' House, the Dread Ones, come I here; + And war and death I have in hand." + + She spake, and on the youth she cast her torch and set its blaze, + A mirky gleam of smoke-wreathed flame, amidmost of his heart: + And mighty dread his slumber brake, and forth from every part, + From bones and body, burst the sweat, and o'er his limbs 'gan fall; + And wild he cries for arms, and seeks for arms from bed and wall: 460 + The sword-lust rageth in his soul, and wicked thirst of war. + So was it as at whiles it is, when with a mighty roar + The twiggen flame goes up about the hollow side of brass; + The water leapeth up therewith, within comes rage to pass, + The while the cloudy foaming flood spouts up a bubbling stir, + Until the sea refrains no more; the black cloud flies in air. + So to the dukes of men he shows how peace hath evil end, + And on Latinus biddeth them in weed of war to wend; + That they may save their Italy, and thrust the foemen forth. + And he will fare unto the field more than the twain of worth, 470 + Teucrians and Latins: so he saith, and calls the Gods to aid. + Then eagerly Rutulian men to war and battle bade: + For some his glorious beauty stirred, and some his youth drave on, + And some his sires; and some were moved by deeds his hand had done. + + But while he fills Rutulian souls with love for glorious things, + Alecto to the Teucrians wends on Stygian-fashioned wings, + With fresh guile spying out the place where goodly on the shore, + With toils and speed 'gainst woodland beasts, Iulus waged the war. + Here for his hounds Cocytus' Maid a sudden madness blent, + Crossing the nostrils of the beasts with long familiar scent, 480 + As eagerly they chased a hart. This first began the toil, + And kindled field-abiders' souls to war and deadly broil. + + There was a hart most excellent, a noble horned thing, + That Tyrrheus' sons had stolen from its own dam's cherishing, + And fostered: he, their father, had the kingly herd to heed, + And well was trusted far and wide, the warden of the mead. + But to their sister Sylvia's hand the beast was used, and oft + She decked him lovingly, and wreathed his horns with leafage soft, + And combed him oft, and washed him oft in water of the well. + Tame to her hand, and used enow amid manfolk to dwell, 490 + He strayed the woods; but day by day betook him evermore, + Of his own will at twilight-tide, to that familiar door. + Him now Iulus' hunting hounds mad-eager chanced to stir + Afar from home, and floating whiles adown the river fair, + Or whiles on bank of grassy green beguiling summer's flame. + Therewith Ascanius, all afire with lust of noble fame, + Turned on the beast the spiky reed from out the curved horn; + Nor lacked the God to his right hand; on was the arrow borne + With plenteous whirr, and smote the hart through belly and through flank; + Who, wounded, to the well-known house fled fast, and groaning shrank + Into the stalls of his abode, and bloody, e'en as one 501 + Who cries for pity, filled the place with woefulness of moan. + + Then first the sister Sylvia there, smiting her breast, cried out, + Calling to aid the hardy hearts of field-folk thereabout; + And swifter than the thought they came; for still that bitter Bane + Lurked in the silent woods: this man a half-burned brand did gain + For weapon; that a knotted stake: whate'er came first to hand, + The seeker's wrath a weapon made: there Tyrrheus cheers his band, + Come from the cleaving of an oak with foursome driven wedge, + Panting and fierce he tossed aloft the wood-bill's grinded edge. 510 + But she, that Evil, on the watch, noting the death anigh, + Climbs up upon the stall-house loft, and from its roof on high + Singeth the shepherd's gathering sign, and through the crooked horn + Sends voice of hell: and e'en therewith, as forth the notes were borne, + The forest trembled; the deep woods resounded; yea afar + The mere of Trivia heard the sound, and that white water, Nar, + That bears the sulphur down its stream; the Veline well-springs heard: + Mothers caught up their little ones, and trembled sore afeard. + Then hurrying at the voice sent forth by the dread war-horn's song, + The hardy-hearted folk of fields from everywhither throng, 520 + With weapons caught in haste: and now the Trojan folk withal + Pour from their opened gates, and on to aid Ascanius fall. + And there the battle is arrayed; and now no war they wake, + Where field-folk strive with knotty club or fire-behardened stake; + But with the two-edged sword they strive: the meadows bristle black + With harvest of the naked steel: the gleaming brass throws back + Unto the clouds that swim aloft the smiting of the sun: + As when the whitening of the wind across the flood doth run, + And step by step the sea gets up, and higher heaps the wave, + Until heaven-high it sweeps at last up from its lowest cave. 530 + + And here, by dint of whistling shaft in forefront of the fight, + A youth, e'en Tyrrheus' eldest son, by name of Almo hight, + Was laid alow: there in his throat the reedy bane abode, + And shut with blood the path of speech, the tender life-breath's road. + And many a body fell around: there, thrusting through the press + With peaceful word, Galaesus old died in his righteousness; + Most just of men; most rich erewhile of all Ausonian land: + Five flocks of bleaters once he had: five-fold came home to hand + His herds of neat: an hundred ploughs turned up the earth for him. 539 + + But while they wrought these deeds of Mars mid doubtful fate and dim, + The Goddess, strong in pledge fulfilled, since she the war had stained + With very blood, and death of men in that first battle gained, + Leaveth the Westland, and upborne along the hollow sky, + To Juno such a word of pride sets forth victoriously: + + "Lo thou, the discord fashioned fair with misery of fight! + Come let them join in friendship now, and troth together plight! + But now, since I have sprinkled Troy with that Ausonian blood, + I will do more, if thereunto thy will abideth good; + For all the cities neighbouring to war my word shall bring, + And in their souls the love of Mars and maddening fire shall fling 550 + Till all strike in, and all the lea crops of my sowing bear." + + But Juno answered: "Full enough there is of fraud and fear; + Fast stands the stumbling-block of war, and hand to hand they fight: + The sword that Fate first gave to them hath man's death stained aright + Forsooth let King Latinus now and Venus' noble son + Join hand to hand, and hold high feast for such a wedding won. + But thee, the Father of the Gods, lord of Olympus high, + Will nowise have a-wandering free beneath the worldly sky: + Give place; and whatso more of toil Fortune herein may make + Myself shall rule." 560 + Such words as these Saturnian Juno spake, + And on the wing the Evil rose, with snaky sweeping whirr, + Seeking Cocytus' house, and left the light world's steep of air. + Midst Italy a place there is 'neath mountains high set down, + Whose noble tale in many a land hath fame and great renown, + The valley of Amsanctus called, hemmed in by woody steep + On either side, and through whose midst a rattling stream doth leap, + With clattering stones and eddying whirl: a strange den gapeth there, + The very breathing-hole of Dis; an awful place of fear, + A mighty gulf of baneful breath that Acheron hath made + When he brake forth: therein as now the baneful Fury laid 570 + Her hated godhead, lightening so the load of earth and heaven. + + No less meanwhile did Saturn's Queen still turn her hand to leaven + That war begun. The shepherd folk rush from the battle-wrack + Into the city of the king, bearing their dead aback, + Almo the lad, Galaesus slain with changed befouled face. + They bid Latinus witness bear, and cry the Gods for grace. + Turnus is there, and loads the tale of bale-fire and the sword, + And swells the fear: "The land shall have a Teucrian host for lord: + With Phrygians shall ye foul your race and drive me from your door." + Then they, whose mothers midst the wood God Bacchus overbore, + To lead the dance--Amata's name being held in nowise light-- 581 + Together draw from every side, and weary for the fight. + Yea, all with froward heart and voice cry out for war and death, + That signs of heaven forbid so sore, that high God gainsayeth, + And King Latinus' house therewith beset they eagerly; + But he unmoved against them stands as crag amid the sea; + As crag amid the sea, that stands unmoved and huge to meet + The coming crash, while plenteously the waves bark round its feet: + Vain is the roaring on the rocks and rattling shingly crash, + The wrack from off its smitten sides falls down amid the wash. 590 + + But when no might is given him their blindness to o'ercome, + And by the road fell Juno would the matter must win home, + Sore called the father on the Gods and emptiness of air: + "Ah, broken by the Fates," he cried, "amid the storm we bear! + Ye with your godless blood yourselves shall pay the penalty, + Unhappy men! But Turnus, thou, thine ill deed bideth thee + With woe enough, and overlate the Gods shalt thou adore. + For me, my rest is gained, my foot the threshold passeth o'er; + Yet is my happy ending spilled." + Nor further would he say; + But, hedged within his house, he cast the reins of rule away. 600 + + In Latium of the Westland world a fashion was whilome, + Thence hallowed of the Alban folk, held holy thence by Rome, + Earth's mightiest thing: and this they used what time soe'er they woke + Mars unto battle; whether they against the Getic folk, + Ind, Araby, Hyrcanian men, fashioned the woeful wrack, + Or mid the dawn from Parthian men the banners bade aback. + For twofold are the Gates of War--still bear they such a name-- + Hallowed by awe of Mars the dread, and worship of his fame, + Shut by an hundred brazen bolts, and iron whose avail + Shall never die: nor ever thence doth door-ward Janus fail. 610 + Now when amid the Fathers' hearts fast is the war-rede grown, + The Consul, girt in Gabine wise, and with Quirinus gown + Made glorious, doth himself unbar the creaking door-leaves great, + And he himself cries on the war; whom all men follow straight, + The while their brazen yea-saying the griding trumpets blare. + + In e'en such wise Latinus now was bidden to declare + The battle 'gainst AEneas' folk, and ope the gates of woe. + But from their touch the Father shrank, and fleeing lest he do + The evil deed, in eyeless dark he hideth him away. + Then slipped the Queen of Gods from heaven, and ended their delay; + For back upon their hinges turned the Seed of Saturn bore 621 + The tarrying leaves, and burst apart the iron Gates of War, + And all Ausonia yet unstirred brake suddenly ablaze: + And some will go afoot to field, and some will wend their ways + Aloft on horses dusty-fierce: all seek their battle-gear. + Some polish bright the buckler's face and rub the pike-point clear + With fat of sheep; and many an axe upon the wheel is worn. + They joy to rear the banners up and hearken to the horn. + And now five mighty cities forge the point and edge anew + On new-raised anvils; Tibur proud, Atina staunch to do, 630 + Ardea and Crustumerium's folk, Antemnae castle-crowned. + They hollow helming for the head; they bend the withe around + For buckler-boss: or other some beat breast-plates of the brass, + Or from the toughened silver bring the shining greaves to pass. + Now fails all prize of share and hook, all yearning for the plough; + The swords their fathers bore afield anew they smithy now. + Now is the gathering-trumpet blown; the battle-token speeds; + And this man catches helm from wall; this thrusteth foaming steeds + To collar; this his shield does on, and mail-coat threesome laid + Of golden link, and girdeth him with ancient trusty blade. 640 + + O Muses, open Helicon, and let your song awake + To tell what kings awoke to war, what armies for whose sake + Filled up the meads; what men of war sweet mother Italy + Bore unto flower and fruit as then; what flame of fight ran high: + For ye remember, Holy Ones, and ye may tell the tale; + But we--a slender breath of fame scarce by our ears may sail. + + Mezentius first, the foe of Gods, fierce from the Tuscan shore + Unto the battle wends his way, and armeth host of war: + Lausus, his son, anigh him wends;--no lovelier man than he, + Save Turnus, the Laurentine-born, the crown of all to see.-- 650 + Lausus, the tamer of the horse, the wood-deer's following bane, + Who led from Agyllina's wall a thousand men in vain. + Worthy was he to have more mirth than 'neath Mezentius' sway; + Worthy that other sire than he had given him unto day. + + The goodly Aventinus next, glorious with palm of prize, + Along the grass his chariot shows and steeds of victories, + Sprung from the goodly Hercules, marked by his father's shield, + Where Hydra girded hundred-fold with adders fills the field: + Him Rhea the priestess on a day gave to the sun-lit earth, + On wooded bent of Aventine, in secret stolen birth; 660 + The woman mingled with a God, what time that, Geryon slain, + The conquering man of Tiryns touched the fair Laurentian plain, + And washed amidst the Tuscan stream the bulls Iberia bred. + These bear in war the bitter glaive and darts with piled head: + With slender sword and Sabine staff the battle they abide; + But he afoot and swinging round a monstrous lion's hide, + Whose bristly brow and terrible with sharp white teeth a-row + Hooded his head, beneath the roof where dwelt the king did go + All shaggy rough, his shoulders clad with Herculean cloak. + + Then next twin brethren wend away from Tibur's town and folk, 670 + Whose brother-born, Tiburtus, erst had named that citied place; + Catillus, eager Coras they, men of the Argive race; + In forefront of the battle-wood, mid thick of sleet they fare, + Like as two centaurs cloud-begot, that down the mountains bear, + Leaving the high-piled Homole, and Othrys of the snow + With hurrying hoofs: the mighty wood yields to them as they go; + The tangle of the thicket-place before them gives aback. + + Nor did Praeneste's raiser-up from field of battle lack, + That Caeculus, whom king of men mid cattle of the mead, + All ages of the world have trowed was Vulcan's very seed 680 + Found on the hearth: from wide away gathered his rustic band: + Those housed upon Praeneste's steep; they of the Juno land + Of Gabii: abiders near cool Anio, they that dwell + On Hernic rocks, the stream-bedewed: they whom thou feedest well, + Anagnia rich; the foster-sons of Amasenus' coast. + Not all had arms, or clash of shield, or war-wain; but the most + Cast the grey plummets forth, and some, the dart in hand they bear, + And on the head the fallow fell of woodland wolf they wear + For helming: now with all of them the left foot goes aground, + Naked and bare; but with the hide untanned the left is bound. 690 + + Messapus lo, the horse-tamer, a child by Neptune won, + Ne'er by the fire to be spilled, nor by the steel undone; + His folk this long while sunk in peace, a battle-foolish band, + He calleth suddenly to fight, and taketh sword in hand; + AEqui Falisci are of these, Fescennium's folk of fight, + These lie upon Flavinium's lea, and hold Soracte's hight, + And mere and mound of Ciminus, Capena's woodland broad. + With measured footfalls on they go, a-singing of their lord: + As whiles the snowy swans will fare amid the world of cloud, + Returning from their feeding-field; far goes the song and loud, 700 + Whose notes along their necks they pour: the flood resounds, and all + The Asian marish beat with song. + Scarce might ye deem the brazen ranks of such a mighty host + Were gathered there: but rather fowl a-driving toward the coast, + An airy cloud of hoarse-voiced things drawn from the wallowing sea. + + Lo sprung from ancient Sabine blood comes Clausus presently, + Leading a mighty host, himself a very host of war; + From whom the Claudian tribe and race hath spread itself afar + Through Latium, since the Sabine folk was given a share in Rome: + With him the Amiternian host and old Quirites come; 710 + Eretus' host and they that keep Mutusca's olive gain, + The biders in Nomentum's wall, and Veline Rosea's plain, + The bristling rocks of Tetricae and high Severus' flank, + Casperia and Foruli and wet Himella's bank; + The drinkers of the Tiber-stream and Fabaris, and folk + Cool Nursia sends, and Horta's troop, and men of Latin yoke; + And they whom hapless Allia parts with wash of waters wan: + As many as on Lybian main the tumbling waves roll on + When fierce Orion falls to sleep in wintry waters' lair; + Or thick as stand the wheaten ears the young sun burneth there 720 + On Hermus' plain or Lycia's lea a-yellowing for the hook: + Loud clashed the shields, and earth afeared beneath their footfalls shook. + + Halaesus, Agamemnon's blood, a foe to Troy inbred, + Next yoked the horses to the car; a thousand men he led, + Fierce folk for Turnus: they that hoe the vine-fair Massic soil; + And they that from their lofty hills adown unto the broil + Aruncan fathers sent, and they of Sidicinum's lea; + All who leave Cales, all whose homes beside Vulturnus be, + The shoally water: with them went Saticula's fierce band, + And host of Oscans: slender shafts are weapons of their hand, 730 + Which same to toughened casting-thong amid the fight they tie; + With bucklered left and scanty blade they come to blows anigh. + + Nor, Oebalus, shalt thou unsung from this our story fail, + Whom Telon on nymph Sebethis begat as tells the tale + When Teleboan Capreae he reigned o'er waxen old; + Whose son might not abide to sit within his father's fold; + But even then held neath his sway the country far and wide, + Sarrastes' folk, and all the plain along the Sarnus side. + Celenna's lea, and Batulum, and folk of Rufra's town, + And those on whom Abella's walls, the apple-rich, look down. 740 + But these are wont to hurl the spear after the Teuton wise, + Their heads are helmed with e'en such bark as on the holm-oak lies: + All brazen-wrought their targets gleam, their brazen sword-blades flash. + + 'Twas Nursae in the heart of hills sent thee to battle-clash, + O Ufens, well renowned of fame, and rich in battle's grace; + Whose folk are roughest lived of men, eager for woodland chase; + AEquiculi they hight; who dwell on land of little gain, + And ever armed they till the earth, and ever are they fain + To drive the spoil from hour to hour, and live upon the prey. + + Then Umbro of the hardy heart went on the battle-way; 750 + Priest was he of Marruvian folk; about his helm was bent + The happy olive, leaf and twig: him King Archippus sent: + Wont was he with his hand and voice the bitter viper-kind + And water-worms of evil breath in bonds of sleep to bind; + And he would soothe the wrath of them, and dull their bite by craft, + Yet nothing might he heal the hurt that came of Dardan shaft; + Nay, nothing might the sleepy song avail against his bane, + All herbs on Marsian mountains plucked were nought thereto and vain. + Anguitia's thicket wept for thee, Fucinus wave of glass, + The thin wan waters wept for thee. 760 + + Most goodly Virbius went to war, Hippolytus' own son: + His mother fair Aricia sent this battle-glorious one + From fostering of Egeria's wood, from out the marish place + Where standeth Dian's altar rich fulfilled of plenteous grace. + For folk say, when Hippolytus, undone by step-dame's lie, + Had paid unto his father's wrath that utmost penalty, + He, piecemeal torn by maddened steeds, yet came aback to live + Beneath the starry firmament, and air that heaven doth give, + Brought back to life by healing herbs and Dian's cherishing: + Then the Almighty Father, wroth that any mortal thing 770 + Should rise again to light of life from nether shadows wan, + Beat down with bolt to Stygian wave the Phoebus-gotten man, + The finder of such healing craft, the wise in such an art. + But Trivia's lovingkindness hid Hippolytus apart, + And in the nymph Egeria's wood she held him many a day: + Alone in woods of Italy he wore his life away, + Deedless, his very name all changed, and Virbius by-named then. + So for this cause to Trivia's fane and hallowed grove do men + Drive horn-foot steeds, because, o'ercome by sea-beasts dread of yore, + Piecemeal the chariot and the man they strewed about the shore. 780 + No less his son would drive the steeds across the level plain + For all their heat, and rush to war aloft in battle-wain. + + Now mid the forefront Turnus self of body excellent, + Strode sword in hand: there by the head all others he outwent: + His threefold crested helm upbore Chimaera in her wrath; + Where very flame of AEtna's womb her jaws were pouring forth; + And fiercer of her flames was she, and madder of her mood + As bloomed the battle young again with more abundant blood. + But on the smoothness of his shield was golden Io shown + With upraised horns, with hairy skin, a very heifer grown,-- 790 + A noble tale;--and Argus there was wrought, the maiden's ward; + And father Inachus from bowl well wrought the river poured. + + A cloud of foot-folk follow him; his shielded people throng + The meadows all about; forth goes the Argive manhood strong; + Aruncan men and Rutuli, Sicanians of old years, + Sacranian folk, Labicus' band the blazoned shield-bearers: + Thy thicket-biders, Tiber; those that holy acres till + Beside Numicus, those that plough Rutulian holt and hill, + And ridges of Circaei: they whose meadows Anxur Jove + Looks down on, where Feronia joys amid her fair green grove; 800 + Where Satura's black marish lies, where chilly Ufens glides, + Seeking a way through lowest dales, till in the sea he hides. + + And after these from Volscian folk doth fair Camilla pass, + Leading a mighty host of horse all blossoming with brass; + A warrior maid, whose woman's hands unused to ply the rock, + Unused to bear Minerva's crate, were wise in battle's shock. + The very winds might she outgo with hurrying maiden feet, + Or speed across the topmost blades of tall unsmitten wheat, + Nor ever hurt the tender ears below her as she ran; + Or she might walk the middle sea, and cross the welter wan, 810 + Nor dip the nimble soles of her amid the wavy ways. + From house and field the youth pours forth to wonder and to gaze; + The crowd of mothers stands at stare all marvelling, and beholds + Her going forth; how kingly cloak of purple dye enfolds + Her shining shoulders, how the clasp of gold knots up her hair, + And how a quiver Lycian-wrought the Queen herself doth bear, + And shepherd's staff of myrtle-wood steel-headed to a spear. + + + + +BOOK VIII. + +ARGUMENT. + +THE LATINS SEEK HELP OF DIOMEDE, AND AENEAS OF EVANDER, TO WHOM HE GOETH +AS A GUEST. VENUS CAUSETH VULCAN TO FORGE ARMOUR AND WEAPONS FOR HER SON +AENEAS. + + + When Turnus from Laurentum's burg the battle-sign upreared, + When with their voices hard and shrill the gathering trumpets blare, + When he had stirred his war-steeds on and clashed his weed of war, + All troubled were the minds of men, and midst of tumult sore + All Latium swore the battle oath, and rage of men outbroke; + Messapus then, and Ufens great, the dukes of warring folk, + Mezentius, scorner of the Gods, these drive from every side + The folk to war, and waste the fields of tillers far and wide. + And Venulus is sent withal to Diomedes' town + To pray for aid, and tell him how the Teucrians are come down 10 + On Latium: how AEneas comes with ship-host, carrying + His vanquished House-Gods, calling him the Fate-ordained King; + How many a folk of Italy hath joined the Dardan lord, + How that his name in Latin land is grown a mighty word-- + What thing the man will build from this, what way the prize of fight, + If Fortune aid him he shall turn--through this thou see'st more light + Than cometh to King Turnus yet or King Latinus eyes. + + So goes the world in Latium now, and noting how all lies, + The Trojan hero drifts adown a mighty tide of care, + And hither now his swift thought speeds, now thither bids it fare, 20 + And sends it diversely about by every way to slip: + As quivering light of water is in brazen vessel's lip, + Smit by the sun, or casting back the image of the moon. + It flitteth all about the place, and rising upward soon + Smiteth the fashioned ceiling spread beneath the tiling steep. + + Night fell, and over all the world the earthly slumber deep + Held weary things, the fowl of air, the cattle of the wold, + And on the bank beneath the crown of heaven waxen cold, + Father AEneas, all his heart with woeful war oppressed, + Lay stretched along and gave his limbs the tardy meed of rest: 30 + When lo, between the poplar-leaves the godhead of the place, + E'en Tiber of the lovely stream, arose before his face, + A veil of linen grey and thin the elder's body clad, + And garlanding of shady sedge the tresses of him had; + And thus AEneas he bespeaks to take away his woe: + + "O Seed of Gods, who bearest us Troy-town from midst the foe, + Who savest Pergamus new-born no more to die again, + Long looked-for on Laurentine earth and fields of Latin men; + This is your sure abiding-place, your House-Gods' very stead; + Turn not, nor fear the battle-threats, for now hath fallen dead 40 + The swelling storm of godhead's wrath. + And lest thou think I forge for thee an idle dream of sleep, + Amid the holm-oaks of the shore a great sow shalt thou see, + Who e'en now farrowed thirty head of young; there lieth she + All white along, with piglings white around her uddered sides: + That earth shall be thy dwelling-place; there rest from toil abides. + From thence Ascanius, when the year hath thrice ten times rolled round, + Shall raise a city, calling it by Alba's name renowned. + No doubtful matters do I sing,--but how to speed thee well, + And win thee victor from all this, in few words will I tell: 50 + Arcadian people while agone, a folk from Pallas come, + Following Evander for their king, have borne his banners home, + And chosen earth, and reared their town amid a mountain place + E'en Pallanteum named, from him who first began their race: + This folk against the Latin men for ever wages fight, + Bid them as fellows to thy camp, and treaty with them plight; + But I by bank and flow of flood will straightly lead thee there, + While thou with beating of the oars the stream dost overbear. + Arise, arise, O Goddess-born, when the first star-world sets, + Make prayer to Juno in due wise; o'ercome her wrath and threats 60 + With suppliant vows: victorious grown, thou yet shalt worship me; + For I am that abundant flood whom thou today dost see + Sweeping the bank and cleaving way amid the plenteous earth, + Blue Tiber, sweetest unto heaven of all the streams of worth. + This is my mighty house; my head from lofty cities sweeps." + + The River spake, and hid himself amid the watery deeps; + But night and slumber therewithal AEneas' eyes forsook; + He rose and toward the dawning-place and lights of heaven 'gan look, + And duly in his hollow hand he lifted water fair 69 + From out the stream, and unto heaven in such wise poured his prayer: + + "O Nymphs, Laurentian Nymphs, from whence the race of rivers springs, + And thou, O father Tiber fair, with holy wanderings, + Cherish AEneas; thrust from me the bitter following bane, + What pool soe'er may nurse thy spring, O pityer of my pain, + From whatso land, O loveliest, thy stream may issue forth. + For ever will I give thee gifts, and worship well thy worth, + Horned river, of all Westland streams the very king and lord; + Only be with me; faster bind thy great God-uttered word." + + Thus having said, two twi-banked keels he chooseth from the fleet, + And mans the oars and dights his folk with gear and weapons meet. 80 + + But lo meanwhile a wondrous sign is thrust before his eyes; + For on the green-sward of the wood a snow-white sow there lies + Down by the strand, her little ones, like-hued, about her pressed; + Whom god-loving AEneas slays to thee, O mightiest, + O Juno, at thine altar-fires hallowing both dam and brood. + + Now while the long night wore away, the swelling of his flood + Had Tiber soothed, and eddying back in peace the stream was stayed, + And in the manner of a mere the water's face was laid, + Or as a pool, that so the oars unstrained their work may ply. + So now they speed their journey forth amid a happy cry; 90 + The oiled fir slips along the seas, the waves fall wondering then,-- + The woods, unused, fall wondering sore to see the shields of men + Shine far up stream; to see the keels bepainted swimming there: + But day and night, with beat of oars, the watery way they wear, + And conquer reaches long, o'erlaid with many a shifting tree, + And cleave the forest fair and green along the waveless sea. + + Unto the midmost crown of heaven had climbed the fiery sun, + By then the walls, and far-off burg, and few roofs one by one + They see; the place raised high as heaven by mightiness of Rome, + Where in those days Evander had an unrich, scanty home: 100 + So thither swift they turned their prows, and toward the city drew. + + That day it chanced the Arcadian King did yearly honour do + Unto Amphitryon's mighty son, and on the God did call + In grove before the city-walls: Pallas, his son, withal, + The battle-lords, the senate poor of that unwealthy folk + Cast incense there; with yet warm blood the altars were a-smoke. + But when they saw the tall ships glide amidst the dusky shade + Of woody banks, and might of men on oars all silent laid, + Scared at the sudden sight they rise, and all the boards forsake: + But Pallas, of the hardy heart, forbids the feast to break, 110 + While he, with weapon caught in haste, flies forth to meet the men, + And crieth from a mound afar: + "Fellows, what drave you then? + And whither wend ye on your ways by road untried before? + What folk and from what home are ye? and is it peace or war?" + + Then spake the father AEneas the lofty deck aboard, + As with the peaceful olive-bough he reached his hand abroad; + "Troy's folk ye see and weapons whet against the Latin side, + Whom they have driven forth by war amid their plenteous pride. + We seek Evander: go ye forth and tell him this, and say + That chosen dukes of Troy are come for plighted troth to pray." 120 + + The sound of such a mighty name smote Pallas with amaze: + "Come forth," he said, "whoso ye be: before my father's face + Say what ye would; come to our Gods and in our house be guest." + + So saying he gave his hand to him, and hard his right hand pressed; + Therewith they leave the river-bank, and wend amidst the wood: + But spake AEneas to the king fair friendly words and good: + + "O best of Greeks, whom fortune wills that I should now beseech, + And unto thee the suppliant staff of olive garlands reach, + I feared thee not for Arcas' seed or Duke of Danai, + Nor for thy being to Atreus' twins a kinsman born anigh: 130 + Rather my heart, and holy words that Gods have given forth, + Our fathers' kin, the world-wide tale that goeth of thy worth, + Bind me to thee, and make me fain of what Fate bids befall. + Now Dardanus, first setter-up and sire of Ilian wall, + Born of Electra, Atlas' child, as Greekish stories say, + Came to the Teucrians: Atlas huge Electra gave today, + Atlas, who on his shoulders rears the round-wrought heavenly house: + But Mercury thy father is, whom Maia glorious + Conceived, and shed on earth one day on high Cyllene cold; + But Atlas Maia too begot, if we may trow tale told, 140 + That very Atlas who the stars of heavenly house doth raise, + So from one root the race of us wends on its twofold ways. + Stayed by these things none else I sent, nor guilefully have sought, + Assaying of thee, but myself unto thyself I brought, + And mine own head; and here I stand a suppliant at thy door. + And that same Daunian folk of men drive us with bitter war + As fall on thee: if us they chase, what stay but utterly, + (So deem they) all the Westland earth beneath their yoke shall lie, + With all the upper flood of sea, and nether waters' wash. + Take troth and give it: hearts are we stout in the battle's clash, 150 + High-counselled souls, men well beheld in deeds that try the man." + + He ended: but Evander's look this long while overran + His face, his speaking eyes, and all his body fair to see; + Then in few words he answered thus: + "How sweet to welcome thee, + Best heart of Troy! and how I mind the words, and seem to hear + Anchises' voice, and see the face that mighty man did bear: + For I remember Priam erst, child of Laomedon, + Came to Hesione's abode, to Salamis passed on, + And thence would wend his ways to seek Arcadia's chilly place. + The blossom of the spring of life then bloomed upon my face, 160 + When on the Teucrian lords I looked with joy and wonderment; + On Priam, too: but loftier there than any other went + Anchises; and his sight in me struck youthful love awake. + I yearned to speak unto the man, and hand in hand to take: + So fain I met him, led him in to Phineus' walled place; + And he, departing, gave to me a noble arrow-case + And Lycian shafts; a cloak thereto, all shot across with gold, + And golden bridles twain, that now Pallas, my son, doth hold. + Lo, then, the right hand that ye sought is joined in troth to thine; + And when tomorrow's light once more upon the world shall shine, 170 + Glad, holpen, shall I send you forth and stay you with my store. + Meanwhile, since here ye come our friends, with us the Gods adore + At this our hallowed yearly feast, which ill it were to stay: + Be kind, and with your fellows' boards make friends without delay." + + Therewith he bids bring forth once more the wine-cups and the meat, + And he himself sets down the men upon a grassy seat; + But chiefly to the bed bedight with shaggy lion's skin + He draws AEneas, bidding him the throne of maple win. + Then vie the chosen youth-at-arms, the altar-priest brings aid; + They bear in roasted flesh of bulls, and high the baskets lade 180 + With gifts of Ceres fashioned well, and serve the Bacchus' joy; + So therewithal AEneas eats and men-at-arms of Troy + Of undivided oxen chines and inwards of the feast. + But when the lust of meat was dulled and hunger's gnawing ceased, + Saith King Evander: + "This high-tide that we are holding thus, + This ordered feast, this altar raised to God all-glorious, + No idle task of witch-work is, that knoweth not the Gods + Of ancient days: O Trojan chief, we, saved from fearful odds, + Here worship, and give glory new to deeds done gloriously. + Note first the crag, whose world of stones o'ertoppleth there anigh; 190 + What stone-heaps have been cast afar, how waste and wild is grown + The mountain-house, what mighty wrack the rocks have dragged adown. + Therein a cave was erst, that back a long way burrowing ran, + Held by the dreadful thing, the shape of Cacus, monster-man. + A place the sun might never see, for ever warm and wet + With reek of murder newly wrought; o'er whose proud doorways set + The heads of men were hanging still wan mid the woeful gore. + Vulcan was father of this fiend; his black flame did he pour + Forth from his mouth, as monster-great he wended on his ways. + But to our aid, as whiles it will, brought round the lapse of days 200 + The help and coming of a God: for that most mighty one, + All glorious with the death and spoils of threefold Geryon, + Alcides, our avenger came, driving the victor's meed, + His mighty bulls, who down the dale and river-bank did feed. + But Cacus, mad with furious heart, that nought undared might be + Of evil deeds, or nought untried of guile and treachery, + Drave from the fold four head of bulls of bodies excellent, + And e'en so many lovely kine, whose fashion all outwent; + Which same, that of their rightful road the footprints clean might lack, + Tail-foremost dragged he to his den, turning their way-marks back; 210 + And so he hid them all away amid that stonydark, + Nor toward the cave might he that sought find any four-foot mark. + + "Meanwhile, his beasts all satiate, from fold Amphitryon's son + Now gets them ready for the road, and busks him to be gone; + When lo, the herd falls bellowing, and with its sorrow fills + The woodland as it goes away, and lowing leaves the hills. + Therewith a cow gave back the sound, and in the cavern hid + Lowed out, and in despite his heed all Cacus' hope undid. + Then verily Alcides' ire and gall of heart outbroke + In fury, and his arms he caught and weight of knotty oak, 220 + And running, sought the hill aloft that thrusteth toward the skies. + Then first our folk saw Cacus scared and trouble in his eyes, + And in a twinkling did he flee, no eastern wind as fleet, + Seeking his den, and very fear gave wings unto his feet; + But scarcely was he shut therein, and, breaking down the chains, + Had dropped the monstrous rock that erst his crafty father's pains + Hung there with iron; scarce had he blocked the doorway with the same, + When lo, the man of Tiryns there, who with his heart aflame + Eyed all the entries, here and there turning about his face, + Gnashing his teeth: afire with wrath, thrice all that hilly place 230 + Of Aventine he eyeth o'er, thrice tries without avail + The rocky door, thrice sits him down awearied in the dale. + + "There was a peaked rock of flint with ragged edges dight, + Which at the cave's back rose aloft exceeding high to sight, + A dwelling meet for evil fowl amidst their nests to bide; + This, that hung o'er the brow above the river's leftward side, + Hard from the right he beareth on, and shakes, and from its roots + Wrencheth it loose, and suddenly adown the bent side shoots. + Then ringeth all the mighty heaven with thunder of its wrack, + The banks are rent, the frighted stream its waters casteth back; 240 + But Cacus' den and kingly house showed all uncovered there, + The inmost of the shadowy cave was laid undoored and bare: + As if the inner parts of earth 'neath mighty stroke should gape, + Unlocking all the house of hell, showing that country's shape, + The wan land all forlorn of God: there shows the unmeasured pit, + And ghosts aquake with light of day shot through the depths of it. + + "But Cacus, caught unwares by day whereof he had no doubt, + Imprisoned in the hollow rock, in strange voice bellowing out, + Alcides fell on from above, calling all arms to aid, + And plenteous cast of boughs and stones upon the monster laid; 250 + While he, since now no flight availed to 'scape that peril's hold, + Pours from his mouth a mighty smoke, O wondrous to be told! + Enwrapping all the house about with blinding misty shroud, + Snatching the sight from eyes of men, and rolling on the cloud, + A reeking night with heart of fire and utter blackness blent. + Alcides' spirit bore it nought; his body swift he sent + With headlong leap amid the fire where thickest rolled the wave + Of smoke, and with its pitchy mist was flooding all the cave; + Cacus he catcheth in the dark spueing out fire in vain, + And knitteth him in knot about, and, strangling him, doth strain 260 + The starting eyes from out of him, and throat that blood doth lack: + Then the mirk house is opened wide; the doors are torn aback; + The stolen kine, that prey his oath foreswore to heaven are shown, + And by the feet is dragged today the body hideous grown; + Nor may men satiate their hearts by gazing on the thing; + His fearful eyes, the face of him, the man-beast's fashioning + Of bristled breast; those jaws of his, whence faded is the flame. + + "Hence is this honour celebrate, and they that after came + Still kept the day all joyfully; Potitius wrought it first, + This feast of mighty Hercules; the house Pinarian nursed, 270 + The altar of the grove he reared, which Mightiest yet we call, + And ever more, in very sooth, shall mightiest be of all. + So come, O youths, these glorious deeds I bid you glorify: + Wreathe round your hair, put forth your hands and raise the cup on high! + Call on the God whom all we love, and give the wine full fain!" + + He spake: the leaf of Hercules, the poplar coloured twain, + Shaded his hair; the leaves entwined hung down aback his head; + The holy beaker filled his hand: then merry all men sped, + And on the table poured their gift, and called the Gods to hear. + + Meanwhile unto the slopes of heaven the Western Star drew near, 280 + And then the priests, and chief thereof, Potitius, thither came, + All clad in skins, as due it was, and bearing forth the flame. + New feast they dight, and gifts beloved of second service bring, + And on the altar pile again the plates of offering. + The Salii then to singing-tide heart-kindled go around + The altars; every brow of them with poplar leafage bound: + And here the youths, the elders there, set up the song of praise, + And sing the deeds of Hercules: How, on his first of days, + The monsters twain his stepdame sent, the snakes, he crushed in hand; + And how in war he overthrew great cities of the land, 290 + Troy and Oechalia: how he won through thousand toils o'ergreat, + That King Eurystheus laid on him by bitter Juno's fate. + "O thou Unconquered, thou whose hand beat down the cloud-born two, + Pholeus, Hylaeus, twin-wrought things, and Cretan monsters slew: + O thou who slew'st the lion huge 'neath that Nemean steep, + The Stygian mere hath quaked at thee, the ward of Orcus deep + Quaked in his den above his bed of half-gnawed bones and blood. + At nothing fashioned wert thou feared; not when Typhoeus stood + Aloft in arms: nor from thine heart fell any rede away + When round thee headed-manifold the Worm of Lerna lay. 300 + O very child of Jupiter, O Heaven's new glory, hail! + Fail not thy feast with friendly foot, nor us, thy lovers, fail!" + + With such-like song they sing the praise, and add to all the worth + The cave of Cacus, and the beast that breathed the wildfire forth. + The woods sing with them as they sing; the hills are light with song. + + So, all the holy things fulfilled, they wend their ways along + Unto the city: the old king afoot was with them there, + And bade AEneas and his son close to his side to fare, + And as he went made light the way with talk of many a thing. + AEneas wonders, and his eyes go lightly wandering 310 + O'er all; but here and there they stay, as, joyful of his ways, + He asks and hears of tokens left by men of earlier days. + + Then spake the King Evander, he who built up Rome of old: + "These woods the earth-born Fauns and Nymphs in time agone did hold, + And men from out the tree-trunk born and very heart of oak; + No fashion of the tilth they knew, nor how the bulls to yoke, + Nor how to win them store of wealth, or spare what they had got; + The tree-boughs only cherished them and rugged chase and hot. + Then from Olympus of the heavens first Saturn came adown, + Fleeing the war of Jupiter and kingdom overthrown: 320 + He laid in peace the rugged folk amid the mountains steep + Scattered about, and gave them laws, and willed them well to keep + The name of Latium, since he lay safe hidden on that shore. + They call the days the Golden Days that 'neath that king outwore, + Amid such happiness of peace o'er men-folk did he reign. + But worsened time as on it wore, and gathered many a stain; + And then the battle-rage was born, and lust of gain outbroke: + Then came the host Ausonian; then came Sicanian folk; + And oft and o'er again the land of Saturn cast its name. 329 + Then kings there were, and Thybris fierce, of monstrous body came, + From whom the Tiber flood is named by us of Italy, + Its old true name of Albula being perished and gone by. + Me, driven from my land, and strayed about the ocean's ends, + Almighty Fortune and the Fate no struggling ever bends + Set in these steads; my mother's word well worshipped hither drave, + The nymph Carmentis; and a god, Apollo, wayfare gave." + + Now, as he spake, hard thereunto the altar-stead doth show, + And gate that by Carmentis' name the Roman people know; + An honour of the olden time to nymph Carmentis, she, + The faithful seer, who first foretold what mighty men should be 340 + AEneas' sons; how great a name from Pallanteum should come. + Then the great grove that Romulus hallowed the fleer's home + He showeth, and Lupercal set beneath the cliff acold, + Called of Lycaean Pan in wise Parrhasia used of old. + Thereafter Argiletum's grove he shows and bids it tell, + A very witness, where and how the guesting Argus fell. + Next, then, to the Tarpeian stead and Capitol they went, + All golden now, but wild of yore with thickets' tanglement: + E'en then at its dread holiness the folk afield would quake + And tremble sore to look upon its cliff-besetting brake. 350 + + "This grove," saith he, "this hill thou seest with thicket-covered brow, + Some godhead haunts, we know not who: indeed Arcadians trow + That very Jove they there have seen, when he his blackening shield + Hath shaken whiles and stirred the storm amidst the heavenly field. + Look therewithal on those two burgs with broken walls foredone! + There thou beholdest tokens left by folk of long agone: + For one did Father Janus old, and one did Saturn raise, + Janiculum, Saturnia, they hight in ancient days." + + Amid such talk they reach the roofs whereunder did abide + Unrich Evander; and they see the herd-beasts feeding wide 360 + And lowing through the Roman Courts amid Carinae's shine. + + But when they came unto the house, "Beneath these doors of mine + Conquering Alcides went," he said; "this king's house took him in. + Have heart to scorn world's wealth, O guest, and strive thou too to win + A godhead's worth: take thou no scorn of our unrich estate." + + He spake, and 'neath the narrow roof AEneas' body great + He led withal, and set him down; and such a bed was there + As 'twas of leaves, and overlaid with skin of Libyan bear. + + Night falleth, and its dusky wings spreads o'er the face of earth, + When Venus, fearful in her soul (nor less than fear 'twas worth), 370 + Sore troubled by Laurentine threats and all the tumult dread, + Bespeaketh Vulcan, as she lay upon his golden bed, + And holiness of very love amidst her words she bore: + + "When Argive kings were wasting Troy predestined with their war, + Were wracking towers foredoomed to fall mid flames of hating men, + No help of thine for hapless ones, no arms I asked for then, + Wrought by thy craft and mastery: nor would I have thee spend + Thy labour, O beloved spouse, to win no happy end; + Though many things to Priam's house meseemeth did I owe, + And oftentimes I needs must weep AEneas' pain and woe. 380 + But now that he by Jove's command Rutulian shores hath won, + I am thy suppliant, asking arms, a mother for her son, + Praying thy godhead's holiness: time was when Nereus' seed, + Tithonus' wife, with many tears could bend thee to thy need. + Look round, what peoples gather now; what cities shut within + Their barred gates are whetting sword to slay me and my kin." + + She spake: with snowy arms of God she fondled him about, + And wound him in her soft embrace, while yet he hung in doubt: + Sudden the wonted fire struck home; unto his inmost drew + The old familiar heat, and all his melting bones ran through: 390 + No otherwise than whiles it is when rolls the thunder loud, + And gleaming of the fiery rent breaks up the world of cloud. + In glory of her loveliness she felt her guile had gained. + Then spake the Father, overcome by Love that ne'er hath waned: + + "Why fish thy reasons from the deep? where is thy trust in me, + I prithee, O my God and Love? Had such wish weighed on thee, + Then, also, had it been my part to arm the Teucrian hand, + Nor had the Almighty Sire nor Fate forbidden Troy to stand, + And Priam might have held it out another ten years yet. + And now if thou wouldst wage the war, if thus thy soul is set, 400 + Thy longing shall have whatsoe'er this craft of mine may lend; + Whatever in iron may be done, or silver-golden blend; + Whatever wind and fire may do: I prithee pray no more, + But trust the glory of thy might." + So when his words wore o'er + He gave the enfolding that she would, and shed upon her breast + He lay, and over all his limbs he drew the sleepy rest. + But when the midmost night was worn, and slumber, past its prime, + Had faded out, in sooth it was that woman's rising-time, + Who needs must prop her life with rock and slender mastery 409 + That Pallas gives: she wakes the ash and flames that smouldering lie, + And, adding night unto her toil, driveth her maids to win + Long task before its kindled light, that she may keep from sin + Her bride-bed; that her little ones well waxen-up may be. + Not otherwise that Might of Fire, no sluggard more than she, + To win his art and handicraft from that soft bed arose. + Upon the flank of Sicily there hangs an island close + To Lipari of AEolus, with shear-hewn smoky steep; + Beneath it thunder caves and dens AEtnaean, eaten deep + With forges of the Cyclops: thence men hear the anvils cry + 'Neath mighty strokes, and through the cave the hissing sparkles fly 420 + From iron of the Chalybes, and pants the forge with flame. + The house is Vulcan's, and the land Vulcania hath to name. + + Thither the Master of the Fire went down from upper air, + Where Cyclop folk in mighty den were forging iron gear; + Pyracmon of the naked limbs, Brontes and Steropes. + A thunderbolt half-fashioned yet was in the hands of these, + Part-wrought, suchwise as many an one the Father casts on earth + From all the heaven, but otherwhere unfinished from the birth, + Three rays they wrought of writhen storm, three of the watery wrack; + Nor do the three of ruddy flame nor windy winging lack: 430 + And now the work of fearful flash, and roar, and dread they won, + And blent amid their craftsmanship the flame that followeth on. + But otherwhere they dight the wain and winged wheels of Mars, + Wherewith the men and walls of men he waketh up to wars. + There angry Pallas's arms they wrought and AEgis full of fear, + And set the gold and serpent scales, and did with mighty care + The knitted adders, and for breast of very God did deck + The Gorgon rolling eyen still above her severed neck. + "Do all away," he said, "lay by the labour so far done; + Cyclops of AEtna, turn your minds to this one thing alone: 440 + Arms for a great man must be wrought; betake ye to your might; + Betake ye to your nimble hands and all your mastery's sleight, + And hurry tarrying into haste." + No more he spake: all they + Fall swift to work and portion out the labour of the day: + The brazen rivers run about with metal of the gold, + And soft the Chalyb bane-master flows in the forges' hold. + A mighty shield they set on foot to match all weapons held + By Latin men, and sevenfold ring on ring about it weld. + Meanwhile, in windy bellows' womb some in the breezes take + And give them forth, some dip the brass all hissing in the lake, 450 + And all the cavern is agroan with strokes on anvil laid. + There turn and turn about betwixt, with plenteous might to aid, + They rear their arms; with grip of tongs they turn the iron o'er. + + But while the Lemnian Father thus speeds on the AEolean shore + The lovely light Evander stirs amid his lowly house, + And morning song of eave-dwellers from sleep the king doth rouse. + Riseth that ancient man of days and on his kirtle does, + And both his feet he binds about with bonds of Tyrrhene shoes; + Then Tegeaean sword he girds to shoulder and to side, + And on the left he flings aback the cloak of panther-hide. 460 + Moreover, from the threshold step goes either watchful ward, + Two dogs to wit, that follow close the footsteps of their lord. + So to the chamber of his guest the hero goes his way, + Well mindful of his spoken word and that well-promised stay. + Nor less AEneas was afoot betimes that morning-tide, + And Pallas and Achates went each one their lord beside. + So met, they join their right hands there and in the house sit down, + And win the joy of spoken words, that lawful now hath grown; + And thuswise speaks Evander first: + + "O mightiest duke of Trojan men,--for surely, thou being safe, 470 + My heart may never more believe in Troy-town's vanquishing,-- + The battle-help that I may give is but a little thing + For such a name: by Tuscan stream on this side are we bound; + On that side come Rutulian arms to gird our walls with sound. + But 'tis my rede to join to you a mighty folk of fight, + A wealthy lordship: chance unhoped this hope for us hath dight; + So draw thou thither whereunto the Fates are calling on. + Not far hence is a place of men, on rock of yore agone + Built up; Agylla's city 'tis, where glorious folk of war, + The Lydian folk, on Tuscan hills pitched their abode of yore. 480 + A many years of blooming once they had, until the king + Mezentius held them 'neath his pride and cruel warfaring. + Why tell those deaths unspeakable, and many a tyrant's deed? + May the Gods store them for the heads of him and all his seed! + Yea, yea, dead corpses would he join to bodies living yet, + And hand to hand, O misery! and mouth to mouth would set; + There, drenched with gore and drenched with dew of death, must they abide, + A foul embrace unspeakable, and long and long they died. + Worn out at last, his folk in arms beset his house about, + And him therein all mad with rage, cut off his following rout, 490 + And cast the wildfire therewithal over his roof on high: + But he, amidst the slaughter slipped, to fields of Rutuli + Made shift to flee, and there is held a guest by Turnus' sword. + So by just anger raised today Etruria is abroad, + Crying with Mars to aid, 'Give back the king to pay the cost!' + AEneas, I will make thee now the captain of their host: + For down the whole coast goes the roar from out their ship-host's pack; + They cry to bear the banners forth; but them still holdeth back + The ancient seer, thus singing Fate: _Maeonia's chosen peers,_ + _The heart and flower of men of old, whom grief's just measure bears_ 500 + _Against the foe; souls that your king hath stirred to righteous wrath,_ + _No man of Italy is meet to lead this army forth;_ + _Seek outland captains._ Then, indeed, the Tuscan war array, + Feared by such warnings of the Gods, amidst these meadows lay. + Tarchon himself hath hither sent sweet speakers, bearing me + Their lordships' kingly staff and crown, and signs of royalty; + And bidding take the Tuscan land and join their camp of war. + But eld adull with winter frost and spent with days of yore, + My body over-old for deeds begrudged such government. + I would have stirred my son, but he, with Sabine mother blent, 510 + Shared blood of this Italian land: but thee the Fates endow + With years and race full meet hereto; the Gods call on thee now. + Go forth, O captain valorous of Italy and Troy. + Yea, I will give thee Pallas here, my hope and darling joy, + And bid him 'neath thy mastery learn in battle to be bold, + And win the heavy work of Mars, and all thy deeds behold; + And, wondering at thy valiancy, win through his earliest years. + Two hundred knights of Arcady, the bloom of all it bears, + I give thee; in his own name, too, like host shall Pallas bring." + + Scarce had he said, and still their gaze unto the earth did cling, 520 + AEneas of Anchises born and his Achates true, + For many thoughts of matters hard their minds were running through, + When Cytherea gave a sign amid the open sky; + For from the left a flash of light went quivering suddenly, + And sound went with it, and all things in utter turmoil fared, + And clangour of the Tyrrhene trump along the heavens blared. + They look up; ever and anon a mighty clash they hear, + And gleams they see betwixt the clouds, amid the sky-land clear, + The glitter of the arms of God, the thunder of their clang. + + The man of Troy, while others' hearts amazed and fearful hang, 530 + Knoweth the sound, the promised help, his Goddess-mother's meed. + He saith: "Yea, verily, O host, to ask is little need + What hap this portent draweth on: the Gods will have me wend; + The God that made me promised erst such heavenly signs to send + If war were toward; and through the sky she promised to bear down + Arms Vulcan-fashioned for my need. + Woe's me for poor Laurentium's folk! what death, what bloody graves! + --Ah, Turnus, thou shalt pay it me!--how many 'neath thy waves, + O Father Tiber, shalt thou roll the shields and helms of men, + And bodies of the mighty ones! Cry war, oath-breakers, then!" 540 + + And as he spake the word he rose from off the lofty throne, + And the slaked fire of Hercules roused on the altar-stone; + And joyfully he drew anear the God of yesterday + And little House-Gods: chosen ewes in manner due they slay, + Evander and the youth of Troy together side by side. + Then to the ships they wend their ways, where yet their fellows bide: + There men to follow him in fight he chooseth from the peers, + The flower of hardy hearts; the rest the downlong water bears; + Deedless they swim adown the stream, Ascanius home to bring + The tidings of his coming sire and matters flourishing. 550 + + But horses get such Teucrian men as are for Tyrrhene mead; + By lot they choose AEneas one which yellow lion's weed + Goes all about; full fair it shone, for it was golden-clawed. + Then sudden through the little town the rumour flies abroad, + That knights will speedily ride forth to Tyrrhene kingly stead. + Then fear redoubleth mothers' prayers, and nigher draweth dread + In peril's hand, and greater still the face of Mars doth grow. + + Father Evander strains the hand of him that needs must go, + Clinging with tears insatiate, and such a word doth say: + "O me! would Jove bring back again the years long worn away! 560 + Were I as when the foremost foes upon Praeneste's field + I felled, and burnt victoriously a heap of shield on shield: + When with this very hand I sent King Herilus to Hell, + Whose dam, Feronia, at his birth,--wild is the tale to tell,-- + Had given him gift of threefold life; three times the sword to shake, + And thrice to fall upon the field: yet did this right hand take + That threefold life away from him, thrice spoiled him of his gear. + O were I such, ne'er would I break from thine embracing dear, + O son; nor had Mezentius erst, the tyrant neighbour lord, + In my despite so many deaths wrought with his cruel sword, 570 + Nor widowed this our city here of such a host of sons. + But ye, O Gods!--thou Mightiest, King of all heavenly ones, + O Jove, have pity now, I pray, upon the Arcadian King, + And hear a father's prayers! for if your mighty governing,-- + If Fate shall keep my Pallas safe, and I may live to see + His face again,--if he return to keep our unity, + Then may I live, and any toil, such as ye will, abide! + But, Fortune, if thou threatenest ill, and misery betide, + Then let me now, yea, now indeed, the cruel life break through, + While yet my fear is unfulfilled and hope may yet come true; 580 + While thee, beloved joy of eld, I wrap mine arms around, + Ere yet the tale of evil hap mine ancient ears may wound." + + Thus at their last departing-tide the father poured the prayer, + Whom, fainting now, the serving-men back within doors must bear; + While forth from out the open gate the host of horsemen ride, + AEneas and Achates leal in forefront of their pride, + And then the other Trojan lords: amidst the company, + In cloak adorned and painted arms, was Pallas fair to see: + E'en such as Lucifer, when he bathed in the ocean stream, + The light beloved of Venus well o'er every starry beam, 590 + Hath raised his holy head in heaven and down the darkness rent. + The fearful mothers on the walls their eyen after sent, + Following the dusty cloud of them and ranks of glittering brass. + But mid the thicket places there by nighest road they pass + Unto their end in weed of war: with shout and serried band + The clattering hooves of four-foot things shake down the dusty land. + + There is a mighty thicket-place by chilly Caeres' side, + By ancient dread of fathers gone held holy far and wide: + A place that hollow hills shut in and pine-wood black begirds. + Men say that to Silvanus erst, the God of fields and herds, 600 + The old Pelasgi hallowed it, and made a holy day, + E'en those who in the time agone on Latin marches lay. + No great way hence the Tuscan folk and Tarcho held them still + In guarded camp; the host of them from rising of a hill + Might now be seen, as far and wide they spread about the field. + Father AEneas and his folk, the mighty under shield, + Speed hither, and forewearied now their steeds and bodies tend. + But through the clouds of heavenly way doth fair white Venus wend, + Bearing the gift; who when she saw in hidden valley there + Her son afar, apart from men by river cool and fair, 610 + Then kind she came before his eyes, and in such words she spake: + "These promised gifts, my husband's work, O son, I bid thee take: + So shalt thou be all void of doubt, O son, when presently + Laurentines proud and Turnus fierce thou bidst the battle try." + + So spake the Cytherean one and sought her son's embrace, + And hung the beaming arms upon an oak that stood in face. + But he, made glad by godhead's gift, and such a glory great, + Marvelleth and rolleth o'er it all his eyes insatiate, + And turns the pieces o'er and o'er his hands and arms between; + The helm that flasheth flames abroad with crest so dread beseen: 620 + The sword to do the deeds of Fate; the hard-wrought plates of brass, + Blood-red and huge; yea, e'en as when the bright sun brings to pass + Its burning through the coal-blue clouds and shines o'er field and fold: + The light greaves forged and forged again of silver-blend and gold: + The spear, and, thing most hard to tell, the plating of the shield. + For there the tale of Italy and Roman joy afield + That Master of the Fire had wrought, not unlearned of the seers, + Or blind to see the days before. The men of coming years, + Ascanius stem, all foughten fields, were wrought in due array. + + In the green den of Mavors there the fostering she-wolf lay, 630 + The twin lads sporting round the beast, clung to her udders there, + And sucked the nursing mother-wolf, and nothing knew of fear; + But she, with lithe neck turned about, now this now that caressed, + And either body with her tongue for hardy shaping pressed. + Rome had he done anigh thereto and Sabine maidens caught + From concourse of the hollow seats when roundway games were wrought + There for the sons of Romulus the sudden war upstarts + With Tatius, the old king of days, and Cures' hardy hearts. + Then those two kings, the battle quenched, yet clad in battle-gear, + Stand with the bowl in hand before the fire of Jupiter, 640 + As each to each o'er slaughtered sow the troth of peace they plight. + + Anigh is Metius piecemeal dragged by foursome chariots light. + --Ah, Alban, by the troth of words 'twere better to abide!-- + There Tullus strews his lying flesh about the thicket wide, + Nor sprinkling of a traitor's blood the bramble-bushes lack. + + There was Porsena bidding men take outcast Tarquin back, + The while his mighty leaguer lay about the city's weal. + For freedom there AEneas' sons were rushing on the steel: + As full of wrath, as one who threats, might ye behold his frown, + Because that Cocles was of heart to break the bridge adown; 650 + And Cloelia from her bursten bonds was swimming o'er the flood. + + On topmost of Tarpeian burg the warden Manlius stood + Before the house of God, and held the Capitol high-set; + Whereon with straw of Romulus the roof was bristling yet. + There fluttering mid the golden porch the silver goose was done, + The seer that told of Gaulish feet unto the threshold won: + Then through the brake the Gauls were come, and held the castle's height, + Beneath the shielding of the mirk and gift of shadowy night. + All golden are the locks of these, and golden is their gear, 659 + And fair they shine in welted coats; their milk-white necks do bear + The twisted gold; each one in hand two Alpine spears doth wield, + And guarded are their bodies well with plenteous length of shield. + + The Salii in their dancing game; the naked Luperci, + With crests that bore the tuft of wool and shields from out the sky, + There had he wrought: the mothers chaste in softly-gliding car + Bore holy things the city through. Yea, he had wrought afar + The very house of Tartarus, and doors of Dis the deep, + And dooms of evil: there wert thou hung on the beetling steep, + O Catiline, and quaking sore 'neath many a fiendly face; + While Cato gave the good their laws in happy hidden place. 670 + + The image of the swelling sea amidst of these there lay + All golden, with the blue o'erfoamed with flecks of hoary spray, + And dolphins shining silver-white with tail-stroke swept the wave, + And gathered in an orbed band the flowing waters clave. + And in the midst were brazen fleets and show of Actium's wars + And all Leucate set a-boil with ordered game of Mars + There might ye see; and all the flood lit up with golden light. + Augustus Caesar, leading on Italian men to fight + With Father-folk, and Household Gods, and Gods of greater name, + Stood high on deck: his joyful brow flashed forth a twofold flame, 680 + His father's star above his head is shining glory-clear. + With wind to aid and God to aid, Agrippa otherwhere + Leads on the host from high; whose brows with glorious battle-sign + Are decked; for with the crown of beaks, the ship-host's prize, they shine. + + But Antony, with outland force and arms wrought diversely, + Victorious from the morning-folks and ruddy-stranded sea, + Bore Egypt and the Eastland might and Bactria's outer ends; + And after him--O shame to tell!--a wife of Egypt wends. + + They rush together; all the sea is beaten into foam, + Torn by the great three-tyned beaks and oar-blades driven home: 690 + They seek the deep: ye might have thought that uptorn Cyclades + Swam o'er the main, that mountains met high mountains on the seas, + With such a world of towered ships fall on those folks of war. + The hempen flame they fling from hand; they cast the dart afar + Of winged steel, and Neptune's lea reddens with death anew. + The Queen amidst calls on her host with timbrel fashioned due + In Egypt's guise, nor looks aback the adders twain to see; + Barking Anubis, shapes of God wild-wrought and diversely + 'Gainst Neptune and 'gainst Venus fair, and 'gainst Minerva's weal + Put forth the spear; and Mavors' wrath was fashioned forth in steel 700 + Amidst the fight: the Dreadful Ones stooped evil-wrought from heaven, + And Discord stalked all glad at heart beneath her mantle riven; + And after her, red scourge in hand, did dire Bellona go. + + All this Apollo, Actian-housed, beheld, and bent his bow + From high aloft, and with his fear all Egypt fell to wrack, + And Ind and Araby; and all Sabaeans turned the back. + Then once again the Queen was wrought, who on the winds doth cry, + And spreadeth sail; and now, and now, the slackened sheet lets fly. + The Lord of Fire had wrought her there wan with the death to be, + Borne on, amid the death of men, by wind and following sea. 710 + But Nile was wrought to meet them there, with body great to grieve, + And in the folding of his cloak the vanquished to receive, + To take them to his bosom grey, his flood of hidden home. + There Caesar threefold triumphing, borne on amidst of Rome, + Three hundred shrines was hallowing to Gods of Italy + Through all the city; glorious gift that nevermore shall die; + The while all ways with joy and game and plenteous praising rang. + In all the temples altars were; in all the mothers sang + Before the altars; on the earth the steers' due slaughter lay. + But on the snow-white threshold there of Phoebus bright as day 720 + He sat and took the nations' gifts, and on the glorious door + He hung them up: in long array the tamed folks went before, + As diverse in their tongues as in their arms and garments' guise. + The Nomads had he fashioned there, that Mulciber the wise, + And Afric's all ungirded folk; Carians and Leleges, + Shafted Geloni: softlier there Euphrates rolled his seas; + The Morini, the last of men, the horned Rhine, were there, + Danae untamed, Araxes loth the chaining bridge to bear. + + So on the shield, his mother's gift by Vulcan fashioned fair, + He wondereth, blind of things to come but glad the tale to see, 730 + And on his shoulder bears the fame and fate of sons to be. + + + + +BOOK IX. + +ARGUMENT. + +IN THE MEANTIME THAT AENEAS IS AWAY, TURNUS AND THE LATINS BESET THE +TROJAN ENCAMPMENT, AND MISS BUT A LITTLE OF BRINGING ALL THINGS TO RUIN. + + + Now while a long way off therefrom do these and those such deed, + Saturnian Juno Iris sends from heaven aloft to speed + To Turnus of the hardy heart, abiding, as doth hap, + Within his sire Pilumnus' grove in shady valley's lap; + Whom Thaumas' child from rosy mouth in suchwise doth bespeak: + + "Turnus, what no one of the Gods might promise, didst thou seek, + The day of Fate undriven now hath borne about for thee: + AEneas, he hath left his town, and ships, and company, + And sought the lordship Palatine and King Evander's house; + Nay more, hath reached the utmost steads, the towns of Corythus 10 + And host of Lydians, where he arms the gathered carles for war. + Why doubt'st thou? now is time to call for horse and battle-car. + Break tarrying off, and make thy stoop upon their camp's dismay." + + She spake, and on her poised wings went up the heavenly way, + And in her flight with mighty bow cleft through the cloudy land. + The warrior knew her, and to heaven he cast up either hand, + And with such voice of spoken things he followed as she fled: + "O Iris, glory of the skies, and who thy ways hath sped + Amidst the clouds to earth and me? Whence this so sudden clear + Of weather? Lo, the midmost heaven I see departed shear, 20 + And through the zenith stray the stars: such signs I follow on, + Whoso ye be that call to war." + And therewithal he won + Unto the stream, and from its face drew forth the water fair, + Praying the Gods, and laid a load of vows upon the air. + + And now the host drew out to war amid the open meads, + With wealth of painted gear and gold, and wealth of noble steeds. + Messapus leads the first array, and Tyrrheus' children ward + The latter host, and in the midst is Turnus' self the lord. + Such is the host as Ganges deep, arising mid the hush + With sevenfold rivers' solemn flow, or Nile-flood's fruitful rush, 30 + When he hath ebbed from off the fields and hid him in his bed. + + But now the Teucrians see the cloud of black dust grow to head + From far away, and dusty-dark across the plain arise: + And first from off the mound in face aloud Caicus cries: + "Ho! what is this that rolleth on, this misty, mirky ball? + Swords, townsmen, swords! Bring point and edge; haste up to climb the wall. + Ho, for the foeman is at hand!" + Then, with a mighty shout, + The Trojans swarm through all the gates and fill the walls about; + For so AEneas, war-lord wise, had bidden them abide + At his departing; if meantime some new hap should betide, 40 + They should not dare nor trust themselves to pitch the fight afield, + But hold the camp and save the town beneath the ramparts' shield. + Therefore, though shame and anger bade go forth and join the play, + They bolt and bar the gates no less and all his word obey; + And armed upon the hollow towers abide the coming foe. + + But Turnus, flying forward fast, outwent the main host slow, + And with a score of chosen knights is presently at hand + Before the town: borne on he was on horse of Thracian land, + White-flecked, and helmeted was he with ruddy-crested gold. + "Who will be first with me, O youths, play with the foe to hold? 50 + Lo, here!" he cried; and on the air a whirling shaft he sent, + The first of fight, and borne aloft about the meadows went. + His fellows take it up with shouts, and dreadful cry on rolls + As fast they follow, wondering sore at sluggard Teucrian souls,-- + That men should shun the battle pitched, nor dare the weapon-game, + But hug their walls. So round the walls, high-horsed, with heart aflame, + He rides about, and tries a way where never was a way: + E'en as a wolf the sheep-fold full besetteth on a day, + And howleth round about the garth, by wind and rain-drift beat, + About the middle of the night, while safe the lamb-folk bleat 60 + Beneath their mothers: wicked-fierce against them safe and near + He rageth; hunger-madness long a-gathering him doth wear, + With yearning for that blood beloved to wet his parched jaws. + E'en so in that Rutulian duke to flame the anger draws, + As he beholdeth walls and camp: sore burnt his hardy heart + For shifts to come at them; to shake those Teucrians shut apart + From out their walls and spread their host about the meadows wide. + + So on the ships he falls, that lay the campment's fence beside, + Hedged all about with garth and mound and by the river's flood, + And to the burning crieth on his folk of joyous mood, 70 + And eager fills his own right hand with branch of blazing fir: + Then verily they fall to work whom Turnus' gaze doth stir, + And all the host of them in haste hand to the black torch lays. + They strip the hearths; the smoky brand sends forth pitch-laden blaze, + And starward soot-bemingled flame drave Vulcan as he burned. + + Say, Muse, what God from Teucrian folk such sore destruction turned? + Who drave away from Trojan keels so mighty great a flame? + Old is the troth in such a tale, but never dies its fame. + What time AEneas first began on Phrygian Ida's steep + To frame his ships, and dight him there to ride upon the deep, 80 + The Berecynthian Mother-Queen spake, as the tale doth fare, + Unto the Godhead of great Jove: + "Son, grant unto my prayer + That which thy loved mother asks from heaven all tamed to peace: + A wood of pines I have, beloved through many years' increase. + There is a thicket on my height wherein men worship me, + Dim with the blackening of the firs and trunks of maple-tree: + These to the Dardan youth in need of ship-host grudged I nought, + But in my anxious soul as now is born a troubling thought. + Do off my dread, and let, I pray, a mother's prayers avail, + That these amid no shattering sea or whirling wind may fail; 90 + Let it avail them that my heights first brought them unto birth." + + Answered her son, that swayeth still the stars that rule the earth: + "O mother, whither call'st thou Fate? what wouldst thou have them be? + Shall keels of mortal fashioning gain immortality? + And shall AEneas well assured stray every peril through? + Shall this be right? hath any God the power such things to do? + No less when they have done their work, and safe in Italy + Lie in the haven, which soe'er have overpassed the sea, + And borne the Duke of Dardan men to that Laurentine home, + From such will I take mortal shape, and bid them to become 100 + Queens of the sea-plain, such as are Doto the Nereus child, + And Galatea, whose bosoms cleave the foaming waters wild." + + He spake and swore it by the flood his Stygian Brother rules, + And by its banks that reek with pitch o'er its black whirling pools, + And with the bowing of his head did all Olympus shake. + + And now the promised day was come, nor will the Parcae break + The time fulfilled; when Turnus' threat now bade the Mother heed + That she from those her holy ships should turn the fire at need. + Strange light before the eyes of men shone forth; a mighty cloud + Ran from the dawning down the sky, and there was clashing loud 110 + Of Ida's hosts, and from the heavens there fell a voice of fear, + That through Rutulia's host and Troy's fulfilled every ear: + "Make no great haste, O Teucrian men, these ships of mine to save! + Nor arm thereto! for Turnus here shall burn the salt sea wave + Sooner than these, my holy pines. But ye--depart, go free! + The Mother biddeth it: depart, Queens, Goddesses, of sea!" + + Straightway the ships brake each the chain that tied them to the bank, + And, as the dolphins dive adown, with plunging beaks they sank + Down to the deeps, from whence, O strange! they come aback once more; + As many brazen beaks as erst stood fast beside the shore, 120 + So many shapes of maidens now seaward they wend their ways. + + Appalled were those Rutulian hearts; yea, feared with all amaze, + Messapus sat mid frighted steeds: the rough-voiced stream grew black; + Yea, Tiberinus from the deep his footsteps drew aback. + But Turnus of the hardy heart, his courage nothing died; + Unmoved he stirs their souls with speech, unmoved he falls to chide: + + "These portents seek the Teucrians home; the very Jupiter + Snatches their wonted aid from them, that might not bide to bear + Rutulian fire and sword: henceforth the sea-plain lacketh road + For Teucrian men: their flight is dead, and half the world's abode 130 + Is reft from them: and earth, forsooth, upon our hands it waits, + With thousands of Italian swords. For me, I fear no Fates: + For if the Phrygians boast them still of answering words of God, + Enough for Venus and the Fates that Teucrian men have trod + The fair Ausonia's fruitful field: and answering fates have I: + A wicked folk with edge of sword to root up utterly, + For stolen wife: this grief hath grieved others than Atreus' sons, + And other folk may run to arms than those Mycenian ones. + --Enough one downfall is, say ye?--Enough had been one sin. + Yea, I had deemed all womankind your hatred well might win. 140 + --Lo, these are they to whom a wall betwixt the sword and sword, + The little tarrying of a ditch,--such toys the death to ward!-- + Give hearts of men! What, saw they not the war-walls of Troy-town, + The fashioning of Neptune's hand, amid the flame sink down? + But ye, my chosen, who is dight with me to break the wall, + That we upon their quaking camp with point and edge may fall? + No need I have of Vulcan's arms or thousand ships at sea + Against these Teucrians; yea, though they should win them presently, + The Tuscan friendship: deeds of dusk and deedless stolen gain + Of that Palladium, and the guards of topmost castle slain, 150 + Let them not fear: we shall not lurk in horse's dusky womb: + In open day to gird your walls with wildfire is the doom. + Let them not deem they have to put the Danaans to the proof, + Pelasgian lads that Hector's hand for ten years held aloof. + --But come, since all the best of day is well-nigh worn to end, + Joy in our good beginning, friends, and well your bodies tend, + And bide in hope and readiness the coming of the fight." + + Therewith Messapus hath the charge with outguards of the night + To keep the gates, and all the town with watch-fires round to ring: + Twice seven are chosen out to hold the town inleaguering 160 + Of Rutuli: an hundred youths, they follow each of these; + A purple-crested folk that gleam with golden braveries: + They pace the round, they shift the turn, or scattered o'er the grass + Please heart and soul with wine, and turn the empty bowl of brass: + The watch-fires shine around in ring; through sport and sleeplessness + Their warding weareth night away. + + The Trojans from their walls of war look down on all these things; + They hold the heights in arms, and search the great gate's fastenings + With hurrying fear; or, spear in hand, gangway to battlement 169 + They yoke. There Mnestheus urged the work; there hot Serestus went; + They whom AEneas, if perchance the time should call thereto, + Had made first captains of the host, lords of all things to do. + So all the host along the walls the peril shareth out, + Falling to watch, and plays its part in turn and turn about. + + Nisus was warder of the gate, the eager under shield, + The son of Hyrtacus, whom erst did huntress Ida yield + Unto AEneas' fellowship, keen with the shaft and spear. + Euryalus, his friend, stood by, than whom none goodlier + Went with AEneas or did on the battle-gear of Troy: + Youth's bloom unshorn was on his cheek, scarce was he but a boy. 180 + Like love the twain had each for each; in battle side by side + They went; and now as gatewards twain together did abide. + + Now Nisus saith: "Doth very God so set the heart on fire, + Euryalus, or doth each man make God of his desire? + My soul is driving me to dare the battle presently, + Or some great deed; nor pleased with peace at quiet will it be. + Thou seest how those Rutulian men trust in their warding keep; + How wide apart the watch-fires shine; how slack with wine and sleep + Men lie along; how far and wide the hush o'er all things lies. + Note now what stirreth in my mind, what thoughts in me arise: 190 + They bid call back AEneas now, fathers, and folk, and all, + And send out men to bear to him sure word of what doth fall. + Now if the thing I ask for thee they promise,--for to me + The deed's fame is enough,--meseems beneath yon mound I see + A way whereby to Pallanteum in little space to come." + + Euryalus, by mighty love of glory smitten home, + Stood all amazed, then answered thus his fiery-hearted friend: + "O Nisus, wilt thou yoke me not to such a noble end? + And shall I send thee unto deeds so perilous alone? + My sire Opheltes, wise in war, nourished no such an one, 200 + Reared mid the terror of the Greeks and Troy-town's miseries; + Nor yet with thee have I been wont to deedless deeds like these, + Following AEneas' mighty heart through Fortune's furthest way. + Here is a soul that scorns the light, and deems it good to pay + With very life for such a fame as thou art brought anear." + + Saith Nisus: "Nay, I feared of thee no such a thing, I swear, + No such ill thought; so may he bring thy friend back with the prize, + Great Jove, or whosoe'er beholds these things with equal eyes. + But if some hap (thou seest herein how many such may fall), + If any hap, if any God bear me the end of all, 210 + Fain were I thou wert left: thine age is worthier life-day's gain; + Let there be one to buy me back snatched from amidst the slain, + And give me earth: or if e'en that our wonted fortune ban, + Do thou the rites, and raise the tomb unto the missing man; + Nor make me of thy mother's woe the fashioner accurst: + She who, O friend, alone of all our many mothers durst + To follow thee, nor heeded aught of great Acestes' town." + + He said: "For weaving of delay vain is thy shuttle thrown; + Nor is my heart so turned about that I will leave the play: + Let us be doing!" + Therewithal he stirs the guards, and they 220 + Come up in turn, wherewith he leaves the warding-stead behind, + And goes with Nisus, and the twain set forth the prince to find. + + All other creatures, laid asleep o'er all the earthly soil, + Let slip the cares from off their hearts, forgetful of their toil, + But still the dukes of Trojan men and chosen folk of war + Held counsel of that heavy tide that on the kingdom bore, + What was to do, or who would go AEneas' messenger. + There shield on arm, and leaned upon the length of shafted spear, + They stand amid their stronghold's mead: in eager haste the twain, + Nisus and young Euryalus, the presence crave to gain, 230 + For matters great and worth the time: straight doth Iulus take + Those hurried men to him, and bids that Nisus speech should wake. + + Then saith the son of Hyrtacus: "Just-hearted, hearken now, + Folk of AEneas, neither look upon the things we show + As by our years. The Rutuli slackened by wine and sleep + Lie hushed, and we have seen whereby upon our way to creep, + E'en by the double-roaded gate that near the sea-strand lies: + Their fires are slaked, and black the smoke goes upward to the skies. + If ye will suffer us to use this fortune that doth fall + We will go seek AEneas now and Pallanteum's wall: 240 + Ye shall behold him and his spoils from mighty victory wrought + Come hither presently: the way shall fail our feet in nought, + For we have seen the city's skirts amid the valleys dim + In daily hunt, whereby we learned the river's uplong brim." + + Then spake Aletes weighty-wise, heart-ripe with plenteous eld: + "Gods of our fathers, under whom the weal of Troy is held, + Ye have not doomed all utterly the Teucrian folk undone, + When ye for us such souls of youth, such hardy hearts have won." + + So saying by shoulder and by hand he took the goodly twain, + While all his countenance and cheeks were wet with plenteous rain, 250 + "What gifts may I deem worthy, men, to pay such hearts athirst + For utmost glory? certainly the fairest and the first + The Gods and your own hearts shall grant: the rest your lord shall give, + Godly AEneas; and this man with all his life to live, + Ascanius here, no memory of such desert shall lack." + + "But I," Ascanius breaketh in, "whose father brought aback + Is all my heal--Nisus, I pray by those great Gods of mine, + By him of old, Assaracus, by hoary Vesta's shrine, + Bring back my father! whatsoe'er is left with me today + Of Fate or Faith, into your breasts I give it all away. 260 + O give me back the sight of him, and grief is all gone by. + Two cups of utter silver wrought and rough with imagery + I give you, which my father took from wracked Arisbe's hold; + Two tripods eke, two talents' weight of fire-beproven gold; + A beaker of the time agone, Sidonian Dido's gift. + But if we hap to win the day and spoil of battle shift, + If we lay hand on Italy and staff of kingship bear,-- + Ye saw the horse that bore today gold Turnus and his gear, + That very same, the shield withal, and helm-crest ruddy dyed, + Thy gifts, O Nisus, from the spoil henceforth I set aside. 270 + Moreover of the mother-folk twice six most excellent + My sire shall give, and captive men with all their armament, + And therewithal the kingly field, Latinus' garden-place. + But thou, O boy most worshipful, whom nigher in the race + Mine own years follow, thee I take unto mine inmost heart, + Embracing thee my very friend in all to have a part; + Nor any glory of my days without thee shall I seek, + Whether I fashion peace or war; all that I do or speak + I trust to thee." + In answer thus Euryalus 'gan say: + "No day henceforth of all my life shall prove me fallen away 280 + From this my deed: only may fate in kindly wise befall, + Nor stand against me: now one gift I ask thee over all: + I have a mother born on earth from Priam's ancient race, + Who wretched in the land of Troy had no abiding-place, + Nor in Acesta's steadfast wall; with me she still must wend: + Her, who knows nought of this my risk, whatever may be the end + Unto thy safeguard do I leave: Night and thy right hand there + Be witness that my mother's tears I had no heart to bear. + But solace thou her lack, I pray; comfort her desert need; + Yea let me bear this hope with me, and boldlier shall I speed 290 + Amid all haps." + Touched to the heart the Dardans might not keep + Their tears aback, and chief of all did fair Iulus weep, + The image of his father's love so flashed upon his soul: + And therewithal he spake the word: + + "All things I duly answer for worthy thy deed of fame; + Thy mother shall my mother be, nor lack but e'en the name + To be Creusa: store of thanks no little hath she won + That bore thee. Whatsoever hap thy valorous deed bear on, + By this my head, whereon my sire is wont the troth to plight, + Whatever I promised thee come back, with all things wrought aright, 300 + Thy mother and thy kin shall bide that very same reward." + So spake he, weeping, and did off his shoulder-girded sword + All golden, that with wondrous craft Lycaon out of Crete + Had fashioned, fitting it withal in ivory scabbard meet. + + And Mnestheus unto Nisus gives a stripped-off lion's hide + And shaggy coat; and helm for helm giveth Aletes tried. + Then forth they wend in weed of war, and they of first estate, + Young men and old, went forth with them, and leave them at the gate + With following vows; and therewithal Iulus, goodly-wrought, + Who far beyond his tender years had mind of manly thought, 310 + Charged them with many messages unto his father's ear,-- + Vain words the night-winds bore away and gave the clouds to bear. + + Forth now they wend and pass the ditch, and through the mirk night gain + The baneful camp: yet ere their death they too shall be the bane + Of many: bodies laid in sleep and wine they see strewed o'er + The herbage, and the battle-cars upreared along the shore; + And mid the reins and wheels thereof are men and weapons blent + With wine-jars: so Hyrtacides such word from tooth-hedge sent: + + "Euryalus, the hand must dare, the time cries on the deed; + Here lies the way: do thou afar keep watch and have good heed, 320 + Lest any hand aback of us arise 'gainst thee and me: + Here will I make a waste forsooth, and wide thy way shall be." + + He speaks, and hushes all his voice, and so with naked blade + Falls on proud Rhamnes; who, as happed, on piled-up carpets laid, + Amid his sleep was blowing forth great voice from inner breast. + A king he was; king Turnus' seer, of all beloved best; + Yet nought availed his wizardry to drive his bane away. + Three thralls unware, as heeding nought amid the spears they lay, + He endeth: Remus' shield-bearer withal and charioteer, 329 + Caught 'neath the very steeds: his sword their drooping necks doth shear; + Then from their lord he takes the head, and leaves the trunk to spout + Gushes of blood: the earth is warm with black gore all about. + The beds are wet. There Lamyrus and Lamus doth he slay, + And young Serranus fair of face, who played the night away + For many an hour, until his limbs 'neath God's abundance failed, + And down he lay: ah! happier 'twere if he had still prevailed + To make the live-long night one game until the morning cold. + As famished lion Nisus fares amid the sheep-filled fold, + When ravening hunger driveth on; the soft things, dumb with dread, + He draggeth off, devouring them, and foams from mouth blood-red. 340 + + Nor less the death Euryalus hath wrought; for all aflame + He wades in wrath, and on the way slays many lacking name: + Fadus, Herbesus therewithal, Rhoetus and Abaris; + Unwary they: but Rhoetus waked, and looking on all this, + Fulfilled of fear was hiding him behind a wine-jar pressed: + The foe was on him as he rose; the sword-blade pierced his breast + Up to the hilts, and drew aback abundant stream of death. + His purple life he poureth forth, and, dying, vomiteth + Blent blood and wine. On death-stealth still onward the Trojan went, + And toward Messapus' leaguer drew, where watch-fires well-nigh spent + He saw, and horses all about, tethered in order due, 351 + Cropping the grass: but Nisus spake in hasty words and few, + Seeing him borne away by lust of slaughter overmuch: + + "Hold we our hands, for dawn our foe hasteth the world to touch: + Deep have we drunk of death, and cut a road amid the foe." + + The gear of men full goodly-wrought of silver through and through + They leave behind, and bowls therewith, and carpets fashioned fair. + Natheless Euryalus caught up the prophet Rhamnes' gear + And gold-bossed belt, which Caedicus, the wealthy man of old, + Sent to Tiburtine Remulus, that he his name might hold, 360 + Though far he were; who, dying, gave his grandson their delight; + And he being dead, Rutulian men won them in war and fight + These now he takes, and all for nought does on his valorous breast, + And dons Messapus' handy helm with goodly-fashioned crest, + Wherewith they leave the camp and gain the road that safer lay. + + But horsemen from the Latin town meantime were on the way, + Sent on before to carry word to Turnus, lord and king, + While in array amid the fields the host was tarrying. + Three hundred knights, all shielded folk, 'neath Volscens do they fare. + And now they drew anigh the camp and 'neath its rampart were, 370 + When from afar they saw the twain on left-hand footway lurk; + Because Euryalus' fair helm mid glimmer of the mirk + Betrayed the heedless youth, and flashed the moonbeams back again. + Nor was the sight unheeded: straight cries Volscens midst his men: + "Stand ho! why thus afoot, and why in weapons do ye wend, + And whither go ye?" + Nought had they an answer back to send, + But speed their fleeing mid the brake, and trust them to the night; + The horsemen cast themselves before each crossway known aright, + And every outgoing there is with guard they girdle round. 379 + Rough was the wood; a thicket-place where black holm-oaks abound, + And with the tanglement of thorns choked up on every side, + The road but glimmering faintly out from where the foot-tracks hide. + The blackness of overhanging boughs and heavy battle-prey + Hinder Euryalus, and fear beguiles him of the way. + Nisus comes out, and now had won unwitting from the foe, + And reached the place from Alba's name called Alban Meadows now; + Where King Latinus had as then his high-built herd-houses. + So there he stands, and, looking round, his fellow nowhere sees: + + "Hapless Euryalus! ah me, where have I left thy face? + Where shall I seek thee, gathering up that tangle of the ways 390 + Through the blind wood?" + So therewithal he turns upon his track, + Noting his footsteps, and amid the hushed brake strays aback, + Hearkening the horse-hoofs and halloos and calls of following folk. + Nor had he long abided there, ere on his ears outbroke + Great clamour, and Euryalus he sees, whom all the band + Hath taken, overcome by night, and blindness of the land, + And wildering tumult: there in vain he strives in battle-play. + Ah, what to do? What force to dare, what stroke to snatch away + The youth? Or shall he cast himself amid the swords to die, + And hasten down the way of wounds to lovely death anigh? 400 + Then swiftly, with his arm drawn back and brandishing his spear, + He looks up at the moon aloft, and thuswise poureth prayer: + + "To aid, thou Goddess! Stay my toil, and let the end be good! + Latonian glory of the stars, fair watcher of the wood, + If ever any gift for me upon thine altars gave + My father Hyrtacus; if I for thee the hunting drave; + If aught I hung upon thy dome, or set upon thy roof, + Give me to break their gathered host, guide thou my steel aloof!" + + He spake, and in the shafted steel set all his body's might, 409 + And hurled it: flying forth the spear clave through the dusk of night, + And, reaching Sulmo turned away, amidst his back it flew, + And brake there; but the splintering shaft his very heart pierced through, + And o'er he rolleth, vomiting the hot stream from his breast: + Then heave his flanks with long-drawn sobs and cold he lies at rest. + On all sides then they peer about: but, whetted on thereby, + The quivering shaft from o'er his ear again he letteth fly. + Amid their wilderment the spear whistleth through either side + Of Tagus' temples, and wet-hot amidst his brain doth bide. + Fierce Volscens rageth, seeing none who might the spear-shot send, + Or any man on whom his wrath and heat of heart to spend. 420 + + "But thou, at least, with thine hot blood shalt pay the due award + For both," he cries; and therewithal, swift drawing forth the sword, + He falleth on Euryalus. Then, wild with all affright, + Nisus shrieks out, and cares no more to cloak himself with night, + And hath no heart to bear against so great a misery. + "On me, me! Here--I did the deed! turn ye the sword on me, + Rutulians!--all the guilt is mine: he might not do nor dare. + May heaven and those all-knowing stars true witness of it bear! + Only with too exceeding love he loved his hapless friend." 429 + + Such words he poured forth, but the sword no less its way doth wend, + Piercing the flank and rending through the goodly breast of him; + And rolls Euryalus in death: in plenteous blood they swim + His lovely limbs, his drooping neck low on his shoulder lies: + As when the purple field-flower faints before the plough and dies, + Or poppies when they hang their heads on wearied stems outworn, + When haply by the rainy load their might is overborne. + + Then Nisus falls amidst of them, and Volscens seeks alone + For aught that any man may do: save him he heedeth none. + About him throng the foe: all round the strokes on him are laid + To thrust him off: but on he bears, whirling his lightning blade, 440 + Till full in Volscens' shouting mouth he burieth it at last, + Tearing the life from out the foe, as forth his own life passed. + Then, ploughed with wounds, he cast him down upon his lifeless friend, + And so in quietness of death gat resting in the end. + + O happy twain, if anywise my song-craft may avail, + From out the memory of the world no day shall blot your tale, + While on the rock-fast Capitol AEneas' house abides, + And while the Roman Father still the might of empire guides. + + The Rutuli, victorious now with spoils and prey of war, + But sorrowing still, amid the camp the perished Volscens bore. 450 + Nor in the camp was grief the less, when they on Rhamnes came + Bloodless; and many a chief cut off by one death and the same; + Serranus dead and Numa dead: a many then they swarm + About the dead and dying men, and places wet and warm + With new-wrought death, and runnels full with plenteous foaming blood. + Then one by one the spoils they note; the glittering helm and good + Messapus owned: the gear such toil had won back from the dead. + + But timely now Aurora left Tithonus' saffron bed, + And over earth went scattering wide the light of new-born day: + The sun-flood flowed, and all the world unveiled by daylight lay. 460 + + Then Turnus, clad in arms himself, wakes up the host to arms, + And every lord to war-array bids on his brazen swarms; + And men with diverse tidings told their battle-anger whet. + Moreover (miserable sight!) on upraised spears they set + Those heads, and follow them about with most abundant noise, + Euryalus and Nisus dead. + + Meanwhile AEneas' hardy sons upon their leftward wall + Stand in array; for on the right the river girdeth all. + In woe they ward the ditches deep, and on the towers on high 469 + Stand sorrowing; for those heads upreared touch all their hearts anigh, + Known overwell to their sad eyes mid the black flow of gore. + Therewith in winged fluttering haste, the trembling city o'er + Goes tell-tale Fame, and swift amidst the mother's ears doth glide; + And changed she was, nor in her bones the life-heat would abide: + The shuttle falls from out her hand, unrolled the web doth fall, + And with a woman's hapless shrieks she flieth to the wall: + Rending her hair, beside herself, she faced the front of fight, + Heedless of men, and haps of death, and all the weapons' flight, + And there the very heavens she filled with wailing of her grief: + + "O son, and do I see thee so? Thou rest and last relief 480 + Of my old days! hadst thou the heart to leave me lone and spent? + O cruel! might I see thee not on such a peril sent? + Was there no time for one last word amid my misery? + A prey for Latin fowl and dogs how doth thy body lie, + On lands uncouth! Not e'en may I, thy mother, streak thee, son, + Thy body dead; or close thine eyes, or wash thy wounds well won, + Or shroud thee in the cloth I wrought for thee by night and day, + When hastening on the weaving-task I kept eld's cares at bay? + Where shall I seek thee? What earth hides thy body, mangled sore, + And perished limbs? O son, to me bringest thou back no more 490 + Than this? and have I followed this o'er every land and sea? + O pierce me through, if ye be kind; turn all your points on me, + Rutulians! Let me first of all with battle-steel be sped! + Father of Gods, have mercy thou! Thrust down the hated head + Beneath the House of Tartarus with thine own weapon's stress, + Since otherwise I may not break my life-days' bitterness." + + Their hearts were shaken with her wail, and Sorrow fain will weep, + And in all men their battle-might unbroken lay asleep. + But Actor and Idaeus take that flaming misery, + As bade Ilioneus, and young Iulus, sore as he 500 + Went weeping: back in arms therewith they bear her 'neath the roof. + + But now the trump with brazen song cast fearful sound aloof, + Chiding to war; and shouts rise up and belloweth back the heaven, + And forth the Volscians fare to speed the shield-roof timely driven. + Some men fall on to fill the ditch and pluck the ramparts down; + Some seek approach and ladders lay where daylight rends the crown + Of wall-wards, and would get them up where stands the hedge of war + Thinner of men: against their way the Teucrian warders pour + All weapon-shot: with hard-head pikes they thrust them down the steep. + Long was the war wherein they learned the battle-wall to keep. 510 + Stones, too, of deadly weight they roll, if haply they may break + The shield-roof of the battle-rush; but sturdily those take + All chances of the play beneath their close and well-knit hold. + Yet fail they; for when hard at hand their world of war was rolled, + A mighty mass by Teucrians moved rolls on and rushes o'er, + And fells the host of Rutuli and breaks the tiles of war. + Nor longer now the Rutuli, the daring hearts, may bear + To play with Mars amid the dark, but strive the walls to clear + With storm of shaft and weapon shot. + + But now Mezentius otherwhere, a fearful sight to see, 520 + Was tossing high the Tuscan pine with smoke-wreathed fiery heart: + While Neptune's child, the horse-tamer Messapus, played his part, + Rending the wall, and crying out for ladders to be laid. + + Speak, Song-maids: thou, Calliope, give thou the singer aid + To tell what wise by Turnus' sword the field of fight was strown; + What death he wrought; what man each man to Orcus sent adown. + Fall to with me to roll abroad the mighty skirts of war, + Ye, Goddesses, remember all, and ye may tell it o'er. + + There was a tower built high overhead, with gangways up in air, + Set well for fight, 'gainst which the foe their utmost war-might bear, 530 + And all Italians strive their most to work its overthrow: + Gainst whom the Trojans ward it well, casting the stones below, + And through the hollow windows speed the shot-storm thick and fast. + There Turnus first of all his folk a flaming firebrand cast, + And fixed it in the turret's flank: wind-nursed it caught great space + Of planking, and amid the doors, consuming, kept its place. + Then they within, bewildered sore, to flee their ills are fain, + But all for nought; for while therein they huddle from the bane, + And draw aback to place yet free from ruin, suddenly 539 + O'erweighted toppleth down the tower, and thundereth through the sky. + + Half-dead the warders fall to earth by world of wrack o'erborne, + Pierced with their own shafts, and their breasts with hardened splinters torn. + Yea, Lycus and Helenor came alone of all their peers + Alive to earth: Helenor, now in spring-tide of his years: + Bond-maid Licymnia privily to that Maeonian king + Had borne the lad, and sent him forth to Troy's beleaguering + With arms forbidden, sheathless sword and churl's unpainted shield. + But when he saw himself amidst the thousand-sworded field + Of Turnus, Latins on each side, behind, and full in face, + E'en as a wild beast hedged about by girdle of the chase 550 + Rages against the point and edge, and, knowing death anear, + Leaps forth, and far is borne away down on the hunter's spear; + Not otherwise the youth falls on where thickest spear-points lie, + And in the middle of the foe he casts himself to die. + + But Lycus, nimbler far of foot, betwixt the foemen slipped, + Betwixt the swords, and gained the wall, and at the coping gripped, + And strove to draw him up with hand, the friendly hands to feel; + But Turnus both with foot and spear hath followed hard at heel, + And mocks him thus in victory: "How was thy hope so grown + Of 'scaping from my hand, O fool?" 560 + Therewith he plucks him down + From where he hung, and space of wall tears downward with the man. + As when it chanceth that a hare or snowy-bodied swan + Jove's shield-bearer hath borne aloft in snatching hooked feet; + Or lamb, whose mother seeketh him with most abundant bleat, + Some wolf of Mars from fold hath caught. + Goes up great cry around: + They set on, and the ditches filled with o'erturned garth and mound, + While others cast the blazing brands on roof and battlement. + Ilioneus with mighty stone, a shard from hillside rent, + Lucetius felled, as fire in hand unto the gate he drew. + Then Liger felled Emathion, for craft of spear he knew; 570 + Asylas Corynaeus, by dint of skill in bowshaft's ways, + Caeneus Ortygius fells, and him, victorious, Turnus slays, + And Itys, Clonius, Promolus, Dioxippus withal, + And Sagaris, and Idas set on topmost turret-wall. + Then Capys slays Privernus; him Themilla's light-winged spear + Had grazed, whereon he dropped his shield, and his left hand did bear + Upon the hurt; when lo, thereto the winged shaft did win, + And nailed the hand unto the side, and, buried deep within, + Burst all the breathing-ways of life with deadly fatal sore. + But lo, where standeth Arcens' child in goodly weed of war, 580 + Fair with his needle-painted cloak, with Spanish scarlet bright, + Noble of face: Arcens, his sire, had sent him to the fight + From nursing of his mother's grove about Symaethia's flood, + Whereby Palicus' altar stands, the wealthy and the good. + Mezentius now laid by his spear, and took his whistling sling, + And whirled it thrice about his head at length of tugging string, + And with the flight of molten lead his midmost forehead clave, + And to the deep abundant sand his outstretched body gave. + + Then first they say Ascanius aimed his speedy shafts in war, + Wherewith but fleeing beasts afield he used to fright before: 590 + But now at last his own right hand the stark Numanus slays, + Who had to surname Remulus, and in these latter days + King Turnus' sister, young of years, had taken to his bed: + He in the forefront of the fight kept crying out, and said + Things worthy and unworthy tale: puffed up with pride of place + New-won he went, still clamouring out his greatness and his grace. + + "O twice-caught Phrygians, shames you nought thus twice amid the wars + To lie in bonds, and stretch out walls before the march of Mars? + Lo, these are they who woke the war the wives of us to wed! + What God sent you to Italy? what madness hither sped? 600 + Here are no Atreus' sons, and no Ulysses word-weaver. + A people hard from earliest spring our new-born sons we bear + Unto the stream, and harden us with bitter frost and flood. + Our lads, they wake the dawning-chase and wear the tangled wood; + Our sport is taming of the horse and drawing shafted bow; + Our carles, who bear a world of toil, and hunger-pinching know, + Tame earth with spade, or shake with war the cities of the folk. + Yea, all our life with steel is worn; afield we drive the yoke + With spear-shaft turned about: nor doth a halting eld of sloth + Weaken our mightiness of soul, or change our glory's growth. 610 + We do the helm on hoary hairs, and ever deem it good + To drive the foray day by day, and make the spoil our food. + But ye--the raiment saffron-stained, with purple glow tricked out-- + These are your heart-joys: ye are glad to lead the dance about. + Sleeve-coated folk, O ribbon-coifed, not even Phrygian men, + But Phrygian wives, to Dindymus the high go get ye then! + To hear the flute's twi-mouthed song as ye are wont to do! + The Berecynthian Mother's box and cymbals call to you + From Ida: let men deal with war, and drop adown your swords." + + That singer of such wicked speech, that caster forth of words, 620 + Ascanius brooked not: breasting now his horse-hair full at strain, + He aimed the shaft, and therewithal drew either arm atwain, + And stood so; but to Jupiter first suppliant fell to pray: + + "O Jove Almighty, to my deeds, thus new-begun, nod yea, + And I myself unto thy fane the yearly gifts will bear, + And bring before thine altar-stead a snow-white gilt-horned steer, + Whose head unto his mother's head is evenly upborne, + Of age to spurn the sand with hoof and battle with the horn." + + The Father heard, and out of heaven, wherein no cloud-fleck hung, + His leftward thunder fell, wherewith the fateful bow outrung, 630 + The back-drawn shaft went whistling forth with dreadful sound, and sped + To pierce the skull of Remulus and hollow of his head: + "Go to, then, and thy mocking words upon men's valour call, + The twice-caught Phrygians answer back Rutulians herewithal." + + This only word Ascanius spake: the Teucrians raise their cry + And shout for joy, and lift their heart aloft unto the sky. + Long-haired Apollo then by hap high-set in airy place, + Looked down upon Ausonian host and leaguered city's case, + And thus the victor he bespeaks from lofty seat of cloud: + "Speed on in new-born valour, child! this is the starward road, 640 + O son of Gods and sire of Gods! Well have the Fates ordained + That 'neath Assaracus one day all war shall be refrained. + No Troy shall hold thee." + With that word he stoops from heaven aloft + And puts away on either side the wind that meets him soft, + And seeks Ascanius: changed is he withal, and putteth on + The shape of Butes old of days, shield-bearer time agone + Unto Anchises, Dardan king, and door-ward true and tried; + But with Ascanius now his sire had bidden him abide. + Like this old man in every wise, voice, hue, and hoary hair, + And arms that cried on cruel war, now did Apollo fare, 650 + And to Iulus hot of heart in such wise went his speech: + + "Enough, O child of AEneas, that thou with shaft didst reach + Numanus' life unharmed thyself, great Phoebus grants thee this, + Thy first-born praise, nor grudgeth thee like weapons unto his. + But now refrain thy youth from war." + So spake Apollo then, + And in the midmost of his speech fled sight of mortal men, + And faded from their eyes away afar amid the air. + The Dardan dukes, they knew the God and holy shooting-gear, + And as he fled away from them they heard his quiver shrill. + Therefore Ascanius, fain of fight, by Phoebus' word and will 660 + They hold aback: but they themselves fare to the fight again, + And cast their souls amidst of all the perils bare and plain. + + Then goes the shout adown the wall, along the battlement; + The javelin-thongs are whirled about, the sharp-springed bows are bent, + And all the earth is strewn with shot: the shield, the helmet's cup, + Ring out again with weapon-dint, and fierce the fight springs up. + As great as, when the watery kids are setting, beats the rain + Upon the earth; as plentiful as when upon the main + The hail-clouds fall, when Jupiter, fierce with the southern blasts, + Breaks up the hollow clouds of heaven and watery whirl downcasts. 670 + + Now Pandarus and Bitias stark, Idan Alcanor's seed. + They whom Iaera of the woods in Jove's brake nursed with heed, + Youths tall as firs or mountain-cliffs that in their country are, + The gate their lord hath bid them keep, these freely now unbar, + And freely bid the foeman in, trusting to stroke of hand; + But they themselves to right and left before the gate-towers stand, + Steel-clad, and with their lofty heads crested with glittering gleams; + E'en as amid the air of heaven, beside the flowing streams + On rim of Padus, or anigh soft Athesis and sweet, + Twin oak-trees spring, and tops unshorn uprear the skies to meet, 680 + And with their heads high over earth nod ever in the wind. + + So now the Rutuli fall on when clear the way they find, + But Quercens, and AEquicolus the lovely war-clad one, + And Tmarus of the headlong soul, and Haemon, Mavors' son, + Must either turn their backs in flight, with all their men of war, + Or lay adown their loved lives on threshold of the door. + Then bitterer waxeth battle-rage in hate-fulfilled hearts, + And there the Trojans draw to head and gather from all parts, + Eager to deal in handy strokes, full fierce afield to fare. + + But as duke Turnus through the fight was raging otherwhere, 690 + Confounding folk, there came a man with tidings that the foe, + Hot with new death, the door-leaves wide to all incomers throw. + Therewith he leaves the work in hand, and, stirred by anger's goad, + Against the Dardan gate goes forth, against the brethren proud: + There first Antiphates he slew, who fought amid the first, + The bastard of Sarpedon tall, by Theban mother nursed. + With javelin-cast he laid him low: the Italian cornel flies + Through the thin air, pierceth his maw, and 'neath his breast-bone lies + Deep down; the hollow wound-cave pours a flood of gore and foam, + And warm amid him lies the steel, amid his lung gone home. 700 + Then Meropes', and Erymas', Aphidnus' lives he spilled; + Then Bitias of the flaming eyes and heart with ire fulfilled;-- + Not with the dart, for to no dart his life-breath had he given;-- + But whirled and whizzing mightily came on the sling-spear, driven + Like lightning-flash; against whose dint two bull-hides nought availed, + Nor yet the golden faithful fence of war-coat double-scaled: + His fainting limbs fell down afield, and earth gave out a groan, + And rang the thunder of his shield huge on his body thrown: + E'en as upon Euboean shore of Baiae falleth whiles + A stony pillar, which built up of mighty bonded piles 710 + They set amid the sea: suchwise it draggeth mighty wrack + Headlong adown, and deep in sea it lieth dashed aback: + The seas are blent, black whirl of sand goes up confusedly; + And with the noise quakes Prochytas, and quakes Inarime, + The unsoft bed by Jove's command upon Typhoeus laid. + + Then Mars, the mighty in the war, brings force and strength to aid + The Latin men, and in their hearts he stirs his bitter goads, + The while with fleeing and black fear the Teucrian heart he loads: + From everywhither run the folk, since here is battle rich, + And in all hearts the war-god wakes. 720 + + But Pandarus, beholding now his brother laid to earth, + And whitherward wends Fortune now, and what Time brings to birth, + Back-swinging on the hinge again with might the door-leaf sends, + By struggle of his shoulders huge; and many of his friends + Shut outward of the walls he leaves, amid the fierce debate; + While others, with himself shut in, poured backward through the gate. + Madman! who saw not how the king Rutulian mid the band + Came rushing, but amidst the town now shut him with his hand, + E'en as a tiger pent amidst a helpless flock of sheep. + Then dreadfully his armour rings, light from his eyes doth leap,-- 730 + A strange new light: the blood-red crest upon his helm-top quakes, + And from the circle of his shield a glittering lightning breaks. + Sudden AEneas' frighted folk behold his hated face + And mighty limbs: but Pandarus breaks forth amid the place + Huge, and his heart afire with rage for his lost brother's death. + + "Nay, this is not Amata's home, the dowry house," he saith, + "Nor yet doth Ardea's midmost wall hold kindred Turnus in: + The foeman's camp thou seest, wherefrom thou hast no might to win." + + But from his all untroubled breast laughed Turnus, as he said: + "Begin, if thou hast heart thereto, let hand to hand be laid! 740 + Thou shalt tell Priam how thou found'st a new Achilles here." + + He spake: the other put all strength to hurling of his spear, + A shaft all rough with knots, and still in its own tree-bark bound. + Straightway the thin air caught it up, but that swift-speeding wound + Saturnian Juno turned aside and set it in the door. + --"But now thou 'scapest not this steel mine own hand maketh sure, + Nought such as thine the weapon-smith, the wound-smith----" + With the word + He riseth up unto the high uprising of the sword, + Wherewith betwixt the temples twain he clave his midmost head, + And with a fearful wound apart the cheeks unbearded shred. 750 + Then came a sound, and shook the earth 'neath the huge weight of him: + With armour wet with blood and brain, with fainting, slackened limb, + He strewed the ground in death; his head, sheared clean and evenly, + From either shoulder hanging down, this side and that did lie. + + Then turn and flee the Trojan folk, by quaking terror caught; + And if the conquering man as then one moment had had thought + To burst the bolts and let his folk in through the opened door, + That day had been the last of days for Trojans and their war. + But utter wrath of heart and soul, and wildering lust of death + Drave him afire amidst the foe. 760 + Then Phaleris he catcheth up, and ham-strung Gyges then, + Whose spears, snatched up, he hurleth on against the backs of men; + For Juno finds him might enough and heart wherewith to do, + Halys he sendeth down with these, Phegeus with targe smit through; + Then, as they roused the war on wall, nor wotted aught of this, + Alcander stark, and Halius stout, Noemon, Prytanis. + Then Lynceus, as he ran to aid and cheered his folk withal, + He reacheth at with sweeping sword from right hand of the wall + And smiteth; and his helm and head, struck off with that one blow, + Lie far away: Amycus then, the wood-deer's wasting foe, 770 + He slayeth: happier hand had none in smearing of the shaft + And arming of the iron head the poison-wound to waft. + Then Clytius, son of AEolus, and Cretheus Muse-beloved,-- + Cretheus the Muses' fellow-friend, whose heart was ever moved + By song and harp, and measured sound along the strained string; + Who still of steeds, and arms, and men, and battle-tide would sing. + + At last the Trojan dukes of men, Mnestheus, Serestus fierce, + Draw to a head when all this death is borne unto their ears, + And see their folk all scattering wide, the foe amidst them see. 779 + Then Mnestheus cries: "And whither now, and whither will ye flee? + What other walls, what other town have ye a hope to find? + Hath one man, O my town-fellows, whom your own ramparts bind, + Wrought such a death and unavenged amid your very town, + And sent so many lords of war by Orcus' road adown? + O dastards, your unhappy land, your Gods of ancient days, + Your great AEneas--what! no shame, no pity do they raise?" + + Fired by such words, they gather heart and stand in close array, + Till step by step 'gins Turnus now to yield him from the play, + And seek the river and the side the wet wave girds about. + Then fiercer fall the Teucrians on, and raise a mighty shout, 790 + And lock their ranks: as when a crowd of men-folk and of spears + Falls on a lion hard of heart, and he, beset by fears, + But fierce and grim-eyed, yieldeth way, though anger and his worth + Forbid him turn his back about: no less to fare right forth + Through spears and men avails him not, though ne'er so fain he be. + Not otherwise unhasty feet drew Turnus doubtfully + Abackward, all his heart a-boil with anger's overflow. + Yea, twice, indeed, he falls again amidmost of the foe, + And twice more turns to huddled flight their folk along the walls; + But, gathered from the camp about, the whole host on him falls, 800 + Nor durst Saturnian Juno now his might against them stay; + For Jupiter from heaven hath sent Iris of airy way, + No soft commands of his high doom bearing his sister down, + If Turnus get him not away from Troy's high-builded town. + So now the warrior's shielded left the play endureth not, + Nought skills his right hand; wrapped around in drift of weapon shot + About his temples' hollow rings his helm with ceaseless clink; + The starkly-fashioned brazen plates amid the stone-cast chink; + The crest is battered from his head; nor may the shield-boss hold + Against the strokes: the Trojans speed the spear-storm manifold, 810 + And lightening Mnestheus thickeneth it: then over all his limbs + The sweat bursts out, and all adown a pitchy river swims: + Hard grows his breath, and panting sharp shaketh his body spent. + Until at last, all clad in arms, he leapt adown, and sent + His body to the river fair, who in his yellow flood + Caught him, and bore him forth away on ripple soft and good, + And gave him merry to his men, washed from the battle's blood. + + + + +BOOK X. + +ARGUMENT. + +THE GODS TAKE COUNSEL: AENEAS COMETH TO HIS FOLK AGAIN, AND DOETH MANY +GREAT DEEDS IN BATTLE. + + + Meanwhile is opened wide the door of dread Olympus' walls, + And there the Sire of Gods and Men unto the council calls, + Amid the starry place, wherefrom, high-throned, he looks adown + Upon the folk of Latin land and that beleaguered town. + There in the open house they sit, and he himself begins: + + "O Dwellers in the House of Heaven, why backward thuswise wins + Your purpose? Why, with hearts unruled, raise ye the strife so sore? + I clean forbade that Italy should clash with Troy in war. + Now why the war that I forbade? who egged on these or those + To fear or fight, or drave them on with edge of sword to close? 10 + Be not o'ereager in your haste: the hour of fight shall come, + When dreadful Carthage on a day against the walls of Rome, + Betwixt the opened doors of Alps, a mighty wrack shall send; + Then may ye battle, hate to hate, and reach and grasp and rend: + But now forbear, and joyfully knit fast the plighted peace." + + Few words spake Jove; but not a few in answer unto these + Gave golden Venus back again: + "O Father, O eternal might of men and deeds of earth-- + For what else may be left to me whereto to turn my prayers?-- + Thou seest the Rutuli in pride, and Turnus, how he fares? 20 + Amidst them, borne aloft by steeds, and, swelling, war-way sweeps + With Mars to aid: the fenced place no more the Teucrians keeps, + For now within the very gates and mound-heaped battlement + They blend in fight, and flood of gore adown the ditch is sent, + Unware AEneas is away.--Must they be never free + From bond of leaguer? lo, again the threatening enemy + Hangs over Troy new-born! Behold new host arrayed again + From Arpi, the AEtolian-built; against the Teucrian men + Tydides riseth. So for me belike new wounds in store, + And I, thy child, must feel the edge of arms of mortal war. 30 + Now if without thy peace, without thy Godhead's will to speed, + The Trojans sought for Italy, let ill-hap pay ill deed, + Nor stay them with thine help: but if they followed many a word + Given forth by Gods of Heaven and Hell, by whom canst thou be stirred + To turn thy doom, or who to forge new fate may e'er avail? + Of ship-host burnt on Eryx shore why should I tell the tale? + Or of the king of wind and storm, or wild and windy crowd + AEolia bred, or Iris sent adown the space of cloud? + But now withal the Gods of Hell, a world untried before, + She stirreth, and Alecto sent up to the earthly shore 40 + In sudden hurry raves about towns of Italian men. + No whit for lordship do I yearn: I hoped such glories then + While Fortune was: let them be lords whom thou wilt doom for lords! + But if no land thy hard-heart wife to Teucrian men awards, + Yet, Father, by the smoking wrack of overwhelmed Troy + I pray thee from the weapon-dint safe let me send a boy, + Yea, e'en Ascanius: let me keep my grandson safe for me! + Yea, let AEneas toss about on many an unknown sea, + And let him follow wheresoe'er his fortune shall have led: + But this one let me shield, and take safe from the battle's dread. 50 + Paphus, Cythera, Amathus, are mine, and I abide + Within Idalia's house: let him lay weed of war aside, + And wear his life inglorious there: then shalt thou bid the hand + Of Carthage weigh Ausonia down, and nothing shall withstand + The towns of Tyre.--Ah, what availed to 'scape the bane of war? + Ah, what availed that through the midst of Argive flames they bore + To wear down perils of wide lands, and perils of the main, + While Teucrian men sought Latin land and Troy new-born again? + Ah, better had it been for them by Troy's cold ash to stay, + To dwell on earth where Troy hath been. Father, give back, I pray, 60 + Their Xanthus and their Simois unto that wretched folk, + And let them toil and faint once more 'neath Ilium's woeful yoke!" + + Then spake Queen Juno, heavy wroth: "Why driv'st thou me to part + My deep-set silence, and lay bare with words my grief of heart? + What one of all the Gods or men AEneas drave to go + On warring ways, or bear himself as King Latinus' foe? + Fate-bidden he sought Italy?--Yea, soothly, or maybe + Spurned by Cassandra's wilderment--and how then counselled we + To leave his camp and give his life to make the winds a toy? + To trust his walls and utmost point of war unto a boy? 70 + To trust the Tuscan faith, and stir the peaceful folk to fight? + What God hath driven him to lie, what hardness of my might? + Works Juno here, or Iris sent adown the cloudy way? + 'Tis wrong for Italy, forsooth, the ring of fire to lay + Round Troy new-born; for Turnus still to hold his fathers' earth!-- + Though him, Pilumnus' own son's son, Venilia brought to birth-- + But what if Trojans fall with flame upon the Latin folk, + And drive the prey from off their fields oppressed by outland yoke? + Or choose them sons-in-law, or brides from mothers' bosoms tear? + Or, holding peace within their hands, lade ships with weapon-gear? 80 + Thou erst hadst might from Greekish hands AEneas' self to draw, + To thrust a cloud and empty wind in stead of man of war, + And unto sea-nymphs ship by ship the ship-host mayst thou change. + But we to help the Rutuli, 'tis horrible and strange! + --Unware AEneas is away?--let him abide unware! + Paphus thou hast, Idalium, and high Cythera fair, + Then why with cities big with war and hearts of warriors deal? + What! we it was who strove to wrack the fainting Trojan weal? + We!--or the one who thwart the Greeks the wretched Trojans dashed? + Yea, and what brought it all about that thus in arms they clashed, 90 + Europe and Asia? that men brake the plighted peace by theft? + Did I the Dardan lecher lead, who Sparta's jewel reft? + Did I set weapons in his hand, breed lust to breed debate? + Then had thy care for thine been meet, but now indeed o'erlate + With wrongful plaint thou risest up, and bickerest emptily." + + So pleaded Juno, and all they, the heavenly folk anigh, + Murmured their doom in diverse wise; as when the first of wind + Caught in the woods is murmuring on, and rolleth moanings blind, + Betraying to the mariners the onset of the gale. + Then spake the Almighty Sire, in whom is all the world's avail, 100 + And as he spake the high-built house of God was quieted, + And earth from her foundations shook, and heaven was hushed o'erhead, + The winds fell down, the face of sea was laid in quiet fair: + + "Take ye these matters to your hearts, and set my sayings there; + Since nowise the Ausonian folk the plighted troth may blend + With Teucrians, and your contest seems a strife without an end; + What fortune each may have today, what hope each one shears out, + Trojan or Rutulan, will I hold all in balanced doubt, + Whether the camp be so beset by fate of Italy, + Or hapless wanderings of Troy, and warnings dealt awry. 110 + Nor loose I Rutulans the more; let each one's way-faring + Bear its own hap and toil, for Jove to all alike is king; + The Fates will find a way to wend." + He nodded oath withal + By his own Stygian brother's stream, the pitchy waters' fall, + And blazing banks, and with his nod shook all Olympus' land. + Then fell the talk; from golden throne did Jupiter upstand, + The heaven-abiders girt him round and brought him to the door. + + The Rutuli amid all this are pressing on in war, + Round all the gates to slay the men, the walls with fire to ring, + And all AEneas' host is pent with fenced beleaguering. 120 + Nor is there any hope of flight; upon the towers tall + They stand, the hapless men in vain, thin garland for the wall; + Asius, the son of Imbrasus, Thymoetes, and the two + Assaraci, and Thymbris old, with Castor, deeds they do + In the forefront; Sarpedon's sons, twin brethren, with them bide, + Clarus and Themon, born erewhile in lofty Lycia's side. + And now Lyrnessian Acmon huge with strain of limbs strives hard, + And raises up a mighty stone, no little mountain shard; + As great as father Clytius he, or brother Mnestheus' might: 129 + So some with stones, with spear-cast some, they ward the walls in fight, + They deal with fire or notch the shaft upon the strained string. + But lo amidst, most meetly wrought for Venus cherishing, + His goodly head the Dardan boy unhooded there doth hold, + As shineth out some stone of price, cleaving the yellow gold, + Fair for the bosom or the head; or as the ivory shines, + That with Orician terebinth the art of man entwines, + Or mid the boxwood; down along his milk-white neck they lie + The streams of hair, which golden wire doth catch about and tie. + The mighty nations, Ismarus, there saw thee deft to speed + The bane of men, envenoming the deadly flying reed; 140 + Thou lord-born of Moeonian house, whereby the tiller tills + Rich acres, where Pactolus' flood gold overflowing spills. + There, too, was Mnestheus, whom his deed late done of thrusting forth + King Turnus from the battlements hath raised to heavenly worth, + And Capys, he whose name is set upon Campania's town. + + But while the bitter play of war went bickering up and down, + AEneas clave the seas with keel amidst the dead of night: + For when Evander he had left and reached the Tuscan might, + He met their king and told his name, and whence his race of old, + And what he would and how he wrought: and of the host he told, 150 + Mezentius now had gotten him, and Turnus' wrothful heart; + He warned him in affairs of men to trust not Fortune's part; + And therewithal he mingleth prayers: Tarchon no while doth wait, + But joineth hosts and plighteth troth; and so, set free by Fate, + A-shipboard go the Lydian folk by God's command and grace, + Yet 'neath the hand of outland duke: AEneas' ship hath place + In forefront: Phrygian lions hang above its armed tyne + O'ertopped by Ida, unto those Troy's outcasts happy sign: + There great AEneas sits, and sends his mind a-wandering wide + Through all the shifting chance of war; and by his left-hand side 160 + Is Pallas asking of the stars and night-tide's journey dim, + Or whiles of haps by land or sea that fortuned unto him. + + Ye Goddesses, ope Helicon, and raise the song to say + What host from out the Tuscan land AEneas led away, + And how they dight their ships, and how across the sea they drave. + + In brazen Tiger Massicus first man the sea-plain clave; + A thousand youths beneath him are that Clusium's walls have left + And Cosae's city: these in war with arrow-shot are deft, + And bear light quivers of the bark, and bear the deadly bow. + + Then comes grim Abas, all his host with glorious arms aglow, 170 + And on his stern Apollo gleams, well wrought in utter gold. + But Populonia's mother-land had given him there to hold + Six hundred of the battle-craft; three hundred Ilva sent, + Rich isle, whose wealth of Chalyb ore wastes never nor is spent. + + The third is he, who carrieth men the words God hath to say, + Asylas, whom the hearts of beasts and stars of heaven obey, + And tongues of birds, and thunder-fire that coming tidings bears. + A thousand men he hurrieth on with bristling of the spears; + Pisa, the town Alpheues built amid the Tuscan land, + Bids them obey. + Came Astur next, goodliest of all the band; 180 + Astur, who trusteth in his horse and shifty-coloured weed; + Three hundred hath he, of one heart to wend as he shall lead: + And these are they in Caeres' home and Minios' lea that bide, + The Pyrgi old, and they that feel Gravisca's heavy tide. + + Nor thee, best war-duke, Cinyras, of that Ligurian crew, + Leave I unsung: nor thee the more, Cupavo lord of few, + Up from the cresting of whose helm the feathery swan-wings rise. + Love was thy guilt; thy battle-sign was thine own father's guise. + For Cycnus, say they, while for love of Phaethon he grieves. + And sings beneath his sisters' shade, beneath the poplar-leaves; 190 + While with the Muse some solace sweet for woeful love he won, + A hoary eld of feathers soft about him doth he on, + Leaving the earth and following the stars with tuneful wails; + And now his son amid his peers with Tuscan ship-host sails, + Driving with oars the Centaur huge, who o'er the waters' face + Hangs, threatening ocean with a rock, huge from his lofty place, + And ever with his length of keel the deep sea furrows o'er. + + Then he, e'en Ocnus, stirreth up folk from his father's shore, + Who from the love of Tuscan flood and fate-wise Manto came, + And gave, O Mantua, walls to thee, and gave his mother's name: 200 + Mantua, the rich in father-folk, though not one-stemmed her home. + Three stems are there, from each whereof four peoples forth are come, + While she herself, the head of all, from Tuscan blood hath might. + Five hundred thence Mezentius arms against himself in fight, + Whom Mincius' flood, Benacus' son, veiled in the sedges grey, + Was leading in the fir of fight across the watery way. + + Then heavy-huge Aulestes goes; the oar-wood hundred-fold + Rises for beating of the flood, as foam the seas uprolled. + Huge Triton ferries him, whose shell the deep blue sea doth fright: + Up from the shaggy naked waist manlike is he to sight 210 + As there he swims, but underneath whale-bellied is he grown; + Beneath the half-beast breast of him the foaming waters moan. + + So many chosen dukes of men in thrice ten keels they sail, + And cut with brass the meads of brine for Troy and its avail. + + And now had day-tide failed the sky, and Phoebe, sweet and fair, + Amid her nightly-straying wain did mid Olympus wear. + AEneas, who might give his limbs no whit of peacefulness, + Was sitting with the helm in hand, heeding the sail-gear's stress, + When lo a company of friends his midmost course do meet: + The Nymphs to wit, who Cybele, the goddess holy-sweet, 220 + Bade turn from ships to very nymphs, and ocean's godhead have. + So evenly they swam the sea, and sundered wave and wave, + As many as the brazen beaks once by the sea-side lay; + Afar they know their king, and round in dancing-wise they play; + But one of them, Cymodocea, who speech-lore knew the best, + Drew nigh astern and laid thereon her right hand, with her breast + Above the flood, the while her left through quiet waves rowed on, + And thus bespoke him all unware: + "Wak'st thou, O Godhead's son! + AEneas, wake! and loose the sheets and let all canvas fill! + We were the pine-trees on a time of Ida's holy hill, 230 + Thy ship-host once, but sea-nymphs now: when that Rutulian lord + Fell faithless, headlong, on our lives with firebrand and the sword, + Unwillingly we brake our bonds and sought thee o'er the main. + The Mother in her pity thus hath wrought our shape again, + And given us gift of godhead's life in house of ocean's ground. + Lo now, the boy Ascanius by dyke and wall is bound + Amid the spears, the battle-wood that Latins forth have sent. + And now the horse of Arcady, with stout Etruscans blent, + Holdeth due tryst. Now is the mind of Turnus firmly set + To thrust between them, lest thy camp they succour even yet. 240 + Wherefore arise, and when the dawn first climbs the heavenly shore + Call on thy folk, and take thy shield unconquered evermore, + The Fire-lord's gift, who wrought its lips with circling gold about: + Tomorrow's light, unless thou deem'st my words are all to doubt, + Shall see Rutulian death in heaps a-lying on the land." + + Therewith departing, forth she thrust the tall ship with her hand, + As one who had good skill therein, and then across the seas + Swifter than dart she fled, or shaft that matcheth well the breeze, + And straight the others hastened on. All mazed was he of Troy, + Anchises' seed, but yet the sign upraised his heart with joy, 250 + And, looking to the hollow heaven, in few words prayed he thus + + "Kind Ida-Mother of the Gods, whose heart loves Dindymus + And towered towns, and lions yoked and tamed to bear the bit, + Be thou my battle-leader now, and do thou further it, + This omen, and with favouring foot the Trojan folk draw nigh." + + But while he spake, Day, come again, had run adown the sky, + With light all utter perfect wrought, and driven away the night. + Then folk he biddeth follow on the banners of the fight, + And make them ready for the play and shape their hearts for war. + But he, aloft upon the poop, now sees them where they are, 260 + His leaguered Teucrians, as his left uprears the blazing shield; + And then, the sons of Dardanus up to the starry field + Send forth the cry, and hope is come to whet their battle-wrath. + Thick flies their spear-storm: 'tis as when the Strymon cranes give forth + Their war-sign on the mirky rack, and down the heavens they run + Sonorous, fleeing southern breeze with clamour following on. + But wondrous to Rutulian king and dukes of Italy + That seemed, until they look about, and lo, the keels they see + Turned shoreward; yea, a sea of ships onsetting toward the shore. + Yea, and the helm is all ablaze, beams from the crest outpour, 270 + The golden shield-boss wide about a world of flame doth shed. + E'en so, amid the clear of night, the comets bloody-red + Blush woeful bright; nor otherwise is Sirius' burning wrought, + When drought and plagues for weary men the birth of him hath wrought, + And that unhappy light of his hath saddened all the heaven. + But nought from Turnus' hardy heart was high hope ever driven + To take the strand of them and thrust those comers from the shore: + Eager he chid, hot-heart, with words men's courage he upbore: + + "Lo, now your prayers have come about, that hand meet hand in strife, + And Mars is in the brave man's hand: let each one's home and wife + Be in his heart! Call ye to mind those mighty histories, 281 + The praises of our father-folk! Come, meet them in the seas, + Amid their tangle, while their feet yet totter on the earth: + For Fortune helpeth them that dare." + + So saying, he turneth in his mind with whom on these to fall, + And unto whom to leave meanwhile the leaguering of the wall. + Meanwhile AEneas from his ships high-built his folk doth speed + Ashore by bridges: many men no less the back-draught heed + Of the spent seas, and, trusting shoals, they make the downward leap; + And others slide adown the oars. Tarchon the shore doth sweep, 290 + Espying where the waves break not, nor back the sea doth roar, + But where the sea-flood harmlessly with full tide swims ashore, + And thither straight he lays his keels, and prays unto his folk: + + "O chosen, on the stark oars lay! now up unto the stroke; + Bear on the ships, and with your beaks cleave ye this foeman's earth; + And let the very keels themselves there furrow them their berth. + On such a haven nought I heed, though ship and all we break, + If once we gain the land." + Therewith, as such a word he spake, + His fellows rise together hard on every shaven tree, + In mind to bear their ships befoamed up on the Latin lea, 300 + Until their tynes are high and dry, and fast is every keel + Unhurt: save, Tarchon, thine alone, that winneth no such weal; + For on the shallows driven aground, on evil ridge unmeet, + She hangeth balanced a long while, and doth the waters beat; + Then, breaking, droppeth down her men amidmost of the waves, + Entangled in the wreck of oars, and floating thwarts and staves; + And in the back-draught of the seas their feet are caught withal. + + No dull delay holds Turnus back; but fiercely doth he fall, + With all his host, on them of Troy, and meets them on the strand. 309 + The war-horns sing. AEneas first breaks through the field-folk's band, + --Fair omen of the fight--and lays the Latin folk alow. + Thero he slays, most huge of men, whose own heart bade him go + Against AEneas: through the links of brass the sword doth fare, + And through the kirtle's scaly gold, and wastes the side laid bare. + Then Lichas smites he, ripped erewhile from out his mother dead, + And hallowed, Phoebus, unto thee, because his baby head + Had 'scaped the steel: nor far from thence he casteth down to die + Hard Cisseus, Gyas huge, who there beat down his company + With might of clubs; nought then availed that Herculean gear, + Nor their stark hands, nor yet their sire Melampus, though he were 320 + Alcides' friend so long as he on earth wrought heavy toil. + Lo Pharo! while a deedless word he flingeth mid the broil, + The whirring of the javelin stays within his shouting mouth. + Thou, Cydon, following lucklessly thy new delight, the youth + Clytius, whose first of fallow down about his cheeks is spread + Art well-nigh felled by Dardan hand, and there hadst thou lain dead, + At peace from all the many loves wherein thy life would stray, + Had not thy brethren's serried band now thrust across the way + E'en Phorcus' seed: sevenfold of tale and sevenfold spears they wield: + But some thereof fly harmless back from helm-side and from shield, 330 + The rest kind Venus turned aside, that grazing past they flew; + But therewithal AEneas spake unto Achates true: + + "Reach me my shafts: not one in vain my right hand now shall speed + Against Rutulians, of all those that erst in Ilian mead + Stood in the bodies of the Greeks." + Then caught he a great spear + And cast it, and it flew its ways the brazen shield to shear + Of Maeon, breaking through his mail, breaking his breast withal: + Alcanor is at hand therewith, to catch his brother's fall + With his right hand; but through his arm the spear without a stay + Flew hurrying on, and held no less its straight and bloody way, 340 + And by the shoulder-nerves the hand hung down all dead and vain. + Then Numitor, his brother's spear caught from his brother slain, + Falls on AEneas; yet to smite the mighty one in face + No hap he had, but did the thigh of great Achates graze. + Clausus of Cures, trusting well in his young body's might, + Now cometh, and with stiff-wrought spear from far doth Dryops smite + Beneath the chin; home went its weight, and midst his shouting's birth + From rent throat snatched both voice and life, and prone he smote the ear + And from his mouth abundantly shed forth the flood of gore. + Three Thracians also, men whose stem from Boreas came of yore, 350 + Three whom their father Idas sent, and Ismara their land, + In various wise he fells. And now Halesus comes to hand, + And his Aruncans: Neptune's seed now cometh thrusting in, + Messapus, excellent of horse. Hard strife the field to win! + On this side and on that they play about Ausonia's door. + As whiles within the mighty heaven the winds are making war, + And equal heart they have thereto, and equal might they wield: + Yields none to none, nor yields the rack, nor aught the waters yield; + Long hangs the battle; locked they stand, all things are striving then: + Not otherwise the Trojan host and host of Latin men 360 + Meet foot to foot, and man to man, close pressing in the fray. + + But in another place, where erst the torrent in its way + Had driven the rolling rocks along and torn trees of the banks, + Did Pallas see the Arcadian folk, unused to fight in ranks + Of footmen, turn their backs before the Latins in the chase, + Since they forsooth had left their steeds for roughness of the place: + Wherefore he did the only deed that failing Fortune would, + Striving with prayers and bitter words to make their valour good: + + "Where flee ye, fellows? Ah, I pray, by deeds that once were bold, + By name of King Evander dear, by glorious wars of old, 370 + By my own hope of praise that springs to mate my father's praise, + Trust not your feet! with point and edge ye needs must cleave your ways + Amidst the foe. Where yon array of men doth thickest wend, + Thither our holy fatherland doth you and Pallas send: + No Gods weigh on us; mortal foes meet mortal men today; + As many hands we have to use, as many lives to pay. + Lo, how the ocean shuts us in with yonder watery wall! + Earth fails for flight--what! seaward then, or Troyward shall we fall?" + + Thus said, forthwith he breaketh in amid the foeman's press, + Whom Lagus met the first of all, by Fate's unrighteousness 380 + Drawn thitherward: him, while a stone huge weighted he upheaves, + He pierceth with a whirling shaft just where the backbone cleaves + The ribs atwain, and back again he wrencheth forth the spear + Set mid the bones: nor him the more did Hisbo take unware, + Though that he hoped; for Pallas next withstood him, rushing on + All heedless-wild at that ill death his fellow fair had won, + And buried all his sword deep down amid his wind-swelled lung. + Then Sthenelus he meets, and one from ancient Rhoetus sprung, + Anchemolus, who dared defile his own stepmother's bed. + Ye also on Rutulian lea twin Daucus' sons lay dead, 390 + Larides, Thymber; so alike, O children, that by nought + Your parents knew you each from each, and sweet the error thought. + + But now to each did Pallas give a cruel marking-sign; + For, Thymber, the Evandrian sword smote off that head of thine: + And thy lopped right, Larides, seeks for that which was its lord, + The half-dead fingers quiver still and grip unto the sword. + + But now the Arcadians cheered by words, beholding his great deed, + The mingled shame and sorrow arm and 'gainst the foeman lead. + Then Pallas thrusteth Rhoeteus through a-flitting by in wain; + And so much space, so much delay, thereby did Ilus gain, 400 + For 'twas at Ilus from afar that he his spear had cast + But Rhoeteus met it on the road fleeing from you full fast, + Best brethren, Teuthras, Tyres there: down from the car rolled he, + And with the half-dead heel of him beat the Rutulian lea. + + As when amidst the summer-tide he gains the wished-for breeze, + The shepherd sets the sparkled flame amid the thicket trees, + The wood's heart catches suddenly, the flames spread into one, + And fearful o'er the meadows wide doth Vulcan's army run, + While o'er the flames the victor sits and on their joy looks down. + No less the valour of thy folk unto a head was grown 410 + To help thee, Pallas: but behold, Halesus, fierce in field, + Turns on the foe, and gathers him 'neath cover of his shield. + Ladon, Pheres, Demodocus, all these he slaughtered there; + With gleaming sword he lopped the hand Strymonius did uprear + Against his throat: in Thoas' face withal a stone he sent, + And drave apart the riven bones with blood and brains all blent + Halesus' sire, the wise of Fate, in woods had hidden him; + But when that elder's whitening eyes at last in death did swim, + Fate took Halesus, hallowing him to King Evander's blade: + For Pallas aimeth at him now, when such wise he had prayed: 420 + + "O Father Tiber, grant this spear, that herewithal I shake, + Through hard Halesus' breast forthwith a happy way may take; + So shall thine oak-tree have the arms, the warrior's battle-spoil." + + The God heard: while Halesus shields Imaon in the broil, + To that Arcadian shaft he gives his luckless body bared. + But nought would Lausus, lord of war, let all his host be scared, + E'en at the death of such a man: first Abas doth he slay, + Who faces him, the very knot and holdfast of the play. + Then fall Arcadia's sons to field; felled is Etruria's host, + And ye, O Teucrian bodies, erst by Grecian death unlost. 430 + Then meet the hosts with lords well-matched and equal battle-might; + The outskirts of the battle close, nor 'mid the press of fight + May hand or spear move: busy now is Pallas on this side, + Lausus on that; nor is the space between their ages wide, + Those noble bodies: and both they were clean forbid of Fate + Return unto their lands: but he who rules Olympus great + Would nowise suffer them to meet themselves to end the play, + The doom of each from mightier foe abideth each today. + + But Turnus' sister warneth him to succour Lausus' war, + The gracious Goddess: straight he cleaves the battle in his car, 440 + And when he sees his folk, cries out: "'Tis time to leave the fight! + Lone against Pallas do I fare, Pallas is mine of right; + I would his sire himself were here to look upon the field." + + He spake, and from the space forbid his fellow-folk did yield, + But when the Rutuli were gone, at such a word of pride + Amazed, the youth on Turnus stares, and lets his gaze go wide + O'er the huge frame, and from afar with stern eyes meets it all, + And 'gainst the words the tyrant spake such words from him there fall: + + "Now shall I win me praise of men for spoiling of a King, + Or for a glorious death: my sire may outface either thing: 450 + Forbear thy threats." + He spake, and straight amid the war-field drew; + But cold in that Arcadian folk therewith the heart-blood grew; + While Turnus from his war-wain leapt to go afoot to fight: + And as a lion sees afar from off his watch burg's height + A bull at gaze amid the mead with battle in his thought, + And flies thereto, so was the shape of coming Turnus wrought. + + But now, when Pallas deemed him come within the cast of spear, + He would be first, if Fate perchance should help him swift to dare, + And his less might, and thus he speaks unto the boundless sky: + "Now by my father's guesting-tide and board thou drew'st anigh, 460 + A stranger, O Alcides, help this great deed I begin! + His bloody gear from limbs half-dead let Turnus see me win; + And on the dying eyes of him be victor's image pressed." + + Alcides heard the youth, and 'neath the inmost of his breast + He thrust aback a heavy groan, and empty tears he shed: + But to his son in kindly wise such words the Father said: + "His own day bideth every man; short space that none may mend + Is each man's life: but yet by deeds wide-spreading fame to send, + Man's valour hath this work to do: 'neath Troy's high-builded wall + How many sons of God there died: yea there he died withal, 470 + Sarpedon my own progeny. Yea too and Turnus' Fates + Are calling him: he draweth nigh his life's departing-gates." + + He spake and turned his eyes away from fields of Rutuli: + But Pallas with great gathered strength the spear from him let fly, + And drew therewith from hollow sheath his sword all eager-bright. + The spear flew gleaming where the arms rise o'er the shoulder's height, + Smote home, and won its way at last through the shield's outer rim, + And Turnus' mighty body reached and grazed the flesh of him. + Long Turnus shook the oak that bore the bitter iron head, + Then cast at Pallas, and withal a word he cast and said: 480 + "Let see now if this shaft of mine may better win a pass!" + He spake; for all its iron skin and all its plates of brass, + For all the swathing of bull-hides that round about it went, + The quivering spear smote through the shield and through its midmost rent + And through the mailcoat's staying fence the mighty breast did gain. + Then at the spear his heart-blood warmed did Pallas clutch in vain; + By one way and the same his blood and life, away they fare; + But down upon the wound he rolled, and o'er him clashed his gear, + And dying there his bloody mouth sought out the foeman's sod: + Whom Turnus overstrides and says: 490 + + "Hearken Arcadians, bear ye back Evander words well learned: + Pallas I send him back again, dealt with as he hath earned, + If there be honour in a tomb, or solace in the earth, + I grudge it not--AEnean guests shall cost him things of worth." + + So spake he, and his left foot then he set upon the dead, + And tore the girdle thence away full heavy fashioned, + And wrought with picture of a guilt; that youthful company + Slain foully on one wedding-night: bloody the bride-beds lie. + This Clonus son of Eurytus had wrought in plenteous gold, + Now Turnus wears it triumphing, merry such spoil to hold.-- 500 + --O heart of man, unlearned in Fate and what the days may hide, + Unlearned to be of measure still when swelled with happy tide! + The time shall come when Turnus wealth abundantly would pay + For Pallas whole, when he shall loathe that spoil, that conquering day. + + But Pallas' folk with plenteous groans and tears about him throng, + And laid upon his battle-shield they bear the dead along. + O thou, returning to thy sire, great grief and glory great, + Whom one same day gave unto war and swept away to fate, + Huge heaps of death Rutulian thou leav'st the meadow still. + + And now no rumour, but sure word of such a mighty ill 510 + Flies to AEneas, how his folk within the deathgrip lie, + And how time pressed that he should aid the Teucrians turned to fly. + So all things near with sword he reaps, and wide he drives the road + Amid the foe with fiery steel, seeking thee, Turnus proud, + Through death new wrought; and Pallas now, Evander, all things there + Live in his eyes: the boards whereto that day he first drew near, + A stranger, and those plighted hands. Four youths of Sulmo wrought, + And the like tale that Ufens erst into the world's life brought, + He takes alive to slay them--gifts for that great ghost's avail, + And with a shower of captive blood to slake the dead men's bale. 520 + Then next at Magus from afar the shaft of bane he sent; + Deftly he cowered, and on above the quivering weapon went, + And clasping both AEneas' knees thus spake the suppliant one: + + "O by thy father's ghost, by hope Iulus hath begun, + I pray thee for my sire and son my life yet let me win: + I have a high house, silver wrought is dug adown therein, + A talent's weight, and store therewith of wrought and unwrought gold: + This will not snatch the victory from out the Teucrian's hold, + Nor can the life of one alone such mighty matter make." + + So he, but answering thereunto this word AEneas spake: 530 + "Thy gold and silver talent's weight, whereof thou tell'st such store, + Spare for thy sons! thy Turnus slew such chaffering of war + When Pallas' death he brought about a little while ago; + So deems my sire Anchises' ghost, Iulus deemeth so." + Then with his left he caught the helm and hilt-deep thrust the blade + Into the back-bent throat of him e'en as the prayer he prayed. + + Not far hence was Haemonides, Phoebus' and Trivia's priest, + The holy fillets on his brow, his glory well increased + With glorious arms, and glittering gear shining on every limb. + Him the King chaseth o'er the field, and, standing over him, 540 + Hides him in mighty dusk of death; whose gleaned battle-gear, + A gift to thee, O battle-god, back doth Serestus bear. + Then Caeculus of Vulcan's stem the hedge of battle fills, + And Umbro cometh unto fight down from the Marsian hills. + On them his rage the Dardan child let slip. But next his blade + Anxur's left hand and orbed shield upon the meadow laid. + Proud things had Anxur said, and deemed his word was matched by might, + And so perchance he raised his soul up to the heavenly height, + And hoary eld he looked to see, and many a peaceful year. + Tarquitius, proud of heart and soul, in glittering battle-gear, 550 + Whom the nymph Dryope of yore to woodland Faunus gave, + Came thrusting thwart his fiery way; his back-drawn spear he drave, + Pinning his mail-coat unto him, and mighty mass of shield: + His vainly-praying head, that strove with words, upon the field + He swept therewith, and rolling o'er his carcase warm with death, + Above him from the heart of hate such words as this he saith: + + "Lie there, fear-giver! no more now thy mother most of worth + Shall load thee with thy father's tomb, or lay thee in the earth: + Thou shalt be left to birds of prey, or deep adown the flood + The waves shall bear thee, and thy wounds be hungry fishes' food." 560 + + Next Lucas and Antaeus stout, foremost of Turnus' men, + He chaseth: Numa staunch of heart and yellow Camers then; + A man from high-souled Volscens sprung, field-wealthiest one of all + Ausonian men, and lord within the hushed Amyclae's wall. + + E'en as AEgaeon, who they say had arms an hundred-fold, + And hundred hands, from fifty mouths and maws the wildfire rolled, + What time in arms against the bolts from Jove of Heaven that flew + He clashed upon the fifty shields and fifty sword-points drew: + So conquering, over all the mead AEneas' fury burns 569 + When once his sword is warm with death: and now, behold, he turns + Upon Niphaeus' four-yoked steeds, and breasts their very breath. + But when they see him striding far, and threatening doom and death, + In utter dread they turn about, and rushing back again, + They shed their master on the earth and shoreward drag the wain. + + Meanwhile with twi-yoked horses white fares Lucagus midst men, + His brother Liger by his side, who holdeth rein as then, + And turneth steed, while Lucagus the drawn sword whirleth wide. + Them and their war-rage in no wise AEneas might abide, + But on he rushes, showing huge with upheaved threatening shaft. + Then Liger cast a word at him: 580 + "No steeds of Diomede thou seest, and no Achilles' car + Or Phrygian fields: this hour shall end thy life-days and the war + Here on this earth." + Such words as these from witless Liger stray, + But nought in bandying of words the man of Troy would play; + Rather his mighty battle-shaft he hurled against the foe, + While Lucagus his horses drives with spear-butt, bending low + Over the lash, and setteth forth his left foot for the fight. + Beneath the bright shield's nether rim the spear-shaft takes its flight, + Piercing his groin upon the left: then shaken from his wain, + He tumbleth down and rolleth o'er in death upon the plain. 590 + To whom a fierce and bitter word godly AEneas said: + + "Ho, Lucagus! no dastard flight of steeds thy car betrayed, + No empty shadow turned them back from facing of the foe, + But thou thyself hast leapt from wheel and let the yoke-beasts go." + + He spake, and caught the reins withal; slipped down that wretched one + His brother, and stretched forth the hands that little deed had done: + "By thee, by those that brought thee forth so glorious unto day, + O Trojan hero, spare my life, and pity me that pray!" + + AEneas cut athwart his speech: "Not so erewhile ye spake. + Die! ill it were for brother thus a brother to forsake." 600 + And in his breast the sword he drave home to the house of breath. + + Thus through the meads the Dardan Duke set forth the tale of death, + With rage as of the rushing flood, or whirl-storm of the wind. + At last they break forth into field and leave their camp behind, + Ascanius and the lads of war in vain beleaguered. + + Meanwhile to Juno Jupiter set forth the speech and said: + "O thou who art my sister dear and sweetest wife in one, + 'Tis Venus as thou deemedst, (nought thy counsel is undone), + Who upholds Trojan might forsooth: they lack fight-eager hand, + They lack fierce heart and steady soul the peril to withstand!" 610 + + To whom spake Juno, meek of mood: "And why, O fairest lord, + Dost thou so vex me sad at heart, fearing thy heavy word? + But in my soul were love as strong as once it used to be, + And should be, thou though all of might wouldst ne'er deny it me, + That Turnus I should draw away from out the midst of fight, + That I might keep him safe to bless his father Daunus' sight. + Now let him die, let hallowed blood the Teucrian hate atone: + And yet indeed his name and race from blood of ours hath grown; + He from Pilumnus is put forth: yea, good gifts furthermore + His open hand full oft hath piled within thine holy door." 620 + + To whom air-high Olympus' king short-worded answer made: + "If for the youth who soon must fall respite of death is prayed, + And tarrying-time, nor aught thou deem'st but that my doom must stand, + Then carry Turnus off by flight, snatch him from fate at hand. + So far thy longing may I please: but if a greater grace + Lurk 'neath thy prayers, and thou hast hope to change the battle's face, + And turmoil everything once more, thou feedest hope in vain." + + Then Juno weeping: "Ah, but if thy heart should give the gain + Thy voice begrudgeth! if 'twere doomed that he in life abide-- + But ill-end dogs the sackless man, unless I wander wide 630 + Away from sooth--Ah, yet may I be mocked of fear-wrought lies, + And may thy rede as thou hast might be turned to better wise." + + She spake the word and cast herself adown from heaven the high, + Girt round with rain-cloud, driving on a storm amid the sky, + And that Laurentian leaguer sought and Ilium's hedge of fight. + And there she fashioned of the cloud a shadow lacking might: + With image of AEneas' shape the wondrous show is drest, + She decks it with the Dardan spear and shield, and mocks the crest + Of that all-godlike head, and gives a speech that empty flows, + Sound without soul, and counterfeits the gait wherewith he goes,-- 640 + As dead men's images they say about the air will sweep, + Or as the senses weary-drenched are mocked with dreams of sleep. + But in the forefront of the fight war-merry goes the thing, + And cries the warrior on with words and weapons brandishing: + On whom falls Turnus, and afar hurleth his whizzing spear: + Then turns the phantom back about and fleeth as in fear. + Then verily when Turnus deemed he saw AEneas fled. + With all the emptiness of hope his headlong heart he fed: + "Where fleest thou, AEneas, then? why leave thy plighted bride? 649 + This hand shall give thee earth thou sought'st so far across the tide." + So cries he following, brandishing his naked sword on high, + Nor sees what wise adown the wind his battle-bliss goes by. + + By hap a ship was moored anear unto a ledgy stone, + With ladders out and landing-bridge all ready to let down, + That late the King Orsinius bore from Clusium o'er the sea; + And thereinto the hurrying lie, AEneas' shape, did flee, + And down its lurking-places dived: but Turnus none the more + Hangs back, but beating down delay swift runs the high bridge o'er. + Scarce on the prow, ere Juno brake the mooring-rope atwain, + And rapt the sundered ship away o'er back-draught of the main. 660 + And there afar from fight is he on whom AEneas cries, + Still sending down to death's abode an host of enemies; + Nor any more the image then will seek his shape to shroud, + But flying upward blendeth him amid the mirky cloud. + + Meanwhile, as midmost of the sea the flood bore Turnus on, + Blind to the deed that was in hand, thankless for safety won, + He looketh round, and hands and voice starward he reacheth forth: + "Almighty Father, deemedst thou my guilt so much of worth? + And wouldst thou have me welter through such woeful tide of pain? + Whence? whither? why this flight? what man shall I come back again? + Ah, shall I see Laurentum's walls, or see my camp once more? 671 + What shall betide the fellowship that followed me to war, + Whom I have left? O misery to die the death alone! + I see them scattered even now, I hear the dying groan. + What do I? what abyss of earth is deep enough to hide + The wretched man? But ye, O winds, be merciful this tide, + On rocks, on stones--I, Turnus, thus adore you with good will-- + Drive ye the ship, or cast it up on Syrtes' shoals of ill, + Where Rutuli and tell-tale Fame shall never find me out!" + + Hither and thither as he spake his spirit swam in doubt, 680 + Shall he now fall upon the point, whom shame hath witless made, + Amid most of his very ribs driving the bitter blade; + Or casting him amid the waves swim for the hollow strand, + And give his body back again to sworded Teucrian band? + Thrice either deed he fell to do, and thrice for very ruth + The mightiest Juno stayed his hand and held aback his youth. + So 'neath a fair and following wind he glideth o'er the sea, + And to his father's ancient walls is ferried presently. + + Meanwhile, by Jupiter's command, Mezentius props the fight, + And all ablaze he falleth on the gladdened Teucrian might: 690 + The Tuscan host rush up, and all upon one man alone + Press on with hatred in their hearts and cloud of weapons thrown. + Yet is he as a rock thrust out amid the mighty deep + To meet the raging of the winds, bare to the water's sweep. + All threats of sea and sky it bears, all might that they may wield, + Itself unmoved. Dolichaon's son he felleth unto field, + One Hebrus; Latagus with him, and Palmus as he fled. + But Latagus with stone he smites, a mighty mountain-shred, + Amid the face and front of him, and Palmus, slow to dare, + Sends rolling ham-strung: but their arms he biddeth Lausus bear 700 + Upon his back, and with their crests upon his helm to wend. + Phrygian Evanthes then he slays, and Mimas, whiles the friend + Like-aged of Paris; unto day and Amycus his sire + Theano gave him on the night that she who went with fire, + E'en Cisseus' daughter, Paris bore: now Paris lies asleep + In ancient Troy; Laurentian land unknown doth Mimas keep. + + Tis as a boar by bite of hounds from the high mountains driven, + Who on pine-nursing Vesulus a many years hath thriven, + Or safe in that Laurentian marsh long years hath had his home, + And fed adown the reedy wood; now mid the toil-nets come 710 + He stands at bay, and foameth fierce, and bristleth up all o'er, + And none hath heart to draw anigh and rouse the wrath of war, + But with safe shouts and shafts aloof they press about the place; + While he, unhastening, unafeard, doth everywhither face, + Gnashing his teeth and shaking off the spears from out his back. + So they, who 'gainst Mezentius there just wrath do nowise lack, + Lack heart to meet him hand to hand with naked brandished blade, + But clamour huge and weapon-shot from far upon him laid. + + From that old land of Corythus erewhile had Acron come, + A Grecian man; half-wed he passed the threshold of his home: 720 + Whom when Mezentius saw afar turmoiling the mid fight, + Purple with plumes and glorious web his love for him had dight; + E'en as a lion hunger-pinched about the high-fenced fold, + When ravening famine driveth him, if he by chance behold + Some she-goat, or a hart that thrusts his antlers up in air, + Merry he waxeth, gaping fierce his mane doth he uprear, + And hugs the flesh he lies upon; a loathsome sea of blood + Washes the horror of his mouth. + So merry runs Mezentius forth amid the press of foes, + And hapless Acron falls, and pounds the black earth mid his throes 730 + With beat of heel; staining the shaft that splintered in the wound. + Scorn had he then Orodes swift to fell unto the ground + Amidst his flight, or give blind bane with unknown cast afar; + He ran to meet him man to man, prevailing in the war + By nought of guile or ambushing, but by the dint of blade. + Foot on the fallen then he set, and strength to spear-shaft laid: + "Fellows, here tall Orodes lies, no thrall in battle throng." + Then merrily his following folk shout forth their victory-song: + Yet saith the dying: + "Whosoe'er thou art, thou winnest me + Not unavenged: thy joy grows old: the like fate looks for thee, 740 + And thou the self-same lea shalt hold within a little while!" + + To whom Mezentius spake, his wrath crossed by a gathering smile: + "Die thou! the Father of the Gods, the earth-abider's lord, + Will look to me." + He drew the spear from out him at the word, + And iron slumber fell on him, hard rest weighed down his eyes, + And shut were they for evermore by night that never dies. + + Now Caedicus slays Alcathous; Sacrator ends outright + Hydaspes; then Parthenius stark and Orses fall in fight + By Rapo; and Messapus fells strong Clonius, and the son, + Of Lycaon; one laid alow, by his own steeds cast down, 750 + One foot to foot. Lo Agis now, the Lycian, standeth forth, + Whom Valerus, that nothing lacked his grandsire's might and worth, + O'erthroweth: Salius Thronius slays; Nealces, Salius; + For skilled he was in dart and shaft, far-flying, perilous. + + Now grief and death in Mavors' scales even for each they lie; + Victors and vanquished, here they slay, and here they fall and die, + But neither these nor those forsooth had fleeing in their thought. + But in Jove's house the Gods had ruth of rage that nothing wrought, + And such a world of troubles sore for men of dying days; + On this side Venus, and on that Saturnian Juno gaze; 760 + And wan Tisiphone runs wild amid the thousands there. + But lo, Mezentius fierce and fell, shaking a mighty spear, + Stalks o'er the plain.--Lo now, how great doth great Orion sweep + Afoot across the Nereus' field, the mid sea's mightiest deep, + Cleaving his way, raised shoulder-high above the billowy wash; + Or when from off the mountain-top he bears an ancient ash + His feet are on the soil of earth, the cloud-rack hides his head: + --E'en so in mighty battle-gear afield Mezentius sped. + + But now AEneas, noting him adown the battle-row, + Wendeth to meet him; undismayed he bideth for his foe, 770 + Facing the great-souled man, and stands unmoved, a mighty mass: + Then measuring the space between if spear thereby may pass: + "Right hand," he cries, "my very God, and fleeing spear I shake, + To aid! Thee, Lausus, clad in arms that I today shall take + From body of the sea-thief here I vow for gift of war + Over AEneas slain." + He spake, and hurled the shaft afar + Loud whistling: from the shield it glanced, and flying far and wide + Smit glory-great Antores down through bowels and through side: + Antores friend of Hercules, who, erst from Argos come, 780 + Clung to Evander, and abode in that Italian home: + There laid to earth by straying wound he looketh on the sky, + With lovely Argos in his heart, though death be come anigh. + + Then good AEneas cast his spear, and through the hollow round + Of triple brass, through linen skin, through craftsmanship inwound, + With threefold bull-hides, pierced the shaft, and in the groin did lie, + Nor further could its might avail. Then swiftly from his thigh + AEneas caught his glaive, and glad the Tyrrhene blood to see, + Set on upon his wildered foe hot-heart and eagerly. + But Lausus, by his father's love sore moved, did all behold, + And groaned aloud, while o'er his cheeks a heavy tear-flood rolled 790 + --Ah, I will tell of thine ill-fate and deeds that thou hast done; + If any troth in stories told may reach from yore agone, + My speech, O unforgotten youth, in nowise shalt thou lack-- + The father with a halting foot hampered and spent drew back, + Still dragging on the foeman's spear that hung amid his shield; + But mingling him in battle-rush the son took up the field, + And as AEneas' right hand rose well laden with the blow + He ran beneath, bore off the sword, and stayed the eager foe, + And with a mighty shout behind his fellows follow on, + While shielded by his son's defence the father gat him gone, 800 + And shafts they cast and vex the foe with weapon shot afar. + Mad wroth AEneas grows, but bides well covered from the war; + And as at whiles the clouds come down with furious pelt of hail, + And every driver of the plough the beaten lea doth fail, + And every one that works afield, while safe the traveller lurks + In castle of the river-bank or rock-wrought cloister-works, + The while the rain is on the earth, that they may wear the day + When once again the sun comes back;--so on AEneas lay + The shaft-storm, so the hail of fight loud thundering he abode, + And Lausus with the wrath of words, Lausus with threats did load. 810 + "Ah, whither rushest thou to die, and darest things o'ergreat? + Thy love betrays thine heedless heart." + No less, the fool of fate, + He rusheth on, till high and fierce the tide of wrath doth win + O'er heart of that Dardanian duke, and now the Parcae spin + Lausus' last thread: for his stark sword AEneas drives outright + Through the young body, hiding it hilt-deep therein from light + It pierced the shield and glittering gear wherewith he threatened war, + And kirtle that his mother erst with gold had broidered o'er, + And flooded all his breast with blood; and woeful down the wind + His spirit sought the under-world, and left his corpse behind. 820 + + But when Anchises' son beheld the face of that dead man, + His face that in a wondrous wise grew faded out and wan, + Groaning for ruth his hand therewith down toward him did he move, + For o'er his soul the image came of his own father's love: + "O boy, whom all shall weep, what then for such a glorious deed, + What gift can good AEneas give, thy bounteous valour's meed? + Keep thou the arms thou joyedst in. I give thy body here + Unto thy father's buried ghosts, if thou thereof hast care. + But let this somewhat solace thee for thine unhappy death, + By great AEneas' hand thou diest." + Then chiding words he saith 830 + Unto his fellows hanging back, and lifteth up the dead + From off the lea, where blood defiled the tresses of his head. + + Meanwhile the father by the wave that ripples Tiber's breast + With water staunched his bleeding hurt and gave his body rest, + Leaning against a tree-trunk there: high up amid the tree + Hangeth his brazen helm; his arms lie heavy on the lea; + The chosen war-youths stand about: he, sick and panting now, + Nurseth his neck, and o'er his breast his combed-down beard lets flow. + Much about Lausus did he ask, and sore to men he spake + To bid him back, or warning word from his sad sire to take. 840 + But Lausus dead his weeping folk were bearing on his shield; + A mighty heart, to mighty hand the victory must he yield + The father's soul foretaught of ill, afar their wail he knew, + And fouled his hoar hair with the dust, and both his hands upthrew + Toward heaven aloft; then clinging fast unto that lifeless one: + + "What lust," saith he, "of longer life so held my heart, O son, + That thee, my son, I suffered thus to bare thee to the bane + Instead of me; that I, thy sire, health of thy hurts I gain, + Life of thy death! Ah now at last my exile is become + A woe unto my weary heart; yea, now the wound goes home. 850 + For I am he who stained thy name, O son, with guilt of mine, + Thrust forth by Fate from fatherland and sceptre of my line: + I should have paid the penalty unto my country's hate, + And given up my guilty soul to death, my very fate. + I live: I leave not sons of men, nor let the light go by-- + --Yet will I leave them." + So he spake, and on his halting thigh + Rose up, and, howsoe'er his hurt might drag his body down, + Unvanquished yet, he called his horse, his very pleasures crown, + And glory; who had borne him forth victorious from all war; + And thus he spake unto the beast that seemed to sorrow sore: 860 + + "Rhoebus, o'erlong--if aught be long to men that pass away-- + Have we twain lived: those bloody spoils shalt thou bring home today, + And carrying AEneas' head avenge my Lausus' woe. + Or if our might no more may make a road whereby to go, + Thou too shalt fall: I deem indeed thou, stout-heart, hast no will + To suffer other men's commands, or Trojan joy fulfil." + + And therewithal he backeth him, and as he used of old + Settleth his limbs: good store of shafts his either hand doth hold: + His head is glittering o'er with brass, and horse-hair shags his crest. + So midmost of the fight he bears, and ever in his breast 870 + Swelleth the mighty sea of shame and mingled miseries. + And now across the fight his voice thrice on AEneas cries. + AEneas knew it well forsooth, and joyfully he prayed: + "So grant the Father of the Gods! So may Apollo aid + That thou may'st fall on me in fight!" + + So much he spake, and went his way to meet the foeman's shaft; + But spake the other: "Bitter wretch, who took'st away my son, + Why fright me now? by that one way my heart might be undone: + No death I dread, no God that is, in battle would I spare. + Enough--I come to thee to die; but first these gifts I bear." 880 + + He spake the word, and 'gainst the foe a dart withal he cast, + And shaft on shaft he lays on him about him flitting fast, + Wide circling; but the golden boss through all the storm bore out + Thrice while AEneas faceth him he rides the ring about, + Casting the weapons from his hand; and thrice the Trojan lord + Bears round a mighty thicket set in brazen battle-board. + But when such tarrying wearieth him, such plucking forth of spears, + And standing in such ill-matched fight the heart within him wears, + Turning the thing o'er manywise, he breaketh forth to speed + A shaft amid the hollow brow of that war-famous steed: 890 + Then beating of the air with hoof uprears the four-foot thing + And with his fallen master falls, and 'neath his cumbering + Weighs down his shoulders brought to earth, and heavy on him lies. + Then Trojan men and Latin men with shouting burn the skies, + And swift AEneas runneth up and pulleth forth his sword, + And crieth o'er him: + "Where is now Mezentius, eager lord? + Where is the fierce heart?" + Unto whom the Tuscan spake, when he + Got sense again, and breathed the air, and o'er him heaven did see: + "O bitter foe, why chidest thou? why slayest thou with words? 899 + Slay me and do no wrong! death-safe I came not mid the swords; + And no such covenant of war for us my Lausus bought: + One thing I pray, if vanquished men of grace may gain them aught, + Let the earth hide me! well I know how bitter and how nigh + My people's wrath draws in on me: put thou their fury by, + And in the tomb beside my son I pray thee let me lie." + + He saith, and open-eyed receives the sword-point in his throat, + And o'er his arms in waves of blood his life and soul doth float. + + + + +BOOK XI. + +ARGUMENT. + +TRUCE IS MADE FOR THE BURYING OF THE DEAD: THE LATINS TAKE COUNSEL OF +PEACE OR WAR. CAMILLA'S DEEDS AND DEATH. + + + Meanwhile Aurora risen up from bed of ocean wends, + And King AEneas, though his grief bids him in burying friends + To wear the day, and though his heart the death of men dismays, + Yet to the Gods of Dawning-tide the worship duly pays. + From a great oak on every side the branches doth he shear, + And setteth on a mound bedight in gleaming battle-gear + The spoils of King Mezentius: a gift to thee it stood, + O Might of War! Thereon he set the crest with blood bedewed, + The broken shafts, the mail-coat pierced amid the foughten field + With twice six dints: on the left arm he tied the brazen shield, 10 + And round about the neck he hung the ivory-hilted sword. + Then to his friends, a mighty hedge of duke and battle-lord, + He turned, and to their joyous hearts these words withal he said: + + "The most is done, and for the rest let all your fears lie dead: + Lo here the first-fruits! battle-spoil won from a haughty king: + Lo this is all Mezentius now, mine own hands' fashioning. + Now toward the King and Latin walls all open lies the way; + Up hearts, for war! and let your hope foregrip the battle-day, + That nought of sloth may hinder you, or take you unaware, + When Gods shall bid the banners up, and forth with men ye fare 20 + From out of camp,--that craven dread clog not your spirits then: + Meanwhile give we unto the earth these our unburied men, + The only honour they may have in nether Acheron. + Come, fellows, to those noble souls who with their blood have won + A country for us, give those gifts, the last that they may spend. + And first unto Evander's town of sorrow shall I send + That Pallas, whom, in nowise poor of valour or renown, + The black day reft away from us in bitter death to drown." + + With weeping eyes he drew aback, e'en as the word he said, + Unto the threshold of the place where Pallas, cold and dead, 30 + The old Acoetes watched, who erst of that Parrhasian King, + Evander, was the shield-bearer, but now was following + His well-beloved foster-child in no such happy wise; + But round him were the homemen's band and Trojan companies, + And Ilian wives with loosened locks in guise of sorrow sore. + But when AEneas entereth now beneath the lofty door + From beaten breast great moan they cast up to the starry heaven; + And wailing of their woeful cheer through all the house is driven. + The King himself when he beheld the pillowed head at rest, 39 + The snow-white face, the open wound wrought on the smooth young breast + By that Ausonian spear, so spake amid his gathered tears: + + "O boy bewept, despite the gifts my happy Fortune bears + Doth she still grudge it thee to see my kingdom glorious, + Or come a victor back again unto thy father's house? + Not such the promise that I gave on that departing day + Unto thy father, whose embrace then sped me on my way + To mighty lordship, while his fear gave forth the warning word + That with fierce folk I had to do, hard people of the sword. + Now he, deceived by empty hope, belike pours forth the prayer, + And pileth up the gifts for nought upon the altars fair, 50 + While we--in woe with honours vain--about his son we stand, + Dead now, and no more owing aught to any heavenly hand. + Unhappy, thou shalt look upon thy dead unhappy son! + Is this the coming back again? is this the triumph won? + Is this my solemn troth?--Yet thee, Evander, bides no sight + Of craven beat with shameful wounds, nor for the saved from fight + Shalt thou but long for dreadful death.--Woe's me, Ausonian land! + Woe's me, Iulus, what a shield is perished from thine hand!" + + Such wise he wept him, and bade raise the hapless body dead, + And therewithal a thousand men, his war-hosts' flower, he sped 60 + To wait upon him on the way with that last help of all, + And be between his father's tears: forsooth a solace small + Of mighty grief; a debt no less to that sad father due. + But others speed a pliant bier weaving a wattle through, + Of limber twigs of berry-bush and boughs of oaken-tree, + And shadow o'er the piled-up bed with leafy canopy. + So there upon the wild-wood couch adown the youth is laid; + E'en as a blossom dropped to earth from fingers of a maid-- + The gilliflower's bloom maybe, or jacinth's hanging head, + Whose lovely colour is not gone, nor shapely fashion fled, 70 + Although its mother feedeth not, nor earth its life doth hold. + + Thereon two woven webs, all stiff with purple dye and gold, + AEneas bringeth forth, which erst with her own fingers fair + Sidonian Dido wrought for him, and, glad the toil to bear, + Had shot across the web thereof with thin and golden thread: + In one of these the youth he wrapped, last honour of the dead, + And, woeful, covered up the locks that fire should burn away. + And furthermore a many things, Laurentum's battle-prey, + He pileth up, and bids the spoil in long array be borne: + Horses and battle-gear he adds, late from the foemen torn: 80 + And men's hands had he bound aback whom shortly should he send + Unto the ghosts; whose blood should slake the fire that ate his friend. + And trunks of trees with battle-gear from foemen's bodies won + He bids the leaders carry forth, with foemen's names thereon. + Hapless Acoetes, spent with eld, is brought forth; whiles he wears + His bosom with the beat of fists, and whiles his face he tears: + Then forth he falls, and grovelling there upon the ground doth lie. + They bring the war-wain now, o'errained with blood of Rutuli: + AEthon his war-horse comes behind, stripped of his gear of state, + Mourning he goes, and wets his face with plenteous tear-drops great. 90 + Some bring the dead man's spear and helm: victorious Turnus' hand + Hath all the rest: then follow on the woeful Teucrian band, + All Tuscans, and Arcadian folk with weapons turned about. + + But now, when all the following folk were got a long way out, + AEneas stood and groaned aloud, and spake these words withal: + "Us otherwhere to other tears the same dread war-fates call; + Undying greetings go with thee! farewell for evermore, + O mightiest Pallas!" + Ending so, to those high walls of war + He turned about, and went his ways unto his war-folks' home. + + But from the Latin city now were fair speech-masters come, 100 + Half-hidden by the olive-boughs, and praying for a grace, + That he would give them back their men who lay about the place + O'erthrown by steel, and let them lie in earth-mound duly dight; + Since war was not for men o'ercome, or those that lack the light-- + That he would spare his whileome hosts, the kinsmen of his bride. + + But good AEneas, since their prayer might not be put aside, + Let all his pardon fall on them, and sayeth furthermore: + "O Latin folk, what hapless fate hath tangled you in war + So great and ill? From us, your friends, why must ye flee away? + For perished men, dead thralls of Mars, a little peace ye pray, 110 + But to your living folk indeed fain would I grant the grace. + I had not come here, save that Fate here gave me home and place: + No battle with your folk I wage; nay, rather 'twas your lord + Who left my friendship, trusting him to Turnus' shield and sword. + For Turnus to have faced the death were deed of better worth: + If he deems hands should end the war and thrust the Teucrians forth, + 'Twere lovely deed to meet my hand amid the rain of strife; + Then let him live to whom the Gods have given the gift of life. + Go ye, and 'neath your hapless ones lay ye the bale-fire's blaze." + + He made an end; but still they stood and hushed them in amaze, 120 + And each on each they turned their eyes, and every tongue refrained, + Till elder Drances, whom for foe child Turnus well had gained + By hate-filled charges, took the word, and in such wise began: + "O great in fame, in dint of war yet greater, Trojan man! + What praise of words is left to me to raise thee to the sky? + For justice shall I praise thee most, or battle's mastery? + Now happy, to our fathers' town this answer back we bear, + And if good-hap a way thereto may open anywhere, + Thee to Latinus will we knit--let Turnus seek his own!-- + Yea, we shall deem it joy forsooth about your fateful town: 130 + To raise the walls, and Trojan stones upon our backs to lay." + + Such words he spake, and with one mouth did all men murmur yea. + For twice six days they covenant; and in war-sundering peace + The Teucrians and the Latins blent about the woods increase, + About the hill-sides wander safe; the smitten ash doth know + The ring of steel; the pines that thrust heaven-high they overthrow; + Nor cease with wedge to cleave the oak and cedar shedding scent, + Or on the wains to lead away the rowan's last lament. + + And now the very Winged Fame, with that great grief she bears, + Filleth Evander's town and house, filleth Evander's ears; 140 + Yea, Fame, who erst of Pallas' deeds in conquered Latium told: + Rush the Arcadians to the gates, and as they used of old, + Snatch up the torches of the dead, and with the long array + Of flames the acre-cleaving road gleams litten far away: + Then meeteth them the Phrygian crowd, and swells the wailing band; + And when the mothers saw them come amid the house-built land, + The woeful town they set afire with clamour of their ill. + But naught there is hath any might to hold Evander still; + He comes amidst, and on the bier where Pallas lies alow + He grovels, and with weeping sore and groaning clings thereto; 150 + And scarce from sorrow at the last his speech might win a way: + "Pallas, this holdeth not the word thou gavest me that day, + That thou wouldst ward thee warily in game of bitter Mars: + Though sooth I knew how strong it is, that first fame of the wars; + How strong is that o'er-sweet delight of earliest battle won. + O wretched schooling of my child! O seeds of war begun, + How bitter hard! O prayers of mine, O vows that none would hear + Of all the Gods! O holiest wife, thy death at least was dear, + And thou art happy to be gone, not kept for such a tide. + But I--my life hath conquered Fate, that here I might abide 160 + A lonely father. Ah, had I gone with the Trojan host, + To fall amid Rutulian spears! were mine the life-days lost; + If me, not Pallas, this sad pomp were bringing home today!-- + Yet, Teucrians, on your troth and you no blaming would I lay, + Nor on our hands in friendship joined: 'twas a foreordered load + For mine old age: and if my son untimely death abode, + 'Tis sweet to think he fell amidst the thousand Volscians slain, + And leading on the men of Troy the Latin lands to gain. + Pallas, no better funeral rites mine heart to thee awards + Than good AEneas giveth thee, and these great Phrygian lords, 170 + The Tyrrhene dukes, the Tyrrhene host, a mighty company; + While they whom thine own hand hath slain great trophies bear for thee. + Yea, Turnus, thou wert standing there, a huge trunk weapon-clad, + If equal age, if equal strength from lapse of years ye had. + --But out!--why should a hapless man thus stay the Teucrian swords? + Go, and be mindful to your king to carry these my words: + If here by loathed life I bide, with Pallas dead and gone, + Thy right hand is the cause thereof, which unto sire and son + Owes Turnus, as thou wottest well: no other place there is + Thy worth and fate may fill. God wot I seek no life-days' bliss, 180 + But might I bear my son this tale amid the ghosts of earth!" + + Meanwhile the loveliness of light Aurora brought to birth + For heartsick men, and brought aback the toil of heart and hand: + Father AEneas therewithal down on the hollow strand, + And Tarchon with him, rear the bales; and each man thither bears + His dead friend in the ancient guise: beneath the black flame flares, + The heaven aloft for reek thereof with night is overlaid: + Three times about the litten bales in glittering arms arrayed + They run the course; three times on steed they beat the earth about + Those woeful candles of the dead and sing their wailing out; 190 + The earth is strewn with tears of men, and arms of men forlorn, + And heavenward goes the shout of men and blaring of the horn: + But some upon the bale-fires cast gear stripped from Latins slain: + War-helms, and well-adorned swords, and harness of the rein, + And glowing wheels: but overwell some knew the gifts they brought, + The very shields of their dead friends and weapons sped for nought. + Then oxen manifold to Death all round about they slay, + And bristled boars, and sheep they snatch from meadows wide away, + And hew them down upon the flame; then all the shore about + They gaze upon their burning friends, and watch the bale-fires out. 200 + Nor may they tear themselves away until the dewy night + Hath turned the heavens about again with gleaming stars bedight. + + Nor less the unhappy Latins build upon another stead + The bale-fires numberless of tale: but of their warriors dead, + A many bodies there they dig into the earth adown, + And bear them into neighbouring lands, or back into the town: + The rest, a mighty heap of death piled up confusedly, + Untold, unhonoured, there they burn: then that wide-lying lea + Glareth with fires that thick and fast keep rising high and high. + But when the third dawn drew away cold shadows from the sky, 210 + Weeping, great heaps of ashes there and blended bones they made, + And over them the weight of earth yet warm with fire they laid. + + But in the houses, in the town of that rich Latin king + More heavy was the wail, more sore the long-drawn sorrowing: + Here mothers, wretched fosterers here, here sisters loved and lorn, + And sorrowing sore, and lads whose lives from fathers' care were torn, + Were cursing of the cruel war, and Turnus and his bride, + "He, he, in arms, he with the sword should play it out," they cried, + "Who claims the realm of Italy and foremost lordship there." + And bitter Drances weights the scale, and witnessing doth bear 220 + That Turnus only is called forth, the battle-bidden man. + But divers words of many folk on Turnus' side yet ran, + And he was cloaked about withal by great Amata's name, + And plenteous signs of battle won upheld his fair-won fame. + + Now midst these stirs and flaming broils the messengers are here + From Diomedes' mighty walls; and little is the cheer + Wherewith they bring the tidings back that every whit hath failed + Their toil and pains: that not a whit hath gold or gifts availed, + Or mighty prayers, that Latin folk some other stay in war + Must seek, or from the Trojan king a craven peace implore. 230 + Then e'en Latinus' counsel failed amid such miseries: + The wrath of God, the tombs new-wrought that lay before their eyes, + Made manifest AEneas come by will of God and Fate. + Therefore a mighty parliament, the firstlings of estate, + By his commandment summoned there, unto his house he brings. + Wherefore they gather, streaming forth unto that house of kings + By the thronged ways: there in the midst Latinus sitteth now, + First-born of years, first lord of rule, with little joyful brow. + + Hereon the men come back again from that AEtolian wall + He biddeth tell their errand's speed, what answers did befall, 240 + Each in their order: thereupon for speech was silence made, + And Venulus, obeying him, suchwise began and said: + + "Friends, we have looked on Diomede and on the Argive home, + And all the road and every hap thereby have overcome: + Yea, soothly, we have touched the hand that wracked the Ilian earth: + Argyripa he buildeth there, named from his land of birth, + In Iapygian Garganus, where he hath conquered place. + Where, entered in, and leave being given to speak before his face, + We gave our gifts, and told our names, and whence of lands we were, + Who waged us war, and for what cause to Arpi we must fare. 250 + He hearkened and from quiet mouth gave answer thus again: + + "'O happy folk of Saturn's land, time-old Ausonian men, + What evil hap hath turmoiled you amid your peaceful life, + Beguiling you to stir abroad the doubtfulness of strife? + All we who on the Ilian fields with sword-edge compassed guilt, + --Let be the war-ills we abode before the wall high built; + Let be the men whom Simois hides--we o'er the wide world driven, + Have wrought out pain and punishment for ill deed unforgiven, + Till Priam's self might pity us. Witness the star of bane + Minerva sent; Euboea's cliffs, Caphereus' vengeful gain! 260 + 'Scaped from that war, and driven away to countries sundered wide, + By Proteus' Pillars exiled now, must Menelaues bide; + And those AEtnaean Cyclop-folk Ulysses look upon: + Of Pyrrhus's land why tell, or of Idomeneus, that won + To ruined house; of Locrian men cast on the Libyan shore? + Mycenae's lord, the duke and king of all the Argive war, + There, on the threshold of his house, his wicked wife doth slay. + --Asia o'ercome--and in its stead Adultery thwart the way!-- + Ah, the Gods' hate, that so begrudged my yearning eyes to meet + My father's hearth, my longed-for wife, and Calydon the sweet! 270 + Yea, and e'en now there followeth me dread sight of woeful things: + My lost companions wend the air with feathery beat of wings, + Or wander, fowl on river-floods: O woe's me for their woe! + The voices of their weeping wail about the sea-cliffs go. + But all these things might I have seen full surely for me stored + Since then, when on the flesh of God I fell with maddened sword, + And on the very Venus' hand a wicked wound I won. + Nay, nay, to no such battles more I pray you drive me on! + No war for me with Teucrian men since Pergamus lies low; + Nor do I think or joy at all in ills of long ago. 280 + The gifts, that from your fatherland unto my throne ye bear, + Turn toward AEneas. We have stood, time was, spear meeting spear, + Hand against hand: trust me, who tried, how starkly to the shield + He riseth up, how blows the wind when he his spear doth wield. + If two such other men had sprung from that Idaean home, + Then Dardanus with none to drive to Inachus had come, + And seen our walls, and Greece had mourned reversal of her day. + About the walls of stubborn Troy, whatso we found of stay, + By Hector's and AEneas' hands the Greekish victory + Was tarried, and its feet held back through ten years wearing by. 290 + Both these in heart and weapon-skill were full of fame's increase, + But this one godlier: let your hands meet in the plighted peace + E'en as ye may: but look to it if sword to sword ye bring.' + + "Thus have ye heard, most gracious one, the answer of the King, + And therewithal what thought he had about this heavy war." + + Scarce had he said, when diverse voice of murmuring ran all o'er + Those troubled mouths of Italy: as when the rocks refrain + The rapid streams, and sounds arise within the eddies' chain, + And with the chatter of the waves the neighbouring banks are filled. + But when their minds were soothed and all the wildering voices stilled, + The King spake first unto the Gods, then thus began to say: 301 + + "Latins, that ye had counselled you hereon before today + Was both my will, and had been good: no time is this to fall + To counsel now, when as we speak the foe besets the wall. + With folk of God ill war we wage, lords of the Latin town, + With all-unconquerable folk; no battles wear them down; + Yea, beaten never have they heart to cast the sword away. + Lay down the hope ye had to gain AEtolian war-array; + Let each man be his proper hope. Lo ye, the straits are sore. + How all things lie about us now by ruin all toppled o'er, 310 + Witness of this the eyes of you, the hands of you have won. + No man I blame, what valour could hath verily been done: + With all the manhood of our land the battle hath been fought: + But now what better way herein my doubtful mind hath thought + Will I set forth, and shortly tell the rede that is in me: + Hearken! beside the Tuscan stream I own an ancient lea, + Which, toward the sunset stretching far, yea o'er Sicanian bounds, + Aruncans and Rutulians sow, working the rough hill grounds + With draught of plough, but feeding down the roughest with their sheep. + Let all this land, and piny place upon the mountain-steep, 320 + Be yielded for the Teucrian peace: the laws let us declare + For plighted troth, and bid the men as friends our realm to share. + There let them settle and build walls, if thitherward they yearn; + But if unto another land their minds are set to turn, + And other folk, and all they ask is from our shore to flee, + Then let us build them twice ten ships from oak of Italy, + Or more if they have men thereto: good store of ship-stuff lies + Hard by the waves; and they shall show their number and their guise; + But toil of men, and brass and gear we for their needs will find. + And now to carry these our words, and fast the troth-plight bind, 330 + Send we an hundred speech-masters, the best of Latin land, + To seek them thither, stretching forth the peace-bough in the hand, + And bearing gifts; a talent's weight of gold and ivory, + The throne therewith and welted gown, signs of my lordship high. + Take open counsel; stay the State so faint and weary grown." + + Then Drances, ever full of hate, whom Turnus' great renown + With bitter stings of envy thwart goaded for evermore; + Lavish of wealth and fair of speech, but cold-hand in the war; + Held for no unwise man of redes, a make-bate keen enow; + The lordship of whose life, forsooth, from well-born dam did flow, 340 + His father being of no account--upriseth now this man, + And piles a grievous weight of words with all the wrath he can. + "A matter dark to none, and which no voice of mine doth need, + Thou counsellest on, sweet King: for all confess in very deed + They wot whereto our fortune drives; but fear their speech doth hide: + Let him give liberty of speech, and sink his windy pride, + Because of whose unhappy fate, and evil life and will-- + Yea, I will speak, despite his threats to smite me and to kill-- + So many days of dukes are done, and all the city lies 349 + O'erwhelmed with grief, the while his luck round camps of Troy he tries, + Trusting to flight, and scaring heaven with clashing of his sword. + One gift meseems thou shouldest add, most gracious king and lord, + Unto the many gifts thou bid'st bear to the Dardan folk, + Nor bow thyself to violence, nor lie beneath its yoke. + Father, thy daughter nobly wed unto a glorious son, + And knit the bonds of peace thereby in troth-plight never done. + Or if such terror and so great upon our hearts doth lie, + Let us adjure the man himself, and pray him earnestly + To yield up this his proper right to country and to king:-- + --O why into the jaws of death wilt thou so often fling 360 + Thine hapless folk, O head and fount of all the Latin ill? + No safety is in war; all we, for peace we pray thee still, + O Turnus,--for the only pledge of peace that may abide. + I first, whom thou call'st foe (and nought that name I thrust aside), + Lo, suppliant to thy feet I come! Pity thy people then! + Sink thine high heart, and, beaten, yield; surely we broken men + Have seen enough of deaths, laid waste enough of field and fold. + But if fame stir thee, if thine heart such dauntless valour hold, + If such a longing of thy soul a kingly dowry be, + Dare then, and trust thee in thy might, and breast the enemy. 370 + Forsooth all we, that Turnus here a queenly wife might gain-- + We common souls--a heap unwept, unburied, strew the plain. + And now for thy part, if in thee some valour hath a place + Or memory of the ancient wars, go look him in the face + Who calleth thee to come afield." + + But Turnus' fury at the word outbrake in sudden flame. + He groaned, and from his inmost soul this speech of his outpoured: + "O Drances, when the battle-day calleth for hand and sword, + Great words good store thou givest still, and first thou comest still + When so the Sires are called: but why with words the council fill? 380 + Big words aflying from thee safe, while yet the walls hold good + Against the foe, nor yet the ditch is swimming with our blood. + Go, thunder out thy wonted words! lay craven fear on me, + O Drances, thou, whose hand has heaped the Teucrian enemy + Dead all about, and everywhere has glorified the meads + With war-spoil! Thou thyself may'st try how lively valour speeds! + 'Tis well the time: forsooth the road lieth no long way out + To find the foe! on every side they hedge the wall about + Go we against them!--tarriest thou? and is thy Mars indeed + A dweller in the windy tongue and feet well learned in speed, 390 + The same today as yesterday? + --I beaten! who of right, O beast! shall brand me beaten man, + That seeth the stream of Ilian blood swelling the Tiber's flow, + Who seeth all Evander's house uprooted, laid alow; + Who seeth those Arcadian men stripped of their battle-gear? + Big Pandarus, stout Bitias, found me no craven there, + Or all the thousand whom that day to Tartarus I sent, + When I was hedged by foeman's wall and mound's beleaguerment + No health in war? Fool, sing such song to that Dardanian head, 399 + And thine own day! cease not to fright all things with mighty dread. + Cease not to puff up with thy pride the poor twice-conquered folk, + And lay upon the Latin arms the weight of wordy yoke. + Yea, sure the chiefs of Myrmidons quake at the Phrygian sword, + Tydides and Achilles great, the Larissaean lord; + And Aufidus the flood flees back unto the Hadriac sea. + But now whereas this guile-smith fains to dread mine enmity, + And whetteth with a fashioned fear the bitter point of strife-- + Nay, quake no more! for this mine hand shall spill no such a life; + But it shall dwell within thy breast and have thee for a mate.-- + Now, Father, unto thee I turn, and all thy words of weight; 410 + If every hope of mending war thou verily lay'st down; + If we are utterly laid waste, and, being once overthrown, + Have fallen dead; if Fate no more may turn her feet about, + Then pray we peace, and deedless hands, e'en as we may, stretch out. + Yet if of all our ancient worth some little yet abide, + I deem him excellent of men, craftsmaster of his tide, + A noble heart, who, lest his eyes should see such things befall, + Hath laid him down in death, and bit the earth's face once for all. + And if we still have store of force, and crop of youth unlaid, + And many a town, and many a folk of Italy to aid; 420 + And if across a sea of blood the Trojan glory came, + And they too died, and over all with one blast and the same + The tempest swept; why shameless thus do our first footsteps fail? + Why quake our limbs, yea e'en before they feel the trumpet's gale? + A many things the shifting time, the long laborious days, + Have mended oft: a many men hath Fortune's wavering ways + Made sport of, and brought back again to set on moveless rock. + The AEtolian and his Arpi host help not our battle-shock. + Yet is Messapus ours, and ours Tolumnius fortunate, + And many a duke and many a folk; nor yet shall tarry late 430 + The glory of our Latin lords and this Laurentian lea. + Here too Camilla, nobly born of Volscian stock, shall be, + Leading her companies of horse that blossom brass all o'er. + But if the Teucrians me alone are calling to the war, + And thus 'tis doomed, and I so much the common good withstand-- + Well, victory hath not heretofore so fled my hated hand + That I should falter from the play with such a prize in sight: + Fain shall I face him, yea, though he outgo Achilles' might, + And carry battle-gear as good of Vulcan's fashioning, + For you, and for Latinus here, my father and my king, 440 + I, Turnus, second unto none in valour of old years, + Devote my life. AEneas calls me only of the peers? + --O that he may!--not Drances here--the debt of death to pay + If God be wroth, or if Fame win, to bear the prize away." + + But while amid their doubtful fate the ball of speech they tossed, + Contending sore, AEneas moved his camp and battle-host; + And lo, amid the kingly house there runs a messenger + Mid tumult huge, who all the town to mighty dread doth stir, + With tidings how the Teucrian host and Tuscan men of war + Were marching from the Tiber flood, the meadows covering o'er. 450 + Amazed are the minds of men; their hearts with tremor shake, + And anger stirred by bitter stings is presently awake: + In haste and heat they crave for arms; the youth cries on the sword, + The Fathers mutter sad and weep: with many a wrangling word + A mighty tumult goeth up, and toward the sky doth sweep: + Not otherwise than when the fowl amid the thicket deep + Sit down in hosts; or when the swans send forth their shrilling song + About Padusa's fishy flood, the noisy pools among. + + "Come, fellow-folk," cries Turnus then, for he the time doth seize, + "Call ye to council even now, and sit and praise the peace, 460 + And let the armed foe wrack the realm!" + Nor more he said withal, + But turned about and went his ways from that high-builded hall. + Said he: "Volusus, lead away the Volscian ranks to fight, + And Rutuli! Messapus, thou, afield with horse and knight! + Thou, Coras, with thy brother duke sweep down the level mead. + Let some make breaches good, and some man the high towers with heed; + And let the rest bear arms with me whereso my bidding sends." + + Then straightway, running in all haste, to wall the city wends. + Sore shaken in his very heart, by that ill tide undone, + His council Sire Latinus leaves and those great redes begun: 470 + Blaming himself that he took not AEneas of free will, + Nor gave the town that Dardan lord the place of son to fill. + + Now some dig dykes before the gate, or carry stones and stakes, + And bloody token of the war the shattering trump awakes. + Mothers and lads, a motley guard, they crown the threatened wall, + For this last tide of grief and care hath voice to cry for all. + Moreover to the temple-stead, to Pallas' house on high, + The Queen goes forth hedged all about by matron company, + And bearing gifts: next unto whom, the cause of all this woe, + With lovely eyes cast down to earth, doth maid Lavinia go. 480 + They enter and with frankincense becloud the temple o'er, + And cast their woeful voices forth from out the high-built door: + "O Weapon-great Tritonian Maid, O front of war-array, + Break thou the Phrygian robber's sword, and prone his body lay + On this our earth; cast him adown beneath our gates high-reared!" + + Now eager Turnus for the war his body did begird: + The ruddy-gleaming coat of mail upon his breast he did, + And roughened him with brazen scales; with gold his legs he hid; + With brow yet bare, unto his side he girt the sword of fight, + And all a glittering golden man ran down the castle's height. 490 + High leaps his heart, his hope runs forth the foeman's host to face: + As steed, when broken are the bonds, fleeth the stabling place, + Set free at last, and, having won the unfenced open mead, + Now runneth to the grassy grounds wherein the mare-kind feed; + Or, wont to water, speedeth him in well-known stream to wash, + And, wantoning, with uptossed head about the world doth dash, + While wave his mane-locks o'er his neck, and o'er his shoulders play. + + But, leading on the Volscian host, there comes across his way + Camilla now, who by the gate leapt from her steed adown, + And in likewise her company, who left their horses lone, 500 + And earthward streamed: therewith the Queen such words as this gave forth: + + "Turnus, if any heart may trust in manly might and worth, + I dare to promise I will meet AEneas' war array, + And face the Tyrrhene knights alone, and deal them battle-play. + Let my hand be the first to try the perils of the fight, + The while the foot-men townward bide, and hold the walls aright." + + Then Turnus answered, with his eyes fixed on the awful maid: + "O glory of Italian land, how shall the thanks be paid + Worthy thy part? but since all this thy great soul overflies, + To portion out our work today with me indeed it lies. 510 + AEneas, as our spies sent out and rumour saith for sure, + The guileful one, his light-armed horse hath now sent on before + To sweep the lea-land, while himself, high on the hilly ground, + Across the desert mountain-necks on for our walls is bound. + But I a snare now dight for him in woodland hollow way + Besetting so the straitened pass with weaponed war-array. + But bear thy banners forth afield to meet the Tyrrhene horse, + With fierce Messapus joined to thee, the Latin battle-force, + Yea, and Tiburtus: thou thyself the leader's care shalt take." + + So saith he, and with such-like words unto the war doth wake 520 + Messapus and his brother-lords; then 'gainst the foeman fares. + + There was a dale of winding ways, most meet for warlike snares + And lurking swords: with press of leaves the mountain bent is black + That shutteth it on either side: thence leads a scanty track; + By strait-jawed pass men come thereto, a very evil road: + But thereabove, upon the height, lieth a plain abode, + A mountain-heath scarce known of men, a most safe lurking-place, + Whether to right hand or to left the battle ye will face, + Or hold the heights, and roll a storm of mighty rocks adown. + Thither the war-lord wends his way by country road well known, 530 + And takes the place, and bideth there within the wood accursed. + + Meanwhile within the heavenly house Diana speaketh first + To Opis of the holy band, the maiden fellowship, + And words of grief most sorrowful Latonia's mouth let slip: + "Unto the bitter-cruel war the maid Camilla wends, + O maid: and all for nought indeed that dearest of my friends + Is girding her with arms of mine." + + Nought new-born was the love + Diana owned, nor sudden-sweet the soul in her did move: + When Metabus, by hatred driven, and his o'erweening pride, + Fled from Privernum's ancient town, his fathers' country-side, 540 + Companion of his exile there, amid the weapon-game, + A babe he had with him, whom he called from her mother's name + Casmilla, but a little changed, and now Camilla grown. + He, bearing her upon his breast, the woody ridges lone + Went seeking, while on every side the sword-edge was about, + And all around were scouring wide the weaponed Volscian rout. + But big lay Amasenus now athwart his very road, + Foaming bank-high, such mighty rain from out of heaven had flowed. + There, as he dight him to swim o'er, love of his babe, and fear + For burden borne so well-beloved, his footsteps back did bear. 550 + At last, as all things o'er he turned, this sudden rede he took: + The huge spear that in mighty hand by hap the warrior shook, + A close-knit shaft of seasoned oak with many a knot therein, + Thereto did he his daughter bind, wrapped in the cork-tree's skin, + And to the middle of the beam he tied her craftily; + Then, shaking it in mighty hand, thus spoke unto the sky: + "O kind, O dweller in the woods, Latonian Virgin fair, + A father giveth thee a maid, who holds thine arms in air + As from the foe she flees to thee: O Goddess, take thine own, + That now upon the doubtful winds by this mine arm is thrown!" 560 + He spake, and from his drawn-back arm cast forth the brandished wood; + Sounded the waves; Camilla flew across the hurrying flood, + A lorn thing bound to whistling shaft, and o'er the river won. + But Metabus, with all the band of chasers pressing on, + Unto the river gives himself, and reaches maid and spear, + And, conquering, from the grassy bank Diana's gift doth tear. + To roof and wall there took him thence no city of the land, + Nay, he himself, a wild-wood thing, to none had given the hand; + Upon the shepherd's lonely hills his life thenceforth he led; + His daughter mid the forest-brake, and wild deers' thicket-stead, 570 + He nourished on the milk that flowed from herd-mare's untamed breast, + And to the maiden's tender lips the wild thing's udder pressed; + Then from the first of days when she might go upon her feet, + The heft of heavy sharpened dart her hand must learn to meet, + And from the little maiden's back he hung the shaft and bow; + While for the golden hair-clasp fine and long-drawn mantle's flow + Down from her head, along her back, a tiger's fell there hung. + E'en then too from her tender hand a childish shot she flung, + The sling with slender smoothened thong she drave about her head + To bring the crane of Strymon down, or lay the white swan dead. 580 + Then many a mother all about the Tyrrhene towns in vain + Would wed her to their sons; but she, a maid without a stain, + Alone in Dian's happiness the spear for ever loved, + For ever loved the maiden life. + --"O had she ne'er been moved + By such a war, nor dared to cross the Teucrian folk in fight! + Then had she been a maid of mine, my fellow and delight. + But since the bitterness of fate lies round her life and me, + Glide down, O maiden, from the pole, and find the Latin lea, + Where now, with evil tokens toward, sad battle they awake; + Take these, and that avenging shaft from out the quiver take, 590 + Wherewith whoso shall wrong with wound my holy-bodied may, + Be he of Troy or Italy, see thou his blood doth pay: + And then will I her limbs bewept, unspoiled of any gear, + Wrap in a hollow cloud, and lay in kindred sepulchre." + + She spoke; the other slipped adown the lightsome air of heaven, + With wrapping cloak of mirky cloud about her body driven. + + But in meanwhile the Trojan folk the city draw anigh, + The Tuscan dukes and all their horse in many a company + Well ordered: over all the plain neighing the steed doth fare, + Prancing, and champing on the bit that turns him here and there, 600 + And far and wide the lea is rough with iron harvest now. + And with the weapons tossed aloft the level meadows glow. + Messapus and the Latins swift, lo, on the other hand; + And Coras with his brother-lord, and maid Camilla's band, + Against them in the field; and lo, far back their arms they fling + In couching of the level spears, and shot spears' brandishing. + All is afire with neigh of steeds and onfall of the men. + And now, within a spear-shot come, short up they rein, and then + They break out with a mighty cry, and spur the maddened steeds; + And all at once from every side the storm of spear-shot speeds, 610 + As thick as very snowing is, and darkens down the sun. + + And thereon with their levelled spears each against each they run, + Tyrrhenus and Aconteus fierce: in forefront of the fight + They meet and crash with thundering sound; wracked are the steeds outright, + Breast beating in each breast of them: far is Aconteus flung + In manner of the lightning bolt, or stone from engine slung; + Far off he falls, and on the air pours all his life-breath out. + + Then wildered is the war array; the Latins wheel about + And sling their targets all aback, and townward turn their steeds. + The Trojans follow; first of whom the ranks Asylas leads. 620 + But when they draw anigh the gates once more the Latin men + Raise up the cry, and turn about the limber necks again; + Then flee their foes, and far afield with loosened reins they ride; + As when the sea-flood setting on with flowing, ebbing tide, + Now earthward rolling, overlays the rocks with foaming sea, + And with its bosom overwhelms the sand's extremity, + Now swiftly fleeing back again, sucks back into its deep + The rolling stones, and leaves the shore with softly-gliding sweep. + Twice did the Tuscans townward drive the host of Rutuli; + Twice, looking o'er their shielded backs, afield they needs must fly; 630 + But when they joined the battle thrice knit up was all array + In one great knot, and man sought man wherewith to play the play. + Then verily the dying groans up to the heavens went; + Bodies and arms lie deep in blood, and with the men-folk blent, + The dying horses wallow there, and fearful fight arose. + + Orsilochus with Remulus had scant the heart to close, + But hurled his shaft against the horse, and smote him 'neath the ear; + The smitten beast bears not the wound, but, maddened, high doth rear + The legs of him and breast aloft: his master flung away, + Rolls on the earth: Catillus there doth swift Iolas slay; 640 + Yea, and Herminius, big of soul, and big of limbs and gear, + Who went with head by nothing helmed save locks of yellow hair, + Who went with shoulders all unarmed, as one without a dread, + So open unto fight was he; but through his shoulders sped + The quivering spear, and knit him up twi-folded in his pain. + So black blood floweth everywhere; men deal out iron bane, + And, struggling, seek out lovely death amid the wounds and woe. + + But through the middle of the wrack doth glad Camilla go, + The quivered war-maid, all one side stripped naked for the play; + And now a cloud of limber shafts she scattereth wide away, 650 + And now with all unwearied hand catcheth the twi-bill strong. + The golden bow is at her back, and Dian's arrow-song. + Yea, e'en and if she yielded whiles, and showed her back in flight, + From back-turned bow the hurrying shaft she yet would aim aright. + About her were her chosen maids, daughters of Italy, + Larina, Tulla, and Tarpeia, with brazen axe on high, + Whom that divine Camilla chose for joy and fame's increase, + Full sweet and goodly hand-maidens in battle and in peace: + E'en as the Thracian Amazons thresh through Thermodon's flood, + When they in painted war-gear wend to battle and to blood: 660 + Or those about Hippolyta, or round the wain of Mars + Wherein Panthesilea wends, when hubbub of the wars + The maiden-folk exulting raise, and moony shields uprear. + + Whom first, whom last, O bitter Maid, didst thou overthrow with spear? + How many bodies of the slain laidst thou upon the field? + Eunaeus, Clytius' son, was first, whose breast for lack of shield + The fir-tree long smit through and through, as there he stood in face; + He poureth forth a sea of blood, and, falling in his place, + Bites the red earth, and dying writhes about the bitter bane. + Liris and Pagasus she slays; one, catching at the rein 670 + Of his embowelled steed rolls o'er, the other as he ran + To aid, and stretched his swordless hand unto the fallen man, + Fell headlong too, and there they lie: with these Amastus wends, + The son of Hippotas; her spear in chase of men she sends, + Harpalycus, Demophooen, Tereus, and Chromis stout + As many as her maiden hand the whirling darts send out + So many Phrygian falls there are. Far off, in uncouth gear, + The hunter Ornytus upon Apulian steed doth fare, + Whose warring shoulders bigly wrought with stripped-off bullock's hide + Are covered; but his head is helmed with wood-wolf's gaping wide, 680 + A monstrous mouth, wherein are left the teeth all gleaming white: + A wood-spear arms the hand of him, he wheels amid the fight, + And by the head he overtops all other men about. + Him she o'ertakes, no troublous deed amid the fleeing rout, + And, slaying him, from bitter heart this word withal she spake: + + "Tuscan, thou deem'dst thee hunting still the deer amid the brake; + The day has come when women's arms have cast thy boasting back: + Yet going to thy fathers' ghosts a word thou shalt not lack + To praise thy life; for thou mayst say, Camilla was my bane." + + Orsilochus and Butes next, two huge-wrought Trojans, gain 690 + Death at her hands: Butes aback she smit through with the spear + Betwixt the mail-coat and the helm, wherethrough the neck doth peer + As there he sits, and on his left hangs down the target round; + But from Orsilochus she flees, wide circling o'er the ground, + Then, slipping inward of the ring, chaseth the chaser there, + And, rising high, her mighty axe driveth through bones and gear. + With blow on blow, mid all his prayers and crying out for grace, + Until his hot and bloody brain is flooding all his face. + + A man haps on her now, and stands afeard such sight to see; + Of Aunus of the Apennines the warring son was he, 700 + Great of Ligurians, while the Fates his guile would yet allow: + But he, since fleeing out of fight, would nought avail him now, + Nor knew he how in any wise to turn the Queen away, + With rede of guile and cunning words began to play the play: + + "What deed of fame, for woman's heart to trust a horse's might? + Wilt thou not set thy speed aside, and 'gainst me dare the fight + On equal ground, and gird thyself for foot-fight face to face? + See then to whom the windy fame shall bring the victory's grace!" + + He spake; but she, in bitter rage, and stung to her heart's root, + Unto her fellow gave her steed and faced him there afoot, 710 + Most unafeard, with naked glaive and target bare and white. + Thereat the youth deemed guile had won, and turned at once to flight; + Nought tarrying but to turn the reins, he fleeth on his road, + And ever with his iron heel the four-foot thing doth goad. + + "Empty Ligurian, all in vain thine high heart dost thou raise, + And all in vain thou triest today thy father's crafty ways. + Nor shall thy lying bring thee safe to lying Aunus' head." + + So spake the maid, and all afire on flying feet she sped, + Outwent the horse and crossed his road, and catching at the rein, + There made her foeman pay for all with bloody steel-wrought bane, 720 + As easily the holy hawk from craggy place on high + In winged chase follows on the dove aloft along the sky, + And taketh her in hooked hold with bitter feet to tear, + While blood and riven feathers fall from out the upper air. + + Nathless the Sower of manfolk and all the Godly Kind, + Upon Olympus set aloft, to this was nothing blind, + And Tarchon of the Tyrrhene folk he stirreth up to war, + And stingeth all the heart of him with anger bitter-sore; + Who, borne on horse 'twixt death of men and faltering war-array, + Goads on his bands unto the fight, and many a word doth say, 730 + And calleth each man by his name, and bids the beaten stand: + + "What fear, O hearts that nought may shame, O folk of deedless hand, + What dastardy, O Tyrrhene folk, hath now so caught your souls? + A woman drives us scattering wide, and back our war-wall rolls. + Why bear our hands these useless spears, this steel not made for fight? + Ye are not slack in Venus' play or battle of the night, + Or when the crooked fife gives sign that Bacchus' dance is toward + Well wait ye onset of the feast and cups of plenteous board: + Your love, your hearts, are there, whereas the lucky priest doth bid + The holy words, and victims fat call to the thickets hid." 740 + + He spake, and, fain of death himself, against the foemen spurs, + And full in face of Venulus his eager body bears, + And catcheth him by arm about, and tears him from his horse, + And bears him off on saddle-bow in grip of mighty force: + Then goes the clamour up to heaven, and all the Latin eyes + Turn thitherward: but fiery-swift across the field he flies, + Bearing the weapons and the man; then from his foeman's spear + Breaks off the head, and searches close for opening here and there + Whereby to give the deadly wound: the foe doth ever fight, 749 + Thrusting the hand from threatened throat, and puts back might with might. + As when a yellow erne aloft skyward a dragon draws, + And knits him up within her feet and gripping of her claws: + But still the wounded serpent turns in many a winding fold, + And bristles all his spiky scales, and hissing mouth doth hold + Aloft against her; she no less through all his struggles vain + Drives hooked beak, and still with wings beats through the airy plain; + E'en so from those Tiburtine ranks glad Tarchon bears the prey: + And, following on their captain's deed, fall on amid the fray + Maeonia's sons. + But Arruns now, the foredoomed man of fate, + Encompassing Camilla's ways with spear and guile, doth wait 760 + On all her goings; spying out what hap is easiest. + Now, wheresoe'er the hot-heart maid amid the battle pressed, + There Arruns winds, and silently holds watch on all her ways: + And when from forth the foe she comes, bearing the victory's praise, + Still speedily in privy wise the rein he turns about: + This way he tries, that way he tries, still wandering in and out + On all sides; shaking spear of doom with evil heart of guile. + + Now Chloreus, bond of Cybele and priest upon a while, + Afar as happed in Phrygian gear gleamed out upon his steed, + Foaming and goodly: clad was he in skin-wrought battle-weed, 770 + With brazen scales done feather-wise, and riveted with gold, + And grand was he in outland red and many a purple fold; + Gortynian arrows from afar with Lycian horn he sped; + Gold rang the bow upon his back; gold-mitred was his head + In priestly wise; his saffron scarf, the crackling folds of it + Of linen fine, in knot about a red-gold buckle knit; + His kirtle was embroidered fair, his hosen outland-wrought. + The maiden, whether Trojan gear for temple-gate she sought, + Or whether she herself would wend, glorious in war-got gold, + Amidst of all the press of arms this man in chase must hold 780 + Blind as a hunter; all unware amidst the war-array + She burned with all a woman's lust for spoil of men and prey: + When now, the time at last being seized, from out its lurking-place + Arruns drew forth his spear, and prayed the Gods above for grace: + + "Highest of Gods, Apollo, ward of dear Soracte's stead, + Whom we first honour, unto whom the piny blaze is fed; + Whom worshipping, we, waxen strong in might of godliness, + The very midmost of the fire with eager foot-soles press-- + Almighty Father, give me grace to do away our shame! + No battle-gear, no trophies won from vanquished maid I claim, 790 + No spoils I seek; my other deeds shall bring me praise of folk; + Let but this dreadful pest of men but fall beneath my stroke, + And me wend back without renown unto my father's place!" + + Apollo heard, and half the prayer he turned his heart to grace, + The other half he flung away adown the wind to go. + That he by sudden stroke of death should lay Camilla low,-- + He granted this: that his high house should see his safe return, + He granted not: the hurrying gusts that word to breezes turn. + + So when the shaft hurled from his hand gave sound upon the air, + All Volscians turn their hardy hearts, and all men's eyen bear 800 + Upon the Queen: but she no whit had any breeze in mind, + Or whistle of the spear that sped from out the house of wind, + Until the hurrying shaft beneath her naked bosom stood, + And clung there, deeply driven home, drinking her virgin blood. + Her frighted damsels run to her and catch the falling maid, + But Arruns fleeth fast, forsooth more than all they afraid-- + Afraid and glad--nor durst he more to trust him to the spear, + Or 'neath the hail of maiden darts his body forth to bear. + And as the murder-wolf, ere yet the avenging spear-points bite, + Straight hideth him in pathless place amid the mountain-height, 810 + When he hath slain some shepherd-lad or bullock of the fold; + Down goes his tail, when once he knows his deed so overbold, + Along his belly close it clings as he the woodland seeks. + Not otherwise from sight of men the wildered Arruns sneaks, + And mingles in the middle fight, glad to be clear away. + + Death-smitten, at the spear she plucks; amidst her bones it lay, + About the ribs, that iron point in baneful wound and deep: + She droopeth bloodless, droop her eyes acold in deadly sleep; + From out her cheeks the colour flees that once therewith were clear. + Then, passing, Acca she bespeaks, her very maiden peer, 820 + Her who alone of all the rest might share Camilla's rede, + A trusted friend: such words to her the dying mouth doth speed: + + "Sister, thus far my might hath gone; but now this bitter wound + Maketh an end, and misty dark are grown all things around: + Fly forth, and unto Turnus bear my very latest words; + Let him to fight, and from the town thrust off the Trojan swords-- + Farewell, farewell!"-- + And with the word the bridle failed her hold, + And unto earth unwilling now she flowed, and waxen cold + Slowly she slipped her body's bonds; her languid neck she bent, + Laid down the head that death had seized, and left her armament; 830 + And with a groan her life flew forth disdainful into night. + + Then rose the cry and smote aloft the starry golden height, + And with the Queen so felled to field the fight grew young again, + And thronged and serried falleth on the Teucrian might and main, + The Tuscan Dukes, Evander's host, the wings of Arcady. + + But Opis, Dian's watch of war, set on the mountain high, + A long while now all unafeard had eyed the battle o'er, + And when far off, amid the cries of maddened men of war, + She saw Camilla win the death by bitter ill award, 839 + She groaned, and from her inmost heart such words as these she poured: + "Alas, O maid, thou payest it o'ermuch and bitterly, + That thou unto the Teucrian folk the challenge needs must cry. + Ah, nothing it availed thee, maid, through deserts of the deer + To worship Dian, or our shafts upon thy back to bear. + And yet the Queen hath left thee not alone amidst of shame + In grip of death; nor shalt thou die a death without a name + In people's ears; nor yet as one all unavenged be told: + For whosoever wronged thy flesh with wounding overbold + Shall pay the penalty well earned." + Now 'neath the mountains high, + All clad with shady holm-oaks o'er, a mighty mound doth lie, 850 + The tomb of King Dercennus called, Laurentum's lord of yore; + And thitherward her speedy feet that loveliest Goddess bore, + And there abiding, Arruns spied from off the high-heaped mound + But when the wretch in gleaming arms puffed up with pride she found, + "Why," quoth she, "dost thou turn away? Here, hither wend thy feet; + Come here and perish; take reward for slain Camilla meet! + But ah, for death of such an one is Dian's arrow due?" + + Then from the Thracian quiver gilt a winged shaft she drew, + And bent the horn-wrought bow withal with heart on slaying set: + Far drew she, till the curving horns each with the other met: 860 + Alike she strained her hands to shoot; the left hand felt the steel, + The right that drew the string aback her very breast did feel. + Then straightway Arruns heard in one the bow-string how it rung, + And whistle of the wind; and there the shaft within him clung: + His fellows leave him dying there and groaning out his last, + Forgotten in an unknown field, amid the sand downcast; + While to Olympus on the wing straightway is Opis borne. + + But now first flees Camilla's band, their Queen and mistress lorn, + And flee the beaten Rutuli, and fierce Atinas flees; + The Dukes of men in disarray, the broken companies 870 + Now turn their faces to the town, and seek a sheltering place, + Nor yet may any turn with spear upon the Teucrian chase, + That beareth death of men in hand, or bar the homeward road: + Cast back on fainting shoulders now the loose bow hangs a load; + The horny hoofs of four-foot things shake down the dusty mead, + The mirky cloud of rolling dust doth ever townward speed; + And mothers beating of their breasts stand on the watch-towers high, + And cast abroad their woman's wail up to the starry sky. + But they who in their fleeing first break through the open doors, + In mingled tumult on their backs a crowd of foemen pours; 880 + Nor do they 'scape a wretched death: there, on the threshold-stead, + Within their fathers' walls, amidst the peace of home, they shed + The lives from out their bodies pierced: then some men shut the gate, + Nor durst they open to their friends, or take in them that wait + Praying without; and there indeed is woeful slaughter towards + Of them that fence the wall with swords, and rushers on the swords. + Those shut out 'neath the very eyes of weeping kith and kin, + Some headlong down the ditches roll, by fleeing rout thrust in; + Some blindly and with loosened rein spur on their steeds to meet + As battering-rams the very gates, the ruthless door-leaves beat 890 + And now, in agony of fight, the mothers on the walls, + E'en as they saw Camilla do, (so love of country calls), + With hurrying hands the javelins cast, and in the iron's stead + Make shift of hardened pale of oak and stake with half-burned head. + Hot-heart they are, afire to die the first their town to save. + + Meanwhile to Turnus in the woods sweeps in that cruel wave + Of tidings: trouble measureless doth Acca to him bring,-- + The wasting of the Volscian host, Camilla's murdering, + The onset of the baneful foe with favouring Mars to aid; + The ruin of all things; present fear e'en on the city laid, 900 + He, madly wroth, (for even so Jove's dreadful might deemed good), + Leaveth the hills' beleaguerment and mirky rugged wood. + Scarce was he out of sight thereof, and nigh his camp to win, + When mid the opened pass and bare AEneas entereth in, + Climbeth the ridge, and slippeth through the thicket's shadowy night. + + So either toward the city fares with all their battle-might, + And no long space of way indeed there was betwixt the twain, + For e'en so soon as far away AEneas saw the plain + Through dusty reek, and saw withal Laurentum's host afar, + Turnus the fierce AEneas knew in all array of war, 910 + And heard the marching footmen tramp, and coming horses neigh. + Then had they fallen to fight forthwith and tried the battle-play, + But rosy Phoebus sank adown amidst Iberian flood + His weary steeds, and brought back Night upon the failing day. + So there they pitch before the town and make their ramparts good. + + + + +BOOK XII. + +ARGUMENT. + +HEREIN ARE AENEAS AND TURNUS PLEDGED TO FIGHT THE MATTER OUT IN SINGLE +COMBAT; BUT THE LATINS BREAK THE PEACE AND AENEAS IS WOUNDED: IN THE END +AENEAS MEETETH TURNUS INDEED, AND SLAYETH HIM. + + + When Turnus sees the Latin men all failing from the sword, + Broken by Mars, and that all folk bethink them of his word, + And fall to mark him with their eyes, then fell he burns indeed, + And raises up his heart aloft; e'en as in Punic mead + The smitten lion, hurt in breast by steel from hunters' ring, + Setteth the battle in array, and joyfully doth fling + The mane from off his brawny neck, and fearless of his mood + Breaks off the clinging robber-spear, and roars from mouth of blood; + E'en so o'er Turnus' fiery heart the tide of fury wins, + And thus he speaketh to the King, and hasty speech begins: 10 + + "No hanging back in Turnus is, and no AEnean thrall + Hath aught to do to break his word or plighted troth recall: + I will go meet him: Father, bring the Gods, the peace-troth plight; + Then either I this Dardan thing will send adown to night,-- + This rag of Asia,--Latin men a-looking on the play, + And all alone the people's guilt my sword shall wipe away; + Or let him take us beaten folk, and wed Lavinia then!" + + But unto him from quiet soul Latinus spake again: + "Great-hearted youth, by e'en so much as thou in valorous might + Dost more excel, by so much I must counsel me aright, 20 + And hang all haps that may betide in those sad scales of mine. + Thine are thy father Daunus' realms, a many towns are thine, + Won by thine hand: Latinus too his gold and goodwill yields; + But other high-born maids unwed dwell in Laurentine fields + Or Latin land,--nay, suffer me to set all guile apart, + And say a hard thing--do thou take this also to thine heart: + To none of all her wooers of old my daughter may I wed; + This warning word of prophecy all men and Gods have sped. + But by thy kindred blood o'ercome, and by the love of thee, + And by my sad wife's tears, I broke all bonds and set me free. 30 + From son-in-law I rapt his bride, I drew a godless sword. + What mishaps and what wrack of peace have been my due reward + Thou seest, Turnus, and what grief I was the first to bear. + Twice beaten in a woeful fight, scarce is our city here + Held by the hope of Italy: still Tiber-flood rolls by, + Warm with our blood, and 'neath our bones wide meadows whitening lie. + But whither waver I so oft? what folly shifts my mind? + If I am ready, Turnus dead, peace with these men to bind, + Shall I not rather while thou liv'st cast all the war away? + What shall my kindred Rutuli, what shall Italia say, 40 + If I deliver thee to death, (Fate thrust the words aside!) + Thee, who hast wooed me for thy sire, my daughter for thy bride? + Look on the wavering hap of war, pity thy father's eld, + Now far from thee in sorrow sore by ancient Ardea held." + + But not a whit might all these words the wrath of Turnus bend. + Nay, worser waxed he, sickening more by medicine meant to mend: + And e'en so soon as he might speak, such words were in his mouth: + "Thy trouble for my sake, best lord, e'en for my sake forsooth, + Lay down, I prithee; let me buy a little praise with death. + I too, O father, sow the spear, nor weak hand scattereth 50 + The iron seed, with me afield: the blood-springs know my stroke. + Nor here shall be his Goddess-dame with woman's cloud to cloak + A craven king, and hide herself in empty mirky shade." + + But now the Queen, by this new chance of battle sore afraid, + Fell weeping, as her fiery son she held with dying eyes: + "O Turnus, by these tears, by what of worship for me lies + Anigh thy heart; O, only hope of this my latter tide, + Sole rest from sorrow! thou, in whom all worship doth abide, + All glory of the Latin name, our falling house-wall stay! + Set not thine hand to Teucrian war; this thing alone I pray. 60 + Whatever lot abideth thee, O Turnus, mid the fight, + Abideth me, and I with thee will leave the loathed light; + Nor will I, made AEneas' thrall, behold him made my son." + + Lavinia heard her mother's words with burning cheeks, whereon + Lay rain of tears, for thereunto exceeding ruddy flush + Had brought the fire that now along her litten face did rush: + As when the Indian ivory they wrong with blood-red dye, + Or when mid many lilies white the ruddy roses lie, + E'en such a mingled colour showed upon the maiden's face. + Sore stirred by love upon the maid he fixed his constant gaze, 70 + And, all the more afire for fight, thus to Amata said: + + "I prithee, mother, with these tears, such sign of coming dread, + Dog not my feet as forth I wend to Mavors' bitter play; + For Turnus is not free to thrust the hour of death away. + Go, Idmon, bear the Phrygian lord these very words of mine, + Nought for his pleasure: When the dawn tomorrow first shall shine, + And from her purple wheels aloft shall redden all the sky, + Lead not thy Teucrians to the fight: Teucrians and Rutuli + Shall let their swords be; and we twain, our blood shall quench the strife, + And we upon that field shall woo Lavinia for a wife." 80 + + He spake, and to the roofed place now swiftly wending home, + Called for his steeds, and merrily stood there before their foam, + E'en those that Orithyia gave Pilumnus, gift most fair, + Whose whiteness overpassed the snow, whose speed the winged air. + The busy horse-boys stand about, and lay upon their breasts + The clapping of their hollow hands, and comb their maned crests. + But he the mail-coat doth on him well-wrought with golden scale + And latten white; he fits the sword unto his hand's avail: + His shield therewith, and horned helm with ruddy crest o'erlaid: + That sword, the very Might of Fire for father Daunus made, 90 + And quenched the white-hot edge thereof amidst the Stygian flood. + Then the strong spear he took in hand that 'gainst the pillar stood, + Amidmost of the house: that spear his hand won mightily + From Actor of Auruncum erst; he shakes the quivering tree + Loud crying: "Now, O spear of mine, who never heretofore + Hast failed my call, the day draws on: thee the huge Actor bore, + Now Turnus' right hand wieldeth thee: to aid, that I prevail + To lay the Phrygian gelding low, and strip his rended mail + By might of hand; to foul with dust the ringlets of his hair, + Becrisped with curling-irons hot and drenched with plenteous myrrh!" 100 + + By such a fury is he driven; from all his countenance + The fiery flashes leap, the flames in his fierce eyeballs dance: + As when a bull in first of fight raiseth a fearful roar, + And teacheth wrath unto his horns and whets them for the war, + And 'gainst the tree-trunks pusheth them, and thrusts the breezes home, + And with the scattering of the sand preludeth fight to come. + + Nor less AEneas, terrible, in Venus' armour dight, + Now whetteth war; and in his heart stirreth the wrath of fight, + That plighted peace shall lay the war fain is his heart and glad; + His fellows' minds and bitter fear that makes Iulus sad 110 + He solaceth with fate-wise words; then bids his folk to bear + His answer to the Latin king and peace-laws to declare. + + But scarce the morrow's dawn of day had lit the mountain steeps, + And scarce the horses of the Sun drew upward from the deeps, + And from their nostrils raised aloft blew forth the morning clear, + When Trojans and Rutulian men the field of fight prepare, + And measure out a space beneath the mighty city's wall. + Midmost the hearths they hallow there to common Gods of all, + And grassy altars: other some bear fire, and fountain's flow, + All linen clad, and vervain leaves are crowning every brow. 120 + Forth comes the host of Italy, the men that wield the spear + Pour outward from the crowded gate; the Trojan host is there, + And all the Tyrrhene company in battle-gear diverse, + Nor otherwise in iron clad, than if the War-god fierce + Cried on to arms: and in the midst of war-ranks thousandfold + The dukes are flitting, well beseen in purple dye and gold, + E'en Mnestheus of Assaracus, Asylas huge of force, + Messapus, Neptune's very son, the tamer of the horse. + But when the sign was given abroad each to his own place won, + And set his spear-shaft in the earth and leaned his shield thereon. 130 + Then streamed forth mothers fain to see and elders feeble grown; + The unarmed crowd beset the towers and houses of the town, + And others of the people throng the high-built gates around. + + But Juno from the steep that men now call the Alban mound + (Though neither worship, name, nor fame it bore upon that day), + Was looking down upon the lists and either war-array + Of Trojan and Laurentine men, and King Latinus' wall, + Then upon Turnus' sister's ear her words of God did fall: + A goddess she, the queen of mere and sounding river-wave; + Which worship Jupiter the King, the Heaven-Abider gave 140 + A hallowed gift to pay her back for ravished maidenhood: + + "O Nymph, the glory of the streams, heart well-beloved and good, + Thee only, as thou know'st, I love of all who e'er have come + Into the unkind bed of Jove from out a Latin home, + With goodwill have I granted thee the heavenly house to share; + Therefore, Juturna, know thy grief lest I the blame should bear: + While Fortune would, and while the Fates allowed the Latin folk + A happy day, so long did I thy town and Turnus cloak; + But now I see him hastening on to meet the fated ill: + His doomsday comes, the foeman's hand shall soon his hour fulfil. 150 + I may not look upon the fight, or see the wagered field; + But thou, if any present help thou durst thy brother yield, + Haste, it behoves thee!--happier days on wretches yet may rise." + + Scarce spake she ere Juturna poured the tear-flood from her eyes, + And thrice and four times smote with hand her bosom well beseen. + "Nay, this is now no weeping-time," saith that Saturnian Queen, + "Haste; snatch thy brother from the death if all be not undone, + Or wake up war and rend apart the treaty scarce begun; + And I am she that bids thee dare." + She urged her, and she left + Her wavering mind and turmoiled heart with sorrow's torment cleft. 160 + + Meantime the Kings--Latinus there, a world of state around, + Is borne upon the fourfold car, his gleaming temples bound + With twice six golden rays, the sign of his own grandsire's light, + The heavenly Sun; and Turnus wends with twi-yoked horses white, + Tossing in hand two shafts of war with broad-beat points of steel. + And hither Father AEneas, spring of the Roman weal, + Flaming with starry shield and arms wrought in the heavenly home, + And next to him Ascanius young, the second hope of Rome, + Fare from the camp: the priest thereon, in unstained raiment due, + Offereth a son of bristly sow and unshorn yearling ewe, 170 + And bringeth up the four-foot hosts unto the flaming place. + But they, with all eyes turned about the rising sun to face, + Give forth the salt meal from the hand, and with the iron sign + The victims' brows, and mid the flame pour out the bowls of wine: + Then good AEneas draws his sword, and thuswise prays the prayer: + "Bear witness, Sun, and thou, O Land, who dost my crying hear! + Land, for whose sake I waxed in might, sustaining toils enow; + And Thou, Almighty Father, hear! Saturnian Juno thou, + Grown kinder, Goddess, I beseech; and thou, most glorious Mars, + Father, whose hand of utter might is master of all wars; 180 + Ye Springs, and River-floods I call, and whatsoever God + Is in the air, or whatso rules the blue sea with its rod-- + If to Ausonian Turnus here Fortune shall give the day, + The conquered to Evander's town shall straightly wend their way; + Iulus shall depart the land, nor shall AEneas' folk + Stir war hereafter, or with sword the Latin wrath provoke. + But if the grace of victory here bow down upon our fight; + --(As I believe, as may the Gods make certain with their might!)-- + I will not bid the Italian men to serve the Teucrian's will; + Nor for myself seek I the realm; but all unconquered still 190 + Let either folk with equal laws plight peace for evermore: + The Gods and worship I will give, Latinus see to war; + My father lawful rule shall have; for me my Teucrians here + Shall build a city, and that home Lavinia's name shall bear." + + So first AEneas: after whom Latinus swears and says, + Looking aloft, and stretching hands up towards the starry ways: + "E'en so, AEneas, do I swear by Stars, and Sea, and Earth, + By twi-faced Janus, and the twins Latona brought to birth, + And by the nether Might of God and shrine of unmoved Dis; + And may the Sire who halloweth in all troth-plight hearken this: 200 + I hold the altars, and these Gods and fires to witness take, + That, as for Italy, no day the peace and troth shall break, + What thing soever shall befall; no might shall conquer me. + Not such as with the wrack of flood shall mingle earth and sea, + Nor such as into nether Hell shall melt the heavenly land. + E'en as this sceptre"--(for by chance he bore a staff in hand)-- + "Shall never more to leafage light and twig and shadow shoot, + Since when amid the thicket-place, cut off from lowest root, + It lost its mother, and the knife hath lopped it, leaf and bough,-- + A tree once, but the craftsman's hand hath wrapped it seemly now 210 + With brass about, and made it meet for hands of Latin lords." + + So in the sight of all the chiefs with such abundant words + They bound the troth-plight fast and sure: then folk in due wise slay + The victims on the altar-flame, and draw the hearts away + Yet living, and with platters full the holy altars pile. + + But unto those Rutulian men unequal this long while + The fight had seemed, and in their hearts the mingled trouble rose; + And all the more, as nigher now they note the ill-matched foes, + This helpeth Turnus' silent step, and suppliant worshipping + About the altars, and his eyes that unto earth do cling, 220 + His faded cheeks, his youthful frame that wonted colour lacks. + Wherefore Jaturna, when she hears the talk of people wax, + And how the wavering hearts of men in diverse manner sway, + Like unto Camers wendeth now amidst of that array; + --A mighty man, from mighty blood, his father well renowned + For valorous worth, and he himself keen in the battle found. + So through the mid array she speeds, well knowing what is toward, + And soweth rumour on the wind and speaketh such a word: + + "O shame ye not, Rutulian men, to offer up one soul + For all your warriors? lack we aught in might or muster-roll 230 + To match them? Here is all they have--Trojans, Arcadian peers, + And that Etruscan Turnus' bane, the fateful band of spears: + Why, if we meet, each second man shall scantly find a foe. + And now their king, upborne by fame, unto the Gods shall go, + Upon whose shrines he vows himself; his name shall live in tale. + But we shall lose our fatherland and 'neath proud lords shall fail, + E'en those that sit there heavy-slow upon our fields today." + + So with such words she lit the hearts of all that young array; + Yet more and more a murmur creeps about the ranks of men; + Changed even are Laurentine folk; changed are the Latins then; 240 + They who had hoped that rest from fight and peaceful days were won, + Are now but fain of battle-gear, and wish the troth undone, + For ruth that such a cruel fate on Turnus' head should fall. + But unto these a greater thing Jaturna adds withal, + A sign from heaven; and nought so much stirred Italy that day, + As this whose prodigy beguiled men's hearts to go astray: + For now the yellow bird of Jove amid the ruddy light + Was chasing of the river-fowl, and drave in hurried flight + The noisy throng; when suddenly down to the waves he ran, + And caught in greedy hooked claws a goodly-bodied swan: 250 + Uprose the hearts of Italy, for all the fowl cry out, + And, wonderful for eyes to see, from fleeing turn about, + Darken the air with cloud of wings, and fall upon the foe; + Till he, oppressed by might of them and by his prey held low, + Gives way, and casts the quarry down from out his hooked claws + Into the river, and aback to inner cloud-land draws. + + Then to the sign the Rutuli shout greeting with one breath, + And spread their hands abroad; but first the seer Tolumnius saith: + "This, this is that, which still my prayers sought oft and o'er again. + I take the sign, I know the God! to arms with me, O men! 260 + Poor people, whom the stranger-thief hath terrified with war. + E'en like these feeble fowl; who wastes the acres of your shore, + Yet shall he fly, and give his sails unto the outer sea: + But ye, your ranks with heart and mind now serry manfully, + And ward your ravished King and Duke with all your battle-world!" + + He spake, and, running forth, a shaft against the foe he hurled. + Forth whizzed the cornel through the air, cleaving its way aright, + And therewithal great noise outbreaks, and every wedge of fight + Is turmoiled, and the hearts of men are kindled for the fray. + On sped the shaft to where there stood across its baneful way 270 + Nine fair-shaped brethren, whom whilom one faithful Tuscan wife + Amid Gylippus' Arcad house brought forth to light and life: + Now one of these, e'en where the belt of knitted stitches wrought + Chafed on the belly, and the clasp the joining edges caught, + A youth most excellent of frame and clad in glittering gear-- + It pierced his ribs; on yellow sand it stretched him dying there. + Thereat his brethren, a fierce folk, with grief and rage alight, + Some draw their swords and some catch up the steel of speedy flight, + And rush on blind: Laurentum's ranks, against them swift they go, + And thick the Trojans from their side the meadows overflow, 280 + Agyllans and Arcadian men with painted war array; + And one lust winneth over all with point and edge to play. + They strip the altars; drifting storm of weapon-shot doth gain + O'er all the heavens, and ever grows the iron battle-rain. + + The bowls and hearths they bear away: Latinus gets him gone, + Bearing aback the beaten Gods and troth-plight all undone, + But other men rein in the car and leap upon the steed, + And there with naked swords they sit, all ready for the need. + + Messapus, fain to rend the troth, on hostile horse down-bears + Upon Aulestes, Tuscan king, who kingly raiment wears: 290 + He fled, but as abackward there away from him he went, + Came on the altars at his back in hapless tanglement + Of head and shoulders: thitherward doth hot Messapus fly + With spear in hand, and from his steed he smites him heavily + With the great beam amid his prayers, and word withal doth say: + "He hath it, and the Gods have got a better host today!" + Therewith to strip his body warm up runs the Italian band; + But Corynaeus from the hearth catches a half-burnt brand, + And e'en as Ebusus comes up, and stroke in hand doth bear, + He filleth all his face with flame; out doth his great beard flare, 300 + And sendeth stink of burning forth: the Trojan followed on + The wildered man, and with his left grip of his tresses won, + And, straining hard with weight of knee, to earth he pinned his foe, + And drave the stark sword through his side. + See Podalirius go, + Chasing the shepherd Alsus through the front of weapon-wrack; + O'er him he hangs with naked sword; but he, with bill swung back, + Cleaveth the foeman facing him through midmost brow and chin, + And all about his battle-gear the bloody rain doth win: + Then iron slumber fell on him, hard rest weighed down his eyes, + And shut were they for evermore in night that never dies. 310 + + Then good AEneas stretched forth hands all empty of the sword, + And called bare-headed on his folk, with eager shouted word: + "Where rush ye on, and whither now doth creeping discord rise? + Refrain your wrath; the troth is struck; its laws in equal wise + Are doomed; and 'tis for me alone the battle to endure. + Nay, let me be! cast fear away; my hand shall make it sure. + This troth-plight, all these holy things, owe Turnus to my sword." + + But while his voice was sounding, lo, amidmost of his word, + A whistling speedy-winged shaft unto the hero won; + Unknown what hand hath sped it forth, what whirlwind bore it on; 320 + What God, what hap, such glory gave to hands of Rutuli; + Beneath the weight of things unknown dead doth the honour lie, + Nor boasted any of the hurt AEneas had that day. + + But Turnus, when he saw the King give back from that array, + And all the turmoil of the Dukes, with hope his heart grew fain; + He cried for horse and arms, and leapt aloft to battle-wain, + And high of heart set on apace, the bridle in his hand; + And many a brave man there he gave unto the deadly land, + And rolled o'er wounded men in heaps, and high in car wore down + The ranks of men; and fleers' spears from out his hand were thrown: + E'en as when litten up to war by Hebrus' chilly flood 331 + Red Mavors beateth on his shield, and rouseth fightful mood + Amid the fury of his steeds, who o'er the level lea + In uttermost hoof-smitten Thrace the south and west outflee. + And lo, the fellows of the God, the black Fear's bitter face, + The Rage of men, the Guile of War anigh him wend apace: + E'en so amid the battle-field his horses Turnus sped, + Reeking with sweat: there tramples he the woeful heaps of dead, + The hurrying hoofs go scattering wide a drift of bloody rain; + The gore, all blent with sandy dust, is pounded o'er the plain. 340 + To death he casteth Sthenelus, Pholus, and Thamyris; + Those twain anigh, but him afar; from far the bane he is + Of Glaucus and of Lades, sons of Imbrasus, whom he + In Lycia bred a while agone, and armed them equally + To fight anigh, or on their steeds the winds to overrun. + + But otherwhere amidst the fight Eumedes fareth on, + The son of Dolon of old time, most well-renowned in fight, + And bringing back his father's name in courage and in might: + For that was he who while agone the Danaan camp espied, + And chose Achilles' car for spoil in his abundant pride: 350 + But otherwise Tydides paid for such a deed o'erbold, + And no more had he any hope Achilles' steeds to hold. + So Turnus, when adown the lea this warrior he had seen, + First a light spear he sent in chase across the void between, + Then stayed his steeds, and leaping down unto the fallen ran, + And set his foot upon the neck of that scarce-breathing man, + And from his right hand wrenched the sword and bathed its glittering blade + Deep in his throat, and therewithal such spoken chiding said: + "Down, Trojan! measure out the mead, and that Hesperean land + Thou sought'st in war: such are the gifts that fall unto the hand 360 + Of those that dare the sword with me; such city-walls they raise!" + + Asbutes wends 'neath spear-cast then, a fellow of his ways; + Chloreus, Dares, Thersilochus, and Sybaris, withal; + Thymoetes, who from rearing horse had hap to catch a fall; + And e'en as when the breathing forth of Thracian Boreas roars + O'er deep AEgean, driving on the wave-press to the shores, + Then wheresoe'er the wind stoops down the clouds flee heaven apace; + So wheresoe'er cleaves Turnus way all battle giveth place, + All war-array is turned to wrack: his onrush beareth him, + And in the breeze that meets his car his tossing crest doth swim. 370 + + This onset of the maddened heart nought Phegeus might abide, + But cast himself before the steeds, and caught and wrenched aside + The bit-befoaming mouths of them, the heart-stung hurrying steeds. + But while he hangeth dragged along, the spear broad-headed speeds + Unto his shieldless side, and rends the twilinked coat of mail, + And for the razing of his flesh a little doth avail: + But he turned round about his shield and at the foemen made, + And from his naked sword drawn forth sought most well-needed aid; + When now the axle-tree and wheel, unto fresh speeding won, + Cast him down headlong unto earth, and Turnus following on, 380 + Betwixt the lowest of the helm and haubert's upper lip + Sheared off his head, and left the trunk upon the sand to slip. + + But while victorious Turnus gives these deaths unto the plain, + Mnestheus and that Achates leal, Ascanius with the twain, + Bring great AEneas to the camp all covered with his blood; + There, propping up his halting steps with spear-shaft long, he stood: + Mad wroth he is, and strives to pluck the broken reed away, + And bids them help by any road, the swiftest that they may, + To cut away the wound with sword, cut to the hiding-place + Where lies the steel, and send him back to meet the battle's face. 390 + Iapis, son of Iasus, by Phoebus best beloved, + Draws nigh now: Phoebus on a time, by mighty longing moved, + Was fain to give him gifts of God, his very heavenly craft-- + Foresight, or skill of harp-playing, or mastery of the shaft: + But he, that from his bed-rid sire the death he yet might stave, + Would liefer know the might of herbs, and how men heal and save, + And, speeding of a silent craft, inglorious life would wear. + + AEneas, fretting bitterly, stood leaning on his spear + Midst a great concourse of the lords, with sad Iulus by, + Unmoved amid their many tears: the elder, girded high 400 + In folded gown, in e'en such wise as Paeon erst was dight, + With hurrying hand speeds many a salve of Phoebus' herbs of might; + But all in vain: his right hand woos the arrow-head in vain; + For nought the teeth of pincers grip the iron of the bane; + No happy road will Fortune show, no help Apollo yields: + And grimly terror more and more prevaileth o'er the fields, + And nigher draws the evil hour: they see the dusty pall + Spread o'er the heaven; draw horsemen nigh, and shafts begin to fall + Thick in the midmost of the camp: grim clamour smites the stars, + The shouts of men, the cries of men that fall in game of Mars. 410 + + Now Mother Venus, sore at heart for her sore-wounded son, + Plucketh a stalk of dittany from Cretan Ida won, + That with a downy leaf of grey and purple head doth grow, + And well enough the mountain-goats the herbage of it know + What time the winged shaft of man within them clingeth sore. + This Venus brought, with cloudy cloak her body covered o'er, + This in the waves of glittering rims she steepeth privily, + Drugging the cup, and wholesome juice withal there blendeth she, + Wrought of ambrosia; heal-all too most sweet of heavenly smell. + So with that stream Iapis old the shaft-wound cherished well 420 + Unwitting: sudden from the flesh all grievance doth depart, + And all the blood is staunched at once up from the wound's deep heart, + And comes the shaft unto the hand with nought to force it forth, + And freshly to the king returns his ancient might and worth. + Then cries Iapis: + "Loiter ye? arms for the hero then!" + And he is first against the foe to whet the hearts of men. + "Lo, not from any help of man, nor from art's mastery + These things have happed, nor hath mine hand, AEneas, holpen thee. + A great God wrought to send thee back great deeds of fame to win." + + Then, fain of fight, on either side the king his legs shuts in 430 + With ruddy gold: he loathes delay, and high his war-shaft shakes; + And then his left side meets the shield, his back the hauberk takes, + And round Iulus casteth he a steel-clad man's embrace, + And saith, but lightly kissing him from midst the helmet's space: + + "Child, the bare valour learn of me and very earthly toil, + Good-hap of others; my right hand shall ward thee in the broil + These days that are, and gain for thee exceeding great rewards; + But thou, when ripe thine age shall grow, remember well the swords; + Then as thine heart seeks through the past for kin to show the road, + Well shall thy sire AEneas stir, thine uncle Hector goad." 440 + + But when these words are cast abroad, huge through the gate he goes, + Shaking in hand a mighty spear; then in arrayment close + Antheus and Mnestheus rush to war: the camp is left behind, + And all the host flows forth; the fields are blent with dust-cloud blind, + And, stirred by trample of the feet, the earth's face trembleth sore. + But Turnus from a facing mound beheld that coming war. + The Ausonians looked, and through their hearts swift ran the chilly fear: + And now before all other men first doth Jaturna hear, + And know the sound, and, quaking sore, she fleeth back again. + On comes he, hurrying on the host black o'er the open plain: 450 + As when a storm cast on the world from heaven asunder rent, + Wendeth across the middle sea: out! how the dread is sent + Deep to the field-folks' boding hearts:--here comes the orchards' bane, + Here comes the acres' utter wrack, the ruin of all the plain! + The gale that goes before its face brings tidings to the shore: + So 'gainst the foe the Trojan Duke led on his hosts of war; + And gathering in the wedge-array all knit them close around. + + Now hath Thymbraeus' battle-blade the huge Osiris found, + And Mnestheus slays Archetius, Achates Epulo, + And Gyas Ufens: yea, the seer Tolumnius lieth low, 460 + He who was first against the foe to hurl the war-shaft out. + The cry goes up unto the heaven; the war-tide turns about, + Dust-cloud of flight the Rutuli raise up across the field: + But he, the King, thinks scorn of it to smite the backs that yield; + Nay, those that meet him foot to foot, the wielders of the spear, + He followeth not: Turnus alone his eyes track everywhere + Amid the dust-cloud, him alone he crieth unto fight. + Hereby Jaturna's manly mind is shaken with affright; + Metiscus, Turnus' charioteer, she plucketh from the rein, + And leaveth him fallen down afar from yoking pole and wain: 470 + But she mounts up, and with her hand the waving bridle guides, + The while Metiscus' voice, and limbs, and war-gear with her bides: + As when amid a lordling's house there flits a swallow black, + On skimming wings she seeks to still her noisy nestlings' lack, + And wandering through the lofty halls but little feast doth get, + Then soundeth through the empty porch, and round the fish-pools wet, + So is Jaturna borne on wheels amidmost of the foe, + And flying on in hurrying chase by everything doth go, + Now here, now there, her brother shows all flushed with victory, + But still refrains him from the press; far o'er the waste they fly. 480 + + No less AEneas picks his way amid the winding road, + Tracking the man, and through the rout cries ever high and loud; + But e'en as oftentimes as he his foeman caught with eye, + And 'gainst the flight of winged steeds his running feet would try, + So oft the speedy wain of war Jaturna turned aside. + Ah, what to do? In vain he went, borne on a shifting tide, + While diverse cares to clashing ways the soul within him drave. + But lo, Messapus, speedy-light, who chanced in hand to have + Two light and limber shafts of tree, each with its iron head, + Now whirling one, a shot well aimed unto the hero sped: 490 + AEnesis stayed, and gathered him behind his shielding-gear, + And sank upon his knee; no less the eager-driven spear + Smote on his helm, and shore away the topmost of his crest + Then verily his wrath arose; by all that guile oppressed, + When he beheld the steeds and car far from his battle borne, + He bade Jove witness, and the hearths of troth-plight wronged and torn: + He breaks at last amidst of them with Mars to help him on, + And fearful speedeth work of death wherein he spareth none, + And casteth every rein aside that held his anger in. + + What God shall tell me all the woe, what God the song shall win 500 + Of shifting death and Dukes undone, and all those many dead, + By Turnus and by him of Troy about the fight-field spread? + O Jupiter, was this thy will, that nations doomed to live + In peace hereafter, on that day in such a broil should strive? + + Rutulian Sucro was the first that Trojan onset stayed; + AEneas met him, and forsooth no long delay he made, + But smote his side, and through his ribs and fencing of the breast + Drave on his bitter naked sword where way was easiest. + + Turnus afoot met Amycus, cast down from off his horse, + His brother, swift Diores, too: the first amidst his course 510 + The long spear smote, the sword the last; the heads of both the twain + He hangeth up and beareth on shedding a bloody rain. + + Talon and Tanais therewith, Cethegus stout to do, + All three at once the Trojan sped, and sad Onytes slew, + Whom to the name of Echion Peridia's womb did yield. + + Then Turnus slew the brethren sent from Phoebus' Lycian field: + Menates, too, of Arcady, who loathed the war in vain; + By fruitful fishy Lerna's flood was once his life and gain, + And unrich house, and nought he knew of mighty men's abode, + And hired for a price of men the earth his father sowed. 520 + + As when two fires, that on a while are sped from diverse ways, + Run through the dry and tinder wood, and crackling twigs of bays; + As when from off the mountain-tops two hurrying rivers speed, + And foaming, roaring, as they rush, drive down to ocean's mead, + And each one wastes his proper road; no slothfuller than these, + AEneas, Turnus, fare afield; swell up the anger-seas + In both their hearts; torn are their breasts that know not how to yield, + In speeding of the wounding-craft their utter might they wield. + + Murranus, as his sires of sires and ancient name he sings, + And boasts his blood come far adown the line of Latin kings, 530 + AEneas, with a mighty rock and whirlwind of a stone, + O'erthrows, and stretches on the earth; the wain-wheels roll him on, + Amid the bridle and the yoke, whom there upon the sward + The hurrying hoofs of horses pound, remembering not their lord. + + Then Hyllus' onset, and his heart with fury all aglow, + Doth Turnus meet; who hurls a shaft against his golden brow, + And through the helm the war-spear flies, and in the brain is stayed. + Thee, Cretheus, bravest of the Greeks, thine hands did nothing aid + To snatch from Turnus. + Nought his Gods did their Cupencus cloak + Against AEneas' rush of war; breast-on he met the stroke, 540 + And nought availed that hapless one the tarrying golden shield. + + Thee also, warring AEolus, did that Laurentine field + See fallen, and cumbering the earth with body laid alow; + Thou diest, whom the Argive hosts might never overthrow, + Nor that Achilles' hand that wrought the Priam's realm its wrack. + Here was thy meted mortal doom; high house 'neath Ida's back, + High house within Lyrnessus' garth, grave in Laurentine lea. + Now all the hosts to fight are turned, and blent in battle's sea, + All Latin folk, all Dardan sons, Mnestheus, Serestus keen, + Messapus tamer of the horse, Asylas fame-beseen, 550 + The Tuscan host, Evander's men, the Arcadian wings of fight, + Each for himself the warriors play, and strive with utter might; + No tarrying, no rest, they strain in contest measureless. + + But now a thought his mother sent AEneas' mind to bless. + That he should wend unto the walls, and townward turn his host, + And blend amid destruction swift the Latin people lost. + For he, now marking Turnus' ways through many a company, + Hither and thither turns his eyes, and sees the city lie + At peace amid the mighty stir, unharmed amid the fight, + And image of a greater war set all his soul alight. 560 + Mnestheus, Sergestus then he calls, Serestus battle-strong, + The Dukes of war; he mounts a knoll; thither the Teucrians throng + In serried ranks, yet lay not by the battle-spear and shield: + So there from off the mound he speaks amidmost of the field: + + "Let none hang back from these my words, for Jove is standing by; + Let none be dull herein because it cometh suddenly: + Today the town, the cause of war, the king Latinus' home, + Unless they cry them craven men, and 'neath the yoke they come, + Will I o'erthrow; the smoking towers upon the ground will lay. + What! must I wait till Turnus grows fain of the battle-play? 570 + And shall he, conquered, take his ease to fight me o'er and o'er? + O fellows, this is head and well of all the wicked war. + Haste with the torches, set we forth the troth with fire to find!" + + He spake; but all they set to work, and striving with one mind + Knit close their ranks, and on the town a world of battle bear: + Unlooked-for ladders are at hand, and sudden fires appear; + While some they run unto the gates, and there the out-guards slay, + Or hurl the spears, and with their cloud dim down the light of day. + AEneas, in the front of men, lifts hand unto the walls, + And in a great and mighty voice guilt on Latinus calls, 580 + And bids the Gods to witness him twice to the battle driven, + Italians twice become his foes, and twice the treaty riven. + But mid the turmoiled city-folk arose the bickering then, + Some bade unbar and open gates unto the Dardan men; + Yea, some unto the walls would drag their very king and lord; + But some bear arms and go their ways the walls of war to ward: + E'en as the shepherd finds the bees shut in, a fenced folk, + In chinky pumice rock, and fills their house with bitter smoke; + But they, all busy-fearful grown within their waxen wall, + Run here and there and whet their wrath with mighty humming call: 590 + The black stink rolleth through their house, and with a murmuring blind + The stony hollows moan: the reek the empty air doth find. + + Here on the weary Latins fell another stroke of fate, + That moved the city deep adown with sorrow sore and great; + For when the Queen from house aloft beheld the foe draw nigh, + The walls beset, the flaming brands unto the house-roofs fly, + And nowhere the Rutulian ranks or Turnus' warring host, + The hapless woman deems the youth in stress of battle lost, + And, all bewildered in her mind by these so sudden woes, + Curses herself for head and spring whence all the evil flows; 600 + And crying many a bitter word, and mad with sorrow grown, + She riveth with her dying hand the queenly purple gown, + And knits the knot of loathly death from lofty beam on high. + But when the wretched Latin wives know all this misery, + Her daughter first, Lavinia, wastes the blossom of her hair, + And wounds her rosy cheeks; then they that stood about her there + Run wild about, and all the house resoundeth with their wail. + Thence through the city flies the sound of that unhappy tale, + And all hearts sink: Latinus goes with raiment rent and torn, + Stunned by his wife's unhappy lot, and city lost and lorn, 610 + And scattering o'er his hoariness defilement of the dust; + And often he upbraids himself that he took not to trust + That Dardan lord, nor willingly had hallowed him his son. + + Meanwhile across the outer plain war-Turnus followeth on + The last few stragglers, duller grown, and less and less his heart + Rejoices in his hurrying steed and their victorious part. + The air bore to him noise of men with doubtful terror blent, + And round about his hearkening ears confused murmur sent; + The noise of that turmoiled town, a sound of nought but woe: + "Ah, me!" he cried, "what mighty grief stirs up the city so? 620 + Why from the walls now goeth up this cry and noise afar?" + + He spake, and, wildered, drew the rein and stayed the battle-car: + His sister met his questioning, as she in seeming clad + Of that Metiscus, all the rule of battle-chariot had, + And steeds and bridle: + "Hereaway, O Turnus, drive we on + The sons of Troy; where victory shows a road that may be won: + For other hands there are, belike, the houses to defend. + AEneas falls on Italy, and there doth battle blend; + So let our hands give cruel death to Teucrian men this day, + No less in tale: so shalt thou hold thine honour in the fray." 630 + + But Turnus sayeth thereunto: + "Sister, I knew thee long ago, when first by art and craft + Thou brok'st the troth-plight, and therewith amidst the battle went; + And now thou hidest God in vain. But whose will thee hath sent + From high Olympus' house to bear such troubles, and so great? + Was it to see thy brother's end and most unhappy fate? + For what do I? What heal is left in aught that may befall? + Mine eyes beheld Murranus die, on me I heard him call: + No dearer man in all the world is left me for a friend: + Woe's me I that mighty man of men a mighty death must end. 640 + Ufens is dead, unhappy too lest he our shame behold; + E'en as I speak the Teucrians ward his arms and body cold. + And now--the one shame wanting yet--shall I stand deedless by + Their houses' wrack, nor let my sword cast back that Drances' lie? + Shall I give back, and shall this land see craven Turnus fled? + Is death, then, such a misery? O rulers of the dead, + Be kind! since now the high God's heart is turned away from me; + A hallowed soul I go adown, guiltless of infamy, + Not all unworthy of the great, my sires of long ago." + + Scarce had he said when, here behold, from midmost of the foe, 650 + Comes Saces on his foaming steed, an arrow in his face, + Who, crying prayers on Turnus' name, onrusheth to the place: + "Turnus, in thee our last hope lies! pity thy wretched folk! + AEneas thundereth battle there, and threateneth with his stroke + The overthrow of tower and town, and wrack of Italy. + The flames are flying toward the roofs; all mouths of Latins cry + On thee; all eyes are turned to thee: yea, the king wavereth there, + Whom shall he call his son-in-law, to whom for friendship fare. + The Queen to wit, thy faithfullest, is dead by her own hand, + And, fearful of the things to come, hath left the daylight land. 660 + Messapus and Atinas keen alone upbear our might + Before the gates: round each of them are gathered hosts of fight + Thick-thronging, and a harvest-tide that bristles with the sword; + While here thou wendest car about the man-deserted sward." + + Bewildered then with images of diverse things he stood + In silent stare; and in his heart upswelled a mighty flood + Of mingled shame and maddening grief: the Furies goaded sore + With bitter love and valour tried and known from time of yore. + But when the cloud was shaken off and light relit his soul, + His burning eyeballs toward the town, fierce-hearted, did he roll, 670 + And from the wheels of war looked back unto the mighty town; + And lo, behold, a wave of flame into a tongue-shape grown + Licked round a tower, and 'twixt its floors rolled upward unto heaven: + A tower that he himself had reared with timbers closely driven, + And set beneath it rolling-gear, and dight the bridges high. + + "Now, sister, now the Fates prevail! no more for tarrying try. + Nay, let us follow where the God, where hard Fate calleth me! + Doomed am I to AEneas' hand; doomed, howso sore it be, + To die the death; ah, sister, now thou seest me shamed no more: + Now let me wear the fury through ere yet my time is o'er." 680 + + He spake, and from the chariot leapt adown upon the mead, + And left his sister lone in grief amidst the foe to speed, + Amidst the spears, and breaketh through the midmost press of fight, + E'en as a headlong stone sweeps down from off the mountain-height, + Torn by the wind; or drifting rain hath washed it from its hold, + Or loosed, maybe, it slippeth down because the years grow old: + Wild o'er the cliffs with mighty leap goes down that world of stone, + And bounds o'er earth, and woods and herds and men-folk rolleth on + Amidst its wrack: so Turnus through the broken battle broke + Unto the very city-walls, where earth was all a-soak 690 + With plenteous blood, and air beset with whistling of the shafts; + There with his hand he maketh sign, and mighty speech he wafts: + + "Forbear, Rutulians! Latin men, withhold the points of fight! + Whatever haps, the hap is mine; I, I alone, of right + Should cleanse you of the broken troth, and doom of sword-edge face." + + So from the midst all men depart, and leave an empty space; + But now the Father AEneas hath hearkened Turnus' name, + And backward from the walls of war and those high towers he came. + He casts away all tarrying, sets every deed aside, + And thundering in his battle-gear rejoicing doth he stride: 700 + As Athos great, as Eryx great, great as when roaring goes + Amid the quaking oaken woods and glory lights the snows, + And Father Apennine uprears his head amidst the skies. + Then Trojan and Rutulian men turn thither all their eyes, + And all the folk of Italy, and they that hold the wall, + And they that drive against its feet the battering engines' fall + All men do off their armour then. Amazed Latinus stands + To see two mighty heroes, born in such wide-sundered lands, + Meet thus to try what deed of doom in meeting swords may be. + + But they, when empty space is cleared amid the open lea, 710 + Set each on each in speedy wise, and with their war-spears hurled + Amid the clash of shield and brass break into Mavors' world; + Then groaneth earth; then comes the hail of sword-strokes thick and fast, + And in one blended tangle now are luck and valour cast: + As when on mighty Sila's side, or on Taburnus height, + Two bulls with pushing horny brows are mingled in the fight: + The frighted herdsmen draw aback, and all the beasts are dumb + For utter fear; the heifers too misdoubt them what shall come, + Who shall be master of the grove and leader of the flock; + But each on each they mingle wounds with fearful might of shock, 720 + And gore and push home fencing horns, and with abundant blood + Bathe neck and shoulder, till the noise goes bellowing through the wood; + E'en so AEneas out of Troy, and he, the Daunian man, + Smite shield on shield; and mighty clash through all the heavens there ran. + 'Tis Jupiter who holds the scales 'twixt even-poised tongue; + There in the balance needfully their sundered fates he hung, + Which one the battle-pain shall doom, in which the death shall lie. + + Now Turnus deems him safe, and forth with sword upreared on high, + He springs, and all his body strains, and rises to the stroke, + And smites: the Trojans cry aloud, and eager Latin folk, 730 + And both hosts hang 'twixt hope and fear: but lo, the treacherous sword + Breaks in the middle of the blow and leaves its fiery lord:-- + And if the flight shall fail him now!--Swift as the East he flees + When in his right hand weaponless an unknown hilt he sees. + + They say, that when all eager-hot he clomb his yoked car + In first of fight, that then he left his father's blade of war, + And caught in hand his charioteer Metiscus' battle-glaive; + And that was well while Trojan fleers backs to the smiting gave, + But when they meet Vulcanian arms, the very God's device, + Then shivereth all the mortal blade e'en as the foolish ice; 740 + And there upon the yellow sand the glittering splinters lie. + + So diversely about the field doth wildered Turnus fly, + And here and there in winding ways he doubleth up and down, + For thick all round about the lists was drawn the Teucrian crown: + By wide marsh here, by high walls there, his fleeing was begirt. + + Nor less AEneas, howsoe'er, hampered by arrow-hurt, + His knees might hinder him at whiles and fail him as he ran, + Yet foot for foot all eagerly followed the hurrying man; + As when a hound hath caught a hart hemmed by the river's ring, + Or hedged about by empty fear of crimson-feathered string, 750 + And swift of foot and baying loud goes following up the flight; + But he, all fearful of the snare and of the flood-bank's height, + Doubles and turns a thousand ways, while open-mouthed and staunch + The Umbrian keen sticks hard at heel, and now, now hath his haunch, + Snapping his jaws as though he gripped, and, mocked, but biteth air. + Then verily the cry arose; the bank, the spreading mere, + Rang back about, and tumult huge ran shattering through the sky. + But Turnus as he fled cried out on all his Rutuli, + And, calling each man by his name, craved his familiar blade. + Meanwhile AEneas threateneth death if any come to aid, 760 + And swift destruction: and their souls with fearful threats doth fill + Of city ruined root and branch; and, halting, followeth still. + Five rings of flight their running fills, and back the like they wend: + Nought light nor gamesome is the prize for which their feet contend, + For there they strive in running-game for Turnus' life and blood. + + By hap hard by an olive wild of bitter leaves there stood, + Hallowed to Faunus, while agone a most well-worshipped tree, + Whereon to that Laurentian God the sailors saved from sea + Would set their gifts, and hang therefrom their garments vowed at need. + But now the Teucrian men of late had lopped with little heed 770 + That holy stem, that they might make the lists of battle clear: + And there AEneas' war-spear stood; his might had driven it there, + And held it now, set hard and fast in stubborn root and stout: + The Dardan son bent o'er it now to pluck the weapon out, + That he might follow him with shot whom running might not take. + But Turnus, wildered with his fear, cried out aloud and spake: + + "O Faunus, pity me, I pray! and thou, O kindest Earth, + Hold thou the steel for me, who still have worshipped well thy worth, + Which ever those AEnean folk with battle would profane!" + + He spake, and called the God to aid with vows not made in vain; 780 + For o'er the tough tree tarrying long, struggling with utter might, + No whit AEneas could undo the gripping woody bite. + But while he struggleth hot and hard, and hangeth o'er the spear, + Again the Daunian Goddess, clad in shape of charioteer + Metiscus, Turnus' trusty sword unto his hand doth speed. + But Venus, wrathful that the Nymph might dare so bold a deed, + Came nigh, and from the deep-set root the shaft of battle drew. + So they, high-hearted, stored with hope and battle-gear anew, + One trusting in his sword, and one fierce with his spear on high, + Stand face to face, the glorious game of panting Mars to try. 790 + + Meanwhile the King of Heaven the great thus unto Juno saith, + As from a ruddy cloud she looked upon the game of death: + "What then shall end it, O my wife? what deed is left thine hand? + That Heaven shall gain AEneas yet, a Godhead of the land, + That Fate shall bear him to the stars thou know'st and hast allowed: + What dost thou then, or hoping what hang'st thou in chilly cloud? + What! was it right that mortal wound a God's own flesh should wrong? + Right to give Turnus--but for thee how was Juturna strong?-- + The sword he lost? or vanquished men, to give their might increase? + I prithee yield unto my prayers, and from thy troubling cease. 800 + Let not thine hushed grief eat thine heart, or bitter words of care + So often from thy sweetest mouth the soul within me wear. + The goal is reached: thou hast availed o'er earth and sea to drive + The Trojan men; to strike the spark of wicked war alive; + To foul their house, and woe and grief mid wedding-feast to bear, + And now I bid thee hold thine hand." + Thuswise said Jupiter, + And with a downcast countenance spake that Satumian Queen: + "Well have I known, great Jupiter, all that thy will hath been, + And Turnus and the worldly land loth have I left alone, + Else nowise should'st thou see me bear, sole on this airy throne, 810 + Things meet and unmeet: flame-begirt the war-ranks would I gain, + And drag the host of Trojans on to battle and their bane. + Juturna!--yes, I pitied her, and bade her help to bear + Unto her brother; good, methought, for life great things to dare; + But nought I bade her to the shaft or bending of the bow, + This swear I by the ruthless well, the Stygian overflow, + The only holy thing there is that weighs on Godhead's oath. + And now indeed I yield the place, and leave the fight I loathe. + But one thing yet I ask of thee, held in no fateful yoke; + For Latium's sake I pray therefore, and glory of thy folk: 820 + When they at last--so be it now!--pledge peace mid bridal kind, + When they at last join law to law, and loving treaty bind, + Let them not change their ancient name, those earth-born Latin men, + Nor turn them into Trojan folk, or call them Teucrians then: + Let not that manfolk shift their tongue, or cast their garb aside; + Let Latium and the Alban kings through many an age abide, + And cherish thou the Roman stem with worth of Italy: + Troy-town is dead: Troy and its name for ever let them die!" + + The Fashioner of men and things spake, smiling in her face: + "Yea, Jove's own sister; second branch forsooth, of Saturn's race! 830 + Such are the mighty floods of wrath thou rollest in thy breast. + But this thine anger born for nought, I prithee let it rest: + I give thine asking; conquered now I yield me, and am glad: + The Ausonian men shall keep the tongue and ways their fathers had, + And as their name is shall it be: only in body blent + Amidst them shall the Teucrians sink; from me shall rites be sent, + And holy things, and they shall be all Latins of one tongue. + Hence shalt thou see a blended race from blood Ausonian sprung, + Whose godliness shall outgo men, outgo the Gods above; + Nor any folk of all the world so well thy worth shall love." 840 + + So gladdened Juno's heart was turned, and yea-saying she bowed, + And so departed from the sky and left her watching-cloud. + + Another thing the Father now within him turneth o'er, + What wise Juturna he shall part from her lost brother's war: + Two horrors are there that are called the Dreadful Ones by name, + Whom with Megaera of the Pit at one birth and the same + Untimely Night brought forth of yore, and round about them twined + Like coils of serpents, giving them great wings to hold the wind: + About Jove's throne, and close anigh the Stern King's threshold-stead, + Do these attend, in sick-heart men to whet the mortal dread, 850 + Whenso the King-God fashions forth fell death and dire disease, + Or smites the guilty cities doomed with battle miseries. + Now one of these sent Jupiter swift from the heavenly place, + And bade her for a sign of doom to cross Juturna's face. + So borne upon a whirl of wind to earth the swift one flies, + E'en as an arrow from the string is driven amid the skies, + Which headed with the venom fell a Parthian man hath shot,-- + Parthian, Cydonian, it may be,--the hurt that healeth not; + Its hidden whirring sweepeth through the drifting misty flow: + So fared the Daughter of the Night, and sought the earth below. 860 + + But when she saw the Ilian hosts and Turnus' battle-rank, + Then sudden into puny shape her body huge she shrank, + A fowl that sits on sepulchres, and desert roofs alone + In the dead night, and through the mirk singeth her ceaseless moan; + In such a shape this bane of men met Turnus' face in field, + And, screeching, hovered to and fro, and flapped upon his shield: + Strange heaviness his body seized, consuming him with dread, + His hair stood up, and in his jaws his voice lay hushed and dead. + + But when afar Juturna knew the Dread One's whirring wings, + The hapless sister tears her hair and loose its tresses flings, 870 + Fouling her face with tearing nails, her breast with beat of hand. + + "How may my help, O Turnus, now beside my brother stand? + How may I harden me 'gainst this? by what craft shall I stay + Thy light of life? how cast myself in such a monster's way? + Now, now I leave the battle-field; fright not the filled with fear, + O birds of ill! full well I know your flapping wings in air, + And baneful sound. Thy mastering will I know it holdeth good, + O Jove the great!--was this the gift thou gav'st for maidenhood? + Why give me everlasting life, and death-doom take away? + O, but for that my sorrows sore now surely might I slay, 880 + And wend beside my brother now amid the nether Night. + Am I undying? ah, can aught of all my good delight + Without thee, O my brother lost! O Earth, gape wide and well, + And let a Goddess sink adown into the deeps of hell!" + + So much she said, and wrapped her round with mantle dusky-grey, + And, groaning sore, she hid herself within the watery way. + + But forth AEneas goes, and high his spear he brandisheth, + A mighty tree, and from his heart grown fell a word he saith: + "And wherewith wilt thou tarry me? hangs Turnus back again? + No foot-strife but the armed hand must doom betwixt us twain. 890 + Yea, turn thyself to every shape, and, gathering everything + Wherewith thine heart, thy craft is strong, go soaring on the wing, + And chase the stars; or deep adown in hollow earth lie stored." + + But Turnus shakes his head and saith: "'Tis not thy bitter word + That frights me, fierce one; but the Gods, but Jove my foeman grown." + + No more he said, but, looking round, espied a weighty stone, + An ancient mighty rock indeed, that lay upon the lea, + Set for a landmark, judge and end of acre-strife to be, + Which scarce twice six of chosen men upon their backs might raise, + Of bodies such as earth brings forth amid the latter days: 900 + But this in hurrying hand he caught, and rising to the cast, + He hurled it forth against the foe, and followed on it fast; + Yet while he raised the mighty stone, and flung it to its fall. + Knew nought that he was running there, or that he moved at all: + Totter his knees, his chilly blood freezes with deadly frost, + And e'en the hero-gathered stone, through desert distance tossed, + O'ercame not all the space betwixt, nor home its blow might bring: + E'en as in dreaming-tide of night, when sleep, the heavy thing, + Weighs on the eyes, and all for nought we seem so helpless-fain + Of eager speed, and faint and fail amidmost of the strain; 910 + The tongue avails not; all our limbs of their familiar skill + Are cheated; neither voice nor words may follow from our will: + So Turnus, by whatever might he strives to win a way, + The Dread One bans his hope; strange thoughts about his heart-strings play; + He stareth on his Rutuli, and on the Latin town + Lingering for dread, trembling to meet the spear this instant thrown: + No road he hath to flee, no might against the foe to bear; + Nowhither may he see his car, or sister charioteer. + + AEneas, as he lingereth there, shaketh the fateful shaft, + And, following up its fate with eyes, afar the steel doth waft 920 + With all the might his body hath: no stone the wall-sling bears + E'er roars so loud: no thunderclap with such a crashing tears + Amid the heaven: on flew the spear, huge as the whirlwind black, + And speeding on the dreadful death: it brings to utter wrack + The hauberk's skirt and outer rim of that seven-folded shield, + And goeth grating through the thigh: then falleth unto field + Huge Turnus, with his hampered knee twi-folded with the wound: + Then with a groan the Rutuli rise up, and all around + Roar back the hill-sides, and afar the groves cast back the cry: + But he, downcast and suppliant saith, with praying hand and eye: 930 + + "Due doom it is; I pray no ruth; use what hath chanced to fall. + Yet, if a wretched father's woe may touch thine heart at all, + I pray thee--since Anchises once was even such to thee,-- + Pity my father Daunus' eld, and send me, or, maybe, + My body stripped of light and life, back to my kin and land. + Thou, thou hast conquered: Italy has seen my craven hand + Stretched forth to pray a grace of thee; Lavinia is thy wife: + Strain not thine hatred further now!" + Fierce in the gear of strife + AEneas stood with rolling eyes, and held back hand and sword, 939 + And more and more his wavering heart was softening 'neath the word-- + When lo, upon the shoulder showed that hapless thong of war! + Lo, glittering with familiar boss the belt child Pallas bore, + Whom Turnus with a wound overcame and laid on earth alow, + And on his body bore thenceforth those ensigns of his foe. + + But he, when he awhile had glared upon that spoil of fight, + That monument of bitter grief, with utter wrath alight, + Cried terrible: + "And shalt thou, clad in my beloved one's prey, + Be snatched from me?--Tis Pallas yet, 'tis Pallas thus doth slay, + And taketh of thy guilty blood atonement for his death!" + + Deep in that breast he driveth sword e'en as the word he saith: 950 + But Turnus,--waxen cold and spent, the body of him lies, + And with a groan through dusk and dark the scornful spirit flies. + + +THE END. + + + + Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co. + Edinburgh & London + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The AEneids of Virgil, by Virgil + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL *** + +***** This file should be named 29358.txt or 29358.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/5/29358/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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