VIRGIL
WORKS
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UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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THE

Box, May 31 J
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
TRANSLATED BY
JOHN DRYDEN.
NEW YORK:
JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER,
1883.
878
V9
t D8
03
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
Et meæ, si quid loquar audiendum
Vocis accedet bona pars.-Horace.
T
write the life of a man who flourished two thousand
years before us, and in a distant country, when ages
of barbarity and ignorance have intervened, can be no very
easy or pleasing task to the biographer. Facts containing
novelty and importance cannot be supposed, at this remote
period, to be procured, or those that are already in our pos-
session authenticated. To collect, therefore, the most prob-
able incidents from former works, and to satisfy the curi-
osity of the uninformed, has been the principal aim of the
writer of this sketch; while, by an unremitting attention to
classical information, he has endeavored to render it amus-
ing to the scholar and instructive to the illiterate.
MANTUA, the capital of new Etruria, itself built three cen-
turies before Rome, had the honor of giving birth to Publius
Virgilius Maro. This great event happened on or near the
15th of October, seventy years B.C., or during the first con-
sulship of Pompey the Great and Licinius Crassus. Who
his father was, and even to what country he belonged, has
been disputed by the greatest writers of which literature has
to boast. Some assert that he was a potter of Andes; but
the most probable account is, that he was either a wander-
ing astrologer, who practised physic, or a servant to one uf
this learned fraternity. It is observed by Juvenal, that
medicus, magus, usually went together, and that his course
of life was principally followed by the Greeks and Syrians;
to one of these nations, therefore, it is presumed, Virgil
owes his birth. His mother, Maia, was indubitably of good
extraction, being nearly related to Quinctilius Varus, of
whom honorable mention is made in the history of the sec.
ond Carthaginian war. In the life of Virgil, generally as-
262674
4
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
"
cribed to Donatus, it is related, that this woman had certain
dreams and presages, which the physician, recurring to his
powers as an astrologer, endeavored to elucidate; but the
fact, in all probability, was, that being herself a woman of
superior understanding and moreover captivated by the
sweet disposition and early indication of transcendant
genius in her son, she took this method of working on the
credulity of her husband, and inclining him, as if directed
by the Fates, to give Virgil that education to which her rank
and his talents so justly entitled him. Accordingly, he
passed the initia ætatis" at Mantua, thence he removed to
Cremona, and afterwards to Milan. In all these places he
prosecuted his studies with the most diligent application, as-
sociating with the eminent professors of every department
of science, and devoting whole nights to the study of the best
Latin and Greek authors in the latter he was greatly assisted
by his proximity to Marseilles, the only Greek colony that
maintained its refinement and purity of language amidst the
overwhelming influence of all the barbarous nations that
surrounded it. At first, he devoted himself to the Epicurean
philosophy, but receiving no satisfactory reasons for its
tenets from his master, the celebrated Syro, he passed over
to the academic school, when physic and mathematics be-
came his favorite sciences, and these he continued to culti
vate, at leisure moments, during his whole life.
Me
At Milan he composed a great number of verses, on vari-
ous subjects, and in the warmth of early youth, framed a
noble design of writing a Heroic Poem, On the Wars of
Rome; but, after some attempts, was discouraged from pro-
ceeding by the abruptness and asperity of the old Roman
names, And here, it is said, he formed the plan, and col-
lected the materials, of all those pieces which were to assist
in the civilization of his countrymen, and contest the palm
of excellence with the compositions of the greatest poet the
world had produced. Some of these he had even begun, but
a too intense application to his studies, together with absti-
nence and night watching, had so impaired his health, that an
immediate removal to a more southern part of Italy was
deemed absolutely necessary for the preservation of his ex-
istence. Virgil fixed upon Naples, and, visiting Rome in his
way, had the honor, through the interest of his kinsman and
fellow-student, Varus, of being introduced to Octavius, who
received him with the greatest marks of esteemn, and earn-
estly recommended his affairs to the protection of Pollio,
then lieutenant of Cisalpine Gaul, where Virgil's patrimony
lay, and who generously undertook to settle his domestic
concerns. Having this assurance, he pursued his journey
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
5
to Naples. The charming situation, the salubrity of the air,
and the constant society of the greatest and most learned
men of the time, who resorted to this place, not only re-
established his health, but contributed to the formation of
that style and happy turn of verse in which he surpasses all
his contemporaries, and, in less advantageous language,
equals even Homer himself.
It is singular that Virgil, deservedly called the prince of
Latin poets, proposed only to employ this particular talent
in the amassing of such wealth as might enable him to pros-
ecute, with less interruption, those nobler studies to which
his elevated genius inclined him, and which he describes in
these admirable lines:
Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ,
Quarum sacra fero ingenti percussus amore,
Accipiant; cœlique visa, et sidera, monstrent,
Defectas, solis varios, Lunæque labores;
Unde tremor terris, etc.
But to rank among the poets of their country, was, at
this time, the ambition of their greatest heroes, statesmen,
and orators of the age. Cicero, Octavius, Pollio, Julius
Cæsar, and even the stoical Brutus, had been carried away
by the impetuosity of the stream; but that genius which had
never deserted them in the Forum, or on the day of battle,
shrunk dismayed at a comparison with the lofty muse of
Virgil and, although they endeavored, by placing their
poems in the celebrated libraries, to hand them down un-
impaired to posterity, scarcely a single verse of these illus-
trious authors survived the age in which they lived. This
preponderance of fashion, however, was extremely favorable
to Virgil; as he had for some time devoted himself to the
study of the law, and even pleaded one cause, with indifferent
success, he now altogether abandoned the profession, and
resumed with increased ardor the cultivation of that talent
for which he afterwards became so eminently distinguished.
Captivated at an early age by the pastorals of Theocritus,
he was ambitious of being the primitive introducer of that
enchanting species of poetry among the Romans. His first
performance in this way, entitled Alexis, is supposed to
have appeared U.c. 709, when the poet was in his twenty-
fifth year. Palamon, which is a close imitation of the fourth
and fifth Idylls of Theocritus, was probably his second;
but as this period of the life of Virgil is enveloped in a con-
siderable degree of obscurity, and few writers on the subject
having condescended to notice such trifling particulars as
chronological arrangement, etc., little more than surmise
can be offered to satisfy the researches of the curious.
6
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
•
The fifth Eclogue of Virgil is composed in allusion to the
death and deification of Cæsar, and is supposed by Mr.
Wharton, whose profound erudition undoubtedly rendered
him competent to decide, to have been written subsequently
to Silenus, his sixth Eclogue. This is said to have been.
publicly recited on the stage, by the comedian Cytheris, and
to have procured its author that celebrity and applause
which the peculiar beauty and sweetness of the poem so
justly merited.
The fatal battle of Philippi, U.C. 712, in which Augustus
and Antony were victorious, at once annihilated every
shadow of liberty in the commonwealth. Those veteran
legions, who had conquered the world, fought no more for
the dearest rights of their country; but at one time were its
protectors, and at another its ravagers. As the amor patriæ
no longer inspired thein, the treasury of the Roman Empire
proved inadequate to allay their boundless thirst for wealth;
Augustus, therefore, to silence their clamors, distributed
among them the flourishing colony of Cremona, and to make
up the deficiency, added part of the state of Mantua. ´In
vain, as Appian relates, did the miserable mothers, with
famishing infants at their breasts, fill the Forum with their
numbers and the air with their lamentations; in vain did
the inhabitants complain of being driven like vanquished en-
emies from their native homes; such scenes are familiar to
the conquerors in a civil war; and those legions, who had
sacrificed their own and country's liberty, must be recom-
pensed at the expense of justice and the happiness of thou-
sands. Virgil, involved in the common calamity, had re-
course to his old patrons, Pollio and Mæcenas, and, sup-
ported by them, petitioned Augustus, not only for the pos-
session of his own property, but for the reinstatement of his
countrymen in theirs also; which, after some hesitation,
was denied, accompanied by a grant for the restitution of
his individual estate.
Full of gratitude for such distinguished favor, Virgil com-
posed his Tityrus, in which he has introduced one shepherd
complaining of the destruction of his farm, the anarchy and
confusion of the times; and another, rejoicing that he can
again tune his reed to love amidst his flocks; promising to
honor, as a superior being, the restorer of his happiness.
Deus nobis hæc otia fecit.
Namque erat ille mihi semper Deus ; * illius aram
Sæpe tener nostris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus.
* Deus was used among the Romans for any superior Being or Genius, and
metaphorically for any emperor, great man, or patron; differing consider-
ably from the meaning of the word God in English. Thus Cicero, speak-
LIFE OF VIRGIL. ·
7
Unfortunately for Virgil, his joy was not of long continu-
ance, for on arriving at Mantua and producing his warrant
to Arrias, a captain of foot, whom he found in possession of
his house, the old soldier was so enraged at what he termed
the presumption of a poet, that he wounded him dangerously
with his sword, and would certainly have killed him, had he
not escaped by swimming hastily over the Mincius. Virgil
was therefore compelled to return half the length of Italy,
with a body reduced by sickness, and a mind depressed by
disappointment, again to petition Augustus for the restora-
tion of his estate. During this journey, which from the
nature of his wound was extremely slow, he is supposed to
have written his Moeris, or ninth Eclogue, and this conjec-
ture is rendered more probable by the disjointed matter, and
continual want of connection, perceivable through the whole
composition; displaying evidently the disorder at that time
predominant in the poet's mind. However, on his arrival
at Rome, he had the satisfaction to find that effectual orders
had been given, and the farm resigned into the hands of his
procurator or bailiff, to whom the above pastoral is ad-
dressed.
The Sibylline Oracles having received information from
the Jews that a child was to be born, who should be the
Saviour of the world, and to whom nations and empires
should bow with submission, pretended to foretell that this
event would occur in the year of Rome 714, after the peace
concluded between Augustus and Antony. Virgil, viewing
this prophecy with the vivid imagination of a poet, and will-
ing to flatter the ambition of his patron, composed his cele-
brated Eclogue, entitled Pollio, in which he supposes the
child, who was thus to unite mankind and restore the golden
age, to be the infant with which Octavia, wife to Antony,
and half sister to Augustus, was then pregnant by her
former husband Marcellus. In this production the consul
Pollio, Octavia, and even the unborn infant, are flattered
with his usual delicacy; and the rival Triumviri, though a
short time before in open hostility, have the honor of
equally sharing the poet's applause.
While Pollio, who seems to have been the most accom-
plished man of his age, and is celebrated as a poet, soldier,
ing of Plato, says, "Deus ille noster;" and Lucretius, "Deus ille fuit
Deus inclyte Memmi," of Epicurus; and Silius Italicus (lib. xiii. 784) calls
Virgil himself a god. It appears, therefore, from these examples, that the
poet might very well dify Augustus; but when he adds farther, that
he will frequently sacrifice to him at his altar," it must be considered as
poetical license, and the effervescence of gratitude; for the Romans, as a
nation, did not elevate Augustus to the rank of Deus till at least five
years after Virgil had written this, or U.C. 719.
1
8
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
orator, and historian, was engaged in an expedition against
the Parthini, whom he subdued, Virgil addressed to him his
Pharmaceutria, one of the most beautiful of all his Eclogues,
and in imitation of a poem of the same name by his favorite
author, Theocritus. This production is the more valuable,
as it has handed down to posterity the superstitious rites of
the Romans and the Heathen notions of enchantment.
Virgil himself seems to have been conscious of the beauty
of his subject, and the dignity of the person whom he was
addressing, and accordingly has given us, by the fertility of
his genius and the brilliancy of his imagination, some of the
most sublime images that are to be found in any of the
writings of antiquity.
By the advice, and at the earnest entreaty of Augustus,
Virgil, in his thirty-fourth year, retired to Naples, and laid
the plan of his inimitable Georgics: a design as new in Lat-
in verse, as pastorals, before his, were in Italy. These he
undertook for the interest, and to promote the welfare of his
country. As the continual civil wars had entirely depopu-
lated and laid waste the land usually appropriated for culti-
vation, the peasants turned soldiers, and their farms a
scene of desolation, famine and insurrection were the in-
evitable consequences that followed so overwhelming a
calamity. Augustus therefore resolved to revive the de-
cayed spirit of husbandry, and began by employing Virgil
to recommend it with all the insinuating charms of poetry.
This work took up seven of the most vigorous years of his
life, and fully answered the expectation of his generous pa-
tron. The Georgics must be allowed to contain all those
masterly beauties which might be expected from an exalted
genius, whose judgment and imagination were in full ma-
turity, and who had leisure to give the last polish and per-
fection to a work so exquisitely conceived. In the intro-
duction to the third Georgic he hints at his projection of the
Æneis, and by one of the finest allegories in ancient poetry,
has expressed an intention of erecting a monument,
lasting than brass," in honor of Augustus.
Et viridi in campo templum de marmore ponam
Propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat
Mincius, et tenera prætexit arundine ripas.
In medio mihi Cæsar erit, templumque tenebit.
"
more
After this, he takes advantage of the noblest privilege of
his art, and breaks away in a fit of prophetic enthusiasm,
predicting success in his intended enterprise, and, under the
imagery of an ancient triumph, delineates the future glories
of his magnificent design.
Augustus, having conquered his rival, Antony, gave the
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
9
last wound to expiring liberty by usurping the exclusive
government of the Roman Empire. To reconcile a nation
to this, naturally jealous of its freedom, seems to have been
the grand object of Virgil in his Æneid.
This noble poem,
which equals the Iliad of Homer and the sacred effusions
of Milton, was begun in the forty-fifth year of the author's
life, and has always been considered as the most perfect
political composition that ever appeared. Not an incident
that could in any way tend to flatter the Roman people into
`a submission to the existing government has escaped his
penetrating judgment. He traces their origin to the Tro-
jans, and makes Augustus a lineal descendant of Eneas. At
the command of the gods they obey him, and in return are
promised the empire of the world. So anxious was Augus-
tus for the result of this poem, that he insisted on hearing
part of it read, long before the whole was completed: grati-
tude, after threats and entreaties had been used in vain, at
length induced its author to comply; and knowing Octavia,
who had just lost her son Marcellus, would be present, Vir-
gil fixed upon the sixth book, and perhaps the finest part of
the whole Æneid. His illustrious auditors listened with all
the attention which such interesting narrative and eloquent
recital demanded, till he came to that beautiful lamentation
for the death of young Marcellus, beginning with
O nate, ingentum luctum ne quære tuorum;
and where, after exhausting panegyric, he has artfully sup-
pressed the name of its object, till the concluding verse.
Tu Marcellus eris.
At these words, Octavia, overcome with surprise and sorrow,
fainted away; but, on recovering, was so highly gratified
at having her son thus immortalized that she presented the
poet with ten. sesterces for each line, amounting in the whole
to upwards of two thousand pounds sterling. Having at
length brought his Æneid to a conclusion, Virgil proposed
travelling into Greece, and devoting three years to the cor-
rection and improvement of his favorite work. It was dur-
ing his absence on this occasion that Horace addressed to
him that affectionate ode,
Sic te Diva potens Cypri,
Sic Fratres Hellenæ, lucida sidera,
Ventorumque regat pater,
Obstrictis aliis, præter Iapyga.
Navis, quæ tibi creditum
Debes Virgilium, finibus Atticis,
Reddas incolumem, precor;
Et serves animæ dimidium mea.
IO
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
Virgil, having arrived at Athens, met with Augustus, who
was returning from a victorious expedition to the East, and
who requested the company of the poet back to Italy. The
latter deemed it his duty to comply; but being desirous of
seeing as many of the Grecian antiquities as the time would
admit of, went for that purpose to Megara, where he was
seized with a dangerous illness (languorem nactus est), which,
from neglect and the agitation of the vessel in returning to
Italy, proved mortal at Brundusium, on the twenty-second.
of September, U.C. 735, when he had nearly completed his
fifty-second year. Virgil died with the greatest tranquillity;
and his remains, being carried to Naples, were interred in a
monument erected at a small distance from the city; where
it is still shown, with the following inscription, said to have
been dictated by him on his death-bed:
Mantua me genuit; Calabri rapuere; tenet nunc
Parthenope: cecini Pascus, Rura, Duces.
In his will he had ordered that the Eneid should be burnt,
not having finished it to his mind; but Augustus wisely for-
bade the destruction of a performance which will perpetuate
his name forever, and which has proved him to be a de-
scendant of the gods. It was therefore delivered to Varius
and Tucca, Virgil's intimate friends, with the strictest charge
to make no additions, but merely to publish it correctly in
the state it then was.
In person Virgil was tall and wide shouldered, of a dark
swarthy complexion, which probably proceeded from the
southern extraction of his father. His constitution was deli-
cate, and the most trifling fatigue, either from exercise or
study, produced violent headache and spitting of blood. In
temper he was melancholy and thoughtful, loving retirement
and contemplation. Though one of the greatest geniuses of
his age, and the admiration of the Romans, he always pre-
served a singular modesty, and lived chaste, when the man-
ners of the people were extremely corrupt. His character
was so benevolent and inoffensive that most of his contempo-
rary poets, though they envied each other, agreed in loving
and esteeming him. He was bashful to a degree of timidity ;
his aspect and behavior rustic and ungraceful; yet was so
honored by his countrymen, that once coming into the theatre,
the whole audience rose out of respect to him. His fortune
was large, supposed to be about seventy thousand pounds of
our money, besides which he possessed a noble mansion
and well-furnished library on the Esquiline Mount at Rome,
and an elegant villa in Sicily. Both these last he left to
Mæcenas at his death, together with a considerable propor-
LIFE OF VIRGIL.
11
}
tion of his personal property; the remainder he divided be-
tween his relations and Augustus, the latter having intro
duced a politic fashion of being in everybody's will, which
alone produced a sufficient revenue for a prince in those
days.
So much has been written on the poems of Virgil, both by
ancient and modern authors; so many ingenious panegyrics
have appeared on the splendor of his diction and the extent
of his genius, that it would be little less than presumption
to add any thing farther in his praise. On the following
translation, as indeed on every work of merit, there has ex-
isted a variety of opinions; several writers have gone so
far as to attempt a new version of the Roman poet; but if
we except a single instance, it may be fairly asserted, that
they have uniformly failed, and even the laborious produc-
tion of Mr. Pitt, corrected by the erudite Wharton, is greatly
inferior, both in spirit and elevation of style, to the excellent
translation by Mr. Dryden. Notwithstanding the difficulty
of rendering a celebrated Latin poem, with the splendor
and energy of the original, into a language so deficient in
harmony as the English, Mr. Dryden has so far succeeded
as to hand down to posterity, in the opinion of that great
poet and critic Mr. Pope, the most noble and spirited trans-
lation of Virgil that ever appeared in any language. It
has survived the repeated attacks of talent and malignity ;
and it must be allowed, that as long as a regard for super-
eminent merit and admiration of the illustrious Roman
author shall exist, it will continue to be considered, by every
man of real taste, an ornament to poetical composition and
an honor to British genius.
G. D.
THE
WORKS OF VIRGIL.
PASTORAL I.;
or,
TITYRUS AND MELIBUS.
ARGUMENT.
The occasion of the first pastoral was this. When Augustus had settled
himself in the Roman Empire, that he might reward his veteran troops
for their past service, he distributed among them all the lands that lay
about Cremona and Mantua; turning out the right owners for having
sided with his enemies. Virgil was a sufferer among the rest who after-
wards recovered his estate by Mecenas' intercession, and, as an instance
of his gratitude, composed the following pastoral, where he sets out his
own good fortune in the person of Tityrus, and the calamities of his
Mantuan neighbors in the character of Melibæus.
B
MELIBUS.
ENEATH the shade which beechen boughs diffuse,
You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan muse.
Round the wide world in banishment we roam,
Forc'd from our pleasing fields and native home;
While, stretch'd at ease, you sing your happy loves,
And Amaryllis fills the shady groves.
TITYRUS.
These blessings, friend, a deity bestow'd ;
For never can I deem him less than God.
The tender firstlings of my woolly breed
Shall on his holy altar often bleed.
He gave me kine to graze the flow'ry plain,
And to my pipe renew'd the rural strain.
14
PASTORAL I.
MELIBUS.
I envy not your fortune, but admire,
That, while the raging sword and wasteful fire
Destroy the wretched neighborhood around,
No hostile arms approach your happy ground.
Far diff'rent is my fate my feeble goats
With pains 1 drive from their forsaken cotes.
And this, you see, I scarcely drag along,
Who, yeaning, on the rocks has left her young;
The hope and promise of my falling fold.
My loss, by dire portents the gods foretold ;
For, had I not been blind, I might have seen :-
Yon riven oak, the fairest of the green,
And the hoarse raven, on the blasted bough,
By croaking from the left, presaged the coming blow.
But tell me, Tityrus, what heavenly pow'r.
Preserv'd your fortune in that fatal hour?
TITYRUS.
Fool that I was, I thought imperial Rome
Like Mantua, where on market days we come,
And thither drive our tender lambs from home.
So kids and whelps their sires and dams express;
And so the great I measur'd by the less.
But country towns, compar'd with her, appear
Like shrubs when lofty cypresses are near.
MELIBUS.
What great occasion call'd you hence to Rome?
TITYRUS.
Freedom, which came at length, tho' slow to come.
Nor did my search of liberty begin,
Till my black hairs were chang'd upon my chin;
Nor Amaryllis would vouchsafe a look,
Till Galatea's meaner bonds I broke.
Till then a helpless, hopeless, homely swain,
I sought not freedom, nor aspired to gain :
Though many a victim from my folds was bought,
And many a cheese to country markets brought,
Yet all the little that I got, I spent,
And still returned as empty as I went.
MELIBUS.
We stood amaz'd to see your mistress mourn,
Unknowing that she pin'd for your return ;
•
15
PASTORAL I.
We wonder'd why she kept her fruit so long,
For whom so late th' ungather'd apples hung.
But now the wonder ceases, since I see
She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee.
For thee the bubbling springs appear'd to mourn,
And whisp'ring pines made vows for thy return.
TITYRUS.
What should I do ?-While here I was enchain'd,
No glimpse of godlike liberty remain'd ;
Nor could I hope, in any place but there,
To find a god so present to my pray'r.
There first the youth of heavenly birth I view'd,
For whom our monthly victims are renew'd.
He heard my vows, and graciously decreed
My grounds to be restor'd, my former flocks to feed.
MELIBUS.
O fortunate old man! whose farm remains-
For you sufficient--and requites your pains;
Though rushes overspread the neighb'ring plains,
Though here the marshy grounds approach your fields,
And there the soil a stony harvest yields.
}
Your teeming ewes shall no strange meadov s try,
Nor fear a rot from tainted company.
Behold! yon bord'ring fence of sallow trees
Is fraught with flow'rs, the flow'rs are fraught with bees:
The busy bees, with a soft murmuring strain,
Invite to gentle sleep the lab'ring swain.
While, from the neighb'ring rock, with rural songs,
The pruner's voice the pleasing dream prolongs,
Stock-doves and turtles tell their am'rous pain,
And from the loity elms, of love complain.
TITYRUS.
Th' inhabitants of seas and skies shall change,
And fish on shore, and stags in air, shall range,
The banish'd Parthian dwell on Arar's brink,
And the blue German shall the Tigris drink,
Ere I, forsaking gratitude and truth,
Forget the figure of that godlike youth.
MELIBUS.
But we must beg our bread in climes unknown,
Beneath the scorching or the freezing zone :
And some to far Oaxis shall be sold,
Or try the Libyan heat, or Scythian cold;
16
PASTORAL I.
The rest among the Britons be confin'd;
A race of men from all the world disjoin'd..
O! must the wretched exiles ever mourn,
Nor, after length of rolling years, return?
Are we condemn'd by fate's unjust decree,
No more our houses and our homes to see?
Or shall we mount again the rural throne,
And rule the country kingdoms once our own;
Did we for these barbarians plant and sow?
On these, on these, our happy fields bestow?
Good heaven! what dire effects from civil discord flow.
Now let me graft my pears and prune the vine;
The fruit is theirs, the labor only mine.
Farewell, my pastures, my paternal stock,
My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock!
No more, my goats, shall I behold you climb
The steepy cliffs, or crop the flow'ry thyme !
No more, extended in the grot below,
Shall see you browsing on the mountain's brow
The prickly shrubs; and after on the bare,
Leap down the deep abyss, and hang in air.
No more my sheep shall sip the morning dew;
No more my song shall please the rural crew:
Adieu, my tuneful pipe! and all the world, adieu !
TITYRUS.
This night, at least, with me forget your care,
Chestnuts, and curds and cream shall be your fare :
The carpet-ground shall be with leaves o'erspread,
And boughs shall weave a cov'ring for your head.
For see, yon sunny hill the shade extends,
And curling smoke from cottages ascends.
PASTORAL II.:
OR,
ALEXIS.
ARGUMENT.
The commentators can by no means agree on the person of Alexis, but
are all of opinion that some beautiful youth is meant by him, to whom
Virgil here makes love, in Corydon's language and simplicity. His way
of courtship is wholly pastoral: he complains of the boy's coyness; rec-
ommends himself for his beauty and skill in piping; invites the youth
into the country, where he promises him the diversions of the place,
with a suitable present of nuts and apples. But when he finds nothing
will prevail, he resolves to quit his troublesoine amour, and betake him-
self again to his former business.
YOUNG Corydon, th' unhappy shepherd swain,
You
The fair Alexis lov'd, but lov'd in vain ;
And underneath the beechen shade, alone,
Thus to the woods and mountains made his moan :--
Is this, unkind Alexis, my reward?
And must I die unpitied, and unheard?
Now the green lizard in the grove is laid;
The sheep enjoy the coolness of the shade;
And Thestylis wild thyme and garlic beats
For harvest hinds, o'erspent with toil and heats;
While in the scorching sun I trace in vain
Thy flying footsteps o'er the burning plain.
The creaking locusts with my voice conspire,
They fried with heat, and I with fierce desire.
How much more easy was it to sustain
Proud Amaryllis, and her haughty reign,
The scorns of young Menalcas, once my care,
Though he was black, and thou art heavenly fair.
Trust not too much to that enchanting face!
Beauty's a charm ; but soon the charm will pass.
White lilies lie neglected on the plain,
While dusky hyacinths for use remain.
18
PASTORAL II.
My passion is thy scorn; nor wilt thou know
What wealth I have, what gifts I can bestow,
What stores my dairies and my folds contain-
A thousand lambs that wander on the plain;
New milk, that, all the winter, never fails,
And, all the summer, overflows the pails.
Amphion sung not sweeter to his herd,
When summon'd stones the Theban turrets rear'd.
Nor am I so deform'd; for, late I stood
Upon the margin of the briny flood:
The winds were still; and if the glass be true,
With Daphnis I may vie, though judg'd by you.
O leave the noisy town: O come and see
Our country cots, and live content with me!
To wound the flying deer, and from their cotes
With me to drive afield the browsing goats;
To pipe and sing, and, in our country strain,
To copy or perhaps contend with Pan.
P'an taught to join with wax unequal reeds;
Pan loves the shepherds, and their flocks he feeds.
Nor scorn the pipe: Amyntas, to be taught,
With all his kisses would my skill have bought.
Of seven smooth joints, a mellow pipe I have,
Which, with his dying breath, Damotas gave,
And said, This, Corydon, I leave to thee;
For only thou deserv'st it after me.
"
His eyes Amyntas durst not upward lift ;
For much he grudg'd the praise, but more the gift.
Besides, two kids, that in the valley stray'd,
I found by chance, and to my fold convey'd,
They drain two bagging udders ev'ry day;
And these shall be companions of thy play ;
Both fleck'd with white, the true Arcadian stain,
Which Thestylis had often begg'd in vain :
And she shall have them, if again she sues,
Since you the giver and the gift refuse.
Come to my longing arms, my lovely care!
And take the presents which the nymphs prepare.
White lilies in full canisters they bring,
With all the glories of the purple spring.
The daughters of the flood have search'd the mead
For violets pale, and cropp'd the poppy's head,
The short narcissus and fair daffodil,
Pansies to please the sight, and cassia sweet to smell ;
And set soft hyacinths with iron-blue,
To shade marsh marigolds of shining hue;
Some bound in order, others loosely strow'd,
PASTORAL II.
19
To dress thy bow'r, and trim thy new abode.
Myself will search our planted grounds at home,
For downy peaches and the glossy plum :
And thrash the chestnuts in the neighb'ring grove,
Such as my Amaryllis us'd to love.
The laurel and the myrtle sweets agree;
And both in nosegays shall be bound for thee.
Ah, Corydon! ah, poor unhappy swain!
Alexis will thy homely gifts disdain :
Nor, shouldst thou offer all thy little store,
Will rich Iolas yield, but offer more.
What have I done, to name that wealthy swain?
So powerful are his presents, mine so mean!
The boar amidst my crystal streams I bring;
And southern winds to blast my flow'ry spring.
Ah, cruel creature! whom dost thou despise ?
The gods, to live in woods, have left the skies;
And godlike Paris, in the Idæan grove,
To Priam's wealth preferr'd Enone's love.
In cities which she built, let Pallas reign;
Tow'rs are for gods, but forests for the swain
The greedy lioness the wolf pursues,
The wolf the kid, the wanton kid the browse
Alexis, thou art chas'd by Corydon :
All follow sev'ral games, and each his own.
See, from afar the fields no longer smoke;
The sweating steers, unharness'd from the yoke,
Bring, as in triumph, back the crooked plough;
The shadows lengthen as the sun goes low;
Cool breezes now the raging heats remove :
Ah, cruel heav'n! that made no cure for love!
I wish for balmy sleep, but wish in vain :
Love has no bounds in pleasure, or in pain.
What frenzy, shepherd, has thy soul possess'd?
Thy vineyard lies half prun'd and half undress'd.
Quench, Corydon, thy long unanswer'd fire!
Mind what the common wants of life require :
On willow twigs employ thy weaving care;
And find an easier love, though not so fair.
PASTORAL III.;
OR,
PALEMON.
MENALCAS, DAMŒETAS, PALÆMON.
ARGUMENT.
Damætas and Menalcas, after some smart strokes of country raillery, re-
solve to try who has the most skill at song; and accordingly make their
neighbor Palæmon judge of their performances; who, after a full hear-
ing of both parties, declares himself unfit for the decision of so weighty a
controversy, and leaves the victory undetermined.
MENALCAS.
O, swain! what shepherd owns those ragged sheep?
Ho
DAMETAS.
Ægon's they are: he gave them me to keep.
MENALCAS.
Unhappy sheep of an unhappy swain !
While he Neæra courts, but courts in vain,
And fears that I the damsel shall obtain,
Thou, varlet, dost thy master's gains devour;
Thou milk'st his ewes and often twice an hour;
Of grass and fodder thou defraud'st the dams,
And of their mother's dugs the starving lambs.
DAMCETAS.
Good words, young catamite, at least to men ;
We know who did your business, how, and when :
And in what chapel too you play'd your prize,
And what the gods observ'd with leering eyes,—
The nymphs were kind and laugh'd: and there your safety
lies.
PASTORAL III.
21
MENALCAS.
Yes, when I cropt the hedges of the leys,
Cut Micon's tender vines, and stole the stays!
DAMCETAS.
Or rather, when, beneath yon ancient oak,
The bow of Daphnis, and the shafts, you broke,
When the fair boy receiv'd the gift of right;
And, but for mischief, you had died for spite.
MENALCAS.
What nonsense would the fool thy master prate,
When thou, his knave, canst talk at such a rate!
Did I not see you, rascal, did I not,
When you lay snug to snap young Damon's goat?
His mongrel bark'd: I ran to his relief,
And cried, "There, there he goes! stop, stop the thief !"
Discover'd, and defeated of your prey,
You skulk'd behind the fence, and sneak'd away.
DAMCETAS.
An honest man may freely take his own:
The goat was mine, by singing fairly won.
A solemn match was made: he lost the prize.
Ask Damon, ask, if he the debt denies.
I think he dares not: if he does, he lies.
MENALCAS.
Thou sing with him, thou booby !-Never pipe
Was so profan'd to touch that blubber'd lip.
Dunce at the best! in streets but scarce allow'd
To tickle, on thy straw, the stupid crowd.
DAMCETAS.
To bring it to the trial, will you dare
Our pipes, our skill, our voices, to compare ?
My brinded heifer to the stake I lay :
Two thriving calves she suckles twice a day,
And twice, besides her beestings, never fail
To store the dairy with a brimming pail,
Now back your singing with an equal stake.
MENALCAS.
That should be seen, if I had one to make.
You know too well I feed my father's flock:
What can I wager from the common stock?
22
PASTORAL III.
A stepdame too I have, a cursed she,
Who rules my hen-peck'd sire, and orders me;
Both number twice a day the milky dams;
And once she takes the tale of all the lambs.
But, since you will be mad, and since you may
Suspect my courage, if I should not lay,
The pawn I proffer shall be full as good:
Two bowls I have, well turn'd, of beechen wood:
Both by divine Alcimedon were made:
To neither of them yet the lip is laid.
The lids are ivy: grapes in clusters lurk
Beneath the carving of the curious work.
Two figures on the sides emboss'd appear—
Conon, and, what's his name, who made the sphere,
And show'd the seasons of the sliding year,
Instructed in his trade the lab'ring swain,
And when to reap, and when to sow the grain.
DAMŒTAS.
And I have two, to match your pair, at home;
The wood the same; from the same hand they come
(The kimbo handles seem with bear's-foot carv'd),
And never yet to table have been serv'd;
Where Orpheus on his lyre laments his love,
With beasts encompass'd and a dancing grove.
But these, nor all the proffers you can make,
Are worth the heifer which I set to stake.
MENALCAS.
No more delays, vain boaster, but begin!
I prophesy beforehand, I shall win.
Palæmon shall be judge how ill you rhyme,
I'll teach you how to brag another time.
DAMETAS.
Rhymer, come on! and do the worst you can.
I fear not you, nor yet a better man.
With silence, neighbor, and attention, wait:
For 'tis a business of a high debate.
PALÆMON.
Sing then the shade affords a proper place;
The trees are cloth'd with leaves, the fields with grass;
The blossoms blow; the birds on bushes sing;
And nature has accomplish'd all the spring.
PASTORAL III.
23
1
·
The challenge to Damotas shall belong :
Menalcas shall sustain his under-song:
Each in his turn, your tuneful numbers bring:
By turns the tuneful Muses love to sing.
DAMŒTAS.
From the great father of the gods above
My Muse begins; for all is full of Jove ;
To Jove the care of heav'n and earth belongs;
My flocks he blesses, and he loves my songs.
MENALCAS.
Me Phoebus loves; for he my Muse inspires;
And, in her songs, the warmth he gave, requires.
For him, the god of shepherds and their sheep,
My blushing hyacinths and my bays I keep.
DAMETAS.
My Phyllis me with pelted apples plies :
Then tripping to the wood the wanton hies,
And wishes to be seen before she flies.
MENALCAS.
But fair Amyntas comes unask'd to me,
And offers love, and sits upon my knee.
Not Delia to my dogs is known so well as he.
DAMŒTAS.
To the dear mistress of my love-sick mind,
Her swain a pretty present has design'd:
I saw two stock-doves billing, and ere long
Will take the nest; and hers shall be the young.
MENALCAS.
Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found,
And stood on tip-toes, reaching from the ground ;
I sent Amyntas all my present store,
And will, to-morrow, send as many more.
DAMCETAS.
The lovely maid lay panting in my arms;
And all she said and did was full of charms.
Winds, on your wings to heav'n her accents bear;
Such words as heav'n alone is fit to hear.
24
PASTORAL III.
MENALCAS.
3
Ah! what avails it me, my love's delight,
To call you mine, when absent from my sight?
I hold the nets, while you pursue the prey;
And must not share the dangers of the day.
DAMCETAS.
I keep my birthday: send my Phyllis home:
At shearing-time, Iolas, you may come.
MENALCAS.
With Phyllis I am more in grace than you :
Her sorrow did my parting steps pursue :
Adieu, my dear !" she said, a long adieu !''
DAMCETAS.
The nightly wolf is baneful to the fold,
Storms to the wheat, to buds the bitter cold;
But, from my frowning fair, more ills I find,
Than from the wolves, and storms, and winter-wind.
MENALCAS.
The kids with pleasure browse the bushy plain ;
The showers are grateful to the swelling grain ;
To teeming ewes the sallow's tender tree;
But, more than all the world, my love to me.
DAMŒTAS.
Pollio my rural verse vouchsafes to read :
A heifer, Muses, for your patron breed.
MENALCAS.
My Pollio writes himself :-a bull he bred,
With spurning heels, and with a butting head.
DAMCETAS.
Who Pollio loves, and who his Muse admires,
Let Pollio's fortune crown his full desires.
Let myrrh instead of thorn his fences fill,
And show'rs of honey from his oaks distil.
MENALCAS.
Who hates not living Bavius, let him be
(Dead Mævius !) damn'd to love thy works and thee!
The same ill taste of sense would serve to join
Dog-foxes in the yoke, and shear the swine.
PASTORAL III.
25
DAMCETAS.
Ye boys, who pluck the flow'rs, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.
MENALCAS.
Graze not too near the banks, my jolly sheep:
The ground is false; the running streams are deep :
See, they have caught the father of the flock,
Who dries his fleece upon the neighb'ring rock.
DAMCETAS.
From rivers drive the kids, and sling your hook,
Anon I'll wash them in the shallow brook.
MENALCAS.
To fold, my flock !-when milk is dried with heat,
In vain the milkmaid tugs an empty teat.
DAMCETAS.
How lank my bulls from plenteous pasture come!
But love, that drains the herd, destroys the groom.
MENALCAS.
My flocks are free from love, yet look so thin,
Their bones are barely covered with their skin.
What magic has bewitch'd the woolly dams,
And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs ?
DAMCETAS.
Say, where the round of heav'n, which all contains,
To three short ells on earth our sight restrains :
Tell that, and raise a Phoebus for thy pains.
MENALCAS.
Nay, tell me first, in what new region springs
A flow'r, that bears inscribed the names of kings;
And thou shalt gain a present as divine
As Phoebus' self; for Phyllis shall be thine.
PALÆMON.
So nice a diff'rence in your singing lies,
That both have won, or both deserv'd the prize.
Rest equal happy both; and all who prove
The bitter sweets, and pleasing pains of love.
Now dam the ditches, and the floods restrain :
Their moisture has already drench'd the plain..
i
PASTORAL IV.
OR,
POLLIO.
ARGUMENT.
The poet celebrates the birthday of Salonius, the son of Pollio, born in
the consulship of his father, after the taking of Saloæn, a city in Dalma-
tia. Many of the verses are translated from one of the Sibyls, who pro-
phesied of our Saviour's birth.
ICILIAN Muse, begin a loftier strain !
Tho' lowly shrubs, and trees that shade the plain,
Delight not all; Sicilian Muse, prepare
To make the vocal woods deserve a consul's care.
The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes,
Renews its finished course: Saturnian times
Roll round again; and mighty years, begun
From their first orb, in radiant circles run.
The base degen'rate iron offspring ends;
A golden progeny from heaven descends.
O chaste Lucina! speed the mother's pains;
And haste the glorious birth! thy own Apollo reigns!
The lovely boy, with his auspicious face,
Shall Pollio's consulship and triumph grace :
Majestic months set out (with him) to their appointed race.
The father banished virtue shall restore;
And crimes shall threat the guilty world no more.
The son shall lead the life of gods,' and be
By gods and heroes seen, and gods and heroes see.
The jarring nations he in peace shall bind,
And with paternal virtues rule mankind.
Unbidden earth shall wreathing ivy bring,
And fragrant herbs (the promises of spring),
As her first off'rings to her infant king.
PASTORAL IV.
27
1
The goats with strutting dugs shall homeward speed,
And lowing herds secure from lions feed.
His cradle shall with rising flow'rs be crown'd:
The serpent's brood shall die: the sacred ground
Shall weeds and pois'nous plants refuse to bear;
Each common bush shall Syrian roses wear.
But when heroic verse his youth shall raise,
And form it to hereditary praise,
Unlabor'd harvests shall the fields adorn,
And cluster'd grapes shall blush on every thorn;
The knotted oaks shall showers of honey weep;
And thro' the matted grass the liquid gold shall creep.
Yet, of old fraud some footsteps shall remain :
The merchant still shall plough the deep for gain :
Great cities shall with walls be compass'd round;
And sharpen'd shares shall vex the fruitful ground;
Another Tiphys shall new seas explore;
Another Argo land the chiefs upon th' Iberian shore;
Another Helen other wars create,
And great Achilles urge the Trojan fate.
But, when to ripen'd manhood he shall grow,
The greedy sailor shall the seas forego:
No keel shall cut the waves for foreign ware;
For every soil shall every product bear.
The lab'ring hind his oxen shall disjoin:
No plough shall hurt the glebe, no pruning-hook the vine ;
Nor wool shall in dissembled color shine;
But the luxurious father of the fold,
With native purple, and unborrow'd gold,
Beneath his pompous fleece shall proudly sweat ;
And under Tyrian robes the lamb shall bleat.
The Fates, when they this happy web have spun,
Shall bless the sacred clue, and bid it smoothly run.
Mature in years, to ready honors move,
O, of celestial seed! O, foster-son of Jove!
See, lab'ring Nature calls thee to sustain
The nodding frame of heav'n, and earth, and main !
See to their base restor'd, earth, seas, and air;
And joyful ages, from behind, in crowding ranks appear.
To sing thy praise, would heav'n my breath prolong,
Infusing spirits worthy such a song,
Not Thracian Orpheus should transcend my lays,
Nor Linus crown'd with never fading bays;
Though each his heav'nly parent should inspire;
The Muse instruct the voice, and Phoebus tune the lyre.
Should Pan contend in verse, and thou my theme.
Arcadian judges should their god condemn.
28
PASTORAL IV.
Begin, auspicious boy! to cast about
Thy infant eyes, and, with a smile, thy mother single out.
Thy mother well deserves that short delight,
The nauseous qualms of ten long months and travail to re
quite.
Then smile! the frowning infant's doom is read:
No god shall crown the board, nor goddess bless the bed.
PASTORAL V.
OR,
DAPHNIS.
ARGUMENT.
Mopsus and Menalcas, two very expert shepherds at a seng, begin one
by consent to the memory of Daphnis, who is supposed by the best critics
to represent Julius Cæsar. Mopsus laments his death; Menalcas pro-
claims his divinity; the whole eclogue consisting of an elegy and an apo-
theosis.
MENALCAS.
INCE on the downs our flocks together feed,
SIN
And since my voice can match your tuneful reed,
Why sit we not beneath the grateful shade,
Which hazels, intermix'd with elms, have made?
MOPSUS.
Whether you please that sylvan scene to take,
Where whistling winds uncertain shadows make;
Or will you to the cooler cave succeed,
Whose mouth the curling vines have overspread?
MENALCAS.
Your merit and your years command the choice.
Amyntas only rivals you in voice.
MOPSUS.
What will not that presuming shepherd dare,
Who thinks his voice with Phoebus may compare?
MENALCAS.
Begin you first; if either Alcon's praise,
Or dying Phillis, have inspir'd your lays :
If her you mourn, or Codrus you commend,
Begin; and Tityrus your flocks shall tend.
Virgil.-2
30
ASTORAL V.
MOPSUS.
Or shall I rather the sad verse repeat,
Which on the beech's bark I lately writ?
I writ, and sung betwixt. Now bring the swain
Whose voice you boast, and let him try the strain,
MENALCAS.
Such as the shrub to the tall olive shows,
Or the pale sallow to the blushing rose ;
Such is his voice, if I can judge aright,
Compar'd to thine in sweetness and in height.
MOPSUS.
No more, but sit, and hear the promis'd lay:
The gloomy grotto makes a doubtful day.
The nymphs about the breathless body wait
Of Daphnis, and lament his cruel fate.
The trees and floods were witness to their tears:
At length the rumor reach'd his mother's ears.
The wretched parent, with a pious haste,
Came running, and his lifeless limbs embrac'd.
She sigh'd, she sobb'd; and furious with despair
She rent her garments, and she tore her hair,
Accusing all the gods, and ev'ry star.
The swains forgot their sheep, nor near the brink
Of running waters brought their herds to drink.
The thirsty cattle, of themselves, abstain'd
From water, and their grassy fare disdain'd.
The death of Daphnis woods and hills deplore ;
They cast the sound to Libya's desert shore;
The Libyan lions hear, and hearing roar.
Fierce tigers Daphnis taught the yoke to bear,
And first with curling ivy dress'd the spear.
Daphnis did rites to Bacchus first ordain,
And holy revels for his reeling train.
As vines the trees, as grapes the vines adorn,
As bulls the herds, and fields the yellow corn ;
So bright a splendor, so divine a grace,
The glorious Daphnis cast on his illustrious race.
When envious Fate the godlike Daphnis took,
Our guardian gods the fields and plains forsook:
Pales no longer swell'd the teeming grain,
Nor Phoebus fed his oxen on the plain :
No fruitful crop the sickly fields return,
But oats and darnel choke the rising corn.
And where the vale with violets once was crown'd,
Now knotty burrs and thorns disgrace the ground.
PASTOR L V.
31
Come, shepherds, come, and strew with leaves the plain!
Such fun'ral rites your Daphnis did ordain.
With cypress boughs the crystal fountains hide,
And softly let the running waters glide.
A lasting monument to Daphnis raise,
With this inscription to record his praise:
"
Daphnis, the fields' delight, the shepherds' love,
Renown'd on earth, and deifi'd above;
Whose flock excell'd the fairest on the plains
But less than he himself surpass'd the swains."
MENALCAS.
O heav'nly poet! such thy verse appears,
So sweet, so charming to my ravish'd ears,
As to the weary swain with cares opprest,
Beneath the sylvan shade, refreshing rest;
As to the fev'rish traveller, when first
He finds a crystal stream to quench his thirst.
In singing, as in piping, you excel;
And scarce your master could perform so well.
O fortunate young man! at least your lays
Are next to his, and claim the second praise.
Such as they are, my rural songs I join,
To raise our Daphnis to the pow'rs divine;
For Daphnis was so good, to love whate'er was mine.
MOPSUS.
How is my soul with such a promise rais'd!
For both the boy was worthy to be prais'd,
And Stimicon has often made me long
To hear, like him, so soft, so sweet a song.
MENALCAS.
Daphnis, the guest of heaven, with wond'ring eyes
Views, in the milky way, the starry skies,
And far beneath him, from the shining sphere,
Beholds the moving clouds and rolling year.
For this with cheerful cries the woods resound,
The purple spring arrays the varied ground,
The nymphs and shepherds dance, and' Pan himself is
crown'd.
The wolf no longer prowls for nightly spoils,
Nor birds the springes fear, nor stags the toils;
For Daphnis reigns above, and deals from thence
His mother's milder beams, and peaceful influence.
32
PASTORAL V.
The mountain-tops unshorn, the rocks rejoice;
The lowly shrubs partake of human voice.
Assenting Nature, with a gracious nod,
Proclaims him, and salutes the new-admitted god.
Be still propitious, ever good be thine!
Behold! four hallow'd altars we design;
And two to thee, and two to Phoebus rise;
On both is offer'd annual sacrifice.
The holy priests, at each returning year,
Two bowls of milk and two of oil shall bear ;
And I myself the guests with friendly bowls will chear.
Two goblets will I crown with sparkling wine,
The gen'rous vintage of the Chian vine:
These will I pour to thee, and make the nectar thiné.
In winter shall the genial feast be made
Before the fire; by summer,in the shade,
Damætas shall perform the rites divine;
And Lyctian Egon in the song shall join.
Alphesibus, stripping, shall advance,
And mimic satyrs in his antic dance,
When to the nymphs our annual rites we pay,
And when our fields with victims we survey-
While savage boars delight in shady woods,
And finny fish inhabit in the floods—
While bees on thyme, and locusts feed on dew-
Thy grateful swains these honors shall renew.
Such honors as we pay to pow'rs divine,
To Bacchus and to Ceres, shall be thine,
Such annual honors shall be given; and thou
Shalt hear, and shalt condemn thy suppliants to their vow
MOPSUS.
What present, worth thy verse, can Mopsus find?
Not the soft whispers of the southern wind,
That play through trembling trees, delight me more;
Nor murmuring billows on the sounding shore ;
Nor winding streams that through the valley glide,
And the scarce cover'd pebbles gently chide.
MENALCAS.
Receive you first this tuneful pipe, the same
That play'd my Corydon's unhappy flame :
The same that sung Neæra's conqu'ring eyes,
And, had the judge been just, had won the prize.
PASTORAL V.
33
MOPSUS.
Accept from me this sheep-book in exchange;
The handle brass; the knobs in equal range.
Antigenes, with kisses, often tried
To beg this present, in his beauty's pride,
When youth and love are hard to be denied.
But what I could refuse to his request,
Is yours unask'd; for you deserve it best.
!
PASTORAL VI.
Or,
SILENUS.
ARGUMENT.
Iwo young shepherds, Chromis and Mnasylus, having been often prom-
ised a song by Silenus, chance to catch him asleep in this pastoral,
where they bind him hand and foot, and then claim his promise. Sile-
nus, finding they would be put off no longer, begins his song, in which
he describes the formation of the universe, and the original of animals,
according to the Epicurean philosophy; and then rans through the most
surprising transformations which have happened in Nature since her
birth. This pastoral was designed as a compliment to Syron the Epicu-
rean, who instructed Virgil and Varus in the principles of that philoso-
phy. Silenus acts as tutor, Chromis and Mnalus as the two pupils.
I
FIRST transferr'd to Rome Sicilian strains;
Nor blush'd the Doric Muse to dwell on Mantuan plains.
But when I tried her tender voice, too young,
And fighting kings and bloody battles sung,
Apollo check'd my pride, and bade me feed
My fatt'ning flocks, nor dare beyond the reed.
Admonish'd thus, while every pen prepares
To write thy praises, Varus, and thy wars,
My past'ral Muse her humble tribute brings
And yet not wholly uninspir'd she sings :
For all who read, and, reading, not disdain
These rural poems, and their lowly strain,
The name of Varus, oft inscrib'd shall see
In ev'ry grove, and ev'ry vocal tree;
And all the sylvan reign shall sing of thee:
Thy name, to Phoebus and the muses known,
Shall in the front of ev'ry page be shown;
For, he who sings thy praise secures his own.
Proceed, my Muse Two Satyrs on the ground,
Stretch'd at his ease, their sire Silenus found.
Doz'd with his fumes, and heavy with his load,
They found him snoring in his dark abode,
And seiz'd with youthful arms the drunken god.
PASTORAL VI.
35
His rosy wreath was dropt not long before,
Borne by the tide of wine, and floating on the floor.
His empty can, with ears half worn away,
Was hung on high, to boast the triumph of the day.
Invaded thus, for want of better bands,
His garland they unstring, and bind his hands:
For, by the fraudful god deluded long,
They now resolve to have their promis'd song.
Egle came in, to make their party good-
The fairest Naïs of the neighb'ring flood-
And, while he stares around with stupid eyes,
His brows with berries, and his temples, dyes,
He finds the fraud, and with a smile demands,
On what design the boys had bound his hands.
"Loose me,
" he cried; "'twas impudence to find
A sleeping god; 'tis sacrilege to bind.
To you the promised poem I will pay ;
The nymph shall be rewarded in her way."
He rais'd his voice, and soon a num'rous throng
Of tripping Satyrs crowded to the song ;
And sylvan Fauns, and savage beasts, advanc'd;
And nodding forests to the numbers danc'd.
Not by Hæmonian hills the Thracian bard,
Nor awful Phoebus was on Pindus heard
With deeper silence, or with more regard.
He sung the secret seeds of Nature's frame;
How seas, and earth, and air, and active flame,
Fell through the mighty void, and, in their fall,
Were blindly gather'd in this goodly ball.
The tender soil, then stiff'ning by degrees,
Shut from the bounded earth the bounding seas.
Then earth and ocean various forms disclose;
And a new sun to the new world arose ;
And mists, condens'd to clouds, obscure the sky;
And clouds, dissolv'd, the thirsty ground supply.
The rising trees the lofty mountains grace :
The lofty mountains feed the savage race,
Yet few, and strangers, in th' unpeopled place.
From thence the birth of man the song pursu'd,
And how the world was lost, and how renew'd;
The reign of Saturn, and the golden age;
Prometheus' theft, and Jove's avenging rage;
The cries of Argonauts for Hylas drown'd,
With whose repeated name the shores resound;
Then mourns the madness of the Cretan queen :
Happy for her if herds had never been.
What fury, wretched woman, seiz'd thy breast?
36
PASTORAL VI.
A
The maids of Argus (though with rage possess'd,
Their imitated lowings fill'd the grove,)
Yet shunn'd the guilt of thy prepost'rous love,
Nor sought the youthful husband of the herd,
Tho' lab'ring yokes on their own necks they fear'd,
And felt for budding horns on their smooth foreheads rear'd.
Ah, wretched queen! you range the pathless wood,
While on a flow'ry bank he chews the cud,
Or sleeps in shades, or through the forest roves,
And roars with anguish for his absent loves.
"Ye nymphs, with toils his forest-walk surround,
And trace his wand'ring footsteps on the ground.
But, ah perhaps my passion he disdains,
And courts the milky mothers of the plains.
We search th' ungrateful fugitive abroad,
While they at home sustain his happy load."
He sung the lover's fraud; the longing maid,
With golden fruit, like all the sex, betray'd;
The sisters mourning for their brother's loss:
Their bodies hid in barks, and furr'd with moss;
How each a rising alder now appears,
And o'er the Po distils her gummy tears:
Then sung, how Gallus. by a Muse's hand,
Was led and welcom'd to the sacred strand;
The senate rising to salute their guest,
And Linus thus their gratitude express'd:
"Receive this present, by the Muses made,
The pipe on which th' Ascræan pastor play'd;
With which of old he charm'd the savage train,
And call'd the mountain ashes to the plain.
Sing thou, on this, thy Phoebus, and the wood
Where once his fane of Parian marble stood :
On this his ancient oracles rehearse,
And with new numbers grace the god of verse."
Why should I sing the double Scylla's fate?
The first by love transform'd, the last by hate-
A beauteous maid above; but magic arts
With barking dogs deform'd her nether parts:
What vengeance on the passing fleet she poured,
The master frighted, and the mates devour'd.
Then ravished Philomel the song exprest;
The crime reveal'd; the sisters' cruel feast;
And how in fields the lapwing Tereus reigns,
The warbling nightingale in woods complains:
While Procne makes on chimney-tops her moan.
And hovers o'er the palace. once her own.
Whatever songs besides the Delphian god
PASTORAL VI.
37
Had taught the laurels, and the Spartan flood,
Silenus sung the vales his voice rebound,
And carry to the skies the sacred sound.
And now the setting sun had warn'd the swain
To call his counted cattle from the plain :
Yet still th' unwearied sire pursues the tuneful strain,
Till, unperceiv'd, the heavens with stars were hung,
And sudden night surpris'd the yet unfinish'd song.
:
疗
​*
PASTORAL VII.
OR,
MELIBUS.
ARGUMENT.
Melibaus here gives us the relation of a sharp poetical contest between
Thyrsis and Corydon, at which he and Daphnis were present, who both
declared for Corydon.
B
ENEATH a holm, repair'd two jolly swains,
(Their sheep and goats together graz'd the plains)
Both young Arcadians, both alike inspired
To sing, and answer as the song requir'd.
Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat,
And fortune thither led my weary feet.
For, while I fenc'd my myrtles from the cold,
The father of my flock had wander'd from the fold.
Of Daphnis I inquir'd: he smiling said,
"
Dismiss your fear," and pointed where he fed :
And if no greater cares disturb your mind,
Sit here with us in covert of the wind.
Your lowing heifers, of their own accord,
>
At wat'ring time, will seek the neighboring ford,
Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads,
And shades his happy banks with bending reeds.
And see, from yon old oak that meets the skies,
How black the clouds of swarming bees arise.'
What should I do? nor was Alcippi nigh,
Nor absent Phillis could my care supply,
To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambs,
And drain the strutting udders of their dams.
Great was the strife betwixt the singing swains:
And I preferr'd my pleasure to my gains.
Alternate rhyme the ready champion chose :
These Corydon rehears'd, and Thyrsis those.
PASTORAL VII.
39
CORYDON.
Ye Muses, ever fair and ever young,
Assist my numbers and inspire my song.
With all, my Codrus, O! inspire my breast ;
For Codrus, after Phoebus, sings the best.
Or, if my wishes have presum'd too high,
And stretch'd their bounds beyond mortality,
The praise of artful numbers I resign,
And hang my pipe upon the sacred pine.
THYRSIS.
Arcadian swains, your youthful poet crown
With ivy-wreaths, though surly Codrus frown.
Or, if he blast my muse with envious praise,
Then fence my brows with amulets of bays,
Lest his ill arts or his malicious tongue
Should poison, or bewitch my growing song.
CORYDON.
These branches of a stag, this tusky boar
(The first essay of arms untried before)
Young Micon offers, Delia, to thy shrine.
But, speed his hunting with thy pow'r divine ;
Thy statue then of Parian stone shall stand;
Thy legs in buskins with a purple band.
THYRSIS.
This bowl of milk, these cakes (our country fare),
For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare,
Because a little garden is thy care.
But, if the falling lambs increase my fold,
Thy marble statue shall be turn'd to gold.
CORYDON.
Fair Galatea, with thy silver feet,
O, whiter than the swan, and more than Hybla sweet!
Tall as a poplar, taper as the pole !
Come, charm thy shepherd, and restore my soul.
Come, when my lated sheep at night return;
And crown the silent hours, and stop the rosy morn.
THYRSIS.
May I become as abject in thy sight
As sea-weed on the shore, and black as nignt;
Rough as a burr; deform'd like him who chaws
Sardinian herbage to contract his jaws :
3
40
PASTORAL VII.
Such and so monstrous let thy swain appear,
If one day's absence looks not like a year.
Hence from the field, for shame! the flock deserves
No better feeding while the shepherd starves.
CORYDON.
Ye mossy springs, inviting easy sleep;
Ye trees, whose leafy shades those mossy fountains keep,
Defend my flock! The summer heats are near,
And blossoms on the swelling vines appear.
THYRSIS.
With heapy fires our cheerful hearth is crown'd,
And firs for torches in the woods abound.
We fear not more the winds and wintry cold,
Than streams the banks, or wolves the bleating fold.
CORYDON.
Our woods, with juniper and chestnuts crown'd,
With falling fruits and berries paint the ground;
And lavish nature laughs, and strows her stores around.
But, if Alexis from our mountains fly,
E'en running rivers leave their channels dry.
THYRSIS.
Parch'd are the plains, and frying is the field,
Nor with'ring vines their juicy vintage yield;
But, if returning Phyllis bless the plain,
The grass revives; the woods are green again
And Jove descends in showers of kindly rain.
CORYDON.
The poplar is by great Alcides worn;
The brows of Phoebus his own bays adorn ;
The branching vine the jolly Bacchus loves;
The Cyprian queen delights in myrtle groves ;
With hazel Phyllis crowns her flowing hair ;
And, while she loves that common wreath to wear,
Nor bays, nor myrtle boughs, with hazel shall compare.
THYRSIS.
The tow'ring ash is fairest in the woods;
In gardens, pines, and poplars by the floods;
But, if my Lucidas will ease my pains,
And often visit our forsaken plains,
PASTORAL VII.
41
To him the tow'ring ash shall yield in woods,
In gardens, pines, and poplars by the floods.
MELIBUS.
These rhymes I did to memory commend,
When vanquish'd Thyrsis did in vain contend ;
Since when 'tis Corydon among the swains,
Young Corydon without a rival reigns.
PASTORAL VIII.
OR,
PHARMACEUTRIA.
ARGUMENT.
This pastoral contains the songs of Damon and Alphesibæus. The first
of them bewails the loss of his mistress, and repines at the success of his
rival Mopsus. The other repeats the charms of some enchantress, who
endeavored by her spells and magic to make Daphnis in love with her.
'HE mournful muse of two despairing swains,
TH
The love rejected and the lovers' pains;
To which the savage lynxes list'ning stood;
The rivers stood in heaps, and stopp'd the running flood
The hungry herd their needful food refuse-
Of two despairing swains, I sing the mournful muse.
Great Pollio! thou, for whom thy Rome prepares
The ready triumph of thy finish'd wars,
Whether Timavus or th' Illyrian coast,
Whatever land or sea, thy presence boast;
Is there an hour in fate reserv'd for me,
To sing thy deeds in numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine, could I rehearse
Thy lofty tragic scenes, thy labor'd verse,
The world another Sophocles in thee,
Another Homer should behold in me.
Amidst thy laurels let this ivy twine :
Thine was my earliest muse, my latest shall be thine.
Scarce from the world the shades of night withdrew,
Scarce were the flocks refresh'd with morning dew,
When Damon, stretch'd beneath an olive shade,
And wildly staring upwards, thus inveigh'd
Against the conscious gods, and curs'd the maid:
4.4
Star of the morning, why dost thou delay?
Come, Lucifer, drive on the lagging day,
A
PASTORAL VIII.
43
While I my Nisa's perjur'd faith deplore--
Witness, ye pow'rs by whom she falsely swore !
The gods, alas! are witnesses in vain.
Yet shall my dying breath to heaven complain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
"The pines of Mænalus, the vocal grove,
Are ever full of verse and full of love:
They hear the hinds, they hear their god complain,
Who suffer'd not the reeds to rise in vain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
Mopsus triumphs; he weds the willing fair.
When such is Nisa's choice, what lover can despair?
Now griffons join with mares; another age
Shall see the hound and hind their thirst assuage,
Promiscuous at the spring. Prepare the lights,
O Mopsus! and perform the bridal rites.
Scatter thy nuts among the scrambling boys :
Thine is the night, and thine the nuptial joys.
For thee the sun declines: O happy swain !
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
"O Nisa! justly to thy choice condemn'd!
Whom hast thou taken, whom hast thou contemn'd?
For him, thou hast refus'd my browsing herd,
Scorn'd my thick eye-brows, and my shaggy beard.
Unhappy Damon sighs and sings in vain,
While Nisa thinks no god regards a lover's pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
"I view'd thee first, (how fatal was the view!)
And led thee where the ruddy wildings grew,
High on the planted hedge, and wet with morning dew.
Then scarce the bending branches I could win ;
The callow down began to clothe my chin.
I saw, I perish'd, yet indulg'd my pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
"I know thee, love! in deserts thou wert bred,
And at the dugs of savage tigers fed;
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strains.
""
Relentless love the cruel mother led,
The blood of her unhappy babes to shed:
Love lent the sword; the mother struck the blow;
Inhuman she, but more inhuman thou!
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strains.
44
PASTORAL VIII.
Old doting Nature, change thy course anew ;
And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue :
Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit,
And purple daffodils from alder shoot :
Fat amber let the tamarisk distil,
And hooting owls contend with swans in skill;
Hoarse Tityrus strive with Orpheus in the woods,
And challenge fam'd Arion on the floods.
Or, Oh, let Nature cease, and Chaos reign!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.
Let earth be sea, and let the whelming tide
The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide :
Farewell, ye secret woods and shady groves,
Haunts of my youth, and conscious of my loves :
From yon high cliff I plunge into the main :
Take the last present of thy dying swain:
And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Mænalian strain."
Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse
His friend's complaints, and mighty magic verse.
'Bring running water: bind those altars round
With fillets, and with vervain strow the ground:
Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires,
To reinflame my Daphnis with desires.
Tis done we want but verse.-Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
Pale Phoebe, drawn by verse, from heav'n descends;
And Circe chang'd with charms Ulysses' friends.
Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the brake,
And in the winding cavern splits the snake.
Verse fires the frozen veins.-Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
(4
'Around his waxen image first I wind
Three woollen fillets, of three colors join'd;
Thrice bind about his thrice devoted head,
Which round the sacred altar thrice is led.
Unequal numbers please the gods.-My charms,
Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms.
>
Knit with three knots the fillets: knit them strait ;
Then say,These knots to love I consecrate.
Haste, Amaryllis, haste !- Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,
And this of wax with fire consumes away;
Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be-
Hard to the rest of women, soft to me.
PASTORAL VIII.
45
Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn:
Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn;
And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say,
"Tis I for Daphnis hurn; thus Daphnis burn away!
This laurel is his fate.'-Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
As when the raging heifer, through the grove,
Stung with desire, pursues her wand'ring love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls,
Careless of night, unmindful to return;
Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn.
While I so scorn his love !-Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
"These garments once were his, and left to me,
The pledges of his promis'd loyalty,
Which underneath my threshold I bestow.
These pawns, O sacred earth! to me my Daphnis owe.
As these were his, so mine is he.-My charms,
Restore their ling'ring lord to my deluded arms.
"These pois'nous plants, for magic use design'd,
(The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind)
Old Moeris brought me from the Pontic strand,
And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land.
Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain,
He howls, a wolf among the hungry train;
And oft the mighty necromancer boasts,
With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts,
And from the roots to tear the standing corn,
Which, whirl'd aloft, to distant fields is borne :
Such is the strength of spells. Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
Bear out these ashes: cast them in the brook;
Cast backwards o'er your head; nor turn your look :
Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move,
Break out, ye smother'd fires, and kindle smother'd love,
Exert your utmost pow'r, my ling'ring charms,
And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.
See, while my last endeavors I delay,
The waking ashes rise, and round our altars play!
Run to the threshold, Amaryllis-hark!
Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark.
Good heav'n! may lovers what they wish believe?
Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive?
No more my Daphnis comes! no more,. my charms!
He comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring arms.
PASTORAL IX.
OR,
LYCIDAS AND MERIS.
ARGUMENT.
When Virgil, by the favor of Augustus, had recovered his patrimony near
Mantua, and went in hope to take possession, he was in danger to be
slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were assigned by the
emperor, in reward of his service against Brutus and Cassius. This pas-
toral, therefore, is filled with complaints of this hard usage; and the
persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil, Mœris, and his friend Ly-
cidas.
Ho, Moris
LYCIDAS.
This feads whither on thy way so fast
to town.
MŒRIS.
O Lycidas! at las
The time is come, I never thought to see,
(Strange revolution for my farm and me!)
When the grim captain in a surly tone
Cries out,
"Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone.'
Kick'd out, we set the best face on't we could;
And these two kids, t' appease his angry mood,
I bear, of which the Furies give him good!
LYCIDAS.
Your country friends were told another tale-
That from the sloping mountain to the vale,
And dodder'd oak, and all the banks along,
Menalcas sav'd his fortune with a song.
MORIS.
Such was the news, indeed; but songs and rhymes
Prevail as much in these hard iron times,
As would a plump of trembling fowl, that rise
Against an eagle sousing from the skies.
PASTORAL IX.
47
And had not Phoebus warn'd me, by the croak
Of an old raven from a hollow oak,
To shun debate, Menalcas had been slain,
And Moris not survived him, to complain.
LYCIDAS.
Now heaven defend ! could barbarous rage induce
The brutal son of Mars t' insult the sacred Muse?
Who then should sing the nymphs? or who rehearse
The waters gliding in a smoother verse?
Of Amaryllis praise that heavenly lay,
That shorten'd, as we went, our tedious way—
O Tityrus, tend my herd, and see them fed;
To morning pastures, ev'ning waters, led;
And 'ware the Libyan ridgil's butting head."
MERIS.
Or what unfinish'd he to Varus read-
Thy name, O Varus, (if the kinder pow'rs
Preserve our plains, and shield the Mantuan tow'rs,
Obnoxious by Cremona's neighboring crime)
The wings of swans and stronger-pinion'd rhyme,
Shall raise aloft, and soaring bear above-
Th' immortal gift of gratitude to Jove."
LYCIDAS.
Sing on, sing on: for I can ne'er be cloy'd.
So may thy swarms the baleful yew avoid :
So may thy cows their burden'd bags distend,
And trees to goats their willing branches bend.
Mean as I am, yet have the Muses made
Me free, a member of the tuneful trade :
At least the shepherds seem to like my lays;
But I discern their flatt'ry from their praise :
I nor to Cinna's ears, nor Varus', dare aspire,
But gabble, like a goose amidst the swan-like choir.
MŒRIS.
'Tis what I have been conning in my mind ;
Nor are thy verses of a vulgar kind.
Come, Galatea ! come! the seas forsake!
What pleasures can the tides with their hoarse murmurs make i
See, on the shore inhabits purple spring ;
Where nightingales their love-sick ditty sing:
See, meads with purling streams, with flow'rs the ground,
The grottos cool with shady poplars crown'd,
And creeping vines on arbors weav'd around.
48
PASTORAL IX.
Come, then, and leave the waves' tumultuous roar ;
Let the wild surges vainly beat the shore.'
LYCIDAS,
Or that sweet song I heard with such delight;
The same you sung alone one starry night.
The tune I still retain, but not the words.
MERIS.
"
"Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old records,
To know the seasons when the stars arise?
See, Cæsar's lamp is lighted in the skies-
The star, whose rays the blushing grapes adorn
And swell the kindly rip'ning ears of corn.
Under this influence graft the tender shoot;
Thy children's children shall enjoy the fruit.
The rest I have forgot, for cares and time
Change all things, and untune my soul to rhyme.
I could have once sung down a summer's sun:
But now the chime of poetry is done :
My voice grows hoarse, I feel the notes decay,
As if the wolves had seen me first to-day.
But these, and more than I to mind can bring,
Menalcas has not yet forgot to sing.
LYCIDAS.
Thy faint excuses but inflame me more:
And now the waves roll silent to the shore ;
Hush'd winds the topmost branches scarcely bend,
As if thy tuneful song they did attend :
Already we have half our way o'ercome;
Far off I can discern Bianor's tomb.
Here, where the lab'rer's hands have form'd a bow'I
Of wreathing trees, in singing waste an hour.
Rest here thy weary limbs; thy kids lay down :
We've day before us yet to reach the town;
Or if, ere night, the gathering clouds we fear,
A song will help the beating storm to bear.
And that thou mayst not be too late abroad,
Sing, and I'll ease thy shoulders of thy load.
MŒRIS.
Cease to request me; let us mind our way.
Another song requires another day.
When good Menalcas comes, if he rejoice,
nd find a friend at court, I'll find a voice.
PASTORAL X.
Or,
GALLUS.
ARGUMENT.
Gallus, a great patron of Virgil, and an excellent poet, was very deeply in
love with one Cytheris, whom he calls Lycoris, and who had forsaken
him for the company of a soldier. The poet therefore supposes his
friend Gallus retired, in his height of melancholy, into the solitudes of
Arcadia (the celebrated scene of pastorals), where he represents him in
a very lauguishing condition, with all the rural deities about him, pity-
ing his hard usage, and condoling his misfortune.
HY sacred succor, Arethusa, bring,
TH
To crown my labor ('tis the last I sing,)
Which proud Lycoris may with pity view.
The muse is mournful, though the numbers few;
Refuse me not a verse, to grief and Gallus due.
So may thy silver streams beneath the tide,
Unmix'd with briny seas, securely glide.
Sing then, my Gallus, and his hopeless vows;
Sing while my cattle crop the tender browse.
The vocal grove shall answer to the sound,
And echo, from the vales, the tuneful voice rebound.
What lawns or woods withheld you from his aid,
Ye nymphs, when Gallus was to love betray'd;
To love, unpitied by the cruel maid?
Not steepy Pindus could retard your course,
Nor cleft Parnassus, nor the Aonian source :
Nothing that owns the Muses, could suspend
Your aid to Gallus :-Gallus is their friend.
For him the lofty laurel stands in tears,
And hung with humid pearls the lowly shrub appears.
Mænalian pines the godlike swain bemoan,
When, spread beneath a rock, he sigh'd alone;
And cold Lycæus wept from ev'ry dropping stone.
The sheep surround their shepherd, as he lies.
Blush not, sweet poet, nor the name despise :
50
PASTORAL X.
Along the streams, his flock Adonis fed;
And yet the queen of beauty blest lis bed.
The swains and tardy neatherds came, and last
Menalcas, wet with beating winter mast.
Wond'ring they ask'd from whence arose thy flame.
Yet more amaz'd, thy own Apollo came.
Flush'd were his cheeks, and glowing were his eyes :
Is she thy care? is she thy care?'' he cries,
"Thy false Lycoris flies thy love and thee,
And for thy rival tempts the raging sea,
The forms of horrid war, and heav'n's inclemency."
Silvanus came his brows a country crown
Of fennel, and of nodding lilies, drown.
Great Pan arriv'd; and we beheld him too,
His cheeks and temples of vermilion hue.
Why, Gallus, this immod'rate grief?" he cried.
I Think'st thou that love with tears is satisfied?
The meads are sooner drunk with morning dews,
The bees with flow'ry shrubs, the goats with browse."
Unmov'd, and with dejected eyes, he mourn'd:
He paus'd, and then these broken words return'd:
'Tis past; and pity gives me no relief:
But you, Arcadian swains, shall sing my grief,
And on your hills my last complaints renew:
So sad a song is only worthy you.
How light would lie the turf upon my breast,
If you my suff' rings in your songs exprest!
Ah ! that your birth and bus'ness had been mine-
To pen the sheep, and press the swelling vine!
Had Phyllis or Amyntas caus'd my pain,
Or any nymph or shepherd on the plain,
(Tho' Phyllis brown, tho' black Amyntas were,
Are violets not sweet, because not fair?)
Beneath the sallows and the shady vine,
My loves had mix'd their pliant limbs with mine:
Phyllis with myrtle wreaths had crown'd my hair,
And soft Amyntas sung away my care.
Come, see what pleasures in our plains abound;
The woods, the fountains, and the flow'ry ground.
As you are beauteous, were you half so true,
Here could I live, and love, and die, with only you.
Now I to fighting fields am sent afar,
And strive in winter camps with toils of war ;
While you, (alas, that I should find it so !)
To shun my sight your native soil forego,
And climb the frozen Alps, and tread th' eternal snow.
Ye frosts and snows, her tender body spare !
TH
PASTORAL X.
51
Those are not limbs for icicles to tear.
For me, the wilds and deserts are my choice;
The Muses once my care, my once harmonious voice.
There will I sing, forsaken and alone :
The rocks and hollow caves shall echo to my moan.
The rind of ev'ry plant her name shall know;
And, as the rind extends, the love shall grow.
Then on Arcadian mountains will I chase
(Mix'd with the woodland nymphs) the savage race;
Nor cold shall hinder me, with horns and hounds
To tread the thickets, or to leap the mounds.
And now methinks o'er steepy rocks. I go,
And rush through sounding woods, and bend the Parthian
bow;
As if with sports my suff'rings I should ease,
Or by my pains the god of love appease.
My frenzy changes: I delight no more
On mountain tops to chase the tusky boar:
No game but hopeless love my thoughis pursue :
Once more, ye nymphs, and songs, and sounding woods,
adieu !
Love alters not for us his hard decrees,
Not though beneath the Thracian clime we freeze,
Or Italy's indulgent heav'n forego,
And in mid-winter tread Sithonian snow;
Or, when the barks of elms are scorched, we keep
On Meroe's burning plains the Libyan sheep.
In hell, and earth, and seas, and heav'n above,
Love conquers all; and we must yield to love."
My Muses, here your sacred raptures end:
The verse was what I ow'd my suff'ring friend.
This while I sung, my sorrows I deceiv'd,
And bending osiers into baskets weav'd.
The song, because inspir'd by you, shall shine;
And Gallus will approve, because 'tis mine-
Gallus, for whom my holy flames renew
Each hour, and ev'ry moment rise in view;
As alders, in the spring, their boles extend,
And heave so fiercely that the bark they rend,
Now let us rise: for hoarseness oft invades
The singer's voice, who sings beneath the shades.
From juniper unwholesome dews distil,
That blast the sooty corn, the withering berbage kill.
Away, my goats, away! for you have brows'd your fill.
GEORGIC I.
ARGUMENT.
The poet, in the beginning of this book, propounds the general design of
each Georgic: and, after a solemn invocation of all the gods who are
any way related to his subject, he addresses himself in particular to Au-
gustus, whom he compliments with divinity; and after strikes into hist
business. He shows the different kinds of tillage proper to different
soils, traces out the original of agriculture, gives a catalogue of the hus-
bandman's tools, specifies the employments peculiar to each season, de-
scribes the changes of the weather, with the signs in heaven and earth
that forebode them; instances many of the prodigies that happened near
the scene of Julius Cæsar's death; and shuts up all with a supplication
to the gods for the safety of Augustus, and the preservation of Rome.
WHE
HAT makes a plenteous harvest, when to turn
The fruitful soil, and when to sow the corn;
The care of sheep, of oxen, and of kine;
And how to raise on elms the teeming vine ;
The birth and genius of the frugal bee,
I sing, Mæcenas, and I sing to thee.
Ye deities! who fields and plains protect,
Who rule the seasons, and the year direct,
Bacchus and fost'ring Ceres, pow'rs divine,
Who gave us corn for mast, for water, wine-
Ye Fauns, propitious to the rural swains,
Ye Nymphs that haunt the mountains and the plains,
Join in my work, and to my numbers bring
Your needful succor; for your gifts I sing.
And thou, whose trident struck the teeming earth,
And made a passage for the courser's birth;
And thou, for whom the Cean shore sustains
The milky herds, that graze the flow'ry plains;
And thou, the shepherds' tutelary god,
Leave, for a while, O Pan, thy lov'd abode;
And, if Arcadian fleeces be thy care,
From fields and mountains to my song repair.
Inventor, Pallas, of the fatt'ning oil,
Thou founder of the plough and ploughman's toil ;
เ
GEORGIC I.
53
And thou, whose hands the shroud-like cypress rear,
Come, all ye gods and goddesses, that wear
The rural honors, and increase the year;
You, who supply the ground with seeds of grain ;
And you, who swell those seeds with kindly rain ;
And chiefly thou, whose undetermin'd state
Is yet the bus'ness of the gods, debate,
Whether in after-times, to be declar'd,
The patron of the world, and Rome's peculiar guard,
Or o'er the fruits and seasons to preside,
And the round circuit of the year to guide-
Pow'rful of blessings, which thou strew'st around,
And with thy goddess mother's myrtle crown'd.
Or wilt thou, Cæsar, choose the wat'ry reign
To smooth the surges, and correct the main?
Then mariners, in storms, to thee shall pray;
E'en utmost Thule shall thy pow'r obey;
And Neptune shall resign the fasces of the sea.
The wat'ry virgins for thy bed shall strive,
And Tethys all her waves in dowry give.
Or wilt thou bless our summers with thy rays,
And, seated near the Balance, poise the days,
Where, in the void of heav'n, a space is free,
Betwixt the Scorpion and the Maid, for thee?
The Scorpion, ready to receive thy laws,
Yields half his region, and contracts his claws.
Whatever part of heaven thou shalt obtain,
(For let not hell presume of such a reign;
Nor let so dire a thirst of empire move
Thy mind, to leave thy kindred gods above;
Though Greece admires Elysium's blest retreat,
Though Proserpine affects her silent seat,
And, importun'd by Ceres to remove,
Prefers the fields below to those above,)
Be thou propitious, Cæsar! guide my course,
And to my bold endeavors add thy force :
Pity the poet's and the ploughman's cares ;
Int'rest thy greatness in our mean affairs,
And use thyself betimes to hear and grant our prayers.
While yet the spring is young, while earth unbinds
Her frozen bosom to the western winds;
While mountain snows dissolve against the sun,
And streams, yet new, from precipices run ;
E'en in this early dawning of the year,
Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer,
And goad him till he groans beneath his toil,
Till the bright share is buried in the soil.
54
GEORGIC I.
That crop rewards the greedy peasant's pains,
Which twice the sun, and twice the cold sustains,
And bursts the crowded barns with more than promis'd
gains.
But, ere we stir the yet unbroken ground,
The various course of seasons must be found;
The weather and the setting of the winds,
The culture suiting to the sev'ral kinds
Of seeds and plants, and what will thrive and rise,
And what the genius of the soil denies.
This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres, suits :
That other loads the trees with happy fruits:
A fourth, with grass unbidden, decks the ground.
Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crown'd:
India black ebon and white iv'ry bears;
And soft Idume weeps her od'rous tears.
Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far,
And naked Spaniards temper steel for war :
Epirus, for th' Elean chariot, breeds
(In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds.
This is th' orig'nal contract; these the laws
Impos'd by Nature, and by Nature's cause,
On sundry places, when Deucalion hurl'd
His mother's entrails on the desert world;
Whence men, a hard laborious kind, were born,
Then borrow part of winter for thy corn,
And early, with thy team, the glebe in furrows turn;
That, while the turf lies open and unbound,
Succeeding suns may bake the mellow ground.
But, if the soil be barren, only scar
The surface, and but lightly print the share,
When cold Arcturus rises with the sun :
Lest wicked weeds the corn should overrun
In wat'ry soils; or lest the barren sand
Should suck the moisture from the thirsty land.
Both these unhappy soils the swain forbears,
And keeps a sabbath of alternate years,
That the spent earth may gather heart again,
And, better'd by cessation, bear the grain.
At least where vetches, pulse, and tares, have stood,
And stalks of lupines grew (a stubborn wood),
Th' ensuing season, in return, may bear
The bearded product of the golden year:
For flax and oats will burn the tender field,.
And sleepy poppies harmful harvest yield.
But sweet vicissitudes of rest and toil
Make easy labor and renew the soil,
GEORGIC 1.
55
Yet sprinkle sordid ashes all around,
And load with fatt'ning dung the fallow ground.
Thus change of seeds for meagre soils is best;
And earth manur'd, not idle, though at rest.
Long practice has a sure improvement found,
With kindled fires to burn the barren ground,
When the light stubble, to the flames resign'd,
Is driv'n along, and crackles in the wind.
Whether from hence the hollow womb of earth
Is warm'd with secret strength for better birth,
Or, when the latent vice is cur'd by fire,
Redundant humors through the pores expire;
Or that the warmth distends the chinks, and makes
New breathings, whence new nourishment she takes ;
Or that the heat the gaping ground constrains,
New knits the surface, and new strings the veins;
Lest soaking show'rs should pierce her secret seat,
Or freezing Boreas chill her genial heat,
Or scorching suns too violently beat.
Nor is the profit small the peasant makes,
Who smooths with harrows, or who pounds with rakes,
The crumbling clods: nor Ceres from on high
Regards his labors with a grudging eye;
Nor his, who ploughs across the furrow'd grounds,
And on the back of earth inflicts new wounds;
For he, with frequent exercise, commands
Th' unwilling soil, and tames the stubborn lands.
Ye swains, invoke the pow'rs who rule the sky
For a moist summer and a winter dry;
For winter drought rewards the peasant's pain,
And broods indulgent on the buried grain.
Hence Mysia boasts her harvests, and the tops
Of Gargarus admired their happy crops.
When first the soil receives the fruitful seed,
Make no delay, but cover it with speed:
So fenc'd from cold the pliant furrows break,
Before the surly clod resists the rake;
And call the floods from high, to rush amain
With pregnant streams, to swell the teeming grain.
Then, when the fiery suns too fiercely play,
And shrivell'd herbs on with'ring stems decay,
The wary ploughman, on the mountain's brow,
Undams his wat'ry stores-huge torrents flow,
And, rattling down the rocks, large moisture yield,
Temp'ring the thirsty fever of the field
And, lest the stem, too feeble for the freight,
Should scarce sustain the head's unwieldy weight,
56
GEORGIC I.
Sends in his feeding flocks betimes, t' invade.
The rising bulk of the luxuriant blade,
Ere yet th' aspiring offspring of the grain
O'ertops the ridges of the furrow'd plain;
And drains the standing waters, when they yield
Too large a bev'rage to the drunken field:
But most in autumn, and the show'ry spring,
When dubious months uncertain weather bring;
When fountains open, when impetuous rain
Swells hasty brooks, and pours upon the plain ;
When earth with slime and mud is cover'd o'er,
Or hollow places spew their wat'ry store.
Nor yet the ploughman, nor the lab'ring steer,
Sustain alone the hazards of the year :
But glutton geese, and the Strymonian crane,
With foreign troops invade the tender grain ;
And tow'ring weeds malignant shadows yield;
And spreading succ'ry chokes the rising field.
The sire of gods and men, with hard decrees,
Forbids our plenty to be bought with ease,
And wills that mortal men, inur'd to toil,
Should exercise, with pains, the grudging soil;
Himself invented first the shining share,
And whetted human industry by care;
Himself did handicrafts and arts ordain,
Nor suffer'd sloth to rust his active reign.
Ere this, no peasant vex'd the peaceful ground,
Which only turfs and greens for altars found :
No fences parted fields, nor marks nor bounds
Distinguish'd acres of litigious grounds:
But all was common, and the fruitful earth
Was free to give her unexacted birth.
Jove added venom to the viper's brood,
And swell'd, with raging storms, the peaceful flo
Commission'd hungry wolves t' infest the fold,
And shook from oaken leaves the liquid gold;
Remov'd from human reach the cheerful fire,
And from the rivers bade the vine retire;
That studious need might useful arts explore;
From furrow'd fields to reap the foodful store,
And force the veins of clashing flints t' expire
The lurking seeds of their celestial fire.
Then first on seas the hollow'd alder swam ;
Then sailors quarter'd heaven, and found a name
For ev'ry fix'd and ev'ry wand'ring star—
The Pleiads, Hyads, and the Northern Car.
Then toils for beasts, and lime for birds, were found,
GEORGIC I.
57
And deep-mouth'd dogs did forest-walks surround;
And casting-nets were spread in shallow brooks,
Drags in the deep, and baits were hung on hooks.
Then saws were tooth'd, and sounding axes made;
(For, wedges first did yielding wood invade)
And various arts in order did succeed,
(What cannot endless labor, urg'd by need?)
First Ceres taught the ground with grain to sow,
And arm'd with iron shares the crooked plough;
When now Dodonian oaks no more supplied
Their mast, and trees their forest-fruits denied,
Soon was his labor doubled to the swain,
And blasting mildews blacken'd all his grain :
Though thistles chok'd the fields, and kill'd the corn,
And an unthrifty crop of weeds was born :
Then burrs and brambles, an unbidden crew
Of graceless guests, th' unhappy field subdue ;
And oats unblest, and darnel domineers,
And shoots its head above the shining ears;
So that, unless the land with daily care
Is exercis'd, and, with an iron war
Of rakes and harrows, the proud foes expell'd,
And birds with clamors frighted from the field;
Unless the boughs are lopp'd that shade the plain,
And heav'n invok'd with vows for fruitful rain-
On others' crops you may with envy look,
And shake for food the long-abandon'd oak.
Nor must we pass untold what arms they wield,
Who labor tillage and the furrow'd field;
Without whose aid the ground her corn denies,
And nothing can be sown, and nothing rise-
The crooked plough, the share, the tow'ring height
Of wagons and the cart's unwieldy weight,
The sled, the tumbril, hurdles and the flail,
The fan of Bacchus, with the flying sail-
These all must be prepared if ploughmen hope
The promis'd blessing of a bounteous crop.
Young elms, with early force, in copses bow,
Fit for the figure of the crooked plough.
Of eight feet long a fasten'd beam prepare:
On either side the head, produce an ear;
And sink a socket for the shining share.
Of beech the plough-tail and the bending yoke,
Or softer linden harden'd in the smoke.
I could be long in precepts; but I fear
So mean a subject might offend your ear.
Delve of convenient depth your threshing floor;
58
GEORGIC I.
With temper'd clay, then fill and face it o'er";
And let the weighty roller run the round,
To smooth the surface of th' unequal ground;
Lest, crack'd with summer heats, the flooring flies,
Or sinks, and through the crannies weeds arise:
For sundry foes the rural realm surround:
The field-mouse builds her garner under ground
For gather'd grain: the blind laborious mole
In winding mazes works her hidden hole :
In hollow caverns vermin make abode-
The hissing serpent, and the swelling toad:
The corn-devouring weasel here abides,
And the wise ant her wintry store provides.
Mark well the flow'ring almonds in the wood:
If od'rous blooms the bearing branches load,
The glebe will answer to the sylvan reign;
Great heats will follow, and large crops of grain.
But if a wood of leaves o'ershade the tree,
Such and so barren will thy harvest be:
In vain the hind shall vex the threshing floor,
For empty chaff and straw will be thy store.
Some steep their seed, and some in caldrons boil
With vig'rous nitre and with lees of oil,
O'er gentle fires, th' exub'rant juice to drain,
And swell the flatt'ring husks with fruitful grain.
Yet, the success is not for years assur'd,
Though chosen is the seed, and fully cur'd,
Unless the peasant, with his annual pain,
Renews his choice, and culls the largest grain.
Thus all below, whether by Nature's curse,
Or Fate's decree, degen'rate still to worse.
So the boat's brawny crew the current stem,
And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream :
But, if they slack their hands, or cease to strive,
Then down the flood with headlong haste they drive.
Nor must the ploughman less observe the skies,
When the Kids, Dragon, and Arcturus rise;
Then sailors homeward bent, who cut their way
Thro' Helle's stormy straits, and oyster-breeding sea.
But, when Astrea's balance, hung on high,
Betwixt the nights and days divides the sky,
Then yoke your oxen, sow your winter grain,
Till cold December comes with driving rain.
Linseed and fruitful poppy bury warm,
In a dry season, and prevent the storm.
Sow beans and clover in a rotten soil,
And millet rising from your annual toil,
GEORGIC I.
59
When with his golden horns, in full career
The Bull beats down the barriers of the year,
And Argo and the Dog forsake the northern Are.
But, if your care to wheat alone extend,
Let Maia with her sisters first descend,
And the bright Gnossian diadem downward bend,
Before you trust in earth your future hope;
Or else expect a listless lazy crop.
Some swains have sown before; but most have found
A husky harvest from the grudging ground.
Vile vetches would you sow, or lentils lean,
The growth of Egypt, or the kidney bean,
Begin when the slow Wagoner descends;
Nor cease your sowing till midwinter ends.
For this, through twelve bright signs Apollo guides
The year, and earth in sev'ral climes divides.
Five girdles bind the skies: the torrid zone
Glows with the passing and repassing sun :
Far on the right and left, th' extremes of heav'n
To frosts and snows and bitter blasts are given :
Betwixt the midst and these, the gods assign'd
Two habitable seats for human kind,
And 'cross their limits, cut a sloping way,
Which the twelve signs in beauteous order sway.
Two poles turn round the globe; one seen to rise
O'er Scythian hills, and one in Libyan skies ;
The first sublime in heav'n, the last is whirl'd
Below the regions of the nether world.
Around our pole the spiry Dragon glides,
And, like a winding streain, the Bears divides-
The less and greater, who by Fate's decree
Abhor to dive beneath the northern sea.
There, as they say, perpetual night is found,
In silence brooding on th' unhappy ground:
Or, when Aurora leaves our northern sphere,
She lights the downward heav'n, and rises there;
And, when on us she breathes the living light,
Red Vesper kindles there the tapers of the night.
From hence uncertain seasons we may know :
And when to reap the grain, and when to sow ;
Or when to fell the furzes when 'tis meet
To spread the flying canvas for the fleet.
Observe what stars arise or disappear;
And the four quarters of the rolling year.
But, when cold weather and continu'd rain
The lab'ring husband in his house restrain,
Let him forecast his work with timely care:
*
бо
GEORGIC I.
Which else is huddled, when the skies are fair :
Then let him mark the sheep, or whet the shining shar
Or hollow trees for boats, or number o'er
His sacks, or measure his increasing store,
Or sharpen stakes, or head the forks, or twine
The sallow twigs to tie the straggling vine;
Or wicker baskets weave, or air the corn,
Or grinded grain betwixt two marbles turn.
No laws, divine or human, can restrain
From necessary works the lab'ring swain.
E'en holy days and feasts permission yield
To float the meadows, or to fence the field,
To fire the brambles, snare the birds, and steep
In wholesome waterfalls the woolly sheep.
And oft the drudging ass is driven, with toil,
To neighb'ring towns with apples and with oil;
Returning, late and laden, home with gain
Of barter'd pitch, and handmills for the grain.
The lucky days, in each revolving moon,
For labor choose the fifth be sure to shun;
That gave the Furies and pale Pluto birth,
And arm'd against the skies the sons of earth.
With mountains pil'd on mountains, thrice they strove
To scale the steepy battlements of Jove ;
And thrice his lightning and red thunder play'd,
And their demolish'd work in ruin laid.
The sev'nth is, next the tenth, the best to join
Young oxen to the yoke, and plant the vine.
Then, weavers, stretch your stays upon the weft.
The ninth is good for travel, bad for theft.
Some works in dead of night are better done,
Or when the morning dew prevents the sun.
Parch'd meads and stubble mow by Phoebe's light.
Which both require the coolness of the night ;
For moisture then abounds, and pearly rains
Descend in silence to refresh the plains.
The wife and husband equally conspire
To work by night, and rake the winter fire :
He sharpens torches in the glimm'ring room;
She shoots the flying shuttle through the loom,
Or boils in kettles must of wine, and skims,
With leaves, the dregs that overflow the brims :
And, till the watchful cock awakes the day,
She sings to drive the tedious hours away.
But, in warm weather, when the skies are clear,
By daylight reap the product of the year;
And in the sun your golden grain display,
GEORGIC 1.
:
And thrash it out and winnow it by day.
Plough naked, swain, and naked sow the iand;
For lazy winter numbs the lab'ring hand.
In genial winter, swains enjoy their store,
Forget their hardships, and recruit for more.
The farmer to full bowls invites his friends,
And, what he got with pains, with pleasure spends.
So sailors, when escap'd from stormy seas,
First crown their vessels, then indulge their ease.
Yet that's the proper time to thrash the wood
For mast of oak, your father's homely food;
To gather laurel-berries, and the spoil
the
Of bloody myrtles, and to press your oil:
For stalking cranes to set the guileful snare ;
T'inclose the stags in toils, and hunt the hare ;
With Balearic slings, or Gnossian bow,
To persecute from far the flying doe,
Then, when the fleecy skies new clothe the wood,
And cakes of rustling ice come rolling down the flood.
Now sing we stormy stars, when autumn weighs
The year, and adds to nights, and shortens days,
And suns, declining, shine with feeble rays:
What cares must then attend the toiling swain ;
Or when the low'ring spring, with lavish rain,
Beats down the slender stem and bearded grain,
While yet the head is green, or, lightly swell'd
With milky moisture, overlooks the field.
E'en when the farmer, now secure of fear,
Sends in the swains to spoil the finish'd year,
E'en while the reaper fills his greedy hands,
And binds the golden sheaves in brittle bands,
Oft have I seen a sudden storm arise,
From all the warring winds that sweep the skies :
The heavy harvest from the root is torn,
And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble borne :
With such a force the flying rack is driv'n,
And such a winter wears the face of heav'n.
And oft whole sheets descend of sluicy rain,
Suck'd by the spongy clouds from off the main :
The lofty skies, at once come pouring down,
The promis'd crop, and golden labors drown.
The dikes are fill'd; and, with a roaring sound,
The rising rivers float the nether ground;
And rocks the bellowing voice of boiling seas rebound
The father of the gods his glory shrouds,
Involv'd in tempests, and a night of clouds ;
And, from the middle darkness flashing out.
Virgil.-3
62
GEORGIC İ.
By fits he deals his fiery bolts about.
Earth feels the motions of her angy god;
Her entrails tremble, and her mountains nod;
And flying beasts in forests seek abode :
Deep horror seizes ev'ry human breast;
Their pride is humbled, and their fear confess'd,
While he from high his rolling thunder throws,
And fires the mountains with repeated blows:
The rocks are from their old foundations rent;
The winds redouble, and the rains augment:
The waves on heaps are dash'd against the shore ;
And now the woods, and now the billows, roar.
In fear of this, observe the starry signs,
Where Saturn houses, and where Hermes joins.
Fut first to heav'n thy due devotions pay,
And annual gifts on Ceres' altars lay.
When winter's rage abates, when cheerful hours
Awake the spring, the spring awakes the flow'rs,
On the green turf thy careless limbs display,
And celebrate the mighty Mother's day.
For then the hills with pleasing shades are crown'd,
And sleeps are sweeter on the silken ground,
With milder beams the sun serenely shines :
Fat are the lambs, and luscious are the wines.
Let ev'ry swain adore her pow'r divine,
And milk and honey mix with sparkling wine :
Let all the choir of clowns attend the show,
In long procession, shouting as they go;
Invoking her to bless their yearly stores,
Invoking plenty to their crowded floors.
Thus in the spring, and thus in summer's heat,
Before the sickles touch the rip'ning wheat,
On Ceres call; and let the lab'ring hind
With oaken wreaths his hollow temples bind :
On Ceres let him call, and Ceres praise,
With uncouth dances, and with country lays.
And that by certain signs we may presage
Of heats and rains, and wind's impetuous rage,
The sov'reign of the heav'ns has set on high
The moon, to mark the changes of the sky;
When southern blasts should ease, and when the swair
Should near their fold his feeding flocks restrain.
For, ere the rising winds begin to roar,
The working seas advance to wash the shore :
Soft whispers run along the leafy woods;
And mountains whistle to the murm'ring floods.
E'en then the doubtful billows scarce abstain
GEORGIC I.
63
From the toss'd vessel on the troubled main ;
When crying cormorants forsake the sea,
And, stretching to the covert, wing their way;
When sportful coots run skimming o'er the strand,
When watchful herons leave their wat'ry stand,
And, mounting upward with erected flight,
Gain on the skies, and soar above the sight.
And oft, before tempestuous winds arise,
The seeming stars fall headlong from the skies,
And, shooting through the darkness, gild the night
With sweeping glories, and long trails of light ;
And chaff with eddy-winds is whirl'd around,
And dancing leaves are lifted from the ground;
And floating feathers on the waters play.
But, when the winged thunder takes his way
From the cold north, and east and west engage,
And at their frontiers meet with equal rage,
The clouds are crush'd: a glut of gather'd rain
The hollow ditches fills, and floats the plain,
And sailors furl their dropping sheets amain.
Wet weather seldom hurts the most unwise
So plain the signs, such prophets are the skies.
The wary crane foresees it first, and sails
Above the storm, and leaves the lowly vales :
The cow looks up, and from afar can find
The change of leaven, and snuffs it in the wind:
The swallow skims the river's wat'ry face:
The frogs renew the croaks of their loquacious race:
The careful ant her secret cell forsakes,
And drags her eggs along the narrow tracks:
At either horn the rainbow drinks the flood:
Huge flocks of rising rooks forsake their food.
And, crying, seek the shelter of the wood.
Besides, the sev'ral sorts of wat'ry fowls,
That swim the seas or haunt the standing pools,
The swans that sail along the silver flood,
And dive with stretching necks to search their food,
Then lave their backs with sprinkling dews in vain,
And stem the stream to meet the promis'd rain.
The crow with clam'rous cries the show'r demands,
And single stalks along the desert sands.
The nightly virgin, while her wheel she plies,
Foresees the storm impending in the skies,
When sparkling lamps their sputt'ring light advance,
And in the sockets oily bubbles dance.
Then, after showers, 'tis easy to descry
Returning suns and a serener sky;
64
GEORGIC I.
The stars shine smarter; and the moon adorns,
As with unborrow'd beams, her sharpen'd horns.
The filmy gossamer now flits no more,
Nor halcyons bask on the short sunny shore:
Their litter is not toss'd by sows unclean;
But a blue droughty mist descends upon the plain ;
And owls, that mark the setting sun, declare
A starlight evening, and a morning fair.
Tow'ring aloft avenging Nisus flies,
While, dar'd, below the guilty Scylla lies.
Wherever frighted Scylla flies away,
Swift Nisus follows, and pursues his prey
Where injured Nisus takes his airy course,
Thence trembling Scylla flies, and shuns his force.
This punishment pursues th' unhappy maid,
And thus the purple hair is dearly paid :
Then, thrice the ravens rend the liquid air,
And croaking notes proclaim the settled fair;
Then round their airy palaces they fly,
To greet the sun; and, seiz'd with secret joy,
When storms are overblown, with food repair
To their forsaken nests, and callow care.
Not that I think their breasts with heav'nly souls
Inspir'd, as man, who destiny controls.
But with the changeful temper of the skies,
As rains condense, and sunshine rarifies,
So turn the species in their alter'd minds,
Compos'd by calms and discompos'd by winds.
From hence proceeds the bird's harmonious voice;
From hence the cows exult, and frisking lambs rejoice.
Observe the daily circle of the sun,
And the short year of each revolving moon:
By them thou shalt foresee the following day;
Nor shall a starry night thy hopes betray.
When first the moon appears, if then she shrouds
Her silver crescent tipp'd with sable clouds,
Conclude she bodes a tempest on the main,
And brews for fields impetuous floods of rain.
Or, if her face with fiery flushing glow,
Expect the rattling winds aloft to blow.
But, four nights old (for that's the surest sign),
With sharpen'd horns if glorious then she shine,
Next day, nor only that, but all the moon,
'Till her revolving race be wholly run,
Are void of tempests, both by land and sea ;
And sailors in the port their promis'd vow shall pay.
Above the rest, the sun, who never lies,
GEORGIC I.
65
Foretells the change of weather in the skies :
For, if he rise unwilling to his race,
Clouds on his brow, and spots upon his face,
Or if through mists he shoots his sullen beams,
Frugal of light, in loose and straggling streams,
Suspect a drizzling day, with southern rain,
Fatal to fruits and flocks and promis'd grain.
Or, if Aurora, with half open'd eyes,
And a pale sickly cheek, salute the skies,
How shall the vine, with tender leaves, defend
Her teeming clusters, when the storms descend,
When ridgy roofs and tiles can scarce avail
To bar the ruin of the rattling hail
But more than all, the setting sun survey,
When down the steep of heav'n he drives the day.
For oft we find him finishing his race,
With various colors erring on his face.
If fiery red his glowing globe descends,
High winds and furious tempests he portends :
But, if his cheeks are swollen with livid blue,
He bodes wet weather by his wat'ry hue:
If dusky spots are varied on his brow,
And streak'd with red a troubled color show,
That sullen mixture shall at once declare
Winds, rain, and storms, and elemental war.
What desp'rate madman then would venture o'er
The frith, or haul his cables from the shore?
But, if with purple rays he brings the light,
And a pure heav'n resigns to quiet night,
No rising winds, or falling storms are nigh;
But northern breezes through the forests fly,
And drive the rack, and purge the ruffled sky.
Th' unerring sun by certain signs declares
What the late ev'n or early morn prepares,
And when the south projects a stormy day,
And when the clearing north will puff the clouds away.
The sun reveals the secrets of the sky;
And who dares give the source of light the lie?
The change of empires often he declares,
Fierce tumults, hidden treasons, open wars.
He first the fate of Cæsar did foretell,
And pitied Rome, when Rome in Cæsar fell;
In iron clouds conceal'd the public light ;
And impious mortals fear'd eternal night.
Nor was the fact foretold by him alone:
Nature herself stood forth and seconded the sun.
Earth, air, and seas, with prodigies were sign'd ;
·
*
66
GEORGIC I.
And birds obscene, and howling dogs, divin'd.
What rocks di Etna's bellowing mouth expire
From her torn entrails! and what floods of fire!
What clanks were heard, in German skies afar,
Of arms and armies, rushing to the war!
Dire earthquakes rent the solid Alps below,
And from their summits shook th' eternal snow:
Pale spectres in the close of night were seen;
And voices heard of more than mortal men,
In silent groves: dumb sheep and oxen spoke ;
And streams ran backward, and their beds forsook.
The yawning earth disclos'd th' abyss of hell :
The weeping statues did the wars foretell;
And holy sweat from brazen idols fell.
Then, rising in his might, the king of floods
Rush'd through the forest, tore the lofty woods,
And, rolling onward, with a sweepy sway,
Bore houses, herds, and iab'ring hinds away;
Blood sprang from wells; wolves howl'd in towns by night.
And boding victims did the priests affright.
Such peals of thunder never pour'd from high,
Nor forky lightnings flash'd from such a sullen sky.
Red meteors ran across the ethereal space;
Stars disappear'd, and comets took their place.
For this th' Emathian plains once more were strow'd
With Roman bodies, and just heav'n thought good
To fatten twice those fields with Roman blood.
Then, after length of time, the lab'ring swains,
Who turn the turfs of those unhappy plains,
Shall rusty piles from the plough'd furrows take,
And over empty helmets pass the rake-
Amaz'd at antique titles on the stones,
And mighty relics of gigantic bones.
Ye home-born deities of mortal birth!
Thou father Romulus, and mother Earth,
Goddess unmov'd! whose guardian arms extend
O'er Tuscan Tiber's course, and Roman tow'rs defend;
With youthful Cæsar your joint pow'rs engage,
Nor hinder him to save the sinking age.
O! let the blood, already spilt, atone
For the past crimes of cursed Laomedon !
Heav'n wants thee there and long the gods, we know,
Have grudg'd thee, Cæsar, to the world below,
Where fraud and rapine right and wrong confound,
Where impious arms from ev'ry part resound.
And monstrous crimes in ev'ry shape are crown'd.
The peaceful peasant to the wars is press'd,
GEORGIC I.
67
The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest;
The plain no pasture to the flock affords ;
The crooked scythes are straighten'd into swords :
And there Euphrates her soft offspring arms,
And here the Rhine rebellows with alarms;
The neighb'ring cities range on sev'ral sides,
Perfidious Mars long plighted leagues divides,
And o'er the wasted world in triumph rides.
So four fierce coursers, starting to the race,
Scour through the plain, and lengthen every pace;
Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threat'ning cries, they fear
But force along the trembling charioteer.
1
GEORGIC II.
ARGUMENT.
The subject of the following book is planting; in handling of which argu-
ment the poet shows all the different methods of raising trees, describes
their variety, and gives rules for the management of each in particular.
He then points out the soils in which the several plants thrive best, and
thence takes occasion to run out into the praises of Italy; after which he
gives some directions for discovering the nature of every soil, prescribes
rules for dressing of vines, olives, etc., and concludes the Georgic with a
panegyric on a country life.
HUS far of tillage, and of heav'nly signs;
TH
Now sing, my Muse, the growth of gen'rous vines,
The shady groves, the woodland progeny,
And the slow product of Minerva's tree.
Great father Bacchus! to my song repair;
For clust'ring grapes are thy peculiar care :
For thee large bunches load the bending vine;
And the last blessings of the year are thine.
To thee his joys the jolly Autumn owes,
When the fermenting juice the vat o'erflows.
Come, strip with me, my god! come drench all o'er
Thy limbs in must of wine, and drink at ev'ry pore.
Some trees their birth to bounteous nature owe;
For some without the pains of planting, grow.
With osiers thus the banks of brooks abound,
Sprung from the wat'ry genius of the ground.
From the same principles gray willows come,
Herculean poplar, and the tender broom.
But some from seeds inclos'd in earth arise;
For thus the mastful chestnut mates the skies.
Hence rise the branching beech and vocal oak,
Where Jove of old oraculously spoke.
Some from the root arising wood disclose :
Thus elms, and thus the savage cherry grows :
Thus the green bay, that binds the poet's brows,
Shoots, and is shelter'd by the mother's boughs.
These ways of planting Nature did ordain,
For trees and shrubs, and all the sylvan reign.
GEORGIC II.
69
Others there are, by late experience found,
Some cut the shoots, and plant in furrow'd ground;
Some cover rooted stalks in deeper mould ;
Some, cloven-stakes; and (wond'rous to behold!)
Their sharpen'd ends in earth their footing place;
And the dry poles produce a living race;
Some bow their vines, which, buried in the plain,
Their tops in distant arches rise again.
Others no root require; the lab'rer cuts
Young slips, and in the soil securely puts.
Ev'n stumps of olives, bar'd of leaves, and dead,
Revive, and oft redeem their wither'd head.
'Tis usual now an inmate graff to see
With insolence invade a foreign tree :
Thus pears and quinces from the crabtree come
And thus the ready cornel bears the plum.
Then let the learned gard'ner mark with care
The kinds of stocks, and what those kinds will bear;
Explore the nature of each sev'ral tree,
And, known, improve with artful industry;
And let no spot of idle earth be found;
But cultivate the genius of the ground:
For open Ismarus will Bacchus please;
Taburnus loves the shade of olive-trees.
The virtues of the sev'ral soils I sing.-
Mæcenas, now thy needful succor bring!
O thou, the better part of my renown,
Inspire thy poet and thy poem crown :
Embark with me, while I new tracts explore,
With flying sails, and breezes from the shore :
Not that my song in such a scanty space
So large a subject fully can embrace—
Not though I were supplied with iron lungs,
A hundred mouths, fill'd with as many tongues.
But steer my vessel with a steady hand,
And coast along the shore in sight of land.
Nor will I tire thy patience with a train
Of preface, or what ancient poets feign.
The trees which of themselves advance in air
Are barren kinds, but strongly built and fair,
Because the vigor of the native earth
Maintains the plant, and makes a manly birth.
Yet these, receiving graffs of other kind,
Or thence transplanted, change their savage mind,
Their wildness lose, and, quitting nature's part,
Obey the rules and discipline of art.
The same do trees, that, sprung from barren roots,
70
GEORGIC II.
In open fields transplanted bear their fruits.
For, where they grow, the native energy
Turns all into the substance of the tree,
Starves and destroys the fruit, is only made
For brawny bulk, and for a barren shade.
The plant that shoots from seed, a sullen tree,
At leisure grows, for late posterity;
The gen'rous flavor lost, the fruits decay,
And savage grapes are made the bird's ignoble prey,
Much labor is requir'd in trees, to tame
Their wild disorder, ard in ranks reclaim.
Well must the ground be digg'd, and better dress'd,
New soil to make, and meliorate the rest.
Old stakes of olive trees in plants revive;
By the same method Paphian myrtles live;
But nobler vines by propagation thrive.
From roots hard hazels, and from cions rise,
Tall ash, and taller oak that mates the skies;
Palm, poplar, fir, descending from the steep
Of hills, to try the dangers of the deep.
The thin-leav'd arbute hazel-graffs receives;
And planes huge apples bear, that bore but leaves.
Thus mastful beech the bristly chestnut bears,
And the wild ash is white with blooming pears.
And greedy swine from grafted elms are fed
With falling acorns, that on oaks are bred.
But various are the ways to change the state
Of plants, to bud, to graff, t' inoculate.
For, where the tender rinds of trees disclose
Their shooting gems, a swelling knot there grows.
Just in that space a narrow slit we make ;
Then other buds from bearing trees we take;
Inserted thus, the wounded rind we close,
In whose moist womb th' admitted infant grows.
But, when the smoother bole from knots is free,
We make a deep incision in the tree.
And in the solid wood the slip inclose;
The batt'ning bastard shoots again and grows;
And in short space the laden boughs arise,
With happy fruit advancing to the skies.
The mother plant admires the leaves unknown
Of alien trees, and apples not her own.
Of vegetable woods are various kinds ;
And the same species are of several minds,
Lotes, willows, elms, have different forms allow'd ;
So fun'ral cypress, rising like a shroud.
Fat olive trees of sundry sorts appear,
GEORGIC II.
71
Of sundry shapes: their unctious berries bear.
Radii long olives, orchites round produce,
And bitter pausia, pounded for the juice.
Alcinoüs' orchard various apples bears :
Unlike our bergamots and pounder pears.
Nor our Italian vines produce the shape,
Or taste, or flavor of the Lesbian grape.
The Thasian vines in richer soils abound;
The Mareotic grow in barren ground.
The Psythian grape we dry: Lagean juice
Will stamm'ring tongues and stagg'ring feet produce.
Rath ripe are some, and some of later kind,
Of golden some, and some of purple rind.
How shall I praise the Rhotian grape divine,
Which yet contends not with Falernian wine?
Th' Armenian many a consulship survives,
And longer than the Lydian vintage lives,
Or high Phanæus, king of Chian growth :
But, for large quantities and lasting, both,
The less Argitis bears the prize away,
The Rhodian, sacred to the solemn day,
In second services is pour'd to Jove,
And best accepted by the gods above.
Nor must Bumastus his old honors lose,
In length and largeness like the dugs of cows.
I pass the rest, whose ev'ry race, and name,
And kinds, are less material to my theme;
Which, who would learn, as soon may tell the sands:
Driv'n by the western wind on Libyan lands ;
Or number, when the blust'ring Eurus roars,
The billows beating on Ionian shores.
·
Nor ev'ry plant on ev'ry soil will grow :
The sallow loves the wat'ry ground and low
The marshes, alders Nature seems t' ordain
The rocky cliff for the wild ash's reign;
The baleful yew to northern blasts assigns,
To shores the myrtles, and to mounts the vines.
Regard the extremest cultivated coast,
From hot Arabia to the Scythian frost :
All sorts of trees their sev'ral countries know;
Black ebon only will in India grow,
And od`rous frankincense on the Sabæan bough.
Balm slowly trickles thro' the bleeding veins
Of happy shrubs in Idumæan plains.
The green Egyptian thorn, for med'cine good,
With Ethiop's hoary trees and woolly wood,
Let others tell; and how the Seres spin
72
GEORGIC II.
Their fleecy forests in a slender twine;
With mighty trunks of trees on Indian shores,
Whose height above the feather'd arrow soars,
Shot from the toughest bow, and, by the brawn
Of expert archers with vast rigor drawn.
Sharp-tasted citrons Median climes produce
(Bitter the rind, but gen'rous is the juice),
A cordial fruit, a present antidote
Against the direful stepdame's deadly draught,
Who, mixing wicked weeds with words impure,
The fate of envied orphans would procure.
Large is the plant, and like a laurel grows,
And, did it not a diff'rent scent disclose,
A laurel were the fragrant flow'rs contemn
The stormy wind, tenacious of their stem.
With this, the Medes to lab'ring age bequeath
New lungs, and cure the sourness of the breath.
But neither Median woods (a plenteous land),
Fair Ganges, Hermus rolling golden sand,
Nor Bactria, nor the richer Indian fields,
Nor all the gummy stores Arabia yields,
Nor any foreign earth of greater name,
Can with sweet Italy contend in fame.
No bulls, whose nostrils breathe a living flame,
Have turn'd our turf; no teeth of serpents here
Were sown, an armed host and iron crop to bear.
But fruitful vines, and the fat olive's freight,
And harvests heavy with their fruitful weight,
Adorn our fields; and on the cheerful green
The grazing flocks and lowing herds are seen.
The warrior horse, here bred, is taught to train :
There flows Clitumnus through the flow'ry plain,
Whose waves, for triumphs after prosp'rous war,
The victim ox, and snowy sheep prepare.
Perpetual spring our happy climate sees :
Twice breed the cattle, and twice bear the trees;
And summer suns recede by slow degrees.
Our land is from the rage of tigers.freed,
Nor nourishes the lion's angry seed;
Nor pois'nous aconite is here produc'd.
Or grows unknown, or is, when known, refus'd;
Nor in so vast a length our serpents glide,.
Or rais'd on such a spiry volume ride.
Next add our cities of illustrious name,
Their costly labor, and stupendous frame ;
Our forts on steepy hills, that far below
See wanton streams in winding valleys flow;
GEORGIC II.
73
Our twofold seas, that, washing either side,
A rich recruit of foreign stores provide;
Our spacious lakes; thee, Larius, first; and next
Benacus, with tempestuous billows vex'd.
Or shall I praise thy ports, or mention make
Of the vast mound that binds the Lucrine lake?
Or the disdainful sea, that, shut from thence,
Roars round the structure, and invades the fence.
There, where secure the Julian waters gide,
Or where Avernus' jaws admit the Tyrrhene tide?
Our quarries, deep in earth, were fam'd of old
For veins of silver, and for ore of gold.
Th' inhabitants themselves their country grace :
Hence rose the Marsian and Sabellian race,
Stong limb'd and stout, and to the wars inclin'd,
And hard Ligurians, a laborious kind,
And Volcians, arm'd with iron-headed darts,
Besides an offspring of undaunted hearts—
The Decii, Marii, great Camillus, came
From hence, and greater Scipio's double name,
And mighty Cæsar, whose victorious arms
To farthest Asia carry fierce alarms,
Avert unwarlike Indians from his Rome,
Triumph abroad, secure our peace at home.
Hail, sweet Saturnian soil! of fruitful grain
Great parent, greater of illustrious men !
For thee my tuneful accents will I raise,
And treat of arts disclos'd in ancient days;
Once more unlock for thee the sacred spring,
And old Ascræan verse in Roman cities sing.
The nature of the sev'ral soils now see,
}
Their strength, their color, their fertility:
And first for heath, and barren hilly ground,
Where meagre clay and flinty stones abound,
Where the poor soil all succor seems to want―
Yet this suffices the Palladian plant.
Undoubted signs of such a soil are found;
For here wild olive-shoots o'erspread the ground,
And heaps of berries strew the fields around.
But, where the soil, with fatt'ning moisture fill'd,
Is cloth'd with grass, and fruitful to be till'd,
Such as in cheerful vales we view from high,
Which dripping rocks with rolling streams supply,
And feed with ooze; where rising hillocks run
In length, and open to the southern sun ;
Where fern succeeds, ungrateful to the plough—
That gentle ground to gen'rous grapes allow,
74
GEORGIC II.
Strong stocks of vines it will in time produce,
And overflow the vats with friendly juice,
Such as our priests in golden goblets pour
To gods, the givers of the cheerful hour,
Then when the bloated Tuscan blows his horn,
And reeking entrails are in chargers borne.
If herds or fleecy flocks be more thy care,
Or goats that graze the field, and burn it bare,
Then seek Tarentum's lawns, and furthest coast,
Or such a field as hapless. Mantua lost,
Where silver swans sail down the wai'ry road,
And graze the floating herbage of the flood.
There crystal streams perpetual tenor keep,
Nor food nor springs are wanting to thy sheep;
For, what the day devours, the nightly dew
Shall to the morn in pearly drops renew.
Fat crumbling earth is fitter for the plough,
Putrid and loose above, and black below;
For ploughing is an imitative toil,
Resembling nature in an easy soil.
No land for seed like this; no fields afford
So large an income to the village lord :
No toiling teams from harvest-labor come
So late at night, so heavy laden home.
The like of forest land is understood,
From whence the surly ploughman grubs the wood.
Which had for length of ages idle stood.
Then birds forsake the ruins of their seat,
And, flying from their nests, their callow young forget.
The coarse lean gravel, on the mountain sides,
Scarce dewy bev'rage for the bees provides;
Nor chalk nor crumbling stones, the food of snakes,
That work in hollow earth their winding tracks.
The soil exhaling clouds of subtile dews,
Imbibing moisture which with ease she spews,
Which rusts not iron, and whose mould is clean,
Well cloth'd with cheerful grass, and ever green,
Is good for olives, and aspiring vines,
Embracing husband-elms in am'rous twines;
Is fit for feeding cattle, fit to sow,
And equal to the pasture and the plough.
Such is the soil of fat Campanian fields;
Such large increase the land that joins Vesuvius yields,
And such a country could Acerræ boast,
Till Clanius overflow'd the unhappy coast.
I teach thee next the diff'ring soils to know,
The light for vines, the heavier for the plough.
GEORGIC II.
75
Choose first a place for such a purpose fit:
There dig the solid earth and sink a pit;
Next fill the hole with its own earth again,
And trample with thy feet and tread it in:
Then, if it rise not to the former height
Of superfine, conclude that soil is light,
A proper ground for pasturage and vines.
But, if the sullen earth, so press'd, repines
Within its native mansion to retire,
And stays without, a heap of heavy mire,
'Tis good for arable, a glebe that asks
Tough teams of oxen, and laborious tasks.
Salt earth and bitter are not fit to sow,
Nor will be tam'd and mended by the plough.
Sweet grapes degen'rate there; and fruits, declin'd
From their first flav'rous taste, renounce their kind.
This truth by sure experiment is tried :
For first an osier colander provide
Of twigs thick wrought (such toiling peasants twine,
When thro' straight passages they strain their wine) ·
In this close vessel place that earth accurs'd,
But fill'd brimful with wholesome water first;
Then run it through the drops will rope around,
And, by the bitter taste, disclose the ground.
The fatter earth by handling we may find,
With ease distinguish'd from the meagre kind :
Poor soil will crumble into dust; the rich
Will to the fingers cleave like clammy pitch:
Moist earth produces corn and grass, but both
Too rank and too luxuriant in their growth.
Let not my land so large a promise boast,
Lest the rank ears in length of stem be lost.
The heavier earth is by her weight betray'd;
The lighter in the poising hand is weigh'd.
'Tis easy to distinguish by the sight
The color of the soil, and black from white,
But the cold ground is difficult to know;
Yet this the plants, that prosper there, will show
Black ivy, pitch-trees, and the baleful yew.
These rules consider'd well, with early care,
The vineyard destin'd for thy vines prepare.
But, long before the planting, dig the ground
With furrows deep that cast a rising mound.
The clods, expos'd to winter winds, will bake;
For putrid earth will best the vineyards take;
And hoary frosts, after the painful toil
Of delving hinds, will rot the mellow soil.
76
GEORGIC II.
Some peasants, not t' omit the nicest care,
Of the same soil their nursery prepare,
With that of their plantation; lest the tree,
Translated, should not with the soil agree.
Besides, to plant it as it was, they mark
The heav'n's four quarters on the tender bark,
And to the north or south restore the side,
Which at their birth did heat or cold abide :
So strong is custom; such effects can use
In tender souls of pliant plants produce.
Choose next a province for thy vineyard's reign,
On hills above, or in the lowly plain.
If fertile fields or valleys be thy choice,
:
Plant thick for bounteous Bacchus will rejoice
In close plantations there but if the vine
On rising ground be plac'd, or hills supine,
Extend thy loose battalions largely wide,
Op'ning thy ranks and files on either side,
But marshall'd all in order as they stand;
And let no soldier straggle from his band.
As legions in the field their front display,
To try the fortune of some doubtful day,
And move to meet their foes with sober pace,
Strict to their figure, though in wider space,
Before the battle joins, while from afar
The field yet glitters with the pomp of war,
And equal Mars, like an impartial lord,
Leaves all to fortune, and the dint of sword-
So let thy vines in intervals be set,
But not their rural discipline forget:
Indulge their width, and add a roomy space,
That their extremest lines may scarce embrace
Nor this alone to indulge a vain delight,
And make a pleasing prospect for the sight:
But, for the ground itself, this only way,
Can equal vigor to the plants convey,
Which, crowded, want the room, their branches to display.
How deep they must be planted, wouldst thou know?
In shallow furrows vines securely grow.
Not so the rest of plants; for Jove's own tree,
That holds the woods in awful sov'reignty,
Requires a depth of lodging in the ground,
And, next the lower skies, a bed profound :
High as his topmost boughs to heav'n ascend,
So low his roots to hell's dominions tend.
Therefore, nor winds, nor winter's rage o'erthrows
His bulky body; but unmov'd he grows :
GEORGIC II.
77
For length of ages lasts his happy reign;
And lives of mortal man contend in vain.
Full in the midst of his own strength he stands,
Stretching his brawny arms, and leafy hands;
His shade protects the plains; his head the hills commands.
The hurtful hazel in thy vineyard shun;
Nor plant it to receive the setting sun;
Nor break the topmost branches from the tree;
Nor prune, with blunted knife, the progeny.
Root up wild olives from thy labor'd lands;
For sparkling fire, from hind's unwary hands,
Is often scatter'd o'er their unctuous rinds,
And after spread abroad by raging winds:
For first the smould' ring flame the trunk receives;
Ascending thence, it crackles in the leaves;
At length victorious to the top aspires,
Involving all the wood in smoky fires;
But most, when driven by winds, the flaming storm
Of the long fires destroys the beauteous form.
In ashes then th' unhappy vineyard lies;
Nor will the blasted plants from ruin rise;
Nor will the wither'd stock be green again;
But the wild olive shoots, and shades th' ungrateful plain.
Be not seduc'd with wisdom's empty shows,
To stir the peaceful ground when Boreas blows.
When winter frosts constrain the field with cold,
The fainty root can take no steady hold.
But, when the golden spring reveals the year,
And the white bird returns, whom serpents fear,
That season deem the best to plant thy vines :
Next that, is when autumnal warmth declines,
Ere heat is quite decay'd or cold begun,
Or Capricorn admits the winter sun.
The spring adorns the woods, renews the leaves:
The womb of earth the genial seed receives :
For then Almighty Jove descends, and pours
Into his buxom bride his fruitful show'rs;
And, mixing his large limbs with hers, he feeds
Her births with kindly juice, and fosters teeming seeds.
Then joyous birds frequent the lonely grove,
And beasts, by nature stung, renew their love.
Then fields the blades of buried corn disclose
And, while the balmy western spirit blows,
Earth to the breath her bosom dares expose.
With kindly moisture then the plants abound;
The grass securely springs above the ground;
The tender twig shoots upward to the skies,
78
GEORGIC II:
And on the faith of the new sun relies.
The swerving vines on the tall elms prevail
Unhurt by southern show'rs or northern hail,
They spread their gems, the genial warmth to share,
And boldly trust their buds in open air.
In this soft season (let me dare to sing)
The world was hatch'd by heaven's imperial king,
In prime of all the year, and holy-days of spring.
Then did the new creation first appear;
Nor other was the tenor of the year,
When laughing heav'n did'the great birth attend,
And eastern winds their wintry breath suspend:
Then sheep first saw the sun in open fields;
And savage beasts were sent to stock the wilds;
And golden stars flew up to light the skies;
And man's relentless race from stony quarries rise.
Nor could the tender new creation bear
Th' excessive heats or coldness of the year,
But, chill'd by winter, or by summer fir'd,
The middle temper of the spring requir'd,
When warmth and moisture did at once abound,
And heaven's indulgence brooded on the ground..
For what remains, in depth of earth secure
Thy cover'd plants, and dung with hot manure;
And shells and gravel in the ground enclose;
For through their hollow chinks the water flows,
Which, thus imbib'd, returns in misty dews,
And, steaming up, the rising plant renews.
Some husbandmen, of late, have found the way,
A hilly heap of stones above to lay,
And press the plants with shards of potter's clay.
This fence against immod'rate rain they found,
Or, when the Dog-star cleaves the thirsty ground.
Be mindiul, when thou hast entomb'd the shoot,
With store of earth around to feed the root;
With iron teeth of rakes and prongs, to move
The crusted earth, and loosen it above.
Then exercise thy sturdy steers to plough
Between thy vines, and teach the feeble row
To mount on reeds, and wands, and, upward led,
On ashen poles to raise their forky head.
On these new crutches let them learn to walk,
Till, swerving upwards with a stronger stalk,
They brave the winds, and, clinging to their guide,
On tops of elms at length triumphant ride.
But, in their tender nonage, while they spread
Their springing leaves, and lift their infant head,
GEORGIC II.
79
And upward while they shoot in open air,
Indulge their childhood, and the nurslings spare;
Nor exercise thy rage on new-born life:
Nor let thy hand supply the pruning-knife,
And crop luxuriant stragglers, nor be loath
To strip the branches of their leafy growth.
But, when the rooted vines, with steady hold,
Can clasp their elms, then, husbandmen, be bold.
To lop the disobedient boughs, that staid
Beyond their ranks : let crooked steel invade
The lawless troops, which discipline disclaim,
And their superfluous growth with rigor tame.
Next, fenc'd with hedges and deep ditches round,
Exclude th' encroaching cattle from thy ground
While yet the tender gems but just appear,
Unable to sustain th' uncertain year;
Whose leaves are not alone foul winter's prey,
But oft by summer suns are scorch'd away.
And worse than both, become th' unworthy browse
Of buffaloes, salt goats, and hungry cows.
For not December's frost that burns the boughs,
Nor dog-days' parching heat that splits the rocks,
Are half so harmful as the greedy flocks,
Their venom'd bite, and scars indented on the stocks.
For this, the malefactor goat was laid
On Bacchus' altar, and his forfeit paid.
At Athens thus old comedy began,
When round the streets the reeling actors ran,
In country villages, and crossing ways,
Contending for the prizes of their plays;
And, glad with Bacchus, on the grassy soil,
Leap'd o'er the skins of goats besmear'd with oil.
Thus Roman youth, deriv'd from ruin'd Troy,
In rude Saturnian rhymes express their joy :
With taunts, and laughter loud, their audience please,
Deform'd with vizards, cut from barks of trees:
In jolly hymns they praise the god of wine,
Whose earthen images adorn the pine,
And there are hung on high, in honor of the vine.
A madness so devout the vineyard fills:
In hollow valleys and on rising hills,
On whate'er side he turns his honest face,
And dances in the wind, those fields are in his grace.
To Bacchus therefore let us tune our lays,
And in our mother tongue resound his praise.
Thin cakes in chargers, and a guilty goat,
Dragg'd by the horns, be to his altars brought ;
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GEORGIC II.
..
Whose offer'd entrails shall his crime reproach,
And drip their fatness from the hazel broach.
To dress thy vines, new labor is requir'd;
Nor must the painful husbandman be tir'd:
For thrice at least, in compass of the year,
Thy vineyard must employ the sturdy steer
To turn the glebe, besides thy daily pain
To break the clods, and make the surface plain,
T'unload the branches, or the leaves to thin,
That suck the vital moisture of the vine.
Thus in a circle runs the peasant's pain,
And the year rolls within itself again.
E'en in the lowest months, when storms have shed
From vines the hairy honors of their head:
Not then the grudging hind his labor ends,
But to the coming year his care extends.
E'en then the naked vine he persecutes ;
His pruning knife at once reforms and cuts.
Be first to dig the ground: be first to burn
The branches lopp'd; and first the props return
Into thy house that bore the burden'd vines;
But last to reap the vintage of thy wines
Twice in the year luxuriant leaves o'ershade
The encumber'd vine; rough brambles twice invade
Hard labor both !--Commend the large excess
Of spacious vineyards; cultivate the less
Besides, in woods the shrubs of prickly thorn,
Sallows and reeds on banks of rivers borne,
Remain to cut-for vineyards useful found
To stay thy vines, and fence thy fruitful ground.
Nay, when thy tender trees at length are bound;
When peaceful vines from pruning-hooks are free,
When husbands have survey'd the last degree,
And utmost files of plants, and order'd ev'ry tree,
E'en when they sing at ease in full content,
Insulting o'er the toils they underwent,
Yet still they find a future task remain,
To turn the soil, and break the clods again :
And, after all, their joys are insincere
While falling rains on ripening grapes they fear.
Quite opposite to these are olives found:
No dressing they require, and dread no wound.
Nor rakes nor harrows need; but fix'd below,
Rejoice in open air, and unconcern'dly grow.
The soil itself due nourishment supplies:
Plough but the furrows, and the fruits arise,
Content with small endeavors, till they spring,
GEORGIC II.
81
•
Soft peace they figure, and sweet plenty bring:
Then olives plant, and hymns to Pallas sing.
Thus apple-trees, whose trunks are strong to bear
Their spreading boughs, exert themselves in air,
Want no supply, but stand secure alone,
Not trusting foreign forces, but their own,
Till with the ruddy freight the bending branches groan.
Thus trees of nature, and each common bush;
Uncultivated thrive, and with red berries blush.
Wild shrubs are shorn for browse the tow'ring height
Of unctuous trees are torches for the night.
And shall we doubt (indulging easy sloth),
To sow, to set, and to reform their growth?
To leave the lofty plants-the lowly kind
Are for the shepherd or the sheep design'd,
E'en humble broom and osiers have their use,
And shade for sheep, and food for flocks produce ;
Hedges for corn, and honey for the bees,
Besides the pleasing prospect of the trees.
How goodly looks Cytrous, ever green
With boxen groves! with what delight are seen
Narycian woods of pitch, whose gloomy shade
Seems for retreat of heav'nly Muses made!
But much more pleasing are those fields to see,
That need not ploughs, nor human industry;
E'en cold Caucasian rocks with trees are spread,
And wear great forests on their hilly head.
Though bending from the blast of eastern storms,
Tho' shent their leaves, and shatter'd are their arms,
Yet heav'n their various plants for use designs-
For houses, cedars-and for shipping, pines-
Cypress provides for spokes and wheels of wains,
And all for keels of ships, that scour the wat'ry plains.
Willows in twigs are fruitful, elms in leaves;
The war, from stubborn myrtle, shafts receives;
From cornels, javelins; and the tougher yew
Receives the bending figure of a bow.
Nor box, nor limes without their use are made,
Smooth grain'd, and proper for the turner's trade:
Which curious hands may carve, and steel with ease invade.
Light alder stems the Po's impetuous tide,
And bees in hollow oaks their honey hide.
Now balance with these gifts, the fumy joys
Of wine, attended with eternal noise.
Wine urg'd to lawless lust the Centaurs' train:
Thro' wine they quarrel'd, and thro' wine were slain.
O happy, if he knew his happy state,
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GEORGIC II.
The swain, who, free from bus'ness and debate,
Receives his easy food from Nature's hand,
And just returns of cultivated land!
No palace, with a lofty gate, he wants,
T'admit the tides of early visitants,
With eager eyes devouring as they pass,
The breathing figures of Corinthian brass.
No statues threaten, from high pedestals ;
No Persian arras hides his homely walls,
With antic vests, which, through their shady fold,
Betray the streaks of ill-dissembled gold :
He boasts no wool, whose native white is dy'd
With purple poison of Assyrian pride :
No costly drugs of Araby defile,
With foreign scents, the sweetness of his oil:
But easy quiet, a secure retreat,
A harmless life that knows not how to cheat,
With home-bred plenty, the rich owner bless;
And rural pleasures crown his happiness.
Unvex'd with quarrels, undisturb'd with noise,
The country king his peaceful realm enjoys-
Coof grots, and living lakes, the flow'ry pride
Of meads, and streams that through the valley glide.
And shady groves that easy sleep invite,
And, after toilsome days, a soft repose at night.
Wild beasts of nature in his woods abound;
And youth, of labor patient, plough the ground
Inur'd to hardship, and to homely fare.
Nor venerable age is wanting there,
In great examples to the youthful train ;
Nor are the gods ador'd with rites profane.
From hence Astræa took her flight; and here
The prints of her departing steps appear.
Ye sacred Muses! with whose beauty fir'd,
My soul is ravish'd, and my brain inspir'd-
Whose priest I am, whose holy fillets wear-
Would you your poet's first petition hear;
Give me the ways of wand'ring stars to know,
The depths of heav'n above, and earth below:
Teach me the various labors of the moon,
And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun;
Why flowing tides prevail upon the main,
And in what dark recess they shrink again;
What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays
The summer nights, and shortens winter days.
But, if my heavy blood restrain the flight
Of my free soul, aspiring to the height
GEORGIC II.
83
Of nature, and unclouded fields of light-
My next desire is, void of care and strife,
To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life-
A country cottage near a crystal flood,
A winding valley, and a lofty wood.
Some god conduct me to the sacred shades,
Where Bacchanals are sung by Spartan maids,
Or lift me high to Hamus' hilly crown,
Or in the plains of Tempe lay me down,
Or lead me to some solitary place,
And cover my retreat from human race.
Happy the man, who, studying Nature's laws,
Through known effects can trace the secret cause—
His mind, possessing in a quiet state,
Fearless of Fortune, and resign'd to Fate !
And happy too is he, who decks the bow'rs
Of Sylvans, and adores the rural pow'rs-
Whose mind, unmov'd, the bribes of courts can see,
Their glitt'ring baits, and purple slavery-
Nor hopes the people's praise, nor fears their frown,
Nor, when contending kindred tear the crown,
Will set up one, or pull another down.
Without concern he hears, but hears from far,
Of tumults, and descents, and distant war;
Nor with a superstitious fear is aw'd,
For what befalls at home, or what abroad.
Nor envies he the rich their heapy store,
Nor his own peace disturbs with pity for the poor.
He feeds on fruits, which, of their own accord,
The willing ground and laden trees afford,
From his lov'd home no lucre him can draw;
The senate's mad decrees he never saw ;
Nor heard, at bawling bars, corrupted law.
Some to the seas, and some to camps, resort,
And some with impudence invade the court.
In foreign countries, others seek renown;
With wars and taxes, others waste their own,
And houses burn, and household gods deface,
To drink in bowls with glitt'ring gems enchase,
To loll on couches, rich with citron steds,
And lay their guilty limbs on Tyrian beds.
This wretch in earth entombs his golden ore,
Hov'ring and brooding on his buried store.
Some patriot fools to pop'lar praise aspire
Of public speeches, which worse fools admire,
While, from both benches, with redoubled sounds,
Th' applause of lords and commoners abounds.
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GEORGIC II.
·
Some, through ambition, or through thirst of gold,
Have slain their brothers, or their country sold,
And, leaving their sweet homes, in exile run
To lands that lie beneath another sun.
The peasant, innocent of all these ills,
With crooked ploughs the fertile fallow tills,
And the round year with daily labor fills:
And hence the country markets are supplied:
Enough remains for household charge beside,
His wife and tender children to sustain,
And gratefully to feed his dumb deserving train.
Nor cease his labors till the yellow field
A full return of bearded harvest yield—
A crop so plenteous, as the land to load,
O'ercome the crowded barns, and lodge on ricks abroad.
Thus ev'ry several season is employ'd,
Some spent in toil, and some in ease enjoy'd.
The yeaning ewes prevent the springing year:
The laded boughs their fruits in autumn bear.
'Tis then the vine her liquid harvest yields,
Bak'd in the sunshine of ascending fields.
The winter comes; and then the falling mast
For greedy swine provides a full repast:
Then olives, ground in mills, their fatness boast,
And winter fruits are mellow'd by the frost.
His cares are eas'd with intervals of bliss ;
His little children climbing for a kiss,
Welcome their father's late return at night;
His faithful bed is crown'd with chaste delight;
His kine with swelling udders ready stand,
And, lowing for the pail, invite the milker's hand.
His wanton kids, with budding horns prepar'd,
Fight harmless battles in his homely yard:
Himself, in rustic pomp, on holy-days,
To rural pow'rs a just oblation pays,
And on the green his careless limbs displays.
The hearth is in the midst the herdsmen round
The cheerful fire, provoke his health in goblets crown'd.
He calls on Bacchus, and propounds the prize :
The groom his fellow groom at butts defies,
And bends his bow, and levels with his eyes;
Or, stript for wrestling, smears his limbs with oil,
And watches, with a trip, his foe to foil.
Such was the life the frugal Sabines led:
So Remus and his brother god were bred,
From whom th' austere Etrurian virtue rose;
And this rude life our homely fathers chose.
GEORGIC II.
85
Old Rome from such a race deriv'd her birth
(The seat of empire, and the conquer'd earth),
Which now on sev'n high hills triumphant reigns,
And in that compass all the world contains.
Ere Saturn's rebel son usurp'd the skies,
When beasts were only slain for sacrifice,
While peaceful Crete enjoy'd her ancient lord,
Ere sounding hammers forg'd th' inhuman sword,
Ere hollow drums were beat, before the breath
Of brazen trumpets rung the peals of death,
The good old god his hunger did assuage
With roots and herbs, and gave the golden age.
But, over-labor'd with so long a course,
'Tis time to set at ease the smoking horse.
GEORGIC. III.
ARGUMENT.
This book begins with the invocation of some rural deities, and a compli
ment to Augustus; after which Virgil directs himself to Mæcenas, and
enters on his subject. He lays down rules for the breeding and manage-
ment of horses, oxen, sheep, goats and dogs; and interweaves several
pleasant descriptions of a chariot-race, of the battle of the bull, of the
force of love, and of the Scythian winter. In the latter part of the book
he relates the diseases incident to cattle, and ends with the description of
a fatal murrain that formerly raged among the Alps.
HY fields, propitious Pales, I rehearse;
TH
And sing thy pastures in no vulgar verse,
Amphrysian shepherd! the Lycæan woods,
Arcadia's flow'ry plains, and pleasing floods.
All other themes, that careless minds invite,
Are worn with use, unworthy me to write.
Busiris' altars, and the dire decrees
Of hard Eurystheus ev'ry reader sees:
Hylas the boy, Latona's erring isle,
And Pelops' iv'ry shoulder, and his toil
For fair Hippodame, with all the rest
Of Grecian tales, by poets are express'd.
New ways I must attempt, my grov'ling name
To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame.
I, first of Romans, shall in triumph come
From conquer'd Greece, and bring her trophies home,
With foreign spoils adorn my native place,
And with Idume's palms my Mantua grace.
Of Parian stone a temple will I raise,
Where the slow Mincius through the valley strays,
Where cooling streams invite the flocks to drink,
And reeds defend the winding water's brink.
Full in the midst shall mighty Cæsar stand,
Hold the chief honors, and the dome command.
Then I, conspicuous in my Tyrian gown,
(Submitting to his godhead my renown)
A hundred coursers from the goal will drive :
GEORGIC III.
87
The rival chariots in the race shall strive.
All Greece shall flock from far, my games to see:
The whorlbat, and the rapid race, shall be
Reserv'd for Cæsar, and ordain'd by me.
Myself, with olive crown'd, the gifts will bear.
E'en now methinks the public shouts I hear
The passing pageants, and the pomps appear.
I to the temple will conduct the crew,
The sacrifice, and sacrificers view;
From thence return, attended with my train,
Where the proud theatres disclose the scene,
Which interwoven Britons seem to raise,
And show the triumph which their shame displays.
High o'er the gate, in elephant and gold,
The crowd shall Cæsar's Indian war behold:
The Nile shall flow beneath; and, on the side,
His shatter'd ships on brazen pillars ride.
Next him Niphates, with inverted urn,
And dropping sedge, shall his Armenia mourn;
And Asian cities in our triumph borne.
With backward bows the Parthian shall be there,
And, spurring from the fight, confess their fear.
A double wreath shall crown our Cæsar's brows-
Two diff'rent trophies, from two diff'rent foes.
Europe with Afric in his fame shall join ;
But neither shore his conquests shall confine.
The Parian marble there shall seem to move
In breathing statues, not unworthy Jove.
Resembling heroes, whose ethereal root
Is Jove himself, and Cæsar is the fruit.
Tros and his race the sculptor shall employ ;
And he the god who built the walls of Troy.
Envy herself at last, grown pale and dumb,
(By Cæsar combatted and overcome)
Shall give her hands, and fear the curling snakes
Of lashing Furies, and the burning lakes ;
The pains of famish'd Tantalus shall feel,
And Sisyphus that labors up the hill
The rolling rock in vain; and curst Ixion's wheel.
Meantime we must pursue the sylvan lands,
(Th' abode of nymphs) untouch'd by former hands,
For such, Mæcenas, are thy hard commands.
Without thee, nothing lofty can I sing.
Come then, and with thyself, thy genius bring,
With which inspir'd, I brook no dull delay ;
Citharon loudly calls me to my way;
Thy hounds, Täyg'tus, open, and pursue their prey.
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GEORGIC III.
:
High Epidaurus urges on my speed,
Fam'd for his hills, and for his horses' breed:
From hills and dales the cheerful cries rebound;
For Echo hunts along, and propagates the sound.
A time will come, when my maturer muse,
In Cæsar's wars, a nobler theme shall choose,
And through more ages bear my sovereign's praise,
Than have from Tithon past to Cæsar's days.
The gen'rous youth, who studious of the prize,
The race of running coursers multiplies,
Or to the plough the sturdy bullock breeds,
May know that from the dam the worth of each proceeds.
The mother-cow must wear a low'ring look,
Sour-headed, strongly neck'd, to bear the yoke.
Her double dew-lap from her chin descends,
And at her knees the pond'rous burden ends.
Long are her sides and large; her limbs are great;
Rough are her ears, and broad her horny feet.
· Her color shining black, but fleck'd with white,
She tosses from the yoke; provokes the fight :
She rises in her gait, is free from fears,
And in her face a bull's resemblance bears:
Her ample forehead with a star is crown'd;
And with her length of tail she sweeps the ground.
The bull's insult at four she may sustain ;
But, after ten, from nuptial rites refrain.
Six seasons use, but then release the cow,
Unfit for love, and for the lab'ring plough.
Now while their youth is fill'd with kindly fire,
Submit thy females to the lusty sire:
Watch the quick motions of the frisky tail;
Then serve their fury with the rushing male,
Indulging pleasure lest the breed should fail.
In youth alone unhappy mortals live;
But, ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive :
Discolor'd sickness, anxious labor, come,
And age, and death's inexorable doom.
Yearly thy herds in vigor will impair ;
Recruit and mend them with thy yearly care:
Still propagate; for still they fall away;
'Tis prudence to prevent th' entire decay.
Like diligence requires the courser's race,
In early choice, and for a longer space.
The colt that for a stallion is design'd,
By sure presages shows his gen'rous kind :-
Of able body, sound of limb and wind,
Upright he walks, on pasterns firm and straight;
GEORGIC III.
89
His motions easy; prancing in his gait ;
The first to lead the way, to tempt the flood,
To pass the bridge unknown, nor fear the trembling wood;
Dauntless at empty noises; lofty neck'd;
Sharp-headed, barrel-bellied, broadly back'd;
Brawny his chest, and deep; his color graÿ;
For beauty, dappled, or the brightest bay :
Faint white and dun will scarce the rearing pay.
The fiery courser, when he hears from far
The sprightly trumpets, and the shouts of war,
Pricks up his ears; and, trembling with delight,
Shifts place, and paws, and hopes the promis'd fight.
On his right shoulder his thick mane reclin'd,
Ruffles at speed, and dances in the wind.
His horny hoofs are jetty black and round;
His chine is double; starting with a bound
He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.
Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow:
He bears his rider headlong on the foe.
Such was the steed in Grecian poets fam'd,
Proud Cyllarus, by Spartan Pollux tam'd:
Such coursers bore to fight the god of Thrace;
And such, Achilles, was thy warlike race.
In such a shape, grim Saturn did restrain
His heav'nly limbs, and flow'd with such a mane,
When, half surpris'd, and fearing to be seen,
The techer gallop'd from his jealous queen,
Ran up the ridges of the rocks amain,
And with shrill neighings fill'd the neighb'ring plain.
But, worn with years, when dire diseases come,
Then hide his not ignoble age at home,
In peace t' enjoy his former palms and pains;
And gratefully be kind to his remains.
For, when his blood no youthful spirits move,
He languishes and labors in his love;
And, when the sprightly seed should swiftly come,
Dribbling he drudges, and defrauds the womb.
In vain he burns, like hasty stubble fires,
And in himself, his former self requires.
His age and courage weigh; nor those alone;
But note his father's virtues and his own ;
Observe, if he disdains to yield the prize,
Of loss impatient, proud of victories.
Hast thou beheld, when from the goal they start,
The youthful charioteers with heaving heart
Rush to the race; and panting, scarcely bear
Th' extremes of fev'rish hope and chilling fear;
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GEORGIC III.
Stoop to the reins, and lash with all their force?
The flying chariot kindles in the course;
And now alow, and now aloft they fly,
As borne through air, and seem to touch the sky.
No stop, no stay; but clouds of sand arise,
Spurn'd, and cast backward on the followers' eyes.
The hindmost blows the foam upon the first :
Such is the love of praise, an honorable thirst.
Bold Ericthonius was the first who join'd
Four horses for the rapid race design'd,
And o'er the dusty wheels presiding sate:
The Lapithæ, to chariots, add the state
Of bits and bridles; taught the steed to bound,
To run the ring, and trace the mazy round
To stop, to fly, the rules of war to know;
T'obey the rider, and to dare the foe.
To choose a youthful steed with courage fir'd,
To breed him, break him, back him, are requir'd
Experienc'd masters; and in sundry ways,
Their labors equal, and alike their praise.
But, once again, the batter'd horse beware:
The weak old stallion will deceive thy care,
Though famous in his youth for force and speed,
Or was of Argos or Epirian breed,
Or did from Neptune's race, or from himself proceed,
These things premis'd, when now the nuptial time
Approaches for the stately steed to climb,
With food enable him to make his court;
Distend his chine, and pamper him for sport:
Feed him with herbs, whatever thou canst find,
Of gen'rous warmth, and of salacious kind :
Then water him, and (drinking what he can)
Encourage him to thirst again, with bran.,
Instructed thus, produce him to the fair,
And join in wedlock to the longing mare.
For, if the sire be faint, or out of case,
He will be copied in his famish'd race,
And sink beneath the pleasing task assign'd
(For all's too little for the craving kind).
As for the females, with industrous care
به
Take down their mettle; keep them lean and bare:
When conscious of their past delight, and keen
To take the leap, and prove the sport again,
With scanty measure then supply their food;
And, when athirst, restrain them from the flood:
Their bodies harass; sink them when they run;
And fry their melting marrow in the sun,
GEORGIC III.
91
}
Starve them, when barns beneath their burden groan,
And winnow'd chaff by western winds is blown:
For fear the rankness of the swelling womb
Should scant the passage, and confine the room ;
Lest the fat furrows should the sense destroy
Of genial lust, and dull the seat of joy.
But let them suck the seed with greedy force,
And close involve the vigor of the horse.
The male has done thy care must now proceed
To teeming females, and the promis'd breed.
First let them run at large, and never know
The taming yoke, or draw the crooked plough.
Let them not leap the ditch, or swim the flood,
Or lumber o'er the meads, or cross the wood;
But range the forest, by the silver side
Of some cool stream, where Nature shall provide
Green grass, and fatt'ning clover for their fare,
And mossy caverns for their noontide lair,
With rocks above, to shield the sharp nocturnal air.
About th' Alburnian groves, with holly green,
Of winged insects, mighty swarms are seen :
This flying plague (to mark its quality)
Estros the Grecians call-Asylus, we--
A fierce loud buzzing breeze.--Their stings draw blood
And drive the cattle gadding through the wood.
Seiz'd with unusual pains, they loudly cry:
Tanagrus hastens thence, and leaves his channel dry.
This curse the jealous Juno did invent,
And first employ'd for Iö's punishment.
To shun this ill, the cunning leech ordains,
In summer's sultry heats (for then it reigns),
To feed the females ere the sun arise,
Or late at night, when stars adorn the skies.
When she has calv'd, then set the dam aside,
And for the tender progeny provide.
Distinguish all betimes with branding fire,
To note the tribe, the lineage, and the sire :
Whom to reserve for husband for the herd:
Or who shall be to sacrifice preferr'd:
Or whom thou shalt to turn thy glebe allow,
To smooth the furrows, and sustain the plough :
The rest, for whom no lot is yet decreed,
May run in pastures and at pleasure feed:
The calf, by nature and by genius made
To turn the glebe, breed to the rural trade.
Set him betimes to school and let him be
Instructed there in rules of husbandry,
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GEORGIC III.
While yet his youth is flexible and green,
Nor bad examples of the world has seen.
Early begin the stubborn child to break;
For his soft neck a supple collar make
Of bending osiers; and (with time and care
Inur'd that easy servitude to bear)
Thy flatt'ring method on the youth pursue:
Join'd with his school-fellows by two and two,
Persuade them first to lead an empty wheel,
That scarce the dust can raise, or they can feel:
In length of time produce the lab'ring yoke,
And shining shares, that make the furrow smoke.
Ere the licentious youth be thus restrain'd,
Or moral precepts on their minds have gain'd,
Their wanton appetites not only feed
With delicates of leaves, and marshy weed,
But with thy sickle reap the rankest land,
And minister the blade with bounteous hand;
Nor be with harmful parsimony won
To follow what our homely sires have done,
Who fill'd the pail with beastings of the cow ;
But all her udder to the calf allow.
If to the warlike steed thy studies bend,
Or for the prize in chariots to contend,
Near Pisa's flood the rapid wheels to guide,
Or in Olympian groves aloft to ride,
The gen'rous labors of the coursers, first,
Must be with sight of arms and sounds of trumpets nurs'd
Inur'd the groaning axletree to bear;
And let him clashing whips in stables hear.
Soothe him with praise, and make him understand
The loud applauses of his master's hand :
This, from his weaning, let him well be taught;
And then betimes, in a soft snaffle wrought,
Before his tender joints with nerves are knit,
Untried in arms, and trembling at the bit.
But when to four full springs his years advance,
Teach him to run the round, with pride to prance,
And (rightly manag'd) equal time to beat,
To turn, to bound and measure, and curvet.
Let him to this, with easy pains be brought,
And seem to labor, when he labors not.
Thus form'd for speed, he challenges the wind,
And leaves the Scythian arrow far behind :
He scours along the fields, with loosen'd reins,
And treads so light, he scarcely prints the plains;
Like Boreas in his race, when rushing forth,
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93
He sweeps the skies, and clears the cloudy north;
The waving harvest bends beneath his blast ;
The forest shakes the groves their honors cast;
He flies aloft, and with impetuous roar
Pursues the foaming surges to the shore.
Thus o'er th' Elean plains, thy well-breath'd horse
Impels the flying car, and wins the course,
Or, bred to Belgian wagons, leads the way,
Untir'd at night, and cheerful all the day.
When once he's broken, feed him full and high;
Indulge his growth, and his gaunt sides supply.
Before his turning, keep him poor and low;
For his stout stomach with his food will grow :
The pamper'd colt will discipline disdain,
Impatient of the lash, and restive to the rein.
Wouldst thou their courage and their strength improve?
Too soon they must not feel the stings of love.
Whether the bull or courser be thy care,
Let him not leap the cow, or mount the mare.
The youthful bull must wander in the wood,
Behind the mountain or beyond the flood,
Or in the stall at home his fodder find,
Far from the charms of that alluring kind.
With two fair eyes his mistress burns his breast.
He looks, he languishes, and leaves his rest,
Forsakes his food, and pining for the lass,
Is joyless of the grove, and spurns the growing grass.
The soft seducer, with enticing looks,
The bellowing rivals to the fight provokes.
A beauteous heifer in the wood is bred :
The stooping warriors, aiming head to head,
Engage their clashing horns with dreadful sound
The forest rattles, and the rocks rebound.
They fence, they push, and, pushing, loudly roar:
Their dewlaps and their sides are bath'd in gore,
Nor, when the war is over, is it peace;
Nor will the vanquish'd bull his claim release;
But, feeding in his breast his ancient fires,
And cursing fate, from his proud foe retires.
Driv'n from his native land to foreign grounds,
He with a gen'rous rage resents his wounds,
His ignominious flight, the victor's boast,
And, more than both, the loves, which unreveng'd he lost.
Often he turns his eyes, and, with a groan,
Surveys the pleasing kingdoms once his own;
And therefore to repair his strength he tries,
Hard'ning his limbs with painful exercise;
Virgil.-4
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GEORGIC III.
And rough upon the flinty rock he lies.
On prickly leaves and on sharp herbs he feeds,
Then to the prelude of a war proceeds.
His horns, yet sore, he tries against a tree,
And meditates his absent enemy.
He snuffs the wind; his heels the sand excite;
But, when he stands collected in his might,
He roars, and promises a more successful fight.
Then, to redeem his honor at a blow,
He moves his camp, to meet his careless foe.
Not with more madness, rolling from afar,
The spumy waves proclaim the wat'ry war,
And, mounting upwards, with a mighty roar,
March onwards, and insult the rocky shore.
They mate the middle region with their height,
And fall no less than with a mountain's weight.
The waters boil, and, belching, from below,
Black sands, as from a forceful engine, throw.
Thus ev'ry creature, and of ev'ry kind,
The secret joys of sweet coition find.
Not only man's imperial race, but they
That wing the liquid air, or swim the sea,
Or haunt the desert, rush into the flame :
For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.
'Tis with this rage, the mother-lion stung,
Scours o'er the plain, regardless of her young:
Demanding rites of love, she sternly stalks,
And hunts her lover in his lonely walks.
'Tis then the shapeless bear his den forsakes;
In woods, and fields, a wild destruction makes
Boars whet their tusks; to battle tigers move,
Enrag'd with hunger, more enrag'd with love.
Then woe to him, that, in the desert land
Of Libya, travels o'er the burning sand!
The stallion snuffs the well-known scent afar,
And snorts and trembles for the distant mare.
Nor bits nor bridles can his rage restrain ;
And rugged rocks are interpos'd in vain ;
He makes his way o'er mountains, and contemns
Unruly torrents, and unforded streams.
The bristled boar, who feels the pleasing wound,
New grinds his arming tusks, and digs the ground.
The sleepy lecher shuts his little eyes;
About his churning chaps the frothy bubbles rise :
He rubs his sides against a tree; prepares
And hardens both his shoulders for the wars.
What did the youth, when Love's unerring dart
GEORGIC III,
95
Transfix'd his liver, and inflam'd his heart?
Alone, by night, his watery way he took :
About him, and above, the billows broke:
The sluices of the sky were open spread;
And rolling thunder rattled o'er his head.
The raging tempest call'd him back in vain,
And ev'ry boding omen of the main :
Nor could his kindred, nor the kindly force
Of weeping parents, change his fatal course;
No, not the dying maid, who must depiore
His floating carcass on the Sestian shore.
I pass the wars that spotted lynxes make
With their fierce rivals for the female's sake;
The howling wolves', the mastiffs' am'rous rage;
When e'en the fearful stag dares for his hind engage.
But, far above the rest, the furious mare,
Barr'd from the male, is frantic with despair:
For, when her pouting vent declares her pain,
She tears the harness, and she rends the rein.
For this (when Venus gave them rage and pow'r,)
Their master's mangled members they devour,
Of love defrauded in their longing hour.
For love, they force through thickets of the wood,
They climb the steepy hills, and stem the flood.
When, at the spring's approach, their marrow burns,
(For with the spring their genial warmth returns)
The mares to cliffs of rugged rocks repair,
And with wide nostrils snuff the western air :
When (wond'rous to relate) the parent wind,
Without the stallion propagates the kind.
Then, fir'd with am'rous rage, they take their flight
Thro' plains, and mount the hills' unequal height;
Nor to the north, nor to the rising sun,
Nor southward to the rainy regions, run,
But boring to the west, and hov'ring there,
With gaping mouths they draw prolific air,
With which impregnate, from their groins they shed
A slimy juice, by false conception bred.
The shepherd knows it well, and calls by name
Hippomanes, to note the mother's flame.
This, gather'd in the planetary hour,
With noxious weeds, and spell'd with words of pow'r,
Dire stepdames in the magic bowl infuse,
And mix, for deadly draughts, the pois'nous juice.
But time is lost, which never will renew,
While we too far the pleasing path pursue,
Surveying nature with too nice a view.
96
GEORGIC III.
:
Let this suffice for herds our following care
Shall woolly flocks and shaggy goats declare.
Nor can I doubt what toil I must bestow,
To raise my subject from a ground so low;
And the mean matter which my theme affords
T' embellish with magnificence of words
But the commanding muse my chariot guides,
Which o'er the dubious cliff securely aes:
And pleas'd I am, no beaten road to take,
But first the way to new discov'ries make.
Now, sacred Pales, in a lofty strain
I sing the rural honors of thy reign.
First, with assiduous care, from winter keep,
Well-fodder'd in the stalls, thy tender sheep:
Then spread with straw the bedding of thy fold,
With fern beneath, to 'fend the bitter cold:
That free from gouts thou may'st preserve thy care,
And clear from scabs, produc'd by freezing air.
Next let thy goats officiously be nurs'd,
And led to living streams, to quench their thirst,
Feed them with winter-browse; and, for their lair,
A cote, that opens to the south, prepare ;
Where, basking in the sunshine, they may lie,
And the short remnants of his heat enjoy.
This during winter's drizzly reign be done,
Till the new Ram receives the exalted sun:
For hairy goats of equal profit are
With woolly sheep, and ask an equal care.
'Tis true, the fleece, when drunk with Tyrian juice,
Is dearly sold: but not for needful use.
For the salacious goat increases more,
And twice as largely yields her milky store.
The still-distended udders never fail,
But, when they seem exhausted, swell the pail.
Meantime the pastor shears their hoary beards,
And eases of their hair the loaden herds.
Their cam'lots, warm in tents, the soldier hold,
And shield the shiv'ring mariner from cold.
On shrubs they browse, and, on the bleaky top
Of rugged hills, the thorny bramble crop.
Attended with their bleating kids, they come
At night, unask'd, and mindful of their home;
And scarce their swelling bags the threshold overcome
So much the more thy diligence bestow
In depth of winter to defend the snow,
By how much less the tender helpless kind,
For their own ills, can fit provision find.
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97
Then minister the browse with bounteous hand;
And open let thy stacks all winter stand.
But, when the western winds with vital pow'r
Call forth the tender grass and budding flow'r,
Then, at the last, produce in open air
Both flocks; and send them to their summer fare
Before the sun, while Hesperus appears;
First let them sip from herbs the pearly tears
Of morning dews, and after break their fast
On greensward ground-a cool and grateful taste.
But, when the day's fourth hour has drawn the dews,
And the sun's sultry heat their thirst renews;
When creaking grasshoppers on shrubs complain,
Then lead them to their watering. troughs again.
In summer's heat, some bending valley find,
Clos'd from the sun, but open to the wind;
Or seek some ancient oak, whose arms extend
In ample breadth, thy cattle to defend,
Or solitary grove, or gloomy glade,
To shield them with its venerable shade.
Once more to wat'ring lead; and feed again
When the low sun is sinking to the main,
When rising Cynthia sheds her silver dews,
And the cool evening breeze the meads renews;
When linnets fill the woods with tuneful sound,
And hollow shores the halcyon's voice rebound.
Why should my muse enlarge on Libyan swains,
Their scatter'd cottages, and ample plains,
Where oft the flocks without a leader stray,
Or through continu'd deserts take their way,
And, feeding, add the length of night to day?
Whole months they wander, grazing as they go ;
Nor folds, nor hospitable harbor know:
Such an extent of plains, so vast a space
Of wilds unknown, and of untasted grass,
Allures their eyes: the shepherd last appears,
And with him all his patrimony bears,
His house and household gods, his trade of war,
His bow and quiver, and his trusty cur.
Thus, under heavy arms, the youth of Rome
Their long laborious marches overcome;
Cheerly their tedious travels undergo,
And pitch their sudden camp before the foe.
Not so the Scythian shepherd tends his fold,
Nor he who bears in Thrace the bitter cold,
Nor he who treads the bleak Mæotian strand,
Or where proud Ister rolls his yellow sand.
}
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GEORGIC III.
Early they stall their flocks and herds; for there
No grass the fields, no leaves e forests, wear:
The frozen earth lies buried there, below
A hilly heap, sev'n cubits deep in snow:
And all west allies of stormy Boreas blow.
The sun from far peeps with a sickly face,
Too weak, the clouds and mighty fogs to chase,
When up the skies he shoots his rosy head,
Or in the ruddy ocean seeks his bed.
Swift rivers are with sudden ice constrain'd:
And studded wheels are on its back sustain'd,
A hostry now for wagons, which before
Tall ships of burden on its bosom bore.
The brazen caldrons with the frosts are flaw'd ;
The garments, stiff with ice, at hearths is thaw'd ;
With axes first they cleave the vine; and thence,
By weight, the solid portions they dispense.
From locks uncomb'd, and from the frozen beard,
Long icicles depend, and crackling sounds are heard.
Meantime, perpetual sleet and driving snow
Obscure the skies, and hang on herds below.
The starving cattle perish in their stalls;
Huge oxen stand enclos'd in wintry walls
Of snow congeal'd; whole herds are buried there
Of mighty stags, and scarce their horns appear.
The dext'rous huntsmen wounds not these afar
With shafts or darts, or makes a distant war
With dogs, or pitches toils to stop their flight,
But close engages in unequal fight ;
And, while they strive in vain to make their way
Through hills of snow, and pitifully bray,
Assaults with dint of sword, or pointed spears,
And homeward, on his back, the joyful burden bears.
The men to subterranean caves retire,
Secure from cold, and crowd the cheerful fire.
With trunks of elms and oaks the hearth they load,
Nor tempt th' inclemency of heaven abroad.
Their jovial nights in frolics and in play
They pass, to drive the tedious hours away;
And their cold stomachs with crown'd goblets cheer
Of windy cider, and of barmy beer.
Such are the cold Rhipæan race, and such
The savage Scythian, and unwarlike Dutch,
Where skins of beasts the rude barbarians wear,
The spoils of foxes, and the furry bear.
Is wool thy care? Let not thy cattle go
Where bushes are, where burrs and thistles grow;
GEORGIC III.
99
Nor in too rank a pasture let them feed.
Then of the purest white select thy breed :
E'en though a snowy ram thou shalt behold,
Prefer him not in haste, for husband to thy fold:
But search his mouth; and, if a swarthy tongue
Is underneath his humid palate hung,
Reject him, lest he darken all the flock;
And substitute another from thy stock.
Twas thus, with fleeces milky white (if we
May trust report), Pan, god of Arcady,
Did bribe thee, Cynthia; nor didst thou disdain,
When call'd in woody shades, to cure a lover's pain.
If milk be thy design, with plenteous hand
Bring clover-grass; and from the marshy land
Salt herbage for the fodd'ring rack provide,
To fill their bags, and swell the milky tide.
These raise their thirst, and to the taste restore
The savor of the salt, on which they fed before.
Some, when the kids their dams too deeply drain,
With gags and muzzles their soft mouths restrain.
Their morning milk the peasants press at night;
Their ev'ning meal before the rising light,
To market bear; or sparingly they steep
With seas'ning salt, and stor❜d for winter keep.
Nor, last, forget thy faithful dogs: but feed
Wiith fatt'ning whey the mastiff's gen'rous breed,
And Spartan race, who, for the fold's relief,
Will prosecute with cries the nightly thief,
Repulse the prowling wolf, and hold at bay
The mountain-robbers rushing to the prey.
With cries of hounds thou may'st pursue the fear
Of flying hares, and chase the fallow deer,
Rouse from their desert dens the bristled rage
Of boars, and beamy stags in toils engage.
With smoke of burning cedar scent thy walls,
And fume with stinking galbanum thy stalls,
With that rank odor from thy dwelling-place
To drive the viper's brood and al. the venom'd race :
For often, under stalls unmov'd, they lie,
Obscure in shades, and shunning heav'n's broad eye:
And snakes, familiar, to the hearth succeed,
Disclose their eggs, and near the chimney breed-
Whether to roofy houses they repair,
Or sun themselves abroad in open air,
In all abodes of pestilential kind
To sheep and oxen, and the painful hind.
Take, shepherd, take a plant of stubborn oak,
100
GEORGIC III.
And labor him with many a sturdy stroke,
Or with hard stones demolish from afar
His haughty crest, the seat of all the war;
Invade his hissing throat, and winding spires;
Till, stretch'd in length, th' unfolded foe retires.
He drags his tail, and for his head provides,
And in some secret cranny slowly glides;
But leaves expos'd to blows his back and batter'd sides.
In fair Calabria's woods a snake is bred,
With curling crest, and with advancing head ;
Waving he rolls, and makes a winding track;
His belly spotted, burnish'd is his back.
While springs are broken, while the southern air,
And dropping heav'ns the moisten'd earth repair,
He lives on standing lakes and trembling bogs,
And fills his maw with fish, or with loquacious frogs:
But when, in muddy pools, the water sinks,
And the chapt earth is furrow'd o'er with chinks,
He leaves the fens, and leaps upon the ground,
And, hissing, rolls his glaring eyes around.
With thirst inflamed, impatient of the heats,
He rages in the fields, and wide destruction threats.
Oh! let not sleep my closing eyes invade
In open plains, or in the secret shade,
When he, renew'd in all the speckled pride
Of pompous youth, has cast his slough aside,
And in his summer liv'ry rolls along,
Erect, and brandishing his forky tongue,
Leaving his nest, and his imperfect young,
And thoughtless of his eggs, forgets to rear
The hopes of poison for the following year.
The causes and the signs shall next be told,
Of ev'ry sickness that infects the fold.
A scabber tetter on their pelts will stick,
When the raw rain has pierc'd them to the quick,
Or searching frosts have eaten through the skin,
Or burning icicles are lodg'd within:
Or, when the fleece is shorn, if sweat remains
Unwash'd, and soaks into their empty veins;
When their defenceless limbs the brambles tear,
Short of their wool, and naked from the shear.
Good shepherds, after shearing, drench their sheep;
And their flock's father (forc'd from high to leap)
Swims down the stream, and plunges in the deep.
They oint their naked limbs with mother'd oil;
Or, from the founts where living sulphurs boil,
They mix a med'cine to foment their limbs,
GEORGIC III.
ΙΟΙ
*
With scum that on the molten silver swims;
Fat pitch, and black bitumen, add to these,
Besides the waxen labor of the bees,
And hellebore, and squills deep rooted in the seas.
Receipts abound; but, searching all thy store,
The best is still at hand, to lance the sore,
And cut the head; for, till the core be found,
The secret vice is fed, and gathers ground,
While, making fruitless moan, the shepherd stands,
And, when the lancing knife requires his hands,
Vain help, with idle pray'rs, from heav'n demands.
Deep in their bones, when fevers fix their seat,
And rack their limbs, and lick the vital heat,
The ready cure to cool the raging pain
Is underneath the foot to breathe a vein.
This remedy the Scythian shepherds found:
Th' inhabitants of Thracia's hilly ground,
And Gelons, use it, when for drink and food
They mix their curdled milk with horses' blood.
But, where thou seest a single sheep remain
In shades aloof, or couch'd upon the plain,
Or listlessly to crop the tender grass,
Or late to lag behind with truant pace,
Revenge the crime, and take the traitor's head,
Ere in the faultless flock the dire contagion spread.
On winter seas we fewer storms behold,
Than foul diseases that infect the fold.
Nor do those ills on single bodies prey,
But oft'ner bring the nation to decay,
And sweep the present stock and future hope away.
A dire example of this truth appears,
When, after such a length of rolling years,
We see the naked Alps, and thin remains
Of scatter'd cots, and yet unpeopled plains,
Once fill'd with grazing flocks, the shepherds' happy reigns.
Here, from the vicious air and sickly skies,
A plague did on the dumb creation rise:
During th' autumnal heats th' infection grew,
Tame cattle and the beasts of nature slew,
Pois'ning the standing lakes, and pools impure ;
Nor was the foodful grass in fields secure.
Strange death! for, when the thirsty fire had drunk
Their vital blood, and the dry nerves were shrunk,
When the contracted limbs were cramp'd, e'en then
A wat'rish humor swell'd and ooz'd again,
Converting into bane the kindly juice,
Ordain'd by Nature for a better use.
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GEORGIC III.
The victim ox, that was for altars prest,
Trimm'd with white ribbons, and with garlands drest,
Sunk of himself, without the gods' command,
Preventing the slow sacrificer's hand.
Or, by the holy butcher if he fell,
Th' inspected entrails could no fates foretell :
Nor, laid on altars, did pure flames arise;
But clouds of smould'ring smoke forbade the sacrifice.
Scarcely the knife was redden'd with his gore,
Or the black poison stain'd the sandy floor.
The thriven calves in meads their food forsake,
And render their sweet souls before the plenteous rack.
The fawning dog runs mad; the wheezing swine
With coughs is chok'd, and labors from the chine :
The victor horse, forgetful of his food,
The palm renounces, and abhors the flood.
He paws the ground; and on his hanging ears
A doubtful sweat in clammy drops appears :
Parch'd is his hide, and rugged are his hairs.
Such are the symptoms of the young disease;
But, in time's process, when his pains increase,
He rolls his mournful eyes: he deeply groans
With patient sobbing and with manly moans.
He heaves for breath; which, from his lungs supplied,
And fetch'd from far, distends his lab'ring side.
To his rough palate his dry tongue succeeds,
And ropy gore he from his nostrils bleeds.
A drench of wine has with success been us'd,
And through a horn the gen'rous juice infus'd,
Which, timely taken, op'd his closing jaws,
But, if too late, the patient's death did cause;
For the too vig'rous dose too fiercely wrought
And added fury to the strength it brought.
Recruited into rage, he grinds his teeth
In his own flesh, and feels approaching death.
Ye gods, to better fate good men dispose,
And turn that impious error on our foes!
The steer, who to the yoke was bred to bow,
(Studious of tillage, and the crooked plough)
Falls down and dies; and, dying, spews a flood
Of foamy madness, mix'd with clotted blood.
The clown, who, cursing Providence, repines,
His mournful fellow from the team disjoins;
With many a groan forsakes his fruitless care,
And in th' unfinish'd furrow leaves the share,
The pining steer no shades of lofty woods,
Nor flow'ry meads, can ease, nor crystal floods
GEORGIC III.
103
Roll'd from the rock: his flabby flanks decrease;
His eyes are settled in a stupid peace ;
His bulk too weighty for his thighs is grown;
And his unwieldy neck hangs drooping down.
Now what avails his well-deserving toil
To turn the glebe, or smooth the rugged soil?
And yet he never supt in solemn state
(Nor undigested feasts did urge his fate),
Nor day to night luxuriously did join,
Nor surfeited on rich Campanian wine.
Simple his bev'rage, homely was his food,
The wholesome herbage, and the running flood:
No dreadful dreams awak'd him with affright :
His pains by day secur'd his rest at night.
'Twas then that buffaloes, ill pair'd, were seen
To draw the car of Jove's imperial queen,
For want of oxen; and the lab'ring swain
Scratch'd, with a rake, a furrow for his grain,
An cover'd with his hand, the shallow seed again.
He yokes himself, and up the hilly height
With his own shoulders draws the wagon's weight.
The nightly wolf, that round th' inclosure prowl'd
To leap the fence, now plots not on the fold,
Tam'd with a sharper pain. The fearful doe
And flying stag, amidst the greyhounds go,
And round the dwellings roam of man, their fiercer foe.
The scaly nations of the sea profound,
Like shipwreck'd carcasses, are driv'n aground,
And mighty phocæ, never seen before
In shallow streams, are stranded on the shore.
The viper dead within her hole is found:
Defenceless was the shelter of the ground.
The water-snake, whom fish and paddocks fed,
With staring scales lies poison'd in his bed :
To birds their native heav'ns contagious prove :
From clouds they fall, and leave their souls above.
Besides, to change their pasture 'tis in vain,
Or trust to physic: physic is their bane.
The learned leeches in despair depart,
And shake their heads, desponding of their art.
Tisiphone, let loose from under ground,
Majestically pale, now treads the round,
Before her drives Diseases and Affright,
And ev'ry moment rises to the sight,
Aspiring to the skies, encroaching on the light.
The rivers, and their banks, and hills around,
With lowings and with dying bleats resound.
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GEORGIC III.
At length, she strikes a universal blow:
To death at once whole herds of cattle go:
Sheep, oxen, horses, fall; and, heap'd on high,
The diff'ring species in confusion lie,
Till, warn'd by frequent ills, the way they found
To lodge their loathsome carrion under ground;
For useless to the currier were their hides;
Nor could their tainted flesh with ocean-tides
Be freed from filth; nor could Vulcanian flame
The stench abolish, or the savor tame.
Nor safely could they shear their fleecy store,
(Made drunk with pois'nous juice, and stiff with gore)
Or touch the web: but, if the vest they wear,
Red blisters rising on their paps appear,
And flaming carbuncles, and noisome sweat,
And clammy dews, that loathsome lice beget;
Till the slow creeping evil eats his way,
Consumes the parching limbs, and makes the life his prey.
J
GEORGIC IV.
ARGUMENT,
Virgil has taken care to raise the subject of each Georgic. In the first he
has only dead matter on which to work. In the second he just steps on
the world of life, and describes that degree of it which is to be found in
vegetables. In the third he advances to animals; and in the last he
singles out the bee, which may be reckoned the most sagacious of them,
for his subject.
In this Georgic he shows us what station is most proper for the bees, and
when they begin to gather honey; how to call them home when they
swarm; and how to part them when they are engaged in battle. From
hence he takes occasion. to discover their different kinds, and, after an
excursion, relates their prudent and politic administration of affairs, and
the general diseases that often rage in their hives, with the proper symp-
toms and remedies of each disease. In the last place he lays down a
method of repairing their kind, supposing their whole breed lost, and
gives at large the history of its invention.
THE
'HE gifts of heav'n my following song pursues,
Aerial honey, and ambrosial dews.
Mæcenas, read this other part, that sings
Embattl'd squadrons and advent'rous kings—
A mighty pomp, though made of little things.
Their arms, their arts, their manners, I disclose,
And how they war, and whence the people rose.
Slight is the subject, but the praise not small,
If heav'n assist, and Phoebus hear my call.
First, for thy bees a quiet station find,
And lodge them under covert of the wind
(For winds, when homeward they return, will drive
The loaded carriers from their evening hive),
Far from the cows' and goats' insulting crew,
That trample down the flow'rs, and brush the dew.
The painted lizard, and the birds of prey,
Foes of the frugal kind, be far away—
The titmouse, and the pecker's hungry brood,
And Procne, with her bosom stain'd in blood :
These rob the trading citizens, and bear
The trembling captives through the liquid air,
And for their callow young a cruel feast prepare,
·106
GEORGIC IV.
But near a living stream their mansion place,
Edg'd round with moss, and tufts of matted grass:
And plant (the wind's impetuous rage to stop)
Wild olive trees, or palms, before the busy shop;
That when the youthful prince, with proud alarm,
Calls out th' venturous colony to swarm-
When first their way through yielding air they wing,
New to the pleasures of their native spring-
The banks of brooks may make a cold retreat
For the raw soldiers from the scalding heat,
And neighb'ring trees with friendly shade invite
The troops, unus'd to long laborious flight.
Then o'er the running stream or standing lake,
A passage for thy weary people make;
With osier floats the standing water strow;
Of massy stones make bridges, if it flow;
That basking in the sun thy bees may lie,
And, resting there, their flaggy pinions dry,
When, late returning home, the laden host
By raging winds is wreck'd upon the coast.
Wild thyme and sav'ry set around their cell,
Sweet to the taste, and fragrant to the smell:
Set rows of rosemary with flow'ring stem,
And let the purple vi'lets drink the stream.
Whether thou build the palace of thy bees
With twisted osiers, or with barks of trees,
Make but a narrow mouth; for as the cold
Congeals into a lump the liquid gold,
So 'tis again dissolved by summer's heat;
And the sweet labors by extremes defeat.
And therefore not in vain, th' industrious kind
With dauby wax and flow'rs the chinks have lin'd,
And with their stores of gathered glue, contrive
To stop the vents and crannies of their hive.
Not birdlime, or Idæan pitch, produce
A more tenacious mass of clammy juice.
Nor bees are lodg'd in hives alone, but found
In chambers of their own beneath the ground:
Their vaulted roofs are hung in pumices,
And in the rotten trunks of hollow trees.
But plaster thou the chinky hives with clay,
And leafy branches o'er their lodgings lay:
Nor place them where too deep a water flows,
Or where the yew, their pois'nous neighbor, grows;
Nor roast red crabs, t' offend the niceness of their nose;
Nor near the streaming stench of muddy ground;
Nor hollow rocks that render back the sound,
GEORGIC IV.
107
And double images of voice rebound.
For what remains, when golden suns appear,
And under earth have driv'n the winter year,
The winged nation wanders through the skies,
And o'er the plains and shady forest flies:
Then, stooping on the meads and leafy bow'rs,
They skim the floods, and sip the purple flow'rs.
Exalted hence, and drunk with secret joy,
Their young succession all the cares employ:
They breed, they brood, instruct and educate,
And make provision for the future state:
They work their waxen lodgings in their hives,
They labor honey to sustain their lives.
But when thou seest a swarming cloud arise,
That sweeps aloft, and darkens all the skies,
The motions of their hasty flight attend;
And know, to floods or woods, their airy march they bend
Then melfoil beat, and honey-suckles pound;
With these alluring savors strew the ground:
And mix with tinkling brass the cymbal's droning sound.
Straight to their ancient cells, recall'd from air,
The reconcil'd deserters will repair.
But, if intestine broils alarm the hive
(For two pretenders oft for empire strive),
The vulgar in divided factions jar;
And murm'ring sounds proclaim the civil war.
Inflam'd with ire, and trembling with disdain,
Scarce can their limbs their mighty souls contain.
With shouts, the coward's courage they excite,
And martial clangors call them out to fight:
With hoarse alarms the hollow camp rebounds,
That imitate the trumpet's angry sounds;
Then to their common standards they repair;
The nimble horsemen scour the fields of air;
In form of battle drawn, they issue forth,
And ev'ry knight is proud to prove his worth.
Prest for their country's honor, and their king's,
On their sharp beaks they whet their pointed stings,
And exercise their arms, and tremble with their wings.
Full in the midst the haughty monarchs ride;
The trusty guards come up, and close the side;
With shouts the daring foe to battle is defied.
Thus, in the season of unclouded spring,
To war they follow their undaunted king,
Crowd through their gates; and, in the fields of light,
The shocking squadrons meet in mortal fight.
Headlong they fall from high, and wounded wound;
108
GEORGIC IV.
And heaps of slaughter'd soldiers bite the ground.
Hard hailstones lie not thicker on the plain,
Nor shaken oaks such show'rs of acorns rain.
With gorgeous wings, the marks of sovereign sway,
The two contending princes make their way;
Intrepid through the midst of danger go,
Their friends encourage and amaze the foe.
With mighty souls in narrow bodies prest,
They challenge, and encounter breast to breast;
So fix'd on fame, unknowing how to fly
And obstinately bent to win or die,
That long the doubtful combat they maintain,
Till one prevails-for one can only reign.
Yet all these dreadful deeds, this deadly fray,
A cast of scatter'd dust will soon allay,
And undecided leave the fortune of the day.
When both the chiefs are sunder'd from the fight,
Then to the lawful king restore his right;
And let the wasteful prodigal be slain,
That he, who best deserves, alone may reign.
With ease distinguish'd is the regal race :
. One monarch wears an honest open face:
Shap'd to his size, and godlike to behold,
His royal body shines with specks of gold,
And ruddy scales; for empire he design'd,
is better born, and of a nobler kind.
That other looks like nature in disgrace :
Gaunt are his sides, and sullen is his face ;
And like their grisly prince appear his gloomy race,
Grim, ghastly, rugged, like a thirsty train
That long have travell'd through a desert plain,
And spit from their dry chaps the gather'd dust again
The better brood, unlike the bastard crew,
Are marked with royal streaks of shining hue;
Glitt'ring and ardent, though in body less :
From these at 'pointed seasons, hope to press
Huge heavy honeycombs, of golden juice,
Not only sweet, but pure, and fit for use,
T'allay the strength and hardness of the wine,
And with old Bacchus, new metheglin join.
But, when the swarms are eager of their play,
And loathe their empty hives, and idly stray,
Restrain the wanton fugitives, and take
A timely care to bring the truants back.
The task is easy-but to clip the wings
Of their high-flying arbitrary kings.
At their command, the people swarm away;
GEORGIC IV.
109
Confine the tyrant, and the slaves will stay.
Sweet gardens, full of saffron flowers, invite
The wand'ring gluttons, and retard their flight-
Besides the god obscene, who frights away,
With his lath sword, the thieves and birds of prey,
With his own hand, the guardian of the bees,
For slips of pine may search the mountain trees,
And with wild thyme and sav'ry plant the plain,
Till his hard horny fingers ache with pain;
And deck with fruitful trees the fields around,
And with refreshing waters drench the ground.
Now, did I not so near my labors end,
Strike sail, and hast'ning to the harbor tend,
My song to flow'ry gardens might extend—
To teach the vegetable arts to sing,
The Pæstan roses, and their double spring ;
How succ'ry drinks the running streams, and how
Green beds of parsley near the river grow;
How cucumbers along the surface creep,
With crooked bodies, and with bellies deep-
The late narcissus, and the winding trail
Of bear's foot, myrtles green, and ivy pale :
For, where with stately tow'rs Tarentum stands,
And deep Galæsus soaks the yellow sands,
I chanc'd an old Corycian swain to know,
Lord of few acres, and those barren too,.
Unfit for sheep or vines, and more unfit to sow :
Yet, lab'ring well his little spot of ground,
Some scatt'ring pot-herbs here and there he found,
Which, cultivated with his daily care,
And bruis'd with vervain, were his frugal fare.
Sometimes white lilies did their leaves afford
With wholesome poppy flow'rs, to mend his homely board :
For, late returning home, he supp'd at ease,
And wisely deem'd the wealth of monarchs less :
The little of his own, because his own did please.
To quit his care, he gather'd first of all,
In spring the roses, apples in the fall:
And, when cold winter split the rocks in twain,
And ice the running rivers did restrain,
He stripp'd the bear's-foot of its leafy growth,
And, calling western winds, accus'd the spring of sloth.
He therefore first among the swains was found
To reap the product of his labor'd ground,
And squeeze the comb, with golden liquor crown'd.
His limes were first in flow'rs; his lofty pines,
With friendly shade, secur'd his tender vines.
X
i
IIO
GEORGIC IV.
For ev'ry bloom his trees in spring afford,
An autumn apple was by tale restor❜d.
He knew to rank his elms in even rows,
For fruit the grafted pear tree to dispose,
And tame to plums the sourness of the sloes.
With spreading planes he made a cool retreat,
To shade good fellows from the summer's heat,
But, straiten'd in my space, I must forsake
This task, for others afterwards to take.
Describe we next the nature of the bees,
Bestow'd by Jove for secret service's,
When, by the tinkling sound of timbrels led,
The king of heav'n in Cretan caves they fed.
Of all the race of animals, alone
The bees have common cities of their own,
And common sons: beneath one law they live,
And with one common stock their traffic drive.
Each has a certain home, a sev'ral stall:
All is the state's; the state provides for all.
Mindful of coming cold, they share the pain,
And hoard, for winter's use, the summer's gain.
Some o'er the public magazines preside;
And some are sent new forage to provide.
These drudge in fields abroad; and those at home
Lay deep foundations for the labor'd comb,
With dew, narcissus-leaves, and clammy gum.
To pitch the waxen flooring some contrive;
Some nurse the future nation of the hive;
Sweet honey some condense; some purge the grout.
The rest, in cells apart, the liquid nectar shut :
All, with united force, combine to drive
The lazy drones from the laborious hive:
With envy stung, they view each other's deeds :
With diligence the fragrant work proceeds.
As when the Cyclops, at th' almighty nod,
New thunder hasten for their angry god,
Subdu'd in fire the stubborn metal lies;
One brawny smith the puffing bellows plies,
And draws and blows reciprocating air:
Others to quench the hissing mass prepare.
With lifted arms they order ev'ry blow,
And chime their sounding hammers in a row;
With labor'd anvils Etna groans below.
Strongly they strike; huge flakes of flames expire:
With tongs they turn the steel, and vex it in the fire.
If little things with great we may compare,
Such are the bees, and such their busy care;
GEORGIC IV.
III
·
Studious of honey, each in his degree,
The youthful swain, the grave experienc'd bee-
That in the field; this, in affairs of state
Employ'd at home, abides within the gate,
To fortify the combs, to build the wall,
To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall :
But, late at night, with weary pinions come
The lab'ring youth, and heavy laden, home.
Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies;
The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs.
He spoils the saff'ron flow'rs: he sips the blues
Of vi'lets, wilding blooms, and willow dews.
Their toil is common; common is their sleep;
They shake their wings when morn begins to peep;
Rush through the city gates without delay ;
Nor ends their work but with declining day.
Then, having spent the last remains of light,
They give their bodies due repose at night,
When hollow murmurs of their evening bells
Dismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells.
When once in beds their weary limbs they steep,
No buzzing sounds disturb their golden sleep.
'Tis sacred silence all. Nor dare they stray,
When rain is promis'd, or a stormy day;
But near the city walls their watʼring take,
Nor forage far, but short excursions make.
And as when empty barks on billows float,
With sandy ballast sailors trim the boat;
So bees bear gravel stones, whose poising weight
Steers through the whistling winds their steady flight,
But (what's more strange) their modest appetites,
Averse from Venus, fly the nuptial rites.
No lust enervates their heroic mind,
Nor wastes their strength on wanton womankind;
But in their mouths reside their genial pow'rs :
They gather children from the leaves and flow'rs.
Thus make they kings to fill the regal seat,
And thus their little citizens create,
And waxen cities build, the palaces of state.
And oft on rocks their tender wings they tear,
And sink beneath the burdens which they bear:
Such rage of honey in their bosom beats,
And such a zeal they have for flow'ry sweets.
Thus, though the race of life they quickly run,
Which in the space of scv'n short years is done :
Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns;
The fortune of the family remains;
(12
GEORGIC IV.
And grandsires' grandsires the long list contains.
Besides, not Egypt, India, Media, more
With servile awe their idol king adore :
While he survives, in concord and content
The commons live, by no divisions rent:
But the great monarch's death dissolves the government.
All goes to ruin; they themselves contrive
To rob the honey, and subvert the hive.
The king presides, his subjects' toil surveys,
The servile rout their careful Cæsar praise :
Him they extol; they worship him alone;
They crowd his levees, and support his throne;
They raise him on their shoulders with a shout;
And, when their sov'reign's quarrel calls them out,
His foes to mortal combat they defy,
And think it honor at his feet to die.
Induc'd by such examples some have taught
That bees have portion of ethereal thought—
Endu'd with particles of heavenly fires;
For God the whole created mass inspires.
Through heav'n, and earth, and ocean's depth, he throws
His influence round, and kindles as he goes,
Hence flocks, and herds, and men, and beasts, and fowls,
With breath are quicken'd, and attract their souls;
Hence take the forms his prescience did ordain,
And into him at length resolve again.
No room is left for death: they mount the sky,
And to their own congenial planets fly.
Now, when thou hast decreed to seize their stores,
And by prerogative to break their doors,
With sprinkled water first the city choke,
And then pursue the citizens with smoke.
Two honey-harvests fall in ev'ry year :
First, when the pleasing Pleiades appear,
And, springing upward, spurn the briny seas:
Again, when their affrighted choir surveys
The wat❜ry Scorpion mend his pace behind,
With a black train of storms, and winter wind,
They plunge into the deep and safe protection find.
Prone to revenge, the bees, a wrathful race,
When once provok'd, assault the aggressor's face,
And through the purple veins a passage find;
There fix their stings, and leave their souls behind.
But, if a pinching winter thou foresee,
And wouldst preserve thy famish'd family;
With fragrant thyme the city fumigate,
And break the waxen walls to save the st :te.
:
GEORGIC IV.
3
113
A
For lurking lizards often lodge, by stealth,
Within the suburbs, and purloin their wealth;
And worms, that shun the light, a dark retreat
Have found in combs, and undermin'd the seat;
Or lazy drones, without their share of pain,
In winter quarters free, devour the gain;
Or wasps infest the camp with loud alarms,
And mix in battle with unequal arms;
Or secret moths are there in silence fed ;
Or spiders in the vault their snary webs have spread.
The more oppress'd by foes, or famine-pin'd,
The more increase thy care to save the sinking kind;
With greens and flow'rs recruit their empty hives,
And seek fresh forage to sustain their lives.
But, since they share with man one common fate,
In health and sickness, and in turns of state,
Observe the symptoms. When they fall away,
And languish with insensible decay,
They change their hue; with haggard eyes they stare;
Lean are their looks, and shagged is their hair:
And crowds of dead, that never must return
To their lov'd hives, in decent pomp are borne:
Their friends attend the hearse; the next relations mourn.
The sick, for air, before the portal gasp,
Their feeble legs within each other clasp,
Or idle in their empty hives remain,
Benumb'd with cold, and listless of their gain.
Soft whispers then, and broken sounds, are heard,
As when the woods by gentle winds are stirr'd;
Such stifled noise as the close furnace hides,
Or dying murmurs of departing tides.
This when thou seest galbanean odors use,
And honey in the sickly hive infuse.
Through reeden pipes convey the golden flood,
T' invite the people to their wonted food.
Mix it with thicken'd juice of sodden wines,
And raisins from the grapes of Psythian vines :
To these add pounded galls, and roses dry,
And, with Cecropian thyme, strong-scented centaury,
A flow'r there is, that grows in meadow-ground,
Amellus call'd, and easy to be found;
For, from one root, the rising stem bestows
A wood of leaves, and vi'let purple boughs :
The flow'r itself is glorious to behold,
And shines on altars like refulgent gold-
Sharp to the taste-by shepherds near the stream
Of Mella found; and thence they gave the name.
114
GEORGIC IV.
}
Boil this restoring root in gen'rous wine,
And set beside the door, the sickly stock to dine.
But, if the lab'ring kind be wholly lost,
And not to be retriev'd with care or cost;
'Tis time to touch the precepts of an art
Th' Arcadian master did of old impart ;
And how he stock'd his empty hives again,
Renew'd with putrid gore of oxen slain.
An ancient legend I prepare to sing,
And upward follow Fame's immortal spring;
For, where with sevenfold horns mysterious Nile
Surrounds the skirts of Egypt's fruitful isle,
And where in pomp the sunburnt people ride,
On painted barges o'er the teeming tide,
Which, pouring down from Ethiopian lands,
Makes green the soil with slime, and black prolific sands-
That length of region, and large tract of ground,
In this one art a sure relief have found.
First, in a place, by nature close, they build
A narrow flooring, gutter'd, wall'd, and til'd.
In this, four windows are contriv'd, that strike
To the four winds oppos'd, their beams oblique.
A steer of two years old they take, whose head
Now first with burnish'd horns begins to spread :
They stop his nostrils while he strives in vain
To breathe free air, and struggles with his pain.
Knock'd down, he dies: his bowels bruis'd within,
Betray no wound on his unbroken skin.
Extended thus, in this obscene abode
They leave the beast; but first sweet flow'rs are strow'd
Beneath his body, broken boughs and thyme,
And pleasing cassia just renew'd in prime.
This must be done ere spring makes equal day,
When western winds on curling waters play :
Ere painted meads produce their flow'ry crops,
Or swallows twitter on the chimney tops.
The tainted blood, in this close prison pent,
Begins to boil, and through the bones ferment.
Then (wond'rous to behold) new creatures rise,
A moving mass at first, and short of thighs;
Till shooting out with legs, and imp'd with wings,
The grubs proceed to bees with pointed stings,
And, more and more affecting air, they try
Their tender pinions, and begin to fly :
At length, like summer storms from spreading clouds,
That burst at once, and pour impetuous floods-
Or flights of arrows from the Parthian bows,
GEORGIC IV.
115
When from afar they gall embattled foes-
With such a tempest through the skies they steer;
And such a form the winged squadrons bear.
What god, O Muse! this useful science taught?
Or by what man's experience was it brought?
Sad Aristæus from fair Tempe fled-
His bees with famine or diseases dead :-
On Peneus' banks he stood, and near his holy head;
And, while his falling tears the stream supply'd,
Thus, mourning to his mother goddess cried :
Mother Cyrene ! mother, whose abode
Is in the depth of this immortal flood!
What boots it, that from Phoebus' loins I spring,
The third, by him and thee, from heav'n's high king?
O! where is all thy boasted pity gone,
And promise of the skies to thy deluded son?
Why didst thou me, unhappy me, create,
Odious to gods, and born to bitter fate?
Whom scarce my sheep, and scarce my painful plough,
The needful aids of human life allow :
So wretched is thy son, so hard a mother thou!
Proceed, inhuman parent, in thy scorn;
Root up my trees; with blights destroy my corn;
My vineyards ruin, and my sheepfolds burn.
Let loose thy rage, let all thy spite be shown;
Since thus thy hate pursues the praises of thy son.
But, from her mossy bow'r below the ground,
His careful mother heard the plaintive sound-
Encompass'd with her sea-green sisters round.
One common work they ply'd; their distaffs full
With carded locks of blue Milesian wool.
Spio, with Drymo brown, and Xantho fair,
Add sweet Phyllodoce with long dishevell'd hair;
Cydippe with Lycorias, one a maid,
And one that once had call'd Lucina's aid;
Clio and Beroe, from one father both;
Both girt with gold, and clad in particolor'd cloth
Opis the meek, and Deiopeia proud ;
Nisæa lofty, with Ligea loud;
Thalia joyous, Epnyre the sad,
And Arethusa, once Diana's maid,
But now (her quiver left) to love betray'd.
To these Clymene the sweet theft declares
Of Mars; and Vulcan's unavailing cares;
And all the rapes of gods, and ev'ry love,
From ancient Chaos down to youthful Jove :
Thus while she sings, the sisters turn the wheel,
""
116
GEORGIC IV.
3
Empty the woolly rack, and fill the reel.
A mournful sound again the mother hears;
Again the mournful sound invades the sisters' ears.
Starting at once from their green seats, they rise-
Fear in their heart, amazement in their eyes.
But Arethusa, leaping from her bed,
First lifts above the waves her beauteous head,
And, crying from afar, thus to Cyrene said:
"O sister, not with causeless fear possest !
No stranger voice disturbs thy tender breast,
'Tis Aristæus, 'tis thy darling son,
Who to his careless mother makes his moan.
Near his paternal stream he sadly stands,
With downcast eyes, wet cheeks, and folded hands.
Upbraiding heav'n from whence his lineage came,
And ruel calls the gods, and cruel thee, by name.'
Cyrene, mov'd with love, and seiz'd with fear,
Cries out, "Conduct my son, conduct him here:
'Tis lawful for the youth, deriv'd from gods,
To view the secrets of our deep abodes.
At once she wav'd her hand on either side;
At once the ranks of swelling streams divide.
Two rising heaps of liquid crystal stand,
And leave a space betwixt, of empty sand.
Thus safe receiv'd, the downward track he treads,
Which to his mother's wat'ry palace leads.
With wond'ring eyes he views the secret store
Of lakes, that, pent.in hollow caverns, roar;
He hears the crackling sounds of coral woods,
And sees the secret source of subterranean floods,
And where, distinguish'd in their sev'ral cells,
The fount of Phasis, and of Lycus, dwells;
Where swift Enipeus in his bed appears,
And Tyber his majestic forehead rears;
Whence Anio flows, and Hypanis profound
Breaks thro' th' opposing rocks with raging sound;
Where Po first issues from his dark abodes,
And, awful in his cradle, rules the floods :
Two golden horns on his large front he wears,
And his grim face a bull's resemblance bears.
With rapid course he seeks the sacred main,
And fattens, as he runs, the fruitful plain.
Now, to the court arriv'd, th' admiring son
Beholds the vaulted roofs of pory stone,
Now to his mother goddess tells his grief,
Which she with pity hears, and promises relief.
Th' officious nymphs, attending in a ring,
?
GEORGIC IV.
117
With water drawn from their perpetual spring,
From earthly dregs his body purify,
And rub his temples, with fine towels, dry;
Then load the tables with a lib'ral feast,
And honor with full bowls their friendly guest.
The sacred altars are involv'd in smoke;
And the bright choir their kindred gods invoke.
Two bowls the mother fills with Lydian wine;
Then thus: Let these be pour'd, with rites divine,
To the great authors of our wat'ry line-
To father Ocean, this, and this," she said.
"He to the nymphs his sacred sisters paid,
Who rule the wat'ry plains, and hold the woodland shade. '
She sprinkled thrice, with wine, the Vestal-fire;
Thrice to the vaulted roof the flames aspire.
Rais'd with so blest an omen, she begun,
With words like these to cheer her drooping son.
"In the Carpathian bottom makes abode
The shepherd of the seas, a prophet and a god.
High o'er the main in wat'ry pomp he rides,
His azure car and finny coursers guides-
Proteus his name.-To his Pallenian port
I see from far the weary god resort.
Him, not alone, we river gods adore,
But aged Nereus hearkens to his lore.
With sure foresight, and with unerring doom,
He sees what is, and was, and is to come.
This Neptune gave him, when he gave to keep
His scaly flocks, that graze the wat'ry deep.
Implore his aid; for Proteus only knows
The secret cause, and cure, of all thy woes.
But first the wily wizard must be caught;
For, unconstrain'd, he nothing tells for nought;
Nor is with pray'rs, or bribes, or flattery bought.
Surprise him first, and with hard fetters bind;
Then all his frauds will vanish into wind.
I will myself conduct thee on thy way,
When next the southing sun inflames the day,
When the dry herbage thirsts for dews in vain,
And sheep, in shades, avoid the parching plain;
Then will I lead thee to his secret seat,
When, weary with his toil, and scorch'd with heat,
The wayward sire frequents his cool retreat.
His eyes with heavy slumber overcast-
With force invade his limbs, and bind him fast.
Thus surely bound, yet be not over bold :
The slipp'ry god will try to loose his hold,
118
GEORGIC IV.
And various forms assume, to cheat thy sight,
And with vain images of beasts affright;
With foamy tusks, he seems a bristly boar,
Or imitates the lion's angry roar ;
Breaks out in crackling flames to shun thy snares,
Hisses a dragon, or a tiger stares;
Or with a wile thy caution to betray,
In fleeting streams attempts to slide away.
But thou, the more he varies forms, beware
To strain his fetters with a stricter care,
Till, tiring all his arts, he turns again
To his true shape, in which he first was seen."
This said, with nectar she her son anoints;
Infusing vigor through his mortal joints:
Down from his head the liquid odors ran ;
He breath'd of heav'n, and look'd above a man.
Within a mountain's hollow womb, there lies
A large recess conceal'd from human eyes,
Where heaps of billows, driv'n by wind and tide,
In form of war their wat'ry ranks divide,
And there like centries set, without the mouth abide
A station safe for ships, when tempests roar,
A silent harbor, and a cover'd shore.
Secure within resides the various god,
And draws a rock upon his dark abode.
Hither with silent steps, secure from sight,
The goddess guides her son, and turns him from the light:
Herself, involv'd in clouds, precipitates her flight.
'Twas noon; the sultry Dog-star from the sky
Scorch'd Indian swains; the rivel'd grass was dry;
The sun with flaming arrows pierc'd the flood,
And, darting to the bottom, bak'd the mud;
When weary Proteus, from the briny waves,
Retir'd for shelter to his wonted caves.
His finny flocks about their shepherd play,
And, rolling round him spurt the bitter sea:
Unwieldily they wallow first in ooze,
Then in the shady covert seek repose.
Himself, their herdsman, on the middle mount,
Takes of his muster'd flocks a just account.
So, seated on a rock, a shepherd's groom
Surveys his evening flocks returning home,
When lowing calves and bleating lambs, from far,
Provoke the prowling wolf to nightly war.
Th' occasion offers, and the youth complies;
For scarce the weary god had clos'd his eyes,
When, rushing on with shouts, he binds in chains
GEORGIC IV.
119
The drowsy prophet, and his limbs constrains.
He, not unmindful of his usual art,
First in dissembled fire attempts to part :
Then roaring beasts, and running streams he tries
And wearies all his miracles of lies.
But, having shifted ev'ry form to 'scape,
Convinc'd of conquest, he resum'd his shape,
And thus, at length, in human accent spoke :
"Audacious youth! what madness could provoke
A mortal man t' invade a sleeping god?
What bus'ness brought thee to my dark abode ?"
To this th' audacious youth: Thou know'st full well
My name and bus'ness, god; nor need I tell.
No man can Proteus cheat: but, Proteus, leave
Thy fraudful arts, and do not thou deceive.
Following the gods' command I come t' implore
Thy help, my perish'd people to restore.
The seer, who could not yet his wrath assuage,
Roll'd his green eyes, that sparkled with his rage,
And gnash'd his teeth, and cried, "no vulgar god
Pursues thy crimes, nor with a common rod.
Thy great misdeeds have met a due reward,
And Orpheus' dying prayers at length are heard.
For crimes, not his, the lover lost his life,
And at thy hands requires his murder'd wife :
Nor (if the Fates assist not) canst thou 'scape
The just revenge of that intended rape.
To shun thy lawless lust the dying bride,
Unwary, took along the river's side,
Nor at her heels perceiv'd the deadly snake,
That kept the bank, in covert of the brake.
But all her fellow-nymphs the mountains tear
With loud laments, and break the yielding air :
The realms of Mars remurmur all around,
And echoes to th' Athenian shores rebound.
Th' unhappy husband, husband now no more,
Did on his tuneful harp his loss deplore,
And sought his mournful mind with music to restore
On thee, dear wife, in deserts all alone,
He call'd, sigh'd, sung: his griefs with day begun,
Nor were they finish'd with the setting sun.
E'en to the dark dominions of the night
He took his way, through forests void of light.
And dar'd amidst the trembling ghosts to sing,
And stood before th' inexorable king.
Th' infernal troops like passing shadows glide,
And, list'ning, crowd the sweet musician's side-
120
GEORGIC IV.
(Not flocks of birds when driv'n by storms or night,
Stretch to the forest with so thick a flight-)
Men, matrons, children, and th' unmarried maid,
The mighty hero's more majestic shade,
And youths on funeral piles before their parents laid.
All these Cocytus bounds with squalid reeds,
With muddy ditches, and with deadly weeds;
And baleful Styx encompasses around,
With nine slow circling streams, th' unhappy ground.
E'en from the depths of hell the damn'd advance;
Th' infernal mansions, nodding seem to dance;
The gaping three-mouth'd dog forgets to snarl;
The Furies hearken, and their snakes uncurl;
Ixion seems no more his pain to feel,
But leans attentive on his standing wheel.
All dangers past, at length the lovely bride
In safety goes, with her melodious guide,
Longing the common light again to share,
And draw the vital breath of upper air-
He first; and close behind him follow'd she;
For such was Proserpine's severe decree—
When strong desires th' impatient youth invade,
By little caution and much love betray'd:
A fault, which easy pardon might receive,
Were lovers judges, or could hell forgive;
For, near the confines of ethereal light,
And longing for the glimm'ring of a sight,
Th' unwary lover casts his eyes behind,
Forgetful of the law nor master of his mind.
Straight all his hopes exhal'd in empty smoke;
And his long toils were forfeit for a look.
Three flashes of blue lightning gave the sign
Of cov'nants broke; three peals of thunder join.
Then thus the bride: 'what fury seiz'd on thee,
Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me?
Dragg'd back again by cruel destinies,
An iron slumber shuts my swimming eyes.
And now farewell! involv'd in shades of night,
Forever I am ravish'd from thy sight.
In vain I reach my feeble hands, to join
In sweet embraces-ah! no longer thine !'
She said; and from his eyes the fleeting fair
Retir'd like subtle smoke dissolv'd in air,
And left the hopeless lover in despair.
In vain, with folding arms, the youth essay'd
To stop her flight, and strain the flying shade :
He prays; he raves; all means in vain he tries,
GEORGIC IV.
I21
With rage inflam'd, astonish'd with surprise :
But she return'd no more, to bless his longing eyes.
Nor would th' infernal ferrymen once more,
Be brib'd to waft him to the farther shore.
What should he do, who twice had lost his love?
What notes invent? what new petitions move?
Her soul already was consign'd to fate,
And shiv'ring in the leaky sculler sate.
For sev'n continu'd months, if fame say true,
The wretched swain his sorrow did renew:
By Stryman's freezing streams he sat alone :
The rocks were mov'd to pity with his moan:
Trees bent their heads to hear him sing his wrongs:
Fierce tigers couch'd around, and loll'd their fawning tongues
So, close in poplar shades, her children gone,
The mother nightingale laments alone,
Whose nest some prying churl had found, and thence,
By stealth, convey'd th' unfeather'd innocence.
But she supplies the night with mournful strains;
And melancholy music fills the plains.
Sad Orpheus thus his tedious hours employs,
Averse from Venus, and from nuptial joys.
Alone he tempts the frozen floods, alone
Th' unhappy climes, where spring was never known;
He mourn'd his wretched wife, in vain restor'd,
And Pluto's unavailing boon deplor'd.
The Thracian matrons-who the youth accus'd
Of love disdain'd, and marriage rites refus'd-
With furies and nocturnal orgies fir'd,
At length against his sacred life conspir'd.
Whom e'en the savage beasts had spar'd, they kill'd,
And strew'd his mangled limbs about the field.
Then, when his head, from his fair shoulders torn,
Wash'd by the waters, was on Hebrus borne,
E'en then his trembling tongue invok'd his bride ;
With his last voice, ' Eurydice,' he cried.
Eurydice,' the rocks and river banks replied."
This answer Proteus gave; no more he said,
But in the billows plung'd his hoary head;
And, where he leap'd, the waves in circles widely spread.
The nymph return'd her drooping son to cheer,
And bid him banish his superfluous fear :
"For now," said she, "the cause is known, from whence
Thy woe succeeded, and for what offence
The nymphs, companions of th' unhappy maid,
This punishment upon thy crimes have laid;
And sent a plague among thy thriving bees.
122
GEORGIC IV.
With vows and suppliant pray'rs their pow'rs appease
The soft Napaan race will soon repent
Their anger, and remit the punishment.
The secret in an easy method lies;
Select four brawny bulls for sacrifice,
Which on Lycæus graze without a guide;
Add four fair heifers yet in yoke untried,
For these, four altars in their temple rear,
And then adore the woodland pow'rs with pray'r.
From the slain victims pour the streaming blood,
And leave their bodies in the shady wood:
Nine mornings thence, Lethæan poppy bring,
T'appease the manes of the poet's king:
And, to propitiate his offended bride,
A fatted calf and a black ewe provide :
This finish'd, to the former woods repair.
His mother's precepts he performs with care;
The temple visits, and adores with pray'r;
Four altars raises; from his herd he culls,
For slaughter, four the fairest of his bulls :
Four heifers from his female store he took,
All fair, and all unknowing of the yoke,
Nine mornings thence, with sacrifice and pray's
The pow'rs aton'd, he to the grove repairs.
Behold a prodigy! for, from within
The broken bowels and the bloated skin,
A buzzing noise of bees his ears alarms:
Straight issue through the sides assembling swarms,
Dark as a cloud, they make a wheeling flight,
Then on a neighb'ring tree, descending, light :
Like a large cluster of black grapes they show,
And make a large dependance from the bough.
Thus have I sung of fields, and flocks, and trees,
And of the waxen work of lab'ring bees;
While mighty Cæsar, thund'ring from afar,
Seeks on Euphrates' banks the spoils of war;
With conq'ring arts asserts his country's cause,
With arts of peace the willing people draws;
On the glad earth the golden age renews,
And his great father's path to heav'n pursues ;
While I at Naples pass my peaceful days,
Affecting studies of less noisy praise;
And, bold through youth, beneath the beechen shade
The lays of shepherds, and their loves have play'd.
ENEIS.
BOOK I.
ARGUMENT.
The Trojans, after a seven years' voyage, set sail for Italy, but are over-
taken by a dreadful storm, which Eolus raises at the request of Juno.
The tempest sinks one, and scatters the rest. Neptune drives off the
winds, and calms the sea. Eneas, with his own ship and six more, ar-
rives safe at an African port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son's
misfortunes, Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to procure him a
kind reception among the Carthaginians. Æneas, going out to discover
the country, meets his mother in the shape of a huntress, who conveys
him in a cloud to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom he thought
lost, and receives a kind entertainment from the queen. Dido, by a de-
vice of Venus, begins to have a passion for him, and, after some dis-
course with him, desires the history of his adventures since the siege
of Troy, which is the subject of the two following books.
A
RMS, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by Fate,
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.
O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;
For what offence the queen of heav'n began
To persecute so brave, so just a man.
Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares,
Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars!
Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show,
Or exercise their spite in human woe?
124
ENEIS.
Against the Tyber's mouth, but far away,
An ancient town was seated on the sea-
A Tyrian colony-the people made
Stout for the war, and studious of their trade :
Carthage the name-belov'd by Juno more
Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.
Here stood her chariot; here if heav'n were kind
The seat of awful empire she design'd.
Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,
(Long cited by the people of the sky)
That times to come should see the Trojan race
Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface;
For thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway
Should on the necks of all the nations lay.
She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate;
Nor could forget the war sie wag'd of late,
For conqu'ring Greece, against the Trojan state.
Besides, long causes working in her mind,
And secret seeds of envy, lay behind :
Deep graven in her heart, the doom remain’d
Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd;
The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,
Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.
Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd;
To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.
For this, far distant from the Latian coast,
She drove the remnants of the Trojan host:
And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train
Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main.
Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,
Such length of labor for so vast a frame.
Now scarce the Trojan fleet, with sails and oars,
Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores,
Ent'ring with cheerful shouts the wat'ry reign,
And ploughing frothy furrows in the main;
When, lab'ring still with endless discontent,
The queen of heav'n did thus her fury vent—
"Then am I vanquish'd? must I yield?" said she
"And must the Trojans reign in Italy?
So fate will have it; and Jove adds his force;
Nor can my pow'r divert their happy course.
Could angry Pallas, with revengeful spleen,
The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?
She, for the fault of one offending foe,
The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw ;
With whirlwinds from-beneath she toss'd the ship,
And bare expos'd the bosom of the deep:
ENEIS.
*25
Then-as an eagle gripes the trembling game-
The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame,
She strongly seiz'd, and, with a burning wound
Transfix'd, and naked, on a rock she bound.
But I, who walk in awful state above,
The majesty of heav'n, the sister-wife of Jove,
For length of years my fruitless force employ
Against the thin remains of ruin'd Troy !
What nations now to Juno's pow'r will pray,
Or off'rings on my slighted altars lay ?"
Thus rag'd the goddess; and with fury fraught,
The restless regions of the storms she sought,
Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,
The tyrant Æolus, from his airy throne,
With pow'r imperial curbs the struggling winds,
And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.
This way, and that, th' impatient captives tend,
And, pressing for release, the mountains rend.
High in his hall th' undaunted monarch stands,
And shakes his sceptre, and their rage commands;
Which he did not, their unresisted sway
Would sweep the world before them in their way;
Earth, air, and seas, thro' empty space would roll,
And heav'n would fly before the driving soul.
In fear of this, the father of the gods
Confin'd their fury to those dark abodes,
And lock'd them safe within, oppress'd with mountain loads,
Impos'd a king with arbitrary sway,
To loose their fetters, or their force allay;
To whom the suppliant queen her pray'rs address'd
And thus the tenor of her suit express'd,
"O Eolus !-for to thee the king of heav'n
The pow'r of tempests and of winds has giv'n;
Thy force alone their fury can restrain,
And smoothe the waves, or swell the troubled main-
A race of wand'ring slaves, abhorr'd by me,
With prosp'rous passage cut the Tuscan sea :
To fruitful Italy their course they steer,
And, for their vanquish'd gods, design new temples there.
Raise all thy winds, with night involve the skies
Sink or disperse my fatal enemies.
Twice sev'n, the charming daughters of the main,
Around my person wait, and bear my train :'
Succeed my wish, and second my design,
The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine,
And make thee father of a happy line."
To this the god-"'Tis yours, O queen! to wib
126
ENEIS.
The work, which duty binds me to fulfil.
These airy kingdoms, and this wide command,
Are all the presents of your bounteous hand:
Yours is my sov'reign's grace; and, as your guest.
I sit with gods at their celestial feast.
Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue
Dispose of empire, which I hold from you.
He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side
His quiv'ring spear, and all the god applied.
The raging winds rush through the hollow wound,
And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground
Then settling on the sea, the surges sweep,
Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.
South, east, and west, with mix'd confusion roar,
And roll the foaming billows to the shore.
The cables crack; the sailors' fearful cries
Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;
And heav'n itself is ravish'd from their eyes.
Loud peals of thunder from the poles ensue ;
Then flashing fires the transient light renew;
The face of things a frightful image bears;
And present death in various forms appears.
Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,
With lifted hands and eyes, invokes relief;
And "Thrice and four times happy those," he cried,
That under Ilian walls, before their parents, died!
Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train !
Why could not I by that strong arm be slain,
And lie by noble Hector on the plain,
Or great Sarpedon, in those bloody fields,
Where Simoïs rolls the bodies and the shields
Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear
The dart aloft, and clench the pointed spear?"
Thus, while the pious prince his fate bewails,
Fierce Boreas drove against his flying sails,
And rent the sheets the raging billows rise,
And mount the tossing vessel to the skies :
Nor can the shiv'ring oars sustain the blow:
The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;
While those astern, descending down the steep,
Through gaping waves behold the boiling deep.
Three ships were hurried by the southern blast,
And on the secret shelves with fury cast,
Those hidden rocks th' Ausonian sailors knew;
They call'd them altars, when they rose in view,
And show'd their spacious backs above the flood.
Three more fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,
ENEIS.
127
Dash'd on the shallows of the moving sand,
And in the mid ocean left them moor'd a-land.
Orontes' bark, that bore the Lycian crew,
(A horrid sight) e'en in the hero's view,
From stem to stern by waves was overborne.
The trembling pilot, from his rudder torn,
Was headlong hurl'd: thrice round the ship was toss'd,
Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost;
And here and there above the waves were seen
Arms, pictures, precious goods, and floating men.
The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,
And suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea.
Ilioneus was her chief: Aletes old,
Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,
Findur'd not less their ships with gaping seams,
Admit the deluge of the briny streams.
Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound
Of raging billows breaking on the ground.
Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign,
He rear'd his awful head above the main,
Serene in majesty,-then roll'd his eyes
Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.
He saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd,
By stormy winds and wint'ry heav'n oppress'd.
Full well the god his sister's envy knew,
And what her aims and what her arts pursue.
He summon'd Eurus and the Western blast,
And first an angry glance on both he cast,
Then thus rebuk'd-" Audacious winds! from whence
This bold attempt, this rebel insolence!
Is it for you to ravage seas and land,
Unauthoriz'd by my supreme command?
To raise such mountains on the troubled main ?
Whom I-but first 'tis fit the billows to restrain :
And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign.
Hence, to your lord my royal mandate bear-
The realms of ocean and the fields of air
Are mine, not his. By fatal lot to me
The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea.
His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd:
There let him reign, the jailer of the wind,
With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call,
And boast and bluster in his empty hall.'
He spoke, and while he spoke, he smooth'd the sea,
Dispell'd the darkness and restor'd the day.
Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train
128
ENEIS.
Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands:
The god himself with ready trident stands,
And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;
Then heaves them off the shoals. -Where'er he guides
His finny coursers, and in triumph rides,
The waves unruffle, and the sea subsides.
As when in tumults rise th' ignoble crowd,
Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud;
And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,
And all the rustic arms that fury can supply:
If then some grave and pious man appear,
They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear:
He soothes with sober words their angry mood,
And quenches their innate desire of blood:
So, when the father of the flood appears,
And o'er the seas his sov'reign trident rears,
Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains,
High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins,
Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains.
The weary Trojans ply their shatter'd oars
To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.
Within a long recess there lies a bay :
An island shades it from the rolling sea,
And forms a port secure for ships to ride :
Broke by the jutting land on either side,
In double streams the briny waters glide,
Betwixt two rows of rocks: a sylvan scene
Appears above, and groves forever green :
A grot is form'd beneath, with mossy seats,
To rest the Nereïds, and exclude the heats.
Down through the crannies of the living walls,
The crystal streams descend in murm'ring falls.
No halsers need to bind the vessels here,
Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear.
Sev'n ships within this happy harbor meet,
The thin remainders of the scatter'd fleet,
The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes,
Leap on the welcom'd land, and seek their wish'd repose.
First, good Achates, with repeated strokes
Of clashing flints, their hidden fires provokes.
Short flame succeeds: a bed of wither'd leaves
The dying sparkles in their fall receives:
Caught into life, in fiery fumes they rise,
And, fed with stronger food, invade the skies.
The Trojans, dropping wet, or stand around
The cheerful blaze, or lie along the ground.
ÆNEIS.
- 129.
Then grind with marbles, and prepare to dine.
Eneas climbs the mountain's airy brow,
And takes a prospect of the seas below,
If Capys thence, or Antheus, he could spy,
Or see the streamers of Caïcus fly.
No vessels were in view, but on the plain,
Three beamy stags command a lordly train
Of branching heads: the more ignoble throng
Attend their stately steps, and slowly graze along.
He stood; and while secure they fed below,
He took the quiver and the trusty bow
Achates us'd to bear the leaders first
He laid along, and then the vulgar pierc'd;
Nor ceas'd his arrows, till the shady plain
Sev'n mighty bodies with their blood distain.
For the sev'n ships, he made an equal share,
And to the port return'd triumphant from the war.
The jars of gen'rous wine (Acestes' gift,
When his Trinacrian shores the navy left)
He set abroach, and for the feast prepar'd,
In equal portions with the ven'son shar'd.
Thus while he dealt it round, the pious chief
With cheerful words allay'd the common grief.—
"Endure, and conquer! Jove will soon dispose,
To future good, our past and present woes.
With me, the rocks of Scylla you have tried;
Th' inhuman Cyclops, and his den defied.
What greater ills hereafter can you bear?
Resume your courage, and dismiss your care.
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate
Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
Through various hazards and events, we move
To Latium, and the realms foredoom'd by Jove.
Call'd to the seat (the promise of the skies)
Where Trojan kingdoms once again may rise,
Endure the hardships of your present state;
Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.
These words he spoke, but spoke not from his heart;
His outward smiles conceal'd his inward smart.
The jolly crew, unmindful of the past,
The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste.
Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil;
The limbs, yet trembling, in the caldrons boil;
Some on the fire, the reeking entrails broil;
Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine,
"
Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with
wine,
130
ENEIS.
Their hunger thus appeas'd, their care attends
The doubtful fortune of their absent friends:
Alternate hopes and fears their minds possess,
Whether to deem them dead or in distress.
Above the rest, Eneas mourns the fate
Of brave Orontes, and th' uncertain state.
Of Gyas, Lycus, and of Amycus.-
The day, but not their sorrows, ended thus;
When, from aloft, almighty Jove surveys
Earth, air, and shores, and navigable seas:
At length on Libyan realms he fix'd his eyes-
Whom, pond'ring thus on human miseries,
When Venus saw, she with a lowly look,
Not free from tears, her heav'nly sire bespoke :—
O king of gods and men! whose awful hand
Disperses thunder on the seas and land;
Disposes all with absolute command;
How could my pious son thy pow'r incense?
Or what, alas! is vanish'd Troy's offence?
Our hope of Italy not only lost,
On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
But shut from ev'ry shore, and barr'd from ev'ry coast.
You promis'd once a progeny divine,
Of Romans, rising from the Trojan line,
In after-times should hold the world in awe
And to the land and ocean give the law.
How is your doom revers'd, which eas'd my care
When Troy was ruin'd in that cruel war ?
Then fates to fates I could oppose: but now,
When Fortune still pursues her former blow,
What can I hope? What worse can still succeed?
What end of labors has your will decreed?
Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts,
Could pass secure, and pierce th' Illyrian coasts,
Where rolling down the steep, Timavus raves,
And through nine channels disembogues his waves.
At length he founded Padua's happy seat,
And gave his Trojans a secure retreat;
There fix'd their arms, and there renew'd their name,
And there in quiet rules, and crown'd with fame.
But we, descended from your sacred line,
Entitled to your heav'n, and rites divine,
Are banish'd earth, and, for the wrath of one,
Remov'd from Latium, and the promis'd throne.
Are these our sceptres? these our due rewards?
And is it thus that Jove his plighted faith regards?"
To whom the father of th' immortal race,
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131
Smiling with that serene indulgent face,
With which he drives the clouds and clears the skies,
First gave a holy kiss; then thus replies—
Daughter, dismiss thy fears: to thy desire,
The fates of thine are fix'd, and stand entire.
Thou shalt behold thy wish'd Lavinian walls;
And, ripe for heav'n, when Fate Eneas calls,
Then shalt thou bear him up, sublime, to me:
No counsels have revers'd my firm decree.
And, lest new fears disturb thy happy state,
Know, I have search'd the mystic rolls of Fate:
Thy son (nor is th' appointed season far)
In Italy shall wage successful war,
Shall tame fierce nations in the bloody field,
And sov'reign laws impose, and cities build,
Till, after ev'ry foe subdu'd, the sun
Thrice through the signs his annual race shall run:
This is his time prefix'd. Ascanius then,
Now call'd Iülus, shall begin his reign,
He thirty rolling years the crown shall wear,
Then from Lavinium shall the seat transfer,
And, with hard labor, Alba-longa build.-
The throne with his succession shall be fill'd,
Three hundred circuits more then shall be seen
Ilia, the fair, a priestess and a queen,
Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes,
Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose.
The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain :
Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain,
Of martial tow'rs the founder.shall become,
The people Romans call, the city Rome.
To them no bounds of empire I assign,
Nor term of years to their immortal line.
E'en haughty Juno, who, with endless broils,
Earth, seas, and heav'n, and Jove himself, turmoils
At length aton'd, her friendly pow'r shall join,
To cherish and advance the Trojan line.
The subject world shall Rome's dominion own,
And, prostrate, shall adore the nation of the gown.
An age is rip'ning in revolving fate,
When Troy shall overturn the Grecian state,
And sweet revenge her conqu'ring sons shall call,
To crush the people that conspir'd her fall.
Then Cæsar from the Julian stock shall rise,
Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies,
Alone shall bound; whom, fraught with eastern spoils.
Our heav'n, the just reward of human toils,
132
ENEIS.
Securely sha.. repay with rites divine;
And incense shall ascend before his sacred shrine.
Then dire debate, and impious war, shall cease,
And the stern age be soften'd into peace ;
Then banish'd faith shall once again return,
And vestal fires in hallow'd temples burn;
And Remus with Quirinus shall sustain
The righteous laws, and fraud and force restrain.
Janus himself before his fane shall wait,
And keep the dreadful issues of his gate,
With bolts and iron bars: within remains
Imprison'd Fury, bound in brazen chains:
High on a trophy rais'd, of useless arms,
He sits, and threats the world with vain alarms."
He said, and sent Cyllenius with command
To free the ports, and ope the punic land
To Trojan guests; lest, ignorant of fate,
The queen might force them from her town and state.
Down from the steep of heav'n Cyllenius flies,
And cleaves with all his wings the yielding skies.
Soon on the Libyan shore descends the god,
Performs his message, and displays his rod.
The surly murmurs of the people cease;
And, as the Fates requir'd, they give the peace.
The queen herself suspends the rigid laws.
The Trojans pity, and protect their cause.
Meantime in shades of night Eneas lies:
Care seiz'd his soul, and sleep forsook his eyes.
But, when the sun restor'd the cheerful day,
He rose the coast and country to survey,
Anxious and eager to discover more.—
It look'd a wild uncultivated shore :
But, whether human kind, or beasts alone,
Possess'd the new-found region, was unknown.
Beneath a ledge of rocks his fleets he hides:
Tall trees surround the mountain's shady sides:
The bending brow above a safe retreat provides.
Arm'd with two pointed darts, he leaves his friends;
And true Achates on his steps attends.
Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,
Before his eye his goddess mother stood-
A huntress in her habit and her mien :
Her dress a maid, her air confess'd a queen.
Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind
Loose was her hair, and wanton'd in the wind.
Her hand sustain'd a bow; her quiver hung behind.
She seem'd a virgin of the Spartan blood :
ENEIS.
133
With such array Harpalyce bestrode
Her Thracian courser, and outstripp'd the rapid flood.
""
Ho! strangers! have you lately seen,
One of my sisters, like myself array'd,
she said,
Who cross'd the lawn, or in the forest stray'd?
A painted quiver at her back she bore;
Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore;
And at full cry pursu'd the tusky boar.'
Thus Venus thus her son replied again :
None of your sisters have we heard or seen,
O virgin or what other name you bear
Above that style-O, more than mortal fair.
Your voice and mien celestial birth betray !
If, as you seem, the sister of the day,
Or one at least of chaste Diana's train,
Let not a humble suppliant sue in vain :
But tell a stranger long in tempests tost,
What earth we tread, and who commands the coast?
Then on your names shall wretched mortals call,
And offer'd victims at your altars fall."
I dare not," she replied, "assume the name
Of goddess, or celestial honors claim :
For Tyrian virgins bows and quivers bear,
And purple buskins o'er their ankles wear.
Know, gentle youth, in Libyan lands you are—
A people rude in peace, and rough in war.
The rising city, which from far you see,
Is Carthage, and a Tyrian colony.
Phoenician Dido rules the growing state,
Who fled from Tyre to shun her brother's hate. -
Great were her wrongs, her story full of fate;
Which I will sum in short. Sichæus, known
For wealth, and brother to the punic throne,
Possess'd fair Dido's bed; and either heart
At once was wounded with an equal dart.
Her father gave her, yet a spotless maid;
Pygmalion then the Tyrian sceptre sway'd—
One who contemn'd divine and human laws.
Then strife ensu'd, and cursed gold the cause.
The monarch, blinded with desire of wealth,
With steel invades his brother's life by stealth;
Before the sacred altar made him bleed,
And long from her conceal'd the cruel deed.
Some tale, some new pretence, he daily coin'd,
To soothe his sister, and delude her mind.
At length, in dead of night, the ghost appears,
Of her unhappy lord; the spectre stares,
E
134
ENEIS.
And, with erected eyes, his bosom bares.
The cruel altars, and his fate, he tells,
And the dire secret of his house reveals,
Then warns the widow, and her household gods,
To seek a refuge in remote abodes.
Last, to support her, in so long a way,
He shows her where his hidden treasures lay.
Admonish'd thus, and seiz'd with mortal fright,
The queen provides companions of her flight;
They meet, and all combine to leave the state,
Who hate the tyrant, or who fear his hate.
They seize a fleet, which ready rigg'd they find;
Nor is Pygmalion's treasure left behind.
The vessels, heavy laden, put to sea
With prosp'rous winds: a woman leads the way.
I know not, if by stress of weather driv'n,
Or was their fatal course dispos'd by heav'n ;
At last they landed, where from far your eyes
May view the turrets of new Carthage rise;
There bought a space of ground, which (Byrsa call'd
From the bull's hide) they first enclos'd, and wall'd.
But whence are you? what country claims your birth?
What seek you, strangers on our Libyan earth?''
To whom, with sorrow streaming from his eyes,
And deeply sighing, thus her son replies:
Could you with patience hear, or I relate,
O nymph! the tedious annals of our fate,
Through such a train of woes if I should run,
The day would sooner than the tale, be done.
From ancient. Troy, by force expell'd, we came-
If you by chance have heard the Trojan name.
On various seas by various tempests toss'd,
At length we landed on your Libyan coast.
The good Æneas am I call'd—a name,
While Fortune favor'd, not unknown to fame.
My household gods, companions of my woes,
With pious care I rescu'd from our foes.
To fruitful Italy my course was bent;
And from the king of heav'n is my descent.
With twice ten sail I cross'd the Phrygian sea;
Fate and my mother goddess led my way.
Scarce sev'n, the thin remainders of my fleet,
From storms preserv'd, within your harbor meet.
Myself distress'd, an exile, and unknown,
Debarr'd from Europe, and from Asia thrown,
In Libyan deserts wander thus alone.
His tender parent could no longer bear,
ENEIS.
135
But, interposing, sought to soothe his care.
..
Whoe'er you are-not unbelov'd by heav'n,
Since on our friendly shore your ships are driv'n—
Have courage to the gods permit the restˇ
And to the queen expose your just request.
Now take this earnest of success for more;
Your scatter'd fleet is join'd upon the shore;
The winds are chang'd, your friends from danger free :
Or I renounce my skill in augury.
Twelve swans behold in beauteous order move,
And stoop with closing pinions from above:
Whom late the bird of Jove had driv'n along,
And through the clouds pursu'd the scatt'ring throng.
Now all united in a goodly team,
They skim the ground, and seek the quiet stream :
As they, with joy returning, clap their wings,
And ride the circuit of the skies in rings;
Not otherwise your ships, and ev'ry friend,
Already hold the port, or with swift sails descend.
No more advice is needful, but pursue
The path before you, and the town in view."
Thus having said, she turn'd, and made appear
Her neck refulgent, and dishevell'd hair,
Which flowing from her shoulders reach'd the ground,
And widely spread ambrosial scents around.
In length of train descends her sweeping gown ;
And, by her graceful walk, the queen of love is known.
The prince pursu'd the parting deity
"
With words like these : Ah! whither do you fly?
Unkind and cruel! to deceive your son
>>
In borrow'd shapes, and his embrace to shun;
Never to bless my sight, but thus unknown;
And still to speak in accents not your own.
Against the goddess these complaints he made,
But took the path, and her commands obey'd.
They march obscure; for Venus kindly shrouds,
With mists, their persons, and involves in clouds,
That, thus unseen, their passage none might stay,
Or force to tell the causes of their way.
This part perform'd, the goddess flies sublime,
To visit Paphos, and her native clime,
Where garlands, ever green and ever fair,
With vows are offer'd, and with solemn pray'r.
A hundred altars in her temple smoke :
A thousand bleeding hearts her pow'r invoke.
They climb the next ascent, and, looking down,
Now at a nearer distance view the town.
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ENEIS.
The prince, with wonder, sees the stately tow'rs
(Which late were huts, and shepherds' homely bow'rs),
The gates and streets; and hears, from ev'ry part,
The noise and busy concourse of the mart.
The toiling Tyrians on each other call,
To ply their labor; some extend the wall;
Some build the citadel; the brawny throng
Or dig, or push unwieldy stones along.
Some for their dwellings choose a spot of ground,
"Which, first design'd, with ditches they surround.
Some laws ordain ; and some attend the choice
;
Of holy senates, and elect by voice.
Here some design a mole, while others there
Lay deep foundations for a theatre,
From marble quarries mighty columns hew,
For ornaments of scenes, and future view.
Such is their toil, and such their busy pains,
As exercise the bees in flow'ry plains,
When winter past, and summer scarce begun,
Invites them forth to labor in the sun :
Some lead their youth abroad, while some condense
Their liquid store, and some in cells dispense :
Some at the gates stand ready to receive
The golden burden, and their friends relieve:
All, with united force, combine to drive
The lazy drones from the laborious hive:
With envy stung, they view each other's deeds,
The fragrant work with diligence proceeds.
Thrice happy you, whose walls already rise!"
Æneas said, and view'd, with lifted eyes,
Their lofty tow'rs then ent'ring at the gate,
Conceal'd in clouds (prodigious to relate),
He mix'd, unmark'd, among the busy throng,
Borne by the tide, and pass'd unseen along.
Full in the centre of the town there stood,
Thick set with trees, a venerable wood :
The Tyrians, landing near this holy ground,
And digging here, a prosp'rous omen found :
From under earth a courser's head they drew,
Their growth and future fortune to foreshow:
This fated sign their foundress Juno gave,
Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave.
Sidonian Dido here with solemn state
Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate,
Enrich'd with gifts, and with a golden shrine,
But more the goddess made the place divine.
On brazen steps the marble threshold rose,
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137
And brazen plates the cedar beams enclose:
The rafters are with brazen cov'rings crown'd;
The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound.
What first Æneas in this place beheld,
Reviv'd his courage, and his fear expell'd.
For-while, expecting there the queen, he rais'd
His wondering eyes, and round the temple gaz'd,
Admir'd the fortune of the rising town,
The striving artists, and their a ts' renown-
He saw, in order painted on the wall,
Whatever did unhappy Troy befall-
The wars that fame around the world had blown,
All to the life, and ev'ry leader known.
There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies,
And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies.
He stopped, and weeping said, "O friend! e'en here
The monuments of Trojan woes appear!
Our known disasters fill e'en foreign lands:
See there, where old unhappy Priam stands !
E'en the mute walls relate the warrior's fame,
And Trojan griefs the Tyrians' pity claim."
He said (his tears a ready passage find)
Devouring what he saw so well design'd,
And with an empty picture fed his mind
For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield,
And here the trembling Trojans quit the field,
Pursu'd by fierce Achilles through the plain,
On his high chariot driving o'er the slain.
The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew,
By their white sails betray'd to nightly view;
And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword
The sentries slew; nor spar'd their slumb´ring lord.
Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food
Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood.
Elsewhere he saw where Troilus defied
Achilles, and unequal combat tried ;
Then, where the boy disarm'd, with loosen'd reins,
Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains,
Hung by the neck and hair, and, dragg'd around,
The hostile spear, yet sticking in his wound,
With tracks of blood inscrib'd the dusty ground.
Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe
To Pallas' fane in long procession go,
In hopes to reconcile their heavenly foe :
+
They weep; they beat their breasts; they rend the hair
And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear:
But the stern goddess stands unmov'd with pray'r.
138
ENEIS.
Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew
The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew.
Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold,
The lifeless body of his son he sold.
So sad an object, and so well express'd,
Drew sighs and groans from the griev'd hero's breast,
To see the figure of his lifeless friend,
And his old sire his helpless hands extend.
Himself he saw amidst the Grecian train.
Mix'd in the bloody battle on the plain :
And swarthy Memnon in his arms he knew,
His pompous ensigns, and his Indian crew.
Penthesilea there, with haughty grace,
Leads to the wars an Amazonian race:
In their right hands a pointed dart they wield;
The left, for ward, sustains the lunar shield.
Athwart her breast a golden belt she throws,
Amidst the press alone provokes a thousand foes,
And dares her maiden arms to manly force oppose.
Thus while the Trojan prince employs his eyes,
Fix'd on the walls with wonder and surprise,
The beauteous Dido, with a num'rous train,
And pomp of guards, ascends the sacred fane.
Such on Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' height,
Diana seems; and so she charms the sight,
When in the dance the graceful goddess leads
The choir of nymphs, and overtops their heads:
Known by her quiver, and her lofty mien,
She walks majestic, and she looks their queen :
Latonia sees her shine above the rest,
And feeds with secret joy her sllent breast.
Such Dido was; with such becoming state,
Amidst the crowd she walks serenely great.
Their labor to her future sway she speeds,
And passing with a gracious glance proceeds,
Then mounts the throne, high plac'd before the shrine
In crowds around, the swarming people join.
She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,
Hears and determines ev'ry private cause :
Their task in equal portions she divides,
And, where unequal, there by lot decides.
Another way by chance Æneas bends
His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,
Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,
And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,
Whom late the tempest on the billows toss'd,
And widely scatter'd on another coast.
ENEIS.
139
The prince, unseen, surpris'd with wonder stands.
And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands:
But, doubtful of the wish'd event, he stays,
And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,
Impatient till they told their present state,
And where they left their ships, and what their fate,
And why they came, and what was their request;
For these were sent, commission'd by the rest,
To sue for leave to land their sickly men,
And gain admission to the gracious queen.
Ent'ring, with cries they fill'd the holy fane;
Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:
O queen! indulg'd by favor of the gods
To found an empire in these new abodes;
To build a town; with statutes to restrain
The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign-
We wretched Trojans, toss'd on ev'ry shore
From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.
Forbid the fires our shipping to deface;
Receive th' unhappy fugitives to grace,
And spare the remnant of a pious race!
We come not with design of wasteful prey,
To drive the country, force the swains away.
Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;
The vanquish'd dare not to such thoughts aspire,
A land there is, Hesperia nam'd of old—
The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold-
Th' Enotrians held it once-by common fame,
Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.
To that sweet region was our voyage bent,
When winds, and every warring element,
Disturb'd our course, and, far from sight of land,
Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand;
The sea came on; the South with mighty roar,
Dispers'd and dash'd the rest upon the rocky shore
Those few you see, escap'd the storm, and fear,
Unless you interpose, a shipwreck here.
What men, what monsters, what inhuman race,
What laws, what barbarous customs of the place,
Shut up a desert shore to drowning men,
And drive us to the cruel seas again?
If our hard fortune no compassion draws,
Nor hospitable rights, nor human laws,
The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.
Eneas was our prince--a juster lord,
Or nobler warrior, never drew a sword-
Observant of the right, religious of his word.
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140
ENEIS.
If yet he lives, and draws this vital air,
Nor we his friends of safety shall despair,
Nor you, great queen, these offices repent,
Which he will equal, and perhaps augment.
We want not cities, nor Sicilian coasts,
Where king Ancestes Trojan lineage boasts.
Permit our ships a shelter on your shores,
Refitted from your woods with planks and oars
That, if our prince be safe, we may renew
Our destin'd course, and Italy pursue.
But if, O best of men the Fates ordain
That thou art swallow'd in the Libyan main,
And if our young Iulus be no more,
Dismiss our navy from your friendly shore,
That we to good Ancestes may return,
And with our friends our common losses mourn.'
Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew
With cries and clamors his request renew.
The modest queen awhile with downcast eyes,
Ponder'd the speech, then briefly thus replies:
"Trojans dismiss your fears: my cruel fate,
And doubts attending an unsettled state,
Force me to guard my coast from foreign foes.
Who has not heard the story of your woes,
The name and fortune of your native place,
The fame and valor of the Phrygian race?
We Tyrians are not so devoid of sense,
Nor so remote from Phœbus' influence.
Whether to Latian shores your course is bent,
Or driv'n by tempests from your first intent,
You seek the good Ancestes' government.
Your men shall be receiv'd, your fleet repair'd,
And sail, with ships of convoy for your guard :
Or, would you stay, and join your friendly pow'rs
To raise and to defend the Tyrian tow'rs,
My wealth, my city, and myself, are yours.
And would to heav'n, the storm you felt would bring
On Carthaginian coasts your wand'ring king.
My people shall, by my command, explore,
The ports and creeks of ev'ry winding shore,
And towns, and wilds, and shady woods, in quest
Of so renown'd, and so desir'd a guest.
))
Rais'd in his mind the Trojan hero stood,
And long'd to break from out his ambient cloud :
Achates found it, and thus urg'd his way:
"From whence, O goddess-born, this long delay?
What more can you desire, your welcome sure,
ENEIS.
141
Your fleet in safety, and your friends secure?
One only wants; and him we saw in vain
Oppose the storm, and swallow'd in the main.
Orontes in his fate our forfeit paid:
The rest agrees with what your mother said."
Scarce had he spoken, when the cloud gave way,
The mist flew upward, and dissolv'd in day.
The Trojan chief appear'd in open sight,
August in visage, and serenely bright.
His mother goddess, with her hands divine,
Had form'd his curling locks and made his temples shine,
And giv'n his rolling eyes a sparkling grace,
And breath'd a youthful vigor on his face;
Like polish'd iv'ry beauteous to behold,
Or Parian marble, when enchas'd in gold,
Thus radiant from the circling cloud he broke ;
And thus with manly modesty he spoke :
"He whom you seek am I; by tempests toss'd,
And say'd from shipwreck on your Libyan coast;
Presenting, gracious queen, before your throne,
A prince that owes his life to you alone.
Fair majesty the refuge and redress
Of those whom Fate pursues, and wants oppress
You, who your pious offices employ
To save.the relics of abandon'd Troy,
Receive the shipwreck'd on your friendly shore,
With hospitable rights relieve the poor;
Associate in your town a wand'ring train,
And strangers in your palace entertain.
What thanks can wretched fugitives return,
Who scatter'd through the world, in exile mourn?
The gods (if gods to goodness are inclin'd-
If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind),
And, more than all the gods, your gen'rous heart,
Conscious of worth, requites its own desert!
In you this age is happy, and this earth;
And parents more than mortal gave you birth.
While rolling rivers into seas shall run,
And round the space of heav'n the radiant sun;
While trees the mountain-tops with shades supp
Your honor, name, and praise shall never die.
Whate'er abode my fortune has assign'd,
Your image shall be present in my mind."
Thus having said, he turn d with pious haste,
And joyful his expecting friends embrac'd :
With his right hand Ilioneus was grac'd,
Sergestes with the left; then to his breast
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ENEIS.
Cloanthus and the noble Gyas press'd;
And so by turns, descended to the rest.
The Tyrian queen stood fix'd upon his face
Pleas'd with his motions, ravish'd with his grace:
Admir'd his fortunes, more admir'd the man,
Then recollected stood; and thus began :
What fate, O goddess-born! what angry pow'rs
Have cast you shipwreck'd on our barren shores?
Are you the great Æneas, known to fame,
Who from celestial seed your lineage claim?
The same Æneas whom fair Venus bore
To fam'd Anchises on th' Idæan shore?
It calls into my mind, though then a child,
When Teucer came, from Salamis exil'd,
And sought my father's aid, to be restor'd;
My father Belus then with fire and sword
Invaded Cyprus, made the region bare,
And, conq'ring, finish'd the successful war.
From him the Trojan siege I understood,
The Grecian chiefs, and your illustrious blood.
Your foe himself the Dardan valor prais'd,
And his own ancestry from Trojans rais'd.
Enter, my noble guest! and you shall find,
If not a costly welcome, yet a kind :
For I myself, like you, have been distress'd,
Till heav'n afforded me this place of rest.
Like you, an alien in a land unknown,
I learn to pity woes so like my own.
She said, and to the palace led her guest,
Then offer'd incense, and proclaim'd a feast.
Nor yet less careful for her absent friends,
Twice ten fat oxen to the ships she sends :
Besides a hundred boars, a hundred lambs,
With bleating cries, attend their milky dams:
And jars of gen'rous wine, and spacious bowls,
She gives to cheer the sailors' drooping souls.
Now purple hangings clothe the palace-walls
And sumptuous feasts are made in splendid halls.
On Tyrian carpets, richly wrought, they dine;
With loads of massy plate the sideboards shine,
And antique vases, all of gold emboss'd
(The gold itself inferior to the cost
Of curious work), where on the sides were seen
The fights and figures of illustrious men,
From their first founder to the present queen
The good Æneas, whose paternal care
Jülus' absence could no longer bear,
ม
ÆNEIS.
143
Despatch'd Achates to the ships in haste,
To give a glad relation of the past,
And, fraught with precious gifts, to bring the boy,
Snatch'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy-
A robe of tissue, stiff with golden wire;
An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire,
From Argos by the fam'd adultress brought,
With golden flow'rs and winding foliage wrought-
Her mother Leda's present, when she came
To ruin Troy, and set the world on flame;
The sceptre Priam's eldest daughter bore,
Her orient necklace, and the crown she wore
Of double texture, glorious to behold;
One order set with gems, and one with gold.
Instructed thus, the wise Achates goes,
And, in his diligence, his duty shows.
But Venus, anxious for her son's affairs,
New counsels tries, and new designs prepares :
That Cupid should assume the shape and face
Of sweet Ascanius, and the sprightly grace;
Should bring the presents, in her nephew's stead,
And in Eliza's veins the gentle poison shed:
For much she fear'd the Tyrians, double tongu'd,
And knew the town to Juno's care belong'd.
These thoughts by night her golden slumbers broke
And thus, alarm'd, to winged Love she spoke :
My son, my strength, whose mighty pow'r alone
Controls the thund'rer on his awful throne,
To thee thy much afflicted mother flies,
And on thy succor and thy faith relies.
Thou knowst, my son, how Jove's revengeful wife,
By force and fraud, attempts thy brother's life:
And often hast thou mourn'd with me his pains.
Him Dido now with blandishment detains;
But I suspect the town where Juno reigns.
For this, 'tis needful to prevent her art,
And fire with love the proud Phoenician's heart-
A love so violent, so strong, so sure,
That neither age can change, nor art can cure.
How this may be perform'd, now take my mind:
Ascanius, by his father, is design'd
To come, with presents laden, from the port,
To gratify the queen, and gain the court.
I mean to plunge the boy in pleasing sleep,
And, ravish'd, in Idalian bow'rs to keep,
Or high Cythera, that the sweet deceit
May pass unseen, and none prevent the cheat.
:
144
ENEÍS.
Take thou his form and shape. I beg the grace,
But only for a night's revolving space,
Thyself a boy, assume a boy's dissembled face;
That when, amidst the fervor of the feast,
The Tyrian hugs and fonds thee on her breast,
And with sweet kisses in her arms constrains;
Thou may'st infuse thy venom in her veins."
The god of love obeys, and sets aside
His bow and quiver, and his plumy pride:
He walks Iülus in his mother's sight,
And in the sweet resemblance takes delight.
The goddess then to young Ascanius flies,
And in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes;
Lull'd in her lap amidst a train of Loves,
She gently bears him to her blissful groves,
Then with a wreath of myrtle crowns his head,
And softly lays him on a flow'ry bed.
Cupid meantime assum'd his form and face,
Following Achates with a shorter pace,
•
And brought the gifts. The queen already sate
Amidst the Trojan lords, in shining state,
High on a golden bed: her princely guest
Was next her side; in order sate the rest.
Then canisters with bread are heap'd on high,
Th' attendants water for their hands supply,
And, having wash'd, with silken towels dry.
Next fifty handmaids in long order bore
The censers, and with fumes the gods adore :
Then youths and virgins, twice as many, join
To place the dishes, and to serve the wine.
The Tyrian train, admitted to the feast,
Approach, and on the painted couches rest.
All on the Trojan gifts with wonder gaze,
But view the beauteous boy with more amaze,
His rosy-color'd cheeks, his radiant eyes,
His motions, voice, and shape, and all the god's disguise;
Nor pass unprais'd the vest and veil divine,
Which wand'ring foliage and rich flow'rs entwine.
But, far above the rest, the royal dame
(Already doom'd to love's disastrous flame),
With eyes insatiate, and tumultuous joy,
Beholds the presents, and admires the boy.
The guileful god, about the hero long,
With children's play, and false embraces, hung;
Then sought the queen she took him to her arms
With greedy pleasure, and devour'd his charms.
Unhappy Dido little thought what guest,
ENEIS.
14.i
How dire a god, she drew so near her breast..
But he, not mindless of his mother's pray'r,
Works in the pliant bosom of the fair,
And moulds her heart anew, and blots her former care.
The dead is to the living love resign'd;
And all Eneas enters in her mind.
Now, when the rage of hunger was appeas'd,
The meat remov'd, and ev'ry guest was pleas'd,
The golden bowls with sparkling wine are crown'd,
And through the palace cheerful cries resound.
From gilded roofs depending lamps display
Nocturnal beams, that emulate the day.
A golden bowl, that shone with gems divine,
The queen commanded to be crown'd with wine-
The bowl that Belus us'd, and all the Tyrian line.
Then, silence through the hall proclaim'd, she spoke:
O hospitable Jove! we thus invoke,
"
With solemn rites, thy sacred name and pow'r :
Bless to both nations this auspicious hour!
So may the Trojan and the Tyrian line
In lasting concord from this day combine.
Thou, Bacchus, god of joys and friendly cheer,
And gracious Juno, both be present here!
And you, my lords of Tyre, your vows address
To heav'n, with mine, to ratify the peace.
The goblet then she took, with nectar crown'd
(Sprinkling the first libations on the ground),
And rais'd it to her mouth with sober grace,
Then, sipping, offer'd to the next in place.
'Twas Bitias whom she call'd-a thirsty soul :
He took the challenge, and embrac'd the bowl.
With pleasure swill'd the gold, nor ceas'd to draw,
Till he the bottom of the brimmer saw.
The goblet goes around: Iöpas brought
His golden lyre, and sung what ancient Atlas taught
The various labors of the wand'ring moon,
And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun;
Th' original of men and beasts; and whence
The rains arise, and fires their warmth dispense,
And fix'd and erring stars dispose their influence;
What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays
The summer nights, and shortens winter days.
With peals of shouts the Tyrians praise the song ;
Those peals are echo'd by the Trojan throng.
Th' unhappy queen with talk prolong'd the night,
And drank large draughts of love with vast delight;
Of Priam much inquir'd, of Hector more ;
146
ENEIS.
Then ask'd what arms the swarthy Memnon wore,
What troops he landed on the Trojan shore
(The steeds of Diomede varied the discourse,
And fierce Achilles, with his matchless force);
At length, as Fate and her ill stars requir'd,
To hear the series of the war desir'd.
"
"
Relate at large, my god-like guest," she said,
The Grecian stratagems, the town betray'd:
The fatal issue of so long a war.
Your flight, your wand'rings, and your woes declare :
For, since on ev'ry sea, on ev'ry coast,
Your men have been distress'd, your navy toss'd,
Sev'n times the sun has either tropic view'd,
The winter banish'd, and the spring renew'd."
ENEIS.
BOOK II.
ARGUMENT.
Æneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years' siege, by
the treachery of Sinon. nd the stratagem of a wooden horse. He de-
clares the fixed reso'ution he had taken not to survive the rain of his
country, and the various adventures he met with in defence of it. At
last, having been before advised by Hector's ghost, and now by the ap-
pearance of his mother Venus, he is prevailed upon to leave the town,
and settle his household gods in another country. In order to this, he
carries off his father on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand,
his wife following him behind. When he comes to the place appointed
for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of people, but
misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to him, and tells him the
land which was designed for him.
A
LL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began :
Great Queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate.
An empire from its old foundations rent,
And every woe the Trojans underwent ;
A peopled city made a desert place :
All that I saw and part of which I was;
Not e'en the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses hear, without a tear.
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite.
But, since you take such int'rest in our woe,
And Troy's disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell
What in our last and fatal night befell.
By destiny compell'd, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And, by Minerva's aid, a fabric rear'd,
J
148
ENEIS.
}
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear'd:
The sides were plank'd with pine: they feign'd it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side,
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide :
With inward arms the dire machine they load;
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam's empire smile)
Renown'd for wealth; but, since a faithless bay,
Where ships expos'd to wind and weather lay,
There was their fleet conceal'd. We thought for Greece;
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop'd within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay :
The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they show'd-
Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join'd the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wand'ring eyes employ-
The pile by Pallas rais'd to ruin Troy.
Thymotes first ('tis doubtful whether hir'd,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir'd)
Mov'd that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town.
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames design'd,
Or to the wat'ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,
With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.
Laocoön, follow'd by a num'rous crowd,
Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:
O wretched countrymen what fury reigns?
What more than madness has possess'd your brains?
Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?
And are Ulysses' arts no better known?
This hollow fabric either must enclose,
Within its blind recess, our secret foes;
Or 'tis an engine rais'd above the town,
T'o'erlook the walls, and them to batter down.
Somewhat is sure design'd by fraud or force-
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.
Thus having said, against the steed he threw
His forceful spear, which hissing as it flew,
Pierc'd through the yielding planks of jointed wood,
ENEIS.
149
And trembling in the hollow belly stood,
The sides transpierc'd, return a rattling sound:
And groans of Greeks inclos'd come issuing through the
wound.
And had not heav'n the fall of Troy design'd,
Or had not men been fated to be blind,
Enough was said and done t' inspire a better mind.
Then had our lances pierc'd the treach'rous wood,
And Ilian tow'rs and Priam's empire stood.
Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring
A captive Greek in bands, before the king-
Taken, to take-who made himself their prey,
T'impose on their belief, and Troy betray,
Fix'd on his aim, and obstinately bent
To die undaunted, or to circumvent.
About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;
All press to see, and some insult the foe..
Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd:
Behold a nation in a man compris'd.
Trembling the miscreant stood: unarm'd and bound,
He star'd, and roll'd his haggard eyes around,
Then said, Alas! what earth remains, what sea
Is open to receive unhappy me?
What fate a wretched fugitive attends,
Scorn'd by my foes, abandon'd by my friends !'
He said, and sigh'd, and cast a rueful eye :
Our pity kindles, and our passions die.
We cheer the youth to make his own defence,
And freely tell us what he was, and whence;
What news he could impart, we long to know,
And what to credit from a captive foe.
His fear at length dismiss'd, he said, "Whate'er
My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere :
I neither can, nor dare, my birth disclaim;
Greece is my country; Sinon is my name,
Though plung'd by Fortune's pow'r in misery,
'Tis not in Fortune's pow'r to make me lie.
If any chance has hither brought the name
Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,
Who suffer'd from the malice of the times,
Accus'd and sentenc'd for pretended crimes,
Because the fatal wars he would prevent ;
Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament-
Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare
Of other means, committed to his care,
His kinsman and companion in the war.
While Fortune favor'd, while his arms support
150
ENEIS.
:
The cause, and rul'd the counsels of the court,
I made some figure there; nor was my name
Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.
But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,
Had made impressions in the people's hearts,
And forg'd a treason in my patron's name
(I speak of things too far divulg'd by fame),
My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,
In private mourn'd his loss, and left the court.
Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate
With silent grief, but loudly blam'd the state,
And curs'd the direful author of my woes.-
'Twas told again, and hence my ruin rose.
I threaten'd, if indulgent heav'n once more
Would land me safely on my native shore,
His death with double vengeance to restore.
This mov'd the murd'rer's hate, and soon ensu'd
Th' effects of malice from a man so proud.
Ambiguous rumors through the camp he spread,
And sought, by treason, my devoted head;
New crimes invented; left unturn'd no stone,
To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;
Till Calchas was by force and threat'ning wrought-
But why-why dwell I on that anxious thought?
If on my nation just revenge you seek,
And 'tis t' appear a foe t' appear a Greek;
Already you my name and country know :
Assuage your thirst of blood and strike the blow:
My death will both the kingly brothers please,
And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.
This fair unfinish'd tale, these broken starts,
Rais'd expectations in our longing hearts;
Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.
His former trembling once again renew'd,
With acted fear, the villain thus pursu'd :
"Long had the Grecians (tir'd with fruitless care..
And wearied with an unsuccessful war)
Resolv'd to raise the siege and leave the town
And, had the gods permitted, they had gone.
But oft the wintry seas, and southern winds,
Withstood their passage home, and chang'd their minds:
Portents and prodigies their souls ȧmaz'd ;
But most, when this stupendous pile was rais'd,
Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,
And thunders rattled through a sky serene.
Dismay'd, and fearful of some dire event,
Eurypylus, t' inquire their fate, was sent.
ÆENEIS.
151
He from the gods this dreadful answer brought :
'O Grecians! when the Trojan shores you sought,
Your passage with a virgin's blood was bought :
So must your safe return be bought again;
And Grecian blood once more atone the main.'
The spreading rumor round the people ran ;
All fear'd, and each believed himself the man.
Ulysses took the advantage of their fright;
Call'd Calchas, and produc'd in open sight,
Then bade him name the wretch, ordain'd by fate
The public victim to redeem the state.
Already some presag'd the dire event,
And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.
For twice five days the good old seer withstood
Th' intended treason, and was dumb to blood.
Till, tir'd with endless clamors and pursuit
Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute,
But, as it was agreed, pronounc'd that I
Was destin'd by the wrathful gods to die.
All prais'd the sentence; pleas'd the storm should fall
On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all.
The dismal day was come, the priests prepare
Their leaven'd cakes, and fillets for my hair.
I follow'd nature's laws, and must avow,
I broke my bonds, and fled the fatal blow.
Hid in a weedy lake, all night I lay,
Secure of safety when they sail'd away.
But now what further hopes for me remain,
To see my friends or native soil again ;
My tender infants, or my careful sire,
Whom they returning will to death require :
Will perpetrate on them their first design,
And take the forfeit of their heads for mine?
Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move,
If there be faith below, or gods above,
If innocence and truth can claim desert,
Ye Trojans, from an injur'd wretch avert."
False tears true pity move the king commands
To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands,
Then adds these friendly words: "Dismiss thy fears:
Forget the Greeks: be mine as thou wert theirs :
But truly tell, was it for force or guile,
>
Or some religious end, you rais'd the pile ?"
Thus said the king: He, full of fraudful arts,
This well-invented tale for truth imparts:
"Ye lamps of heav'n!" he said, and lifted high
His hands, now free-" thou venerable sky!
5
152
ENEIS.
Inviolable pow'rs, ador'd with dread!
Ye fatal fillets that once bound this head;
Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled !
Be all of you adjur'd; and grant I may,
Without a crime, th' ungrateful Greeks betray,
Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,
And justly punish whom I justly hate!
But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,
If I, to save myself, your empire save.
The Grecian hopes, and all th' attempts they made,
Were only founded on Minerva's aid.
But from the time when impious Diomede
And false Ulysses, that inventive head,
Her fatal image from the temple drew,
The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,
Her virgin statue with their bloody hands
Polluted and profan'd her holy bands;
From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,
And ebb'd much faster than it flow'd before :
Their courage languish'd, as their hopes decay'd;
And Pallas, now averse, refus'd her aid.
Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare
Her alter'd mind, and alienated care.
When first her fatal image touch'd the ground,
She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,
That sparkled as they roll'd, and seem'd to threat:
Her heav'nly limbs distill'd a briny sweat.
Thrice from the ground she leap'd, was seen to wield
Her brandish'd lance, and shake her horrid shield.
Then Calchas bade our host for flight prepare,
And hope no conquest from the tedious war,
Till first they sail'd for Greece with pray'rs besought
Her injur'd pow'r, and better omens brought.
And, now their navy ploughs the wat'ry main,
Yet soon expect it on your shores again,
With Pallas pleas'd; as Calchas did ordain.
But first, to reconcile the blue-ey'd maid
For her stol'n statue and her tow'r betray'd,
Warn'd by the seer, to her offended name
We rais'd and dedicate this wond'rous frame,
So lofty, lest through your forbidden gates
It pass, and intercept our better fates:
For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;
And Troy may then a new palladium boast :
For so religion and the gods ordain,
That, if you violate with hands profane
Minerva's gift, your town in flame shall burn,
ENEIS.
153.
(Which omen, O ye gods, on Græcia turn!)
But if it climb, with your assisting hands,
The Trojan walls, and in the city stands ;
Then Troy shall Argos and Mycæne burn,
And the reverse of fate on us return.
")
With such deceits he gain'd their easy hearts,
Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.
What Diomede nor Thetis greater son,
A thousand ships, nor ten years' siege had done--
False tears and fawning words the city won.
A greater omen, and of worse portent,
Did our unweary minds with fear torment,
Concurring to produce the dire event.
Laocoön, Neptune's priest by lot that year,
With solemn pomp then sacrific'd a steer;
When (dreadful to behold ') from sea we spied
Two serpents, rank'd abreast, the seas divide,
And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.
Their flaming crests above the waves they show :
Their bellies seem to burn the seas below:
Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,
And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.
And now the strand, and now the plain, they held,
Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fill'd:
Their nimble tongues they brandish'd as they came,
And lick'd their hissing jaws, that sputter'd flame.
We fled amaz'd; their destin'd way they take,
And to Laocoön and his children make :
And first around the tender boys they wind,
Then with their sharpen'd fangs their limbs and bodies
grind.
The wretched father, running to their aid
With pious haste, but vain, they next invade,
Twice round his waist the winding volumes roll'd ;
And twice about his gasping throat they told.
The priest thus doubly chok'd-their crests divide,
And tow'ring o'er his head in triumph ride.
With both his hands he labors at the knots;
His holy fillets the blue venom blots:
His roaring fills the flitting air around.
Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,
He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,
And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.
Their tasks perform'd, the serpents quit their prey,
And to the tow'r of Pallas make their way:
Couch'd at her feet, they lie protected there,
By her large buckler, and protended spear.
154
ENEIS.
A
Amazement seizes all; the gen'ral cry
Proclaims Laocoön justly doom'd to die,
Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,
And dar'd to violate the sacred wood.
All vote t'admit the steed, that vows be paid,
And incense offer'd to th' offended maid.
A spacious breach is made. the town lies bare:
Some hoisting-levers, some the wheels prepare,
And fasten to the horse's feet: the rest
With cables haul along th' unwieldy beast.
Each on his fellow for assistance calls:
At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,
Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown'd,
And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.
Thus rais'd aloft, and then descending down,
It enters o'er our heads and threats the town.
A sacred city, built by hands divine !
O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!
Four times he struck as oft the clashing sound
Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.
Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,
We haul along the horse in solemn state;
Then place the dire portent within the tow'r.
Cassandra cried, and curs'd th' unhappy hour;
Foretold our fate: but, by the gods' decree
All heard, and none believ'd the prophecy.
With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,
In jollity, the day ordain'd to be the last.
Meantime the rapid heavens roll'd down th' light,
And on the shaded ocean rush'd the night :
Our men secure, nor guards nor sentries held ;
But easy sleep their weary limbs compell'd.
The Grecians had embark'd their naval pow'rs
From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores.
Safe under covert of the silent night,
And guided by th' imperial galley's light;
When Sinon, favor'd by the partial gods,
Unlock'd the horse, and op'd his dark abodes ;
Restor'd to vital air our hidden foes,
Who joyful from their long confinement rose
Thessander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,
And dire Ulysses down the cable slide :
Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus, haste;
Nor was the Podalirian hero last,
Nor injur'd Menelaus, nor the fam'd
Epeus, who the fatal engine fram'd.
A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join
ENEIS.
155
T' invade the town, oppress'd with sleep and wine.
Those few they find awake, first meet their fate;
Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.
'Twas in the dead of night, when sleep repairs
Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,
When Hector's ghost before my sight appears :
A bloody shroud he seem'd, and bath'd in tears;
Such as he was, when by Pelides slain
Thessalian coursers dragg'd him o'er the plain.
Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust
Through the bor'd holes ; his body black with dust;
Unlike that Hector, who return'd, from toils
Of war, triumphant in Æacian spoils,
Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire,
And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire.
His hair and beard stood stiffen'd with his gore;
And all the wounds he for his country bore,
Now stream'd afresh, and with new purple ran.
I wept to see the visionary man,
And while my trance continu'd thus began:
O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,
Thy father's champion, and thy country's joy!
O long expected by thy friends! from whence
Art thou so late return'd for our defence?
Do we behold thee, wearied as we are,
With length of labors, and with toils of war!
After so many fun'rals of thy own,
Art thou restor'd to thy declining town?
But say, what wounds are these? what new disgrace
Deforms the manly features of thy face?"
To this the spectre no reply did frame,
But answer'd to the cause for which he came,
And, groaning from the bottom of his breast,
This warning, in these mournful words express'd:
O goddess-born! escape by timely flight,
The flames and horrors of this fatal night.
The foes already have possess'd the wall:
Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.
Enough is paid to Priam's royal name,
More than enough to duty and to fame.
If by a mortal hand my father's throne
Could be defended, 'twas by mine alone,
Now Troy to thee commends her future state,
And gives her gods companions of thy fate
From their assistance happier walls expect,
Which, wand'ring long, at last thou shalt erect.
He said, and brought me from their blest abodes,
156
ÆNEIS.
The venerable statues of the gods,
With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir,
The wreaths and relics of th' immortal fire,
Now peals of shouts come thund'ring from afar,
Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war:
The noise approaches, though our palace stood
Aloof from streets, encompass'd with a wood.
Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th' alarms
Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms.
Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay,
But mount the terrace, thence the town survey,
And hearken what the frightful sounds convey.
Thus-when a flood of fire by wind is borne,
Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn;
Or deluges, descending on the plains,
Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains
Of laboring oxen and the peasant's gains;
Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away
Flocks, folds, and trees, an undistinguish'd prey-
The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far
The wasteful ravage of the wat'ry war.
Then Hector's faith was manifestly clear'd;
And Grecian frauds in open light appear'd.
The palace of Deiphobus ascends
In smoky flames, and catches on his friends.
Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright
With splendor not their own, and shine with Trojan light
New clamors and new clangors now arise,
The sound of trumpets mix'd with fighting cries.
With frenzy seiz'd, I run to meet th' alarms,
Resolv'd on death, resolv'd to die in arms.
But first to gather friends, with them to oppose
(If fortune favor'd) and repel the foes-
Spurr'd by my courage, by my country fir'd,
With sense of honor and revenge inspir'd.
Panthüs, Apollo's priest, a sacred name,
Had 'scap'd the Grecian swords, and pass'd the flame.
With relics loaden, to my doors he fled,
And by the hand his tender grandson led.
"What hope, O Panthüs! whither can we run ?
Where make a stand? and what may yet be done ?”
Scarce had I said, when Panthüs, with a groan,
•
Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!
The fatal day, th' appointed hour, is come,
When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom
Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.
The fire consumes the town, the foe commands ;
ENEIS.
157
And armed hosts, and unexpected force,
Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.
Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about
The flames; and foes, for entrance, press without
With thousand others, whom I fear to name,
More than from Argos or Mycenæ came.
To sev'ral posts their parties they divide:
Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide,
The bold they kill, th' unwary they surprise :
Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies,
The warders of the gates but scarce maintain
Th' unequal combat, and resist in vain."
I heard and heav'n, that well-born souls inspires,
Prompts me, through lifted swords and rising fires,
To run, where clashing arms and clamor calls,
And rush undaunted to defend the walls.
Ripheus and Iphitus by my side engage,
For valor one renown'd, and one for age;
Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew
My motions and my mien, and to my party drew ;
With young Chorobus, who by love was led
To win renown, and fair Cassandra's bed;
And lately brought his troops to Priam's aid,
Forewarn'd in vain by the prophetic maid :
Whom when I saw resolv'd in arms to fall,
And that one spirit animated all,
Brave souls saia I-"but brave, alas, in vain,
Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.
You see the desp'rate state of our affairs;
And heav'n's protecting pow'rs are deaf to pray'rs.
The passive gods behold the Greeks defile
Their temples, and abandon to the spoil
Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire
To save a sinking town, involv'd in fire.
Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:
Despair of life the means of living shows.'
So bold a speech encourag'd their desire
Of death, and added fuel to their fire.
As hungry wolves, with raging appetite,
Scour through the fields, nor fear the stormy night-
Their whelps at home expect the promis'd food,
And long to temper their dry chaps in blood-
So rush'd we forth at once. Resolv'd to die,
Resolv'd in death the last extremes to try,
We leave the narrow fanes behind, and dare
Th' unequal combat in the public square:
Night was our friend; our leader was despair.
Virgil.-6
158
ENEIS.
What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?
What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?
An ancient and imperial city falls :
The streets are fill'd with frequent funerals :
Houses and holy temples float in blood;
And hostile nations make a common flood.
Not only Trojans fall; but in their turn
The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors mourn.
Ours take new courage from despair and night;
Confus'd the fortune is, confus'd the fight.
All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears,
And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.
Androgeos fell among us, with his band,
Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.
From whence," said he, "my friends, this long delay'?
You loiter while the spoils are borne away :
Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;
And you, like truants, come too late ashore.'"
He said, but soon corrected his mistake,
Found, by the doubtful answers which we make.
Amaz'd he would have shunn'd th' unequal fight;
But we, more num'rous, intercept his flight.
As when some peasant in a bushy brake,
Has with unwary footing press'd a snake;
He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies
His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;
So, from our arms, surpris'd Androgeos flies-
In vain for him and his we compass round,
Possess'd with fear, unknowing of the ground;
And of their lives an easy conquest found.
Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil'd.
Chorobus then, with youthful hopes beguil'd,
Swoln with success, and of a daring mind,
This new invention fatally design'd.
44
My friends," said he, since Fortune shows the way,
'Tis fit we should th' auspicious guide obey.
For what has she these Grecians arms bestow'd,
But their destruction, and the Trojans' good?
Then change we shields, and their devices bear :
Let fraud supply the want of force in war.
They find us arms.' This said, himself he dress'd
In dead Androgeos' spoils, his upper vest.
His painted buckler and his plumy crest.
Thus Rhipheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train,
Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain.
Mix'd with the Greeks, we go with ill presage,
Flatter'd with hopes to glut our greedy rage;
ENEIS.
159
Unknown assaulting whom we blindly meet,
And strew, with Grecian carcasses, the street.
Thus, while their straggling parties we defeat,
Some to the shore and safer ships retreat ;
And some, oppress'd with more ignoble fear,
Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.
But ah! what use of valor can be made,
When heav'n's propitious pow'rs refuse their aid?
Behold the royal prophetess, the fair
Cassandra, dragg'd by her dishevell'd hair,
Whom not Minerva's shrine, nor sacred bands,
In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands .
On heav'n she cast her eyes, she sigh'd, she cried-
'Twas all she could-her tender arms were tied
So sad a sight Chorobus could not bear ;
But fir'd with rage, distracted with despair,
Amid the barb'rous ravishers he flew.
Our leader's rash example we pursue:
But storms of stones, from the proud temple's height,
Pour down, and on our batter'd helms alight:
We from our friends receiv'd this fatal blow,
Who thought us Grecians, as we seem'd in show.
They aim at the mistaken crests, from high;
And ours beneath the pond'rous ruin lie.
Then mov'd with anger and disdain, to see
Their troops dispers'd, the royal virgin free.
The Grecians rally, and their pow'rs unite,
With fury charge us, and renew the fight.
The brother kings with Ajax join their force,
And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse.
Thus when the rival winds their quarrel try,
Contending for the kingdom of the sky,
South, East, and West, on airy coursers borne-
The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn:
Then Nereus strikes the deep: the billows rise,
And mix'd with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.
The troops we squander'd first, again appear
From sev'ral quarters, and enclose the rear.
They first observe, and to the rest betray,
Our diff'rent speech; our borrow'd arms survey.
Oppress'd with odds, we fall; Chorobus first,
At Pallas' altar, by Peneleus pierc'd,
Then Ripheus followed, in th' unequal fight;
Just of his word, observant of the right:
Heav'n thought not so. Dymas their fate attends
With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends.
Nor, Panthus, thee thy mitre nor the bands
:
160
ENEIS.
Of awful Phoebus, sav'd from impious hands.
Ye Trojan flames! your testimony bear,
What I perform'd and what I suffer'd there,
No sword avoiding in the fatal strife,
Expos'd to death, and prodigal of life.
Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault ;
I strove to have deserv'd the death I sought.
But when I could not fight, and would have died,
Borne off to distance by the growing tide,
Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence,
With Pelias wounded, and without defence.
New clamors from th' invested palace ring:
We run to die, or disengage the king.
So hot th' asssault, so high the tumult rose,
While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose,
As all the Dardan and Argolic race
•
Had been contracted in that narrow space;
Or as all Ilium else were void of fear,
And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there.
Their targets in a tortoise cast, their foes,
Secure advancing, to the turrets rose :
Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold,
Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold:
Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th' ascent,
While with the right they seize the battlement.
From the demolish'd tow'rs the Trojans throw
Huge heaps of stones, that falling, crush the foe
And heavy beams and rafters from the sides,
(Such arms their last necessity provides !) ·
And gilded roofs come tumbling from on high,
The marks of state and ancient royalty.
The guards below, fix'd in the pass, attend
The charge undaunted, and the gate defend.
Renew'd in courage with recover'd breath,
A second time we ran to tempt our death,
To clear the palace from the foe, succeed
The weary living, and revenge the dead.
A postern door yet unobserv'd, and free,
Join'd by the length of a blind gallery,
To the king's closet led-a way well known
To Hector's wife, while Priam held the throne-
Through which she brought Astyanax, unseen,
To cheer his grandsire, and his grandsire's queen.
Through this we pass, and mount the tow'r from whence
With unavailing arms the Trojans make defence.
From this the trembling king had oft descried
The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride.
!
ENEIS.
161
Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew,
Then, wrenching with our hands, th' assault renew;
And, where the rafters on the columns meet,
We push them headlong with our arms and feet.
The lightning flies not swifter than the fall;
Nor thunder louder than the ruin'd wall:
Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath
Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death.
Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent :
We cease not from above, nor they below relent.
Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threatening loud,
With glittering arms conspicuous in the crowd.
So shines, renew'd in youth, the crested snake,
Who slept the winter in a thorny brake,
And, casting off his slough when spring returns,
Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns,
Restor❜d with pois'nous herbs: his ardent sides
Reflect the sun, and rais'd on spires, he rides
High o'er the grass hissing he rolls along,
And brandishes by fits his forky tongue.
Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon,
His father's charioteer, together run
To force the gate: the Scyrian infantry
Rush on in crowds, and the barr'd passage free.
Ent'ring the court, with shouts the skies they rend;
And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend.
Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows,
And with his axe repeated strokes bestows
On the strong doors: then all their shoulders ply,
Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly.
He hews apace: the double bars at length
Yield to his axe and unresisted strength.
A mighty breach is made the rooms conceal'd
Appear, and all the palace is reveal'd-
The halls of audience, and of public state,
And where the lonely queen in secret sate,
Arm'd soldiers now by trembling maids are seen
With not a door, and scarce a space, between.
The house is fill'd with loud laments and cries,
And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies.
The fearful matrons run from place to place,
And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace.
The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies;
And all his father sparkles in his eyes.
Nor bars, nor fighting guards his force sustain.
The bars are broken and the guards are slain.
In rush the Greeks, and all th' apartments fill;
:
162
ÆNEIS.
Those few defendants whom they find, they kill;
Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood
Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood,
Bears down the dams with unresisted sway,
And sweeps the cattle and the cots away.
These eyes beheld him, when he march'd between
The brother kings: I saw th' unhappy queen,
The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood,
To stain his hallow'd altar with his blood.
The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he,
So large a promise, of a progeny),
The posts of plated gold, and hung with spoils,
Fell the reward of the proud victor's toils.
Where'er the raging fire had left a space,
The Grecians enter and possess the place.
Perhaps you may of Priam's fate inquire.
He-when he saw his regal town on fire,
His ruin'd palace, and his ent'ring foes,
On ev'ry side inevitable woes-
In arms disus'd invests his limbs, decay'd,
Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.
His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain :
Loaded, not arm'd, he creeps along with pain,
Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain !
Uncover'd but by heav'n, there stood in view
An altar near the hearth a laurel
grew,
Dodder'd with age, whose boughs encompass round
The household gods, and shade the holy ground.
Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train
Of dames for shelter sought, but sought in vain.
Driv'n like a flock of doves along the sky,
Their images they hug, and to their altars fly.
The queen, when she beheld her trembling lord,
And hanging by his side a heavy sword,
"What rage,
she cried, has seiz'd my husband's mind?
What arms are these, and to what use design'd?
These times want other aids! were Hector here,
E'en Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear.
With us, one common shelter thou shalt find,
Or in one common fate with us be join'd.
She said, and with a last salute embrac'd
The poor old man, and by the laurel plac'd.
Behold! Polites, one of Priam's sons,
Pursu'd by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs.
Through swords and foes, amaz'd and hurt, he flies
Through empty courts, and open galleries.
Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues.
ENEIS.
163
And often reaches, and his thrusts renews.
The youth transfix'd, with lamentable cries,
Expires before his wretched parents' eyes:
Whom gasping at his feet, when Priam saw,
The fear of death gave place to nature's law:
And, shaking more with anger than with age,
"The gods," said he, "requite thy brutal rage?
As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,
If there be gods in heaven, and gods be just-
Who tak'st in wrongs an insolent delight;
With a son's death t' infect a father's sight.
Not he whom thou and lying fame conspire
To call thee his-not he, thy vaunted sire,
Thus us'd my wretched age: the gods he fear'd,
The laws of nature and of nations heard.
He cheer'd my sorrows, and, for sums of gold,
The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold;
Pitied the woes a parent underwent,
And sent me back in safety from his tent.'
This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw,
Which, flutt'ring, seem'd to loiter as it flew :
Just, and but barely, to the mark it held,
And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.
Then Pyrrhus thus: Go thou from me to fate,
And to my father my foul deeds relate.
Now die !"-With that he dragg'd the trembling sire
Slidd'ring through clotter'd blood and holy mire
(The mingled paste his murder'd son had made),
Haul'd from beneath the violated shade,
And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid.
His right hand held his bloody falchion bare;
His left he twisted in his hoary hair :
Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found :
The lukewarm blood came rushing thro' the wound
And sanguine streams distain'd the sacred ground.
Thus Priam fell, and shar'd one common fate
With Troy in ashes, and his ruin'd state-
He who the sceptre of all Asia sway'd,
Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obey'd.
On th' bleak shore now lies the abandon'd king,
A headless carcass, and a nameless thing.
Then, not before, I felt my curdled blood
Congeal with fear; my hair with horror stood :
My father's image fill'd my pious mind,
Lest equal years might equal fortune find.
Again I thought on my forsaken wife,
And trembled for my son's abandon'd life.
164
ENEIS.
I look'd about, but found myself alone,
Deserted at my need! My friends were gone.
Some spent with toil, some with despair oppress'd,
Leap'd headlong from the heights; the flames consum'd the
rest,
Thu wand'ring in my way without a guide,
The graceless Helen in the porch I spied
Of Vesta's temple: there she lurk'd alone :
Muffled she sate, and what she could, unknown :
But, by the flames that cast their blaze around,
That common bane of Greece and Troy I found.
For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword;
More dreads the vengeance of her injur'd lord ;
E'en by those gods, who refug'd her, abhorr'd.
Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard,
Resolv'd to give her guilt the due reward.
(4
Shall she triumphant sail before the wind.
And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind?
Shall she her kingdom and her friends review,
In state attended with a captive crew,
While unreveng'd the good old Priam falls,
And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls?
For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood
Were swell'd with bodies, and were drunk with blood?
'Tis true, a soldier can small honor gain,
And boast no conquest from a woman slain :
Yet shall the fact not pass without applause,
Of vengeance taken in so just a cause.
The punish'd crime shall set my soul at ease,
And murm'ring manes of my friends appease."
Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light
Spread o'er the place; and, shining heav'nly bright,
My mother stood reveal'd before my sight—
(Never so radiant did her eyes appear,
Not her own star confess'd a light so clear)—
Great in her charms, as when on gods above
She looks, and breathes herself into their love.
She held my hand, the destin'd blow to break;
Then from her rosy lips began to speak :
My son from whence this madness, this neglect.
Of my commands, and those whom I protect?
Why this unmanly rage?
Recall to mind
Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind.
Look if your helpless father yet survive,
Or if Ascanius or Creüsa live.
Around your house the greedy Grecians err;
And these had perish'd in the nightly war,
ENEIS.
165
}
But for my presence and protecting care.
Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault :
But by the gods was this destruction brought.
Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve
The mists and films that mortal eyes involve,
Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see
The shape of each avenging deity.
Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil,
Nor fear obedience to your mother's will.
Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies,
Stones rent from stones-where clouds of dust arise,
Amid that smother, Neptune holds his place,
Below the wall's foundation drives his mace,
And heaves the building from the solid base.
Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands
Full in th' Scaan gate, with loud commands,
Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands.
See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud,
Bestrides the tow'r refulgent through the cloud :
See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies,
And arms against the town the partial deities.
Haste hence, my son! this fruitless labor end :
Haste where your trembling spouse and sire attend:
Haste! and a mother's care your passage shall befriend."
She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight,
Obscure in clouds, and gloomy shades of night.
I look'd; I listen'd: dreadful sounds I hear;
And the dire forms of hostile gods appear.
Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent),
And Ilium from its old foundations rent-
Rent like a mountain ash which dar'd the winds,
And stood the sturdy strokes of lab'ring hinds.
About the rcots the cruel axe resounds
The stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated wounds:
The war is felt on high: the nodding crown
Now threats à fall, and throws the leafy honors down.
To their united force it yields, though late,
And mourns with mortal groans th' approaching fate :
The roots no more their upper load sustain ;
But down she falls, and spreads a ruin through the plain,
Descending thence, I 'scap'd through foes and fire :
Before the goddess, foes and flames retire.
Arriv'd at home, he, for whose only sake,
Or most for his, such toils I undertake-
The good Anchises-whom by timely flight,
I purpos'd to secure on Ida's height-
Refus'd the journey, resolute to die,
166
ÆENEIS.
And add his fun'ral to the fate of Troy,
Rather than exile and old age sustain.
"Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev'ry vein.
Had Heav'n decreed that I should life enjoy,
Heav'n had decreed to save unhappy Troy.
'Tis sure, enough, if not too much, for one,
Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.
Make haste to save the poor remaining crew;
And give this useless corpse a long adieu.
These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath:
At least the pitying foes will aid my death,
To take my spoils, and leave my body bare:
As for my sepulchre, let heav'n take care.
'Tis long since I, for my celestial wife,
Loath'd by the gods, have dragg'd a ling'ring life;
Since ev'ry hour and moment I expire,
Blasted from heav'n by Jove's avenging fire."
This oft repeated, he stood fix'd to die:
Myself, my wife, my son, my family,
Entreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry-
'What will he still persist, on death resolve,
And in his ruin all his house involve."
He still persists his reason to maintain :
Our pray'rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.
Urg'd by despair, again I go to try
The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die.
What hope remains but what my death must give?
"
Can I, without so dear a father live?
You term it prudence, what I baseness call:
Could such a word from such a parent fall?
If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,
That nothing should of ruin'd Troy remain,
And you conspire with Fortune to be slain;
The way to death is wide, th' approaches near:
Nor soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,
Reeking with Priam's blood-the wretch who slew
The son (inhuman) in the father's view,
And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.
O goddess mother! give me back to Fate;
Your gift was undesir'd, and came too late.
Did you, for this, unhappy me convey
Through foes and fires to see my house a prey?
Shall I my father, wife, and son behold,
Welt'ring in blood, each other's arms infold?
Haste! gird my sword, though spent, and overcome:
'Tis the last summons to receive our doom.
I hear thee, Fate! and I obey thy call:
ENEIS.
167
Not unreveng'd the foe shall see my fall.
Restore me to the yet unfinish'd fight :
My death is wanting to conclude the night.
Arm'd once again, my glittering sword I wield,
While th' other hand sustains my weighty shield;
And forth I rush to seek the abandon'd field.
I went; but sad Creüsa stopp'd my way,
And 'cross the threshold in my passage lay,
Embrac'd my knees, and, when I would have gone,
Show'd me my feeble sire, and tender són.
"If death be your design-at least," said she,
Take us along to share your destiny.
If any further hopes in arms remain,
This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.
To whom do you expose your father's life,
Your son's, and mine: your now forgotten wife?”
While thus she fills the house with clam'rous cries,
Our hearing is diverted by our eyes:
For, while I held my son, in the short space
Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace,
(Strange to relate !) from young Iulius' head,
A lambent flame arose, which gently spread
Around his brows, and on his temples fed.
Amaz'd, with running water we prepare
To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair;
But old Anchises, vers'd in omens, rear'd
His hands to heav'n, and this request preferr'd:
If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend
Thy will-if piety can pray'rs commend-
Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas'd to send."
Scarce had he said, when on our left we hear
A peal of rattling thunder roll in air :
There shot a streaming lamp along the sky,
Which on the winged lightning seem'd to fly ;
From o'er the roof the blaze began to move,
And, trailing, vanish'd in th' Idæan grove.
It swept a path in heav'n, and shone a guide,
Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.
The good old man with suppliant hands implor'd
The gods' protection, and their star ador'd.
Now, now," said he, my son, no more delay!
I yield, I follow where heav'n shows the way.
Keep (O my country gods !) our dwelling place,
And guard this relic of the Trojan race,
This tender child !-these omens are your own;
And you can yet restore the ruin'd town.
At least accomplish what your signs foreshow:
168
ÆNEIS.
i
I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go."
He said. The crackling flames appear on high;
And driving sparkles dance along the sky.
With Vulcan's rage the rising winds conspire,
And near our palace rolls the flood of fire.
Haste, my dear father! ('tis no time to wait)
And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care:
One death, or one deliv'rance we will share.
My hand shall lead our little son; and you,
My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.
Next you, my servants, heed my strict commands :
Without the walls a ruin'd temple stands,
To Ceres hallow'd once a cypress nigh
Shoots up her venerable head on high,
:
By long religion kept there bend your feet;
And in divided parties let us meet.
Our country gods, the relics, and the bands,
Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands:
In me 'tis impious, holy things to bear,
Red as I am with slaughter, new from war,
Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt
Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.
Thus ord'ring all that prudence could provide,
I clothe my shoulders with a lion's hide,
And yellow spoils, then on my bending back,
The welcome load of my dear father take;
While on my better hand Ascanius hung,
And with unequal paces tript along.
Creüsa kept behind: by choice we stray
Through ev'ry dark and ev'ry devious way.
I, who so bold and dauntless, just before,
The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore,
At ev'ry shadow now am seiz'd with fear,
Not for myself, but for the charge I bear;
Till, near the ruin'd gate arriv'd at last,
Secure, and deeming all the danger past,
A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.
My father, looking through the shades with fear,
Cried out,
Haste, haste, my son! the foes are nigh!
Their swords and shining armor I descry.'
Some hostile god, for some unknown offence,
Had sure bereft my mind of better sense :
For, while through winding ways I took my flight,
And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,
Alas! I lost Creüsa: hard to tell
If by her fatal destiny she fell,
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169
Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright;
But she was lost forever to my sight.
I knew not, or reflected, till I meet
My friends at Ceres' now deserted seat.
We met not one was wanting; only she
Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me.
What mad expressions did my tongue refuse?
Whom did I not of gods or men accuse?
This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more
Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before.
Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,
Abandoning my now forgotten care,
Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,
My sire, my son, my country gods, I left.
In shining armor once again I sheathe
My limbs not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.
Then headlong to the burning walls I run,
And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun.
I tread my former tracks, through night explore
Each passage, ev'ry street I cross'd before,
All things were full of horror and affright,
And dreadful e'en the silence of the night.
Then to my father's house I make repair,
With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.
Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met :
The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset.
Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,
Through air transported, to the roofs aspire.
From thence to Priam's palace I resort,
And search the citadel, and desert court.
Then, unobserv'd, I pass by Juno's church:
A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch;
There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey:
And thither all the wealth of Troy convey-
The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought
And golden bowls from burning altars caught,
The tables of the gods, the purple vests,
The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests.
A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands,
And captive matrons, in long order stands.
Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim,
Through all the silent streets Creüsa's name :"
Creüsa still I call at length she hears,
And sudden, through the shades of night, appears-
Appears, no more Creüsa, nor my wife,
But a pale spectre; larger than the life.
Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear,
170
ENEIS.
I stood like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair.
Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief :
Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief,
Desist, my much-lov'd lord, t' indulge your pain.
You bear no more than what the gods ordain.
My fates permit me not from hence to fly;
Nor he, the great controller of the sky.
Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree-
On land hard labors, and a length of sea.
Then, after many painful years are past,
On Latium's happy shore you shall be cast,
Where gentle Tyber from his bed beholds
The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds.
There end your toils; and there your fates provide
A quiet kingdom and a royal bride :
There fortune shall the Trojan line restore;
And you for lost Creüsa weep no more.
Fear not that I shall watch with servile shame,
Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame
Or, stooping to the victor's lust, disgrace
My goddess mother, or my royal race.
And now, farewell? the parent of the gods
Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes,
I trust our common issue to your care.
She said, and gliding pass'd unseen in air.
I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue
And thrice about her neck my arms I flung.
And thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung.
Light as an empty dream at break of day,
Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away.
Thus having pass'd the night in fruitless pain,
I to my longing friends return again—
Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold,
Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old--
A wretched exil'd crew together brought,
With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,
Resolv'd, and willing, under my command,
To run all hazards both of sea and land.
The Morn began, from Ida, to display
Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day;
Before the gates the Grecians took their post,
And all pretence of late relief was lost.
I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,
And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.
ENEIS.
BOOK III.
ARGUMENT.
Æneas proceeds in his relation: he gives an account of the fleet with
which he sailed, and the success of his first voyage to Thrace. From
thence he directs his course to Delos and asks the oracle what place the
gods had appointed for his habitation? By a mistake of the oracle's au-
swer, he settles in Crete. His household gods give him the trufe sense of
the oracle, in a dream. He follows their advice, and makes the best of
his way for Italy. He is cast on several shores, and meets with very sur-
prising adventures, till at length he lands on Sicily, where his father
Anchises dies. This is the place which he was sailing from when the
tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian coast.
WHE
HEN heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state,
And Priam's throne, by too severe a fate :
When ruin'd Troy became the Grecian's prey.
And Ilium's lofty tow'rs in ashes lay;
Warn'd by celestial omens, we retreat,
To seek. in foreign lands a happier seat.
Near old Antandros, and at Ida's foot,·
The timber of the sacred groves we cut,
And build our fleet-uncertain yet to find
What place the gods for our repose assign'd.
Friends daily flock; and scarce the kindly spring
Began to clothe the ground, and birds to sing,
When old Anchises summon'd all to sea :
The crew my father and the Fates obey.
With sighs and tears I leave my native shore,
And empty fields, where Ilium stood before.
My sire, my son, our less and greater gods,
All sail at once, and cleave the briny floods.
Against our coast appears a spacious land,
Which once the fierce Lycurgus did command,
(Thracia the name-the people bold in war-
}
1
172
ENEIS.
Vast are their fields,. and tillage is their care)
A hospitable realm, while Fate was kind,
With Troy in friendship and religion join'd.
I land, with luckless omens; then adore
Their gods, and draw a line along the shore :
I lay the deep foundations of a wall,
And Ænos, nam'd from me, the city call.
To Dionæan Venus vows are paid,
And all the pow'rs that rising labors aid;
A bull on Jove's imperial altar laid.
Not far, a rising hillock stood in view:
Sharp myrtles, on the sides, and cornels grew.
There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
And shade our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull'd a plant-with horror I relate
A prodigy so strange, and full of fate-
The rooted fibres rose; and, from the wound,
Black bloody drops distill'd upon the ground.
Mute and amaz'd, my hair with terror stood,
Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal'd my blood.
Man'd once again, another plant I try :
That other gush'd with the same sanguine die.
Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,
With pray'rs and vows the Dryads I atone,
With all the sisters of the woods, and most
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coast-
That they, or he, these omens would avert,
Release our fears, and better signs impart.
Clear'd as I thought, and fully fix'd at length
To learn the cause, I tugg'd with all my strength :
I bent my knees against the ground: once more
The violated myrtle ran with gore.
Scarce dare I tell the sequel: from the womb
Of wounded earth, and caverns of the tomb,
A groan, as of a troubled ghost, renew'd
My fright, and then these dreadful words ensu'd:
Why dost thou thus my bury'd body rend?
O spare the corpse of thy unhappy friend!
Spare to pollute thy pious hands with blood :
The tears distil not from the wounded wood;
But ev'ry drop this living tree contains,
Is kindred blood, and ran in Trojan veins.
O fly from this unhospitable shore,
Warn'd by my fate, for I am Polydore !
Here loads of lances, in my blood embru'd,
Again shoot upward, by my blood renew'd.'
"
My faltering tongue and shivering limbs declare
ENEIS.
173
My horror; and in bristles rose my hair.
When Troy with Grecian arms was closely pent,
Old Priam, fearful of the war's event,
This hapless Polydore to Thracia sent:
Loaded with gold, he sent his darling, far
From noise and tumults, and destructive war;
Committed to the faithless tyrant's care;
Who, when he saw the pow'r of Troy decline,
Forsook the weaker, with the strong to join—
Broke ev'ry bond of nature and of truth,
And murder'd, for his wealth, the royal youth.
O sacred hunger of pernicious gold!
What bands of faith can impious lucre hold?
Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,
I call my father, and the Trojan peers—
Relate the prodigies of heav'n-require
What he commands, and their advice desire.
All vote to leave that execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore ;
But, ere we sail, his fun'ral rites prepare,
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,
With baleful cypress, and blue fillets bound,
With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.
Now, when the raging storms no longer reign,
But southern gales invite us to the main,
We launch our vessels, with a prosp'rous wind,
And leave the cities and the shores behind.
An island in the Ægæan main appears :
Neptune and watery Doris claim it theirs.
It floated once, till Phoebus fix'd the sides.
To rooted earth; and now it braves the tides.
Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore,
With needful ease our weary limbs restore,
And the Sun's temple, and his town adore.
Anius, the priest and king, with laurel crown'd,
His hoary locks with purple fillets bound,
Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend,
Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend;
Invites him to his palace; and, in sign
Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join.
Then to the temple of the god I went,
And thus before the shrine, my vows present:
Give, O Thymbræus! give a resting place
To the sad relics of the Trojan race-
174
ENEIS.
A seat secure, a region of their own,
A lasting empire, and a happier town.
Where shall we fix? where shall our labors end?
Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?
Let not my pray'rs a doubtful answer find;
But in clear auguries unveil thy mind.'
Scarce had I said he shook the holy ground,
The laurels, and the lofty hills around;
And from the tripos rush'd a bellowing sound. "
Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god,
Who gave this answer from his dark abode :
"Undaunted youths! go, seek that nobler earth
From which our ancestors derive their birth.
The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race,
In her old bosom shall again embrace.
Through the wide world th' Ænein house shall reign,
And children's children shall the crown sustain."
Thus Phoebus did our future fates disclose :
A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose.
All are concern'd to know what place the god
Assign'd, and where determin'd our abode.
My father, long revolving in his mind
"
The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,
Thus answer'd their demands: 'Ye princes, hear
Your pleasing fortune; and dispel your fear.
The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,
Sacred of old, to Jove's imperial name,
In the mid ocean lies, with large command ;
And on its plains a hundred cities stand.
Another Ida rises there; and we
From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.
From thence, as 'tis divulg'd by certain fame,
To the Rhotean shores old Teucer came;
There fix'd, and there the seat of empire chose,
Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose.
In humble vales they built their soft abodes;
Til Cybele, the mother of the gods,
With tinkling cymbals charm'd th' Idæan woods.
She secret rights and ceremonies taught,
And to the yoke the savage lions brought.
Let us the land, which heav'n appoints, explore ;
Appease the winds and seek the Gnossian shore.
If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,
The third propitious dawn discovers Crete."
Thus having said, the sacrifices laid
On smoking altars, to the gods he paid-
A bull, to Neptune an oblation due,
ENEIS.
175
Another bull to bright Apollo slew-
A milk-white ewe, the western winds to please,
And one coal-black; to calm the stormy seas.
Ere this, a flying rumor had been spread,
That fierce Idomeneus from the Crete was fled,
Expell'd and exil'd; that the coast was free
From foreign or domestic enemy.
We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea ;
By Naxos, fam'd for vintage, make our way;
Then Green Donysa pass; and sail in sight
Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white.
We pass the scatter'd isles of Cyclades,
That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the seas.
The shouts of sailors double near the shores;
They stretch their canvas, and they ply their oars.
All hands aloft? for Crete! for Crete !" they cry,
"
And swiftly through the foamy billows fly.
Full on the promis'd land at length we bore,
With joy descending on the Cretan shore.
With eager haste a rising town I frame,
Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:
The name itself was grateful: I exhort
To found their houses and erect a fort.
Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand :
The youth begin to till the labor'd land;
And I myself new marriages promote,
Give laws; and dwellings I divide by lot;
When rising vapors choke the wholesome air,
And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year:
The trees devouring caterpillars burn:
Parch'd was the grass, and blighted was the corn:
Nor 'scape the beasts: for Sirius, from on high,
With pestilential heat infects the sky :
My men-some fall, the rest in fevers fry.
Again my father bids me seek the shore
Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,
To learn what end of woes we might expect,
And to what clime our weary course direct.
'Twas night, when ev'ry creature, void of cares,
The common gift of balmy slumber shares :
The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd),
Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd,
Before me stood, majestically bright,
Full in the beams of Phoebe's ent'ring light.
Then thus they spoke, and eas'd my troubled mind:
." What from the Delian god thou go'st to find,
He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.
1
176.
ENEIS.
Those pow'rs are we, companions of thy fate,
Who from the burning town by thee were brought,
Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought.
Through seas and lands as we thy steps attend,
So shall our care thy glorious race befriend.
An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,
A town, that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign.
Thou mighty walls for mighty nations build ;
Nor let thy weary mind to labors yield:
But change thy seat, for not the Delian god,
Nor we, have giv'n thee Crete for your abode.
A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old,
(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold—
Th' Enotrians held it once) by later fame,
Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.
Iasius there, and Dardanus, were born.
From thence we came, and thither must return.
Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.
Search Italy; for Jove denies thee Crete.'
Astonished at their voices and their sight
(Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night :
I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,
In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied),
I started from my couch; a clammy sweat
On all my limbs, and shiv'ring body, sate.
To heav'n I lift my hands with pious haste,
And sacred incense in the flames I cast.
Thus to the gods their perfect honors done,
More cheerful to my good old sire I run,
And tell the pleasing news. In little space
He found his error of the double race,
Not, as before he deem'd, deriv'd from Crete;
No more deluded by the doubtful seat ;
Then said, "O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate!
Such things as these Cassandra did relate.
This day revives within my mind, what she
Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy,
And Latian lands: but who could then have thought
That Phrygian gods to Latium should be brought,
Or who believ'd what mad Cassandra taught?
Now let us go where Phoebus leads the way.
He said; and we with glad consent obey.
Forsake the seat; and, leaving few behind,
We spread our sails before the willing wind.
Now from the sight of land our galleys move,
With only seas around and skies above;
When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain,
ENEIS.
177
And night with sable clouds involves the main :
The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise :
The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways:
The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes;
And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies.
Cast from our course, we wander in the dark;
No stars to guide, no point of land to mark.
E'en Palinurus no distinction found
Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around.
Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays,
Without distinction, and three sunless days:
The fourth renews the light; and from our shrouds
We view a rising land, like distant clouds :
The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight,
And curling smoke ascending from their height.
The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply;
From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly.
At length I land upon the Strophades,
Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.
Those Isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main ;
The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,
Forc'd by the wing'd warriors to repair
To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.
Monsters more fierce offended heav'n ne'er sent
From hell's abyss for human punishment—
With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,
Foul paunches, and with odor still unclean;
With claws for hands, and looks forever lean.
We landed at the port, and soon beheld
Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field :
And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd.
With weapons we the welcome prey invade,
Then call the gods for partners of our feast,
And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.
We spread the table on the greensward ground:
We feed with hunger; and the bowls go round;
When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,
And clatt'ring wings the hungry Harpies fly :
They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,
And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.
Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,
New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,
Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,
Where tufted trees a native arbor made,
Again the holy fires on altars burn;
And once again the rav'nous birds return,
Or from the dark recesses where they lie,
178
ENEIS.
Or from another quarter of the sky-
With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,
And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.
I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,
And with the hellish nation wage the war.
They, as commanded, for the fight provide,
And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide :
Then, when along the crooked shore we hear
Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear,
Misenus sounds the charge: we take th' alarm,
And our strong arms with swords and bucklers arm,
In this new kind of combat, all employ
Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy-
In vain the fated skin is proof to wounds;
And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.
At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey,
And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display.
Yet one remain'd-the messenger of Fate,
High on a craggy cliff Celæno sate,
And thus her dismal errand did relate :
What? not contented with your oxen slain,
Dare you with heav'n an impious war maintain,
And drive the Harpies from their native reign?
Heed, therefore, what I say; and keep in mind
What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd,
And I, the Furies' queen from both relate—
You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by Fate:
Th' Italian shores are granted you to find,
And a safe passage to the fort assign'd.
But know, that, ere your promis'd walls you build,
My curses shall severely be fulfill'd.
Fierce famine is your lot-for this misdeed,
Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed."
She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew.
Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.
Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall,
And on the offended Harpies humbly call,
And (whether gods or birds obscene they were)
Our vows, for pardon and for peace, prefer.
But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice,
And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes,
Ador'd the greater gods-" Avert," said he,
These omens ! render vain this prophecy,
And from th' impending curse a pious people free."
Thus having said, he bids us put to sea;
We loose from shore our halsers, and obey,
And soon with swelling sails pursue our wat'ry way.
ENEIS.
179
Amidst our course, Zacynthian woods appear,
And next by rocky Neritos we steer:
We fly from Ithaca's detested shore,
And curse the land which dire Ulysses bore.
At length Leucate's cloudy top appears,
And the Sun's temple which the sailor fears.
Resolv'd to breathe awhile from labors past,
Our crooked anchors from the prow we cast,
And joyful to the little city haste.
Here, safe beyond our hopes, our vows we pay
To Jove, the guide and patron of our way.
The customs of our country we pursue,
And Trojan games, and Action shores renew.
Our youth their naked limbs besmear with oil,
And exercise the wrestlers' noble toil-
Pleas'd to have sail'd so long before the wind,
And left so many Grecian towns behind.
The sun had now fulfill'd his annual course,
And Boreas on the seas display'd his force :
I fix'd upon the temple's lofty door
The brazen shield which vanquish'd Abas bore:
The verse beneath my name and action speaks:
"These arms Æneas took from conqu'ring Greeks. '
Then I command to weigh the seamen ply
Their sweeping oars, the smoking billows fly.
The sight of high Phæacia soon we lost,
And skimm'd along Epirus' rocky coast.
Then to Chaonia's port our course we bend,
And, landed, to Buthrotus' heights ascend.
Here, wond'rous things were loudly blaz'd by Fame-
How Helenus reviv'd the Trojan name,
And reigned in Greece; that Priam's captive son
Succeeded Pyrrhus in his bed and throne;
And fair Andromache, restored by Fate,
Once more was happy in a Trojan mate.
I leave my galleys riding in the port,
And long to see the new Dardanian court.
By chance, the mournful queen, before the gate,
Then solemniz'd her former husband's fate.
Green altars, rais'd of turf, with gifts she crown'd;
And sacred priests in order stand around,
And thrice the name of hapless Hector sound.
The grove itself resembles Ida's woods;
And Simoïs seem'd the well-dissembled flood;
But when, at nearer distance, she beheld
My shining armor, and my Trojan shield,
Astonish'd at the sight, the vital heat
180
ENEIS.
Forsook her limbs, her veins no longer beat :
She faints, she falls, and scarce recov'ring strength,
Thus, with a faltering tongue, she speaks at length.
Are you alive, O goddess-born?" she said,
44
"Or, if a ghost, then where is Hector's shade?'
At this she cast a loud and frightful cry.-
With broken words I made this brief reply:
"All of me that remains, appears in sight ;
I live; if living be to loathe the light-
No phantom; but I drag a wretched life;
My fate resembling that of Hector's wife.
What have you suffered since you lost your lord?
By what strange blessing are you now restor'd?
Still are you Hector's? or is Hector fled,
And his remembrance lost in Pyrrhus' bed?"
With eyes dejected, in a lowly tone,
After a modest pause, she thus begun :
Oh, only happy maid of Priam's race,
Whom death deliver'd from the foe's embrace!
Commanded on Achilles' tomb to die,
Nor forc'd, like us, to hard captivity,
Or in a haughty master's arms to lie.
In Grecian ships, unhappy we were borne,
Endured the victor's lust, sustain'd the scorn:
Thus I submitted to the lawless pride
Of Pyrrhus, more a handmaid than a bride.
Cloy'd with possession, he forsook my bed,
And Helen's lovely daughter sought to wed;
Then me to Trojan Helenus resign'd,
And his two slaves in equal marriage join'd;
Till young Orestes, pierc'd with deep despair,
And longing to redeem the promis'd fair,
Before Apollo's altar slew the ravisher.
By Pyrrhus' death the kingdom we regain'd
At least one half with Helenus remain'd.
Our part, from Chaon, he Chaonia calls,
And names from Pergamus his rising walls,
But you what Fates have landed on our coast?
What gods have sent you, or what storms have toss'd?
Does young Ascanius life and health enjoy,
Sav'd from the ruins of unhappy Troy?
O tell me how his mother's loss he bears,
What hopes are promis'd from his blooming years.
How much of Hector in his face appears?''
She spoke ; and mix'd her speech with mournful cries;
And fruitless tears came trickling from her eyes.
At length her lord descends upon the plain,
ENEIS.
181
In pomp, attended with a num'rous train ;
Receives his friends, and to the city leads,
And tears of joy amidst his welcome sheds.
Proceeding on, another Troy I see,
'Or, in less compass, Troy's epitome.
A riv'let by the name of Xanthus ran;
And I embrace the Scæan gate again,
My friends in porticoes were entertain'd;
And feasts and pleasures through the city reign'd.
The tables fill'd the spacious hall around;
And golden bowls with sparkling wine were crown'd.
Two days we pass'd in mirth, till friendly gales,
Blown from the south, supply'd our swelling sails.
Then to the royal seer I thus began :
O thou who know'st, beyond the reach of man,
The laws of heav'n, and what the stars decree,
Whom Phoebus taught unerring prophecy,
From his own tripod, and his holy tree-
Skill'd in the wing'd inhabitants of air,
What auspices their notes and flights declare-
O! say-for all religious rites portend
A happy voyage and a prosp'rous end;
And ev'ry pow'r and omen of the sky
Direct my course for destin'd Italy ;
But only dire Celano, from the gods,
A dismal famine fatally forebodes-
O! say, what dangers I am first to shun,
What toils to vanquish, and what course to run.
The prophet first with sacrifice adores
The greater gods; their pardon then implores;
Unbinds the fillet from his holy head;
To Phoebus, next, my trembling steps he led,
Full of religious doubts and awful dread.
Then, with his god possess'd, before the shrine,
These words proceeded from his mouth divine:
O goddess born! (for heav'n's appointed will,
With greater auspices of good than ill,
Foreshows thy voyage, and thy course directs:
Thy fates conspire, and Jove himself protects)
Of many things some few I shall explain,
Teach thee to shun the dangers of the main,
And how at length the promis'd shore to gain.
The rest the Fates from Helenus conceal,
And Juno's angry pow'r forbids to tell.
First, then, that happy shore, that seems so nigh,
Will far from your deluded wishes fly :
Long tracts of seas divide your hopes from Italy:
2
182
ÆENEIS.
For you must cruise along Sicilian shores,
And stem the currents with your struggling oars;
Then round th' Italian coast your navy steer,
And, after this, to Circe's island veer;
And, last, before your new foundations rise,
Must pass the Stygian lake, and view the nether skies.
Now mark the signs of future ease and rest;
And bear them safely treasur'd in thy breast.
When, in the shady shelter of a wood,
And near the margin of a gentle flood,
Thou shalt behold a sow upon the ground,
With thirty sucking young encompass'd round,
The dam and offspring white as falling snow-
These on thy city shall their name bestow;
And there shall end thy labors and thy woe.
Nor let the threaten'd famine fright thy mind:
For Phoebus will assist; and Fate the way will find.
Let not thy course to that ill coast be bent,
Which fronts from far th' Epirian continent :
Those parts are all by Grecian foes possess'd.
The savage Locrians here the shores infest :
Their fierce Idomeneus his city builds,
And guards with arms the Salentinian fields;
And on the mountain's brow Petilla stands,
Which Philoctetes with his troops commands.
E'en when thy fleet is landed on the shore,
And priests with holy vows the gods adore,
Then with a purple veil involve your eyes,
Lest hostile faces blast the sacrifice.
These rites and customs to the rest commend,
That to your pious race they may descend.
When, parted hence, the wind that ready waits
For Sicily, shall bear you to the straits
Where proud Pelorus opes a wider way,
Tack to the larboard, and stand off to sea:
Veer starboard sea and land. Th' Italian shore,
And fair Sicilia's coast, were one, before
An earthquake caus'd the flaw: the roaring tides
The passage broke, that land from land divides;
And, where the lands retir'd, the rushing ocean rides.
Distinguish'd by the straits, on either hand,
Now rising cities in long order stand,
And fruitful fields: so much can time invade
Th' mould'ring work, that beauteous nature made.
Far on the right, her dogs fair Scylla hides ;
Charybdis roaring on the left presides,
And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides:
NEIS.
183
Then spouts them from below with fury driv'n,
The waves mount up, and wash the face of heav'n.
But Scylla from her den, with open jaws,
The sinking vessel in her eddy draws,
Then dashes on the rocks.-A human face,
And virgin bosom hides her tail's disgrace;
Her parts obscene below the waves descend,
With dogs enclos'd; and in a dolphin end.
'Tis safer then to bear aloof to sea,
And coast Pachynus, though with more delay,
Than once to view. mis-shapen Scylla near,
And the loud yells of wat'ry wolves to hear.
Besides, if faith to Helenus be due,
And if prophetic Phoebus tell me true,
Do not this precept of your friend forget,
Which therefore more than once I must repeat:
Above the rest, great Juno's name adore ;
Pay vows to Juno; Juno's aid implore.
Let gifts be to the mighty queen design'd;
And mollify with pray'rs her haughty mind.
Thus, at the length, your passage shall be free,
And you shall safe descend on Italy.
Arriv'd at Cumæ, when you view the flood
Of black Avernus, and the sounding wood,
The mad prophetic Sibyl you shall find,
Dark in a cave, and on a rock reclin'd.
She sings the Fates, and, in her frantic fits,
The notes and names, inscrib'd, to leaves commits
What she commits to leaves, in order laid,
Before the cavern's entrance are display'd:
Unmov'd they lie: but, if a blast of wind
Without, or vapors issue from behind,
The leaves are borne aloft in liquid air;
And she resumes no more her museful care,
Nor gathers from the rocks her scatter'd verse,
Nor sets in order what the winds disperse.
Thus nany, not succeeding, must upbraid
The madness of the visionary maid,
And with loud curses leave the mystic shade.
Think it not loss of time a while to stay,
Though thy companions chide thy long delay ;
Tho' summoned to the seas, tho' pleasing gales
Invite thy course, and stretch thy swelling sails;
But beg the sacred priestess to relate
With willing words, and not to write thy fate.
The fierce Italian people she will show,
And all thy wars, and all thy future woe,
184
ENEIS.
And what thou mayst avoid, and what must undergo.
She shall direct thy course, instruct thy mind,
And teach thee how the happy shores to find.
This is what heav'n allows me to relate:
Now part in peace; pursue thy better fate,
And raise, by strength of arms, the Trojan state.'
This, when the priest with friendly voice declar'd,
He gave me license, and rich gifts prepar'd:
Bounteous of treasure, he supplied my want
With heavy gold, and polish'd elephant,
Then Dodonæan caldrons put on board
And ev'ry ship with sums of silver stor'd.
A trusty coat of mail to me he sent,
Thrice chain'd with gold, for use and ornament;
The helm of Pyrrhus added to the rest,
That flourish'd with a plume and waving crest.
Nor was my sire forgotten, nor my friends:
And large recruits he to my navy sends-
Men, horses, captains, arms, and warlike stores ;
Supplies new pilots, and new sweeping oars.
Meantime, my sire commands to hoist our sails,
Lest we should lose the first auspicious gales.
The prophet bless'd the parting crew, and last,
With words like these, his ancient friend embrac'd :
"Old happy man, the care of gods above,
Whom heav'nly Venus honor'd with her love,
And twice preserv'd thy life when Troy was lost!
Behold from far the wish'd Ausonian coast:
There land; but take a larger compass round;
For that before is all forbidden ground.
The shore that Phoebus has design'd for you,
At further distance lies, conceal'd from view.
Go happy hence, and seek your new abodes,
Bless'd in a son, and favor'd by the gods :
For I with useless words prolong your stay,
When southern gales have summon'd you away.'
Nor less the queen our parting thence deplor'd,
Nor was less bounteous than her Trojan lord.
A noble present to my son she brought ;
A robe with flow'rs on golden tissue wrought.
A Phrygian vest; and loads with gifts beside
Of precious texture, and of Asian pride.
"
Accept," she said, these monuments of love,
Which in my youth with happier hands I wove :
Regard these trifles for the giver's sake;
'Tis the last present Hector's wife can make.
Thou call'st my lost Astyanax to mind :
ENEIS.
135
In thee, his features and his form I find.
His eyes so sparkled with a lively flame;
Such were his motions; such was all his frame;
And ah! had heav'n so pleas'd, his years had been the
same.
With tears I took my last adieu, and said,
'Your fortune, happy pair, already made,
Leaves you no further wish. My diff'rent state,
Avoiding one, incurs another fate.
To you a quiet seat the gods allow :
You have no shores to search, no seas to plough.
Nor fields of flying Italy to chase-
Deluding visions, and a vain embrace !
You see another Simois, and enjoy
The labor of your hands, another Troy,
With better auspice than her ancient tow'rs,
And less obnoxious to the Grecian pow'rs.
If e'er the gods, whom I with vows adore,
Conduct my steps to Tyber's happy shore—
If ever I ascend the Latian throne,
And build a city I may call my own-
As both of us our birth from Troy derive,
So let our kindred lines in concord live,
And both in acts of equal friendship strive.
Our fortunes, good or bad, shall be the same:
The double Troy shall differ but in name :
That what we now begin, may never end,
But long to late posterity descend.
Near the Ceraunian rocks our course we bore
The shortest passage to th' Italian shore.
Now had the sun withdrawn his radiant light,
And hills were hid in dusky shades of night :
We land, and, on the bosom of the ground,
A safe retreat and a bare lodging found.
Close by the shore we lay; the sailors keep
Their watches, and the rest securely sleep.
The night, proceeding on with silent pace,
Stood in her noon, and view'd with equal face
Her steepy rise, and her declining race.
Then wakeful Palinurus rose, to spy
The face of heav'n, and the nocturnal sky;
And listen'd ev'ry breath of air to try;
Observes the stars, and notes their sliding course,
The Pleiads, Hyads, and their wat❜ry force;
And both the Bears is careful to behold,
And bright Orion, arm'd with burnish'd gold.
Then, when he saw no threat'ning tempest nigh,
186
ENEIS.
But a sure promise of a settled sky.
He gave the sign to weigh, we break our sleep,
Forsake the pleasing shore, and plough the deep.
And now the rising morn with rosy light
Adorns the skies, and puts the stars to flight;
When we from far, like bluish mist, descry
The hills, and then the plains, of Italy.
Achates first pronounc'd the joyful sound;
Then Italy" the cheerful crew rebound;
My sire Anchises crown'd a cup with wine,
And off'ring, thus implor'd the powers divine:
Ye gods, presiding over lands and seas,
And you who raging winds and waves appease,
Breathe on our swelling sails a prosp'rous wind,
And smooth our passage to the port assign'd."
The gentle gales their flagging force renew;
And now the happy harbor is in view.
Minerva's temple then salutes our sight,
Plac'd, as a land-mark, on the mountain's height.
We furl our sails, and turn the prows to shore ;
The curling waters round the galleys roar.
The land lies open to the raging East.
Then, bending like a bow, with rocks compress'd,.
Shuts out the storms; the winds and waves complain,
And vent their malice on the cliffs in vain.
The port lies hid within; on either side,
Two tow ring rocks the narrow mouth divide.
The temple, which aloft we view'd before,
To distance flies, and seems to shun the shore.
Scarce landed, the first omens I beheld-
"
Were four white steeds that cropp'd the flow'ry field.
War, war, is threaten'd from this foreign ground
(My father cried), where warlike steeds are found.
Yet, since, reclaim'd, to chariots they submit,
And bend to stubborn yokes, and champ the bit,
Peace may succeed to war."-Our way we bend
To Pallas, and the sacred hill ascend;
There prostrate to the fierce virago pray,
Whose temple was the landmark of our way.
Each with a Phrygian mantle veil'd his head,
And all commands of Helenus obey'd,
And pious rites to Grecian Juno paid.
These dues perform'd, we stretch our sails and stand
To sea, forsaking that suspected land.
From hence Tarentum's bay appears in view,
For Hercules renown'd, if fame be true.
Just opposite, Licinian Juno stands ;
ENEIS.
187
Caulonian tow'rs and Scylacæan strands
For shipwrecks fear'd. Mount Etna thence we spy,
Known by the smoky flames which cloud the sky.
Far off we hear the waves with surly sound
Invade the rocks, the rocks their groans rebound.
The billows break upon the sounding strand,
And roll the rising tide, impure with sand.
Then thus Anchises in experience old :
"'Tis that Charybdis which the seer foretold,
And those the promised rocks! Bear off to sea!"
With haste the frightened mariners obey.
First Palinurus to the larboard veer'd;
Then all the fleet by his example steer'd.
To heav'n aloft on ridgy waves we ride,
Then down to hell descend, when they divide ;
And thrice our galleys knock'd the stony ground,
And thrice the hollow rocks return'd the sound,
And thrice we saw the stars that stood with dews around.
The flagging winds forsook us with the sun;
And, wearied, on Cyclopian shores we run.
The port, capacious and secure from wind,
Is to the foot of thund'ring Ætna join'd.
By turns a pitchy cloud she rolls on high;
By turns hot embers from her entrails fly,
And flakes of mountain flames that lick the sky.
Oft from her bowels massy rocks are thrown,
And, shiver'd by the force come piecemeal down.
Oft liquid lakes of burning sulphur flow,
Fed from the fiery springs that boil below.
Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Jove,
With blasted limbs came tumbling from above;
And, where he fell, th' avenging father drew
This flaming hill, and on his body threw.
As often as he turns his weary sides,
He shakes the solid isle, and smoke the heavens hides.
In shady woods we pass the tedious night,
Where bellowing sounds and groans our souls affright,
Of which no cause is offer'd to the sight.
For not one star was kindled in the sky,
Nor could the moon her borrow'd light supply :
For misty clouds involv'd the firmament;
The stars were muffled, and the moon was pent.
Scarce had the rising sun the day reveal'd;
Scarce had his heat the pearly dews dispell'd;
When from the woods, their bolts before our sight,
Somewhat betwixt a mortal and a sprite,
So thin, so ghastly meagre, and so wan,
1
A
188
ENEIS.
So bare of flesh, he scarce resembled man.
This thing, all tatter'd, seem'd from far t' implore
Our pious aid, and pointed to the shore.
We look behind; then view his shaggy beard:
His clothes were tagg'd with thorns; and filth his limbs
besmear'd.
The rest, in mien, in habit, and in face,
Appear'd a Greek; and such indeed he was.
He cast on us, from far, a frightful view,
Whom soon for Trojans and for foes he knew—
Stood still and paused; then all at once began
To stretch his limbs, and trembled as he ran.
Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls,
And thus with tears and sighs for, pity calls:
Now, by the powers above, and what we share
From nature's common gift, this vital air,
O Trojans take me hence! I beg no more,
But bear me far from this unhappy shore.
'Tis true, I am a Greek, and further own,
Among your foes besieg'd the imperial town.
For such demerits if my death be due,
No more for this abandon'd life I sue:
This only favor let my tears obtain,
To throw me headlong in the rapid main :
Since nothing more than death my crime demands,
I die content to die by human hands.
He said, and on his knees my knees embrac'd:
I bade him boldly tell his fortune past,
His present state, his lineage, and his name,
Th' occasion of his fears, and whence he came.
The good Anchises rais'd him with his hand,
Who, thus encourag'â, answer'd our demand :
From Ithaca, my native soil, I came
To Troy; and Achæmenides my name.
Me my poor father with Ulysses sent ;
(O! had I staid with poverty content!)
But fearful for themselves, my countrymen
Left me forsaken in the Cyclop's den.
The cave, though large, was dark; the dismal floor
Was pav'd with mangled limbs and putrid gore.
Our monstrous host, of more than human size,
Erects his head, and stares within the skies.
Bellowing his voice, and horrid is his hue.
Ye gods, remove this plague from mortal view!
The joints of slaughter'd wretches are his food,
And for his wine he quaffs the streaming blood.
These eyes beheld, when with his spacious hand
ENEIS.
189
He seiz'd two captives of our Grecian band;
Stretched on his back, he dash'd against the stones
Their broken bodies, and their crackling bones:
With spouting blood the purple pavement swims,
While the dire glutton grinds the trembling limbs.
Not unreveng'd Ulysses bore their fate,
Nor thoughtless of his own unhappy state ;
For, gorg'd with flesh, and drunk with human wine,
While fast asleep the giant lay supine,
Snoring aloud, and belching from his maw
His indigested foam, and morsels raw-
We pray, we cast the lots, and then surround
The monstrous body, stretch'd along the ground:
Each, as he could approach him, lends a hand,
To bore his eyeball with a flaming brand.
Beneath his frowning forehead lay his eye;
For only one did the vast frame supply-
But that a globe so large, his front it fill'd,
Like the sun's disk, or like a Grecian shield.
Th' stroke succeeds; and down the pupil bends:
This vengeance follow'd for our slaughter'd friends.-
But haste, unhappy wretches! haste to fly !
Your cables cut, and on your oars rely!
Such and so vast as Polypheme appears,
A hundred more this hated island bears:
Like him, in caves, they shut their woolly sheep;
Like him, their herds on tops of mountains keep ;
Like him, with mighty strides, they stalk from up to
steep.
And now three moons their sharpened horns renew,
Since thus in woods and wilds, obscure from view,
I drag my loathsome days with mortal fright,
And in deserted caverns lodge by night;
Oft from the rocks a dreadful prospect see
Of the huge Cyclops, like a walking tree :
From far I hear his thund'ring voice resound,
And trampling feet that shake the solid ground.
Cornels, and savage berries of the wood,
And roots and herbs have been my meagre food.
While all around my longing eyes I cast,
I saw your happy ships appear at last.
On those I fix'd my hopes, to these I run :
'Tis all I ask, this cruel race to shun:
What other death you please, yourselves bestow."
Scarce had he said, when on the mountain's brow
We saw the giant shepherd stalk before
His following flock, and leading to the shore—
Virgil.-7
190
ENEIS.
A monstrous bulk, deform'd, depriv'd of sight;
His staff a trunk of pine, to guide his steps aright.
His pond'rous whistle from his neck descends;
His woolly care their pensive lord attends :
This only solace his hard fortune sends.
Soon as he reach'd the shore, and touch'd the waves,
From his bor'd eye the gutt'ring blood he laves:
He gnashed his teeth, and groan'd: through seas he strides ;
And scarce the topmost billows touch'd his sides.
Seiz'd with a sudden fear, we run to sea,
The cables cut and silent haste away;.
The well-deserving stranger entertain;
Then, buckling to the work, our oars divide the main.
The giant hearken'd to the dashing sound;
But, when our vessels out of reach he found,
He strided onward, and in vain essay'd
Th' Ionian deep, and durst no farther wade.
With that he roar'd aloud the dreadful cry
Shakes earth and air and seas; the billows fly,
Before the bellowing noise, to distant Italy.
The neighb'ring Etna trembling all around,
The winding caverns echo to the sound.
His brother Cyclops hear the yelling roar,
And rushing down the mountains, crowd the shore.
We saw their stern distorted looks from far,
And one-ey'd glance, that vainly threaten'd war-
A dreadful council! with their heads on high
(The misty clouds about their foreheads fly)
Not yielding to the tow'ring tree of Jove,
Or tallest cypress of Diana's grove.
New pangs of mortal fear our minds assail;
We tug at ev'ry oar, and hoist up ev'ry sail,
And take th' advantage of the friendly gale.
Forewarn'd by Helenus, we strive to shun
Charybdis' gulf, nor dare to Scylla run.
An equal fate on either side appears :
We, tacking to the left, are free from fears :
For, from Pelorus' point, the North arose,
And drove us back where swift Pantagias flows.
His rocky mouth we pass; and make our way
By Thapsus, and Megara's winding bay.
This passage Achæmenides had shown,
Tracing the course which he before had run.
Right o'er against Plemmyrium's wat'ry strand
There lies an isle, once call'd th' Ortygian land.
Alpheüs, as old fame reports, has found
From Greece, a secret passage under ground,
ENEIS.
191
✓
By love to beauteous Arethusa led;
And, mingling here, they roll in the same sacred bed.
As Helenus enjoin'd, we next adore
Diana's name, protectress of the shore.
With prosp'rous gales we pass the quiet sounds
Of still Helorus, and his fruitful bounds.
Then, doubling cape Pachynus, we survey
The rocky shore extended to the sea.
The town of Camarine from far we see,
And fenny lake, undrain'd by Fate's decree.
In sight of the Geloan fields we pass,
And the large walls, where mighty Gela was;
Then Agragas, with lofty summits crown'd,
Long for the race of warlike steeds renown'd.
We pass'd Selinus, and the palmy land,
And widely shun the Lilybæan strand,
Unsafe for secret rocks and moving sand.
At length on shore the weary fleet arriv'd,
Which Drepanum's unhappy port receiv'd.
Here, after endless labors, often toss'd
By raging storms, and driv'n on ev'ry coast,
My dear, dear father spent with age, I lost-
Ease of my cares, and solace of my pain,
Sav'd through a thousand toils, but sav'd in vain.
The prophet, who my future woes reveal'd,
Yet this, the greatest and the worst, conceal'd:
And dire Celano, whose foreboding skill
Denounc'd all else, was silent of this ill.
This my last labor was. Some friendly god
From thence convey'd us to your blest abode.
Thus, to the list'ning queen, the royal guest
His wand'ring course and all his toils express'd;
And here concluding, he retired to rest.
ENEIS.
BOOK IV.
ARGUMENT.
Dido discovers to her sister her passion for Æneas, and her thoughts of
marrying him. She prepares a hunting match for his entertainment.
Juno, by Venus' consent, raises a storm, which separates the hunters,
and drives Æneas and Dido into the same cave, where their marriage is
supposed to be completed. Jupiter despatches Mercury to Æneas, to
warn him from Carthage. Æneas secretly prepares for his voyage. Dido
finds out his design, and, to put a stop to it, makes use of her own and
her sister's entreaties, and discovers all the variety of passions that are
incident to a neglected lover. When nothing could prevail upon him,
she contrives her own death, with which this book concludes.
B
UT anxious cares already seiz'd the queen :
She fed within her veins a flame unseen;
The hero's valor, acts, and birth, inspire
Her soul with love, and fan the secret fire.
His words, his looks, imprinted in her heart,
Improve the passion, and increase the smart.
Now, when the purple morn had chas'd away
The dewy shadows, and restor'd the day,
Her sister first with early care she sought,
And thus in mournful accents eas'd her thought:
My dearest Anna! what new dreams affright
My lab'ring soul! what visions of the night
Disturb my quiet, and distract my breast
With strange ideas of our Trojan guest.
His worth, his actions, and majestic air,
A man descended from the gods declare.
Fear ever argues a degen'rate kind :
His birth is well asserted by his mind.
Then, what he suffer'd when by Fate betray'd!
What brave attempts for falling Troy he made!
ENEIS.
193 ·
Such were his looks, so gracefully he spoke,
That, were I not resolv'd against the yoke
Of hapless marriage-never to be curs'd
With second love, so fatal was my first-
To this one error I might yield again :
For, since Sichæus was untimely slain,
This only man is able to subvert
The fix'd foundations of my stubborn heart.
And, to confess my frailty to my shame,
Somewhat I find within, if not the same,
Too like the sparkles of my former flame.
But first let yawning earth a passage rend,
And let me through the dark abyss descend-
First let avenging Jove, with flames from high,
Drive down this body to the nether sky,
Condemn'd with ghosts in endless night to lie-
Before I break the plighted faith I gave !
No! he who had my vows, shall ever have :
For, whom I lov'd on earth, I worship in the grave.'
She said the tears ran gushing from her eyes,
And stopp'd her speech. Her sister thus replies:
O dearer than the vital air I breathe!
Will you to grief your blooming years bequeath,
Condemn'd to waste in woes your lonely life,
Without the joys of mother, or of wife!
Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,
Are known or valu'd by the ghosts below?
I grant that while your sorrows yet were green,
It well became a woman, and a queen,
The vows of Tyrian princes to neglect,
To scorn Iarbas, and his love reject.
With all the Libyan lords of mighty name :
But will you fight against a pleasing flame ?
This little spot of land which heav'n bestows,
On ev'ry side is hemm'd with warlike foes:
Gætulian cities here are spread around,
And fierce Numidians their young frontiers bound
Here lies a barren waste of thirsty land,
And there the Syrtes raise the moving sand:
Barcæan troops besiege the narrow shore,
And from the sea Pygmalion threatens more.
Propitious heav'n, and gracious Juno, lead
This wand'ring navy to your needful aid :
How will your empire spread, your city rise,
From such a union, and with such allies!
Implore the favor of the pow'rs above;
And leave the conduct of the rest to love.
·
*
1
194
ENEIS.
Continue still your hospitable way,
And still invent occasions of their stay,
Till storms and winter winds shall cease to threat,
And planks and oars repair their shatter'd fleet.
These words, which from a friend and sister came,
With ease resolv'd the scruples of her fame,
And added fury to the kindled flame.
Inspir'd with hope, the project they pursue ;
On ev'ry altar sacrifice renew;
A chosen ewe of two years old they pay
To Ceres, Bacchus, and the god of day.
Preferring Juno's pow'r (for Juno ties
The nuptial knot, and makes the marriages joys),
The beauteous queen before her altar stands,
And holds the golden goblet in her hands,
A milk-white heifer she with flow'rs adorns,
And pours the ruddy wine betwixt her horns:
And, while the priests with pray'r the gods invoke,
She feeds their altars with Sabæan smoke,
With hourly care the sacrifice renews,
And anxiously the panting entrails views.
What priestly rites, alas! what pious art,
What vows avail to cure a bleeding heart?
A gentle fire she feeds within her veins,
Where the soft god secure in silence reigns.
Sick with desire, and seeking him she loves,
From street to street the raving Dido roves.
So, when the watchful shepherd, from the blind,
Wounds with a random shaft the careless hind,
Distracted with her pain she flies the woods,
Bounds o'er the lawn, and seeks the silent floods-
With fruitless care; for still the fatal dart
Sticks in her side, and rankles in her heart.
And now she leads the Trojan chief along
The lofty walls, amidst the busy throng;
Displays her Tyrian wealth, and rising town,
Which love, without his labor, makes his own.
This pomp she shows, to tempt her wand'ring guest
Her falt'ring tongue forbids to speak the rest.
When day declines, and feasts renew the night,
Still on his face she feeds her fainish'd sight;
She longs again to hear the prince relate
His own adventures, and the Trojan fate.
He tells it o'er and o'er; but still in vain,
For still she begs to hear it once again.
The hearer on the speaker's mouth depends;
And thus the tragic story never ends.
ENEIS.
195
Then, when they part, when Phoebe's paler light
Withdraws, and falling stars to sleep invite,
She last remains, when ev'ry guest is gone,
Sits on the bed he press'd, and sighs alone;
Absent, her absent hero sees and hears;
Or in her bosom young Ascanius bears,
And seeks the father's image in the child,
If love by likeness might be so beguil'd.
Meantime the rising tow'rs are at a stand;
No labors exercise the youthful band,
Nor use of arts, nor toils of arms they know:
The mole is left unfinish'd to the foe;
The mounds, the works, the walls, neglected lie,
Short of their promis'd height, that seem'd to threat the sky
But when imperial Juno, from above,
Saw Dido fetter'd in the chains of love,
Hot with the venom which her veins inflam'd,
And by no sense of shame to be reclaim'd,
With soothing words to Venus she begun :
'High praises, endless honors, you have won,
And mighty trophies, with your worthy son!
Two gods a silly woman have undone !
Nor am I ignorant, you both suspect
This rising city, which my hands erect :
But shall celestial discord never cease?
'Tis better ended in a lasting peace.
You stand possess'd of all your soul desir'd;
Poor Dido with consuming love is fir'd.
Your Trojan with my Tyrian let us join ;
So Dido shall be yours, Æneas mine-
One common kingdom one united line.
Eliza shall a Dardan lord obey,
And lofty Carthage for a dow'r convey."
Then Venus (who her hidden fraud descried
Which would the sceptre of the world misguide
To Libyan shores) thus-artfully replied:
Who, but a fool, would wars with Juno choose,
And such alliance and such gifts refuse,
If fortune with our joint desires comply?
The doubt is all from Jove, and destiny;
Lest he forbid with absolute command
To mix the people in one common land-
Or will the Trojan and the Tyrian line,
In lasting leagues and sure succession, join.
But you, the partner of his bed and throne,
May move his mind; my wishes are your own.'
Mine," said imperal Juno, "be the care—
196
ENEIS.
1
Time urges now-to perfect this affair:
Attend my counsel, and the secret share.
When next the Sun his rising light displays,
And gilds the world below with purple rays,
The queen, Æneas, and the Tyrian court,
Shall to the shady woods, for sylvan game, resort;
There, while the huntsmen pitch their toils around,
And cheerful horns, from side to side, resound,
A pitchy cloud shall cover all the plain
With hail, and thunder, and tempestuous rain :
The fearful train shall take their speedy flight,
Dispers'd and all involv'd in gloomy night :
One cave a grateful shelter shall afford
To the fair princess and the Trojan lord.
I will myself the bridal bed prepare,
If you, to bless the nuptials, will be there :
So shall their loves be crown'd with due delights,
And Hymen shall be present at the rites."
The queen of love consents, and closely smiles
At her vain project, and discover'd wiles.
The rosy morn was risen from the main,
And horns and hounds awake the princely train :
They issue early through the city gate,
Where the more wakeful huntsmen ready wait,
With nets, and toils, and darts, beside the force
Of Spartan dogs, and swift Massylian horse.
The Tyrian peers and officers of state,
For the slow queen, in anti-chambers wait :
Her lofty courser, in the court below
(Who his majestic rider seems to know),
Proud of his purple trappings, paws the ground,
And champs the golden bit, and spreads the foam around.
The queen at length appears on either hand
The brawny guards in martial order stand.
A flow'red cymar with golden fringe she wore,
And at her back a golden quiver bore.
Her flowing hair a golden caul restrains,
A golden clasp the Tyrian robe sustains.
Then young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
Leads on the Trojan youth to view the chase,
But far above the rest in beauty shines.
The great Æneas, when the troop he joins,
Like fair Apollo, when he leaves the frost
Of wintry Xanthus, and the Lycian coast,
When to his native Delos he resorts,
Ordains the dances, and renews the sports;
Where painted Scythians, inix'd with Cretan bands,
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197
Before the joyful altars join their hands:
Himself, on Cynthus walking, sees below
The merry madness of the sacred show.
Green wreaths of bays his length of hair enclose
A golden fillet binds his awful brows:
His quiver sounds.-Not less the prince is seen
In manly presence, or in lofty mien.
་
Now had they reach'd the hills, and storm'd the seat
Of savage beasts, in dens, their last retreat :
The cry pursues the mountain-goats: they bound
From rock to rock, and keep the craggy ground :
Quite otherwise the stags, a trembling train,
In herds unsingled, scour the dusty plain,
And a long chase in open view maintain.
The glad Ascanius, as his courser guides,
Spurs through the vale, and these and those outrides.
His horse's flanks and sides are forc'd to feel
The clanking lash, and goring of the steel.
Impatiently he views the feeble prey,
Wishing some nobler beast to cross his way;
And rather would the tusky boar attend,
Or see the tawny lion downward bend.
Meantime, the gath'ring clouds obscure the skies:
From pole to pole the forky lightning flies,
The rattling thunders roll; and Juno pours
A wintry deluge down, and sounding show'rs.
The company dispers'd, to coverts ride,
And seek the homely cots, or mountain's hollow side.
The rapid rains, descending from the hills,
To rolling torrents raise the creeping rills.
The queen and prince, as Love or Fortune guides,
One common cavern in her bosom hides.
Then first the trembling earth the signal gave ;
And flashing fires enlighten all the cave:
Hell from below, and Juno from above,
And howling nymphs, were conscious to their love.
From this ill-omen'd hour, in time arose
Debate and death, and all succeeding woes.
The queen, whom sense of honor could not move,
No longer made a secret of her love,
But call'd it marriage, by that specious name
To veil the crime, and sanctify the shame.
The loud report through Libyan cities goes.
Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows-
Swift from the first; and ev'ry moment brings
New vigor to her flights, new pinions to her wings.
Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size;
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ENEIS.
Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
Enrag'd against the gods, revengeful Earth
Produc'd her, last of the Titanian birth-
Swift is her walk, more swift her winged haste-
A monstrous phantom, horrible and vast.
As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,
So many piercing eyes enlarge her sight:
Millions of op'ning mouths to Fame belong :
And ev'ry mouth is furnish'd with a tongue;
And round with list'ning ears the flying plague' is hung.
She fills the peaceful universe with cries:
No slumbers ever close her wakeful eyes:
By day, from lofty tow'rs her head she shows,
And spreads thro' trembling crowds disas'trous news,
With court informers haunts, and royal spies ;
Things done relates; not done she feigns; and mingles truth
with lies.
Talk is her bus'ness; and her chief delight
To tell of prodigies, and cause affright.
She fills the people's ears with Dido's name,
Who, "lost to honor and the sense of shame,
Admits into her throne and nuptial bed
A wand'ring guest, who from his country fled:
Whole days with him she passes in delights,
And wastes in luxury long winter nights,
Forgetful of her fame and royal trust,
Dissolv'd in ease, abandon'd to her lust."
The goddess widely spreads the loud report,
And flies at length to king Iarbas' court.
When first possess'd with this unwelcome news,
Whom did he not of men and god's accuse?
This prince, from ravish'd Garmantis born,
A hundred temples did with spoils adorn,
In Ammon's honor, his celestial sire;
A hundred altars fed with wakeful fire;
And, through his vast dominions, priests ordain'd,
Whose watchful care these holy rites maintain’d.
The gates and columns were with garlands crown'd,
And blood of victim beasts enrich'd the ground.
He, when he heard a fugitive could move
The Tyrian princes, whe disdain'd his love,
His breast with fury burn'd, his eyes with fire-
Mad with despair, impatient with desire--
Then on the sacred altars pouring wine,
He thus with pray'rs implor'd his sire divine':
Great Jove, propitious to the Moorish race,
4.
Who feast on painted beds, with off'rings grace,
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Thy temples, and adóre thy pow'r divine
With blood of victims, and with sparkling wine,
Seest thou not this? or do we fear in vain
Thy boasted thunder, and thy thoughtless reign?
Do thy broad hands the forky lightnings lance?
Thine are the bolts, or the blind work of chance?
A wand'ring woman builds, within our state,
A little town, bought at an easy rate;
She pays me homage (and my grants allow
A narrow space of Libyan hands to plough),
Yet, scorning me, by passion blindly led,
Admits a banish'd Trojan to her bed!
And now, this other Paris, with his train
Of conquer'd cowards, must in Afric reign !
(Whom, what they are, their looks and garb confess,
Their locks with oil perfum'd, their Lydian dress.)
He takes the spoil, enjoys the princely dame;
And I, rejected I, adore an empty name!
His vows, in haughty terms, he thus preferr'd,
And held his altar's horns: the mighty Thund'rer heard
Then cast his eyes on Carthage, where he found
The lustful pair in lawless pleasure drown'd,
Lost in their loves, insensible of shame,
And both forgetful of their better fame.
He calls Cyllenius; and the god attends;
By whom this menacing command he sends:
Go, mount the western winds, and cleave the sky;
Then, with a swift descent, to Carthage fly :
There find the Trojan chief, who wastes his days
In slothful riot and inglorious ease,
Nor minds the future city, given by Fate.
To him this message from my mouth relate :
Not so fair Venus hop'd, when twice she won
Thy life with pray'rs; nor promis'd such a son.
Hers was a hero, destin'd to command
A martial race, and rule the Latian land;
Who should his ancient line from Teucer draw;
And on the conquer'd world impose the law.
If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
Nor future praise from fading pleasure wean,
Yet why should he defraud his son of fame,
And grudge the Romans their immortal name?
What are his vain designs? what hopes he more
From his long ling'ring on a hostile shore,
Regardless to redeem his honor lost,
And for his race to gain the Ausonian coast?
Bid him with speed the Tyrian court forsake :
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ENEIS.
:
With this command the slumb'ring warrior wake."
Hermes obeys with golden pinions bind
His flying feet, and mounts the western winds:
And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies,
With rapid force they bear him down the skies.
But first he grasps within his awful hand
The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand:
With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves;
With this he drives them down the Stygian waves ;
With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight,
And eyes, though clos'd in death, restores to light.
Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race,
And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space :
Now sees the top of Atlas, as he flies,
Whose brawny back supports the starry skies-
Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd,
Is beaten by the winds-with foggy vapors bound.
Snows hide his shoulders: from beneath his chin
The founts of rolling streams their race begin :
A beard of ice on his large breast depends-
Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends :
Then, resting thus, he from the tow'ring height
Plung'd downward with precipitated flight,
Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood;
As water fowls, who seek their fishy food,
Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show;
By turns they dance aloft, and dive below;
Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies,
And near the surface of the water flies,
Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands,
He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands,
Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds,
Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads.
Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince
New ramparts raising for the town's defence;
A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er
(Queen Dido's gift), about his waist he wore ;
A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified,
For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.
Then thus, with winged words, the god began,
Resuming his own shape-" Degen'rate man!
Thou woman's property! what mak'st thou here,
These foreign walls and Tyrian tow'rs to rear,
Forgetful of thy own? All-powerful Jove,
Who sways the world below and heav'n above,
Has sent me down with this severe command :
What means thy ling'ring in the Libyan land ?
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201
If glory cannot move a mind so mean,
Nor future praise from flitting pleasure wean,
Regard the fortunes of thy rising heir:
The promis'd crown let young Ascanius wear,
To whom th' Ausonian sceptre, and the state
Of Rome's imperial name, is ow'd by Fate.
So spoke the god; and, speaking, took his flight,
Involv'd in clouds; and vanish'd out of sight.
The pious prince was seiz'd with sudden fear :
Mute was his tongue, and upright stood his hair.
Revolving in his mind the stern command,
He longs to fly, and loaths the charming land.
What should he say? or how should he begin?
What course, alas! remains, to steer between
Th' offended lover and the pow'rful queen?
This way, and that, he turns his anxious mind,
And all expedients tries, and none can find.
Fix'd on the deed, but doubtful of the means-
After long thought, to this advice he leans :
Three chiefs he calls, commands them to repair
The fleet, and ship their men, with silent care:
Some plausible pretence he bids them find,
To color what in secret he design'd.
Himself, meantime, the softest hours would choose,
Before the love-sick lady heard the news;
And move her tender mind by slow degrees,
To suffer what the sov'reign pow'r decrees;
Jove will inspire him, when, and what to say.-
They hear with pleasure, and with haste obey.
But soon the queen perceives the thin disguise
(What arts can blind a jealous woman's eyes ?):
She was the first to find the secret fraud,
Before the fatal news was blaz'd abroad.
Love the first motions of the lover hears,
Quick to presage, and e'en in safety fears.
Nor impious Fame was wanting to report
'The ships repair'd, the Trojans quick resort,
And purpose to forsake the Tyrian court.
Frantic with fear, impatient of the wound,
And impotent of mind, she roves the city round.
Less wild the Bacchanalian dames appear,
When, from afar, their nightly god they hear,
And howl about the hills and shake the wreathy spear.
At length she finds the dear perfidious man ;
Prevents his form'd excuse, and thus began:
"Base and ungrateful! could you hope to fly,
And undiscover'd, 'scape a lover's eye?
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ÆENEIS.
Nor could my kindness your compassion move,
Nor plighted vows, nor dearer bands of love?
Or is the death of a despairing queen
Not worth preventing, though too well foreseen?
E'en when the wintry winds command your stay
You dare the tempests, and defy the sea.
False as you are, suppose you were not bound
To lands unknown, and foreign coasts to sound;
Were Troy restor'd, and Priam's happy reign,
Now durst you tempt, for Troy, the raging main?
See, whom you fly! am I the foe you shun?
Now, by those holy vows, so late begun,
By this right hand (since I have nothing more
To challenge, but the faith you gave before)
I beg you by these tears too truly shed,
By the new pleasures of our nuptial bed;
If ever Dido, when you most were kind,
Were pleasing in your eyes, or touch'd your mind,
By these my pray'rs, if pray'rs may yet have place,
Pity the fortune of a falling race!
For you I have provok'd a tyrant's hate,
Incens'd the Libyan and the Tyrian state;
For you alone, I suffer in my fame,
Bereft of honor, and expos'd to shame!
Whom have I now to trust, ungrateful guest?
(That only name remains of all the rest!)
What have I left? or whither can I fly?
Must I attend Pygmalion's cruelty,
Or till Iarbas shall in triumph lead
A queen, that proudly scorn'd his proffer'd bed!
Had you deferr'd, at least, your hasty flight,
And left behind some pledge of our delight,
Some babe to bless the mother's mournful sight,
Some young Æneas to supply your place,
Whose features might express his father's face,
I should not then complain to live bereft
Of all my husband, or be wholly left.
Here paus'd the queen.
Unmov'd he holds his eyes,
By Jove's command; nor suffer'd love to rise,
Tho' heaving in his heart; and thus at length replies,
"Fair queen, you never can enough repeat
Your boundless favors, or I own my debt;
Nor can my mind forget Eliza's name,
While vital breath inspires this mortal frame:
This only let me speak in my defence-
I never hop'd a secret flight from hence,
Much less pretended to the lawful claim
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203
Of sacred nuptials, or a husband's name,
For, if indulgent heav'n would leave me free,
And not submit my life to Fate's decree,
My choice would lead me to the Trojan shore,
Those relics to review, their dust adore,
And Priam's ruin'd palace to restore.
And now the Delphian oracle commands,
And Fate invites me to the Latian lands
That is the promis'd place to which I steer;
And all my vows are terminated there.
If you, a Tyrian and stranger born,
With walls and tow'rs, a Libyan town adorn,
Why may not we-like you, a foreign race-
Like you, seek shelter in a foreign place?
As often as the night obscures the skies
With humid shades, or twinkling stars arise,
Anchises' angry ghost in dreams appears,
Chides my delay, and fills my soul with fears:
And young Ascanius justly may complain,
Defrauded of his fate, and destin'd reign.
E'en now the herald of the gods appear'd -
Waking I saw him, and his message heard.
From Jove he came commission'd, heavenly bright
With radiant beams, and manifest to sight
(The sender and the sent I both attest):
These walls he enter'd, and these words express'd:
Fair queen, oppose not what the gods command:
Forc'd by my fate, I leave your happy land.'
Thus while he spoke, already she began
With sparkling eyes to view the guilty man
From head to foot, survey'd his person o'er,
Nor longer these outrageous threats forbore:
False as thou, and more than false, forsworn!
Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born,
But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock!
And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck !
Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear?
Did he once look, or lent a list'ning ear,
Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?
All symptoms of a base, ungrateful mind,
So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find.
Of man's injustice why should I complain?
The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain
Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies;
Nor Juno views my wrongs, with equal eyes:
Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!
Justice is fled, and truth is now no more!
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ENEIS.
I sav'd the shipwreck'd exile on my shore ;
With needful food his hungry Trojans fed;
I took the traitor to my throne and bed:
Fool that I was-'tis little to repeat
The rest-I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet.
I rave, I rave! a god's command he pleads,
And makes heav'n accessory to his deeds.
Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god,
Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode,
To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state
Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human fate.
But go! thy flight no longer I detain—
Go! seek thy promis'd kingdom through the main !
Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow,
The faithless waves, not half so false as thou,
Or secret sands, shall sepulchres afford
To the proud vessels, and their perjur'd lord.
Then shalt thou call on injur'd Dido's name:
Dido shall come in a black sulph'ry flame:
When death has once dissolv'd her mortal frame-
Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep:
Her angry ghost arising from the deep,
Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep.
At least my shade thy punishment shall know;
And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below."
Abruptly here she stops-then turns away
Her loathing eyes, and shuns the sight of day.
Amaz'd he stood, revolving in his mind
What speech to frame, and what excuse to find.
Her fearful maids their fearful mistress led,
And softly laid her on her iv'ry bed.
But good Æneas, though he much desir'd
To give that pity which her grief requir'd
Though much he mourn'd and labor'd with his love-
Resolv'd at length, obeys the will of Jove;
Reviews his forces: they with early care
Unmoor their vessels, and for sea prepare.
The fleet is soon afloat, in all its pride;
And well caulk'd galleys in the harbor ride.
Then oaks for oars they fell'd; or as they stood,
Of its green arms despoil'd the rowing wood,
Studious of flight. The beach is cover'd o'er
With Trojan bands that blacken all the shore:
On ev'ry side are seen descending down
Thick swarms of soldiers, loaden from the town.
Thus, in battalia, march embodied ants,
Fearful of winter, and of future wants,
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205
T' invade the corn, and to their cells convey
The plunder'd forage of their yellow prey.
The sable troops, along the narrow tracks,
Scarce bear the weighty burden on their backs :
Some set their shoulders to the pond'rous grain ;
Some guard the spoil, some lash the lagging train;
All ply their sev'ral tasks, and equal toil sustain.
What pangs the tender breast of Dido tore,
When from the tow'r, she saw the cover'd shore,
And heard the shouts of sailors, from afar,
Mix'd with the murmurs of the wat'ry war!
All-powerful Love! what changes canst thou cause
In human hearts, subjected to thy laws!
Once more her haughty soul the tyrant bends :
To pray'rs and mean submissions she descends.
No female arts or aids she left untried,
Nor counsels unexplor'd, before she died.
Look, Anna! look! the Trojans crowd to sea;
They spread their canvas, and their anchors weigh.
The shouting crew their ships with garlands bind,
Invoke the sea-gods, and invite the wind.
Could I have thought his threat'ning blow so near,
My tender soul had been forewarn'd to bear ·
But do not you my last request deny :
With yon perfidious man your int'rest try,
And bring me news, if I must live or die.
You are his fav'rite; you alone can find
The dark recesses of his inmost mind :
In all his trusted secrets you have part,
And know the soft approaches of his heart.
Haste then, and humbly seek my haughty foe;
Tell him, I did not with the Grecians go,
Nor did my fleet against his friends employ,
Nor swore the ruin of unhappy Troy,
Nor mov'd with hands profane his father's dust :
Why should he then reject a suit so just?
Whom does he shun? and whither would he fly?
Can he this last, this only pray'r deny?
Let him at least his dangerous flight delay,
Wait better winds, and hope a calmer sea.
The nuptials he disclaims, I urge no more:
Let him pursue the promis'd Latin shore.
A short delay is all I ask him now~
A pause of grief, an interval from woe,
Till my soft soul be temper'd to sustain
Accustom'd sorrows, and inur'd to pain.
If you in pity grant this one request,
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ENEIS.
My death shall glut the hatred of his breast.
This mournful message pious Anna bears,
And seconds, with her own, her sister's tears:
But all her arts are still employ'd in vain :
Again she comes, and is relus'd again.
His harden'd heart nor pray'rs nor threat'nings move;
Fate, and the god, had stopp'd his ears to love.
As when the winds their airy quarrel try,
Justling from ev'ry quarter of the sky,
This way and that the mountain oak they bend;
His boughs they shatter, and his branches rend;
With leaves and falling mast they spread the ground;
The hollow valleys echo to the sound:
Unmov'd, the royal plant their fury mocks,
Or, shaken, clings more closely to the rocks:
Far as he shoots his tow'ring head on high,
So deep in earth his fix'd foundations lie.
No less a storm the Trojan hero bears;
Thick messages and loud complaints he hears,
And bandied words, still beating on his ears.
Sighs, groans and tears, proclaim his inward pains ;
But the firm purpose of his heart remains.
The wretched queen, pursu'd by cruel Fate,
Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate,
And loaths to live. Then dire portents she sees,
To hasten on the death her soul decrees—
Strange to relate! for when before the shrine,
She pours in sacrifice the purple wine,
The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood;
And the white offer'd milk onverts to mud.
This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd,
From all, and e'en her sister, she conceal'd.
A marble temple stood within the grove,
Sacred to death, and to her murder'd love;
That honor'd chapel she had hung around
With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd:
Oft, when she visited this lonely dome,
Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb :
She thought she heard him summon her away,
Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay.
Hourly 'tis heard, when with a boding note
The solitary screech owl strains her throat,
And, on a chimney's top or turret's height,
With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night.
Besides, old prophecies augment her fears;
And stern Æneas in her dreams appears,
Disdainful as by day she seems, alone,
:
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ENEIS.
207
To wander in her sleep, through ways unknown,
Guideless and dark; or, in a desert plain,
To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain-
Like Pentheus, when distracted with his fear,
He saw two suns and double Thebes appear;
Or mad Orestus, when his mother's ghost
Full in his face infernal torches toss'd,
And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight,
Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright;
The Furies guard the door, and intercept his flight,
Now, sinking underneath a load of grief,
From death alone she seeks her last relief:
The time and means resolv'd within her breast,
She to her mournful sister thus address'd:
(Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,
And a false vigor in her eyes appears.)
Rejoice!" she said; "Instructed from above,
My lover I shall gain, or lose my love.
Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun,
Long tracts of Æthiopian climates run :
There a Massylian priestess I have found,
Honor'd for age, for magic arts renown'd:
Th' Hesperian temple was her trusted care;
'Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare.
She poppy-seeds in honey taught to steep.
Reclaim'd his rage, and sooth'd him into sleep :
She watch'd the golden fruit. Her charms unbind
The chains of love, or fix them on the mind:
She stops the torrents, leaves the channel dry,
Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.
The yawning earth rebellows to her call;
Pale ghosts ascend; and mountain ashes fall.
Witness, ye gods, and thou my better part,
How loth I am to try this impious art!
Within the secret court, with silent care,
Erect a lofty pile, expos'd in air :
Hang, on the topmost part, the Trojan vest,
Spoils, arms, and presents, of my faithless guest.
Next, under these, the bridal bed be plac'd,
Where I my ruin in his arms embrac'd.
All relics of the wretch are doom'd to fire;
For so the priestess and her charms require.'
Thus far she said, and further speech forbears.
A mortal paleness in her face appears:
Yet the mistrustless Anna could not find
The secret fun'ral in these rites design'd;
Nor thought so dire a rage possess'd her mind.
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ENEIS.
Unknowing of a train conceal'd so well,
She fear'd no worse than when Sichæus fell;
Therefore obeys. The fatal pile they rear,
Within the secret court, expos'd in air.
The cloven holms and pines are heap'd on high,
And garlands on the hollow spaces lie.
Sad cypress, vervain, yew, compose the wreath ;
And ev'ry baleful green denoting death.
The queen, determin'd to the fatal deed,
The spoils and sword he left, in order spread,
And the man's image on the nuptial bed.
And now (the sacred altars plac'd around)
The priestess enters with her hair unbound,
And thrice invokes the pow'rs below the ground.
Night, Erebus, and Chaos, she proclaims,
And threefold Hecat, with her hundred names,
And three Dianas: next she sprinkles round,
With feign'd Avernian drops, the hallow'd ground;
Culls hoary simples, found by Phoebe's light,
With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night;
Then mixes baleful juices in the owl,
And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal,
Robbing the mother's love. The destin'd queen
Observes, assisting at the rites obscene:
A leaven'd cake in her devoted hands
She holds; and next the highest altar stands :
One tender foot was shod, her other bare ;
Girt was her gather'd gown, and loose her hair.
Thus dress'd, she summon'd, with her dying breath,
The heavens and planets conscious of her death,
And ev'ry pow'r, if any rules above,
Who minds or who revenges injur'd love.
'Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close
Their eyes in balmy sleep, and soft repose :
The winds no longer whisper through the woods,
Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods.
The stars in silent order moved around;
And Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground
The flocks and herds, and particolor'd fowl
Which haunt the woods or swim the weedy pool,
Stretch'd on the quiet earth, securely lay,
Forgetting the past labors of the day.
All else of nature's common gift partake;
Unhappy Dido was alone awake.
Nor sleep nor ease the furious queen can find:
Sleep fled her eyes, as quiet fled her mind.
Despair, and rage, and love, divide her heart;
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209
Despair and rage had some, but love the greater part.
Then thus she said within her secret mind:
What shall I do? what succor can I find?
Become a suppliant to Iarbas' pride,
And take my turn to court and be denied?
Shall I with this ungrateful Trojan go,
Forsake an empire, and attend a foe?
Himself I refug'd, and his train reliev'd-
'Tis true-but am I sure to be receiv'd?
Can gratitude in Trojan souls have place?
Laomedon still lives in all his race!
Then, shall I seek alone the churlish crew,
Or with my fleet their flying sails pursue?
What force have I but those, who scarce before
I drew reluctant from their native shore?
Will they again embark at my desire,
Once more sustain the seas, and quit their second Tyre?
Rather with steel thy guilty breast invade,
And take the fortune thou thyself hast made.
Your pity, sister, first seduc'd my mind,
Or seconded too well what I design'd.
These dear-bought pleasures had I never known,
Had I continued free, and still my own-
Avoiding love, I had not found despair,
But shar'd with savage beasts the common air.
Like them, a lonely life I might have led,
Not mourn'd the living, nor disturb'd the dead."
These thoughts she brooded in her anxious breast.—
On board, the Trojan found more easy rest.
Resolv'd to sail, in sleep he pass'd the night;
And order'd all things for his early flight.
To whom once more the winged god appears.
His former youthful mien and shape he wears,
And with this new alarm invades his ears:
Sleep'st thou, O goddess-born? and canst thou drown
Thy needful cares, so near a hostile town,
Beset with foes; nor hear'st the western gales
Invite thy passage, and inspire thy sails?
She harbors in her heart a furious hate
(And thou shalt find the dire effects too late),
Fix'd on revenge, and obstinate to die.
Haste swiftly hence, while thou hast pow'r to fly.
The sea with ships will soon be cover'd o'er,
And blazing firebrands kindle all the shore.
Prevent her rage, while night obscures the skies;
And sail before the purple morn arise.
Who knows what hazards thy delay may bring?
i
210
ENEIS.
Woman's a various and a changeful thing."
Thus Hermes in the dream; then took his flight;
Aloft in air unseen, and mix'd in night.
Twice warn'd by the celestial messenger,
The pious prince arose with hasty fear;
Then rous'd his drowsy train without delay:
"Haste to your banks, your crooked anchors weigh
And spread your flying sails, and stand to sea !
A god commands: he stood before my sight,
And urg'd us once again to speedy flight.
O sacred pow'r ! what pow'r soe'er thou art,
To thy blest orders I resign my heart.
Lead thou the way; protect thy Trojan bands;
And prosper the design thy will commands,
He said; and, drawing forth his flaming sword,
His thund'ring arm divides the many-twisted cord.
And emulating zeal inspires his train :
They run; they snatch; they rush into the main.
With headlong haste they leave the desert shores,
And brush the liquid seas with lab'ring oars.
Aurora now had left her saffron bed,
And beams of early light, the heav'ns o'erspread,
When from a tow'r, the queen, with wakeful eyes,
Saw day point upward from the rosy skies.
She look'd to seaward but the sea was void,
And scarce in ken the sailing ships descried.
Stung with despite, and furious with despair,
She struck her trembling breast, and tore her hair;
And shall th' ungrateful traitor go (she said),
My land forsaken, and my love betray'd?
Shall we not arm? not rush from ev'ry street?
To follow, sink, and burn, his perjur'd fleet?
Haste haul my galleys out! pursue the foe!
Bring flaming brands! set sail, and swiftly row!
What have I said? where am I? Fury turns
My brain; and my distemper'd bosom burns ;
Then, when I gave my person and my throne,
This hate, this rage, had been more timely shown.
See now the promis'd faith, the vaunted name,
The pious man, who, rushing through the flame,
Preserv'd his gods, and to the Phrygian shore
The burden of his feeble father bore!
I should have torn him piecemeal-strew'd in floods
His scatter'd limbs, or left expos'd in woods-
Destroy'd his friends and son-and from the fire
Have set the reeking boy before the sire.
Events are doubtful which on battle wait!
ENEIS.
21 I
Yet where's the doubt, to souls secure of fate?
My Tyrians, at their injur'd queen's command,
Had toss'd their fires amid the Trojan band ;
At once extinguished all the faithless name;
And I myself, in vengeance of my shame,
Had fall'n upon the pile, to mend the fun'ral flame.
Thou sun, who view'st at once the world below !
Thou Juno, guardian of the nuptial vow!
Thou Hecat, hearken from thy dark abodes!
Ye Furies, fiends, and violated gods!
All pow'rs invok'd with Dido's dying breath,
Attend her curses and avenge her death!
If so the Fates ordain, and Jove commands,
Th' ungrateful wretch should find the Latian lands.
Yet let a race untam'd, and haughty foes,
His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose :
Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field,
His men discourag'd, and himself expell'd,
Let him for succor sue from place to place,
Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace -
First let him see his friends in battle slain,
And their untimely fate lament in vain :
And when at length the cruel war shall cease,
On hard conditions may he buy his peace:
Nor let him then enjoy supreme command;
But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand,
And lie unburied on the barren sand!
These are my pray'rs, and this my dying will
And you, my Tyrians, ev'ry curse fulfil.
Perpetual hate and mortal wars proclaim
Against the prince, the people, and the name.
These grateful off'rings on my grave bestow;
Nor league, nor love, the hostile nations know!
Now, and from hence, in ev'ry future age,
When rage excites your arms, and strength supplies the rage,
Rise some avenger of our Libyan blood,
With fire and sword pursue the perjur'd brood-
Our arms, our seas, our shores, oppos'd to theirs-
And the same hate descend on all our heirs!"'
This said, within her anxious mind she weighs
The means of cutting short her odious days.
Then to Sichæus' nurse she briefly said
(For, when she left her country, hers was dead)
Go, Barce, call my sister.
Let her care
The solemn rites of sacrifice prepare ;
The sheep, and all th' atoning off'rings, bring;
Sprinkling her body from the crystal spring
With living drops; then let her come; and thou
212
ENEIS.
With sacred fillets bind thy hoary brow.
Thus will I pay my vows to Stygian Jove,
And end the cares of my disastrous love;
Then cast the Trojan image on the fire;
And, as that burns, my passion shall expire.'
The nurse moves onward with officious care,
And all the speed her aged limbs can bear.
But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd,
Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd.
With livid spots distinguish'd was her face;
Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace,
Ghastly she gaz'd; with pain she drew her breath;
And nature shiver'd at approaching death.
Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd,
And mounts the fun'ral pile with furious haste;
Unsheaths the sword the Trojan left behind
(Not for so dire an enterprise design'd).
But when she view'd the garments loosely spread,
Which once he wore, and saw the conscious bed,
She paus'd, and with a sigh the robes embrac'd,
Then on the couch her trembling body cast,
Repress'd the ready tears, and spoke her last :
Dear pledges of my love, while heav'n so pleas'd,
Receive a soul, of mortal anguish eas'd.
My fatal course is finish'd; and I go,
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
A lofty city by my hands is rais'd;
Pygmalion punish'd, and my lord appeas'd.
What could my fortune have afforded more,
Had the false Trojan never touch'd my shore?"
Then kiss'd the couch; and Must I die," she said,
"And unreveng'd? 'tis doubly to be dead!
Yet e'en this death with pleasure I receive :
On any terms, 'tis better than to live.
These flames from far may the false Trojan view
These boding omens his base flight pursue
She said, and struck: deep enter'd in her side
The piercing steel, with reeking purple dy'd :
Clogg'd in the wound the cruel weapon stands ;
The spouting blood came streaming on her hands.
Her sad attendants saw the deadly stroke,
And with loud cries the sounding palace shook.
Distracted from the fatal sight they fled,
And through the town the dismal rumor spread.
First from the frighted court the yell began ;
Redoubled, thence from house to house it ran :
The groans of men, with shrieks, laments, and cries
Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies.
ENEIS.
213
Not less the clamor, than if ancient Tyre.
Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fire-
The rolling ruin, with their lov'd abodes,
Involv'd the blazing temples of their gods.
Her sister hears, and, furious with despair,
She beats her breast, and rends her yellow hair,
And, calling on Eliza's name aloud,
Runs breathless to the place, and breaks the crowd.
Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar'd,
These fires, this fun'ral pile, these altars rear'd?
Was all this train of plots contriv'd (said she),
All only to deceive unhappy me?
Which is the worst? Didst thou in death pretend
To scorn thy sister, or delude thy friend?
Thy summon'd sister and thy friend had come :
One sword had serv'd us both, one common tomb :
Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke,
Not to be present at the fatal stroke?
At once thou hast destroy'd thyself and me,
Thy town, thy senate, and thy colony !
Bring water! bathe the wound; while I in death
Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath."
This said, she mounts the pile with eager haste,
And in her arms the gasping queen embrac'd,
Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore.
To stanch the streaming blood, and cleanse the gore.
Thrice Dido tried to raise her drooping head,
And, fainting, thrice fell grov'ling on the bed;
Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and saw the light,
But, having found it, sicken'd at the sight,
And clos'd her lids at last in endless night.
Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
A death so ling'ring, and so full of pain,
Sent Iris down, to free her from the strife
Of lab'ring nature, and dissolve her life.
For, since she died, not doom'd by heav'n's decree,
Or her own crime, but human casualty,
And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair,
The sisters had not cut the topmost hair,
Which Proserpine and they can only know;
Nor made her sacred to the shades below.
Downward the various goddess took her flight,
And drew a thousand colors from the light;
Then stood above the dying lover's head,
And said, "I thus devote thee to the dead.
This off'ring to the infernal gods I bear."
Thus while she spoke, she cut the fatal hair :
The struggling soul was loos'd and life dissolv'd in air.
ENEIS.
BOOK V.
ARGUMENT.
Eneas, setting sail from Afric, is driven by a storm on the coast of Sicily,
where he is hospitably received by his friend Acestes, king of part of the
island, and born of Trojan parentage. He applies himself to celebrate
the memory of his father with divine honors, and accordingly institutes
funeral games, and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in them,
While the ceremonies are performing, Juno sends Iris to persuade the
Trojan women to burn the ships, who, upon her instigation, set fire to
them; which burned four, and would have consumed the rest, had not
Jupiter, by a miraculous shower, extinguished it. Upon this Æneas, by
the advice of one of his generals, and a vision of his father, builds a city
for the women, old men, and others, who were either unfit for war, or
weary of the voyage, and sails for Italy. Venus procures of Neptune a
safe voyage for him and all his men, excepting only his pilot, Palinurus,
who was unfortunately lost.
ME
EANTIME the Trojan cuts the wat'ry way
Fix'd on his voyage through the curling sea;
Then casting back his eyes, with dire amaze,
Sees on the Punic shore the mounting blaze.
The cause unknown; yet his presaging mind
The fate of Dido from the fire divin'd.
He knew the stormy souls of womankind;
What secret springs their eager passions move.
How capable of death for injur'd love
Dire auguries from hence the Trojans draw ;
Till neither fires nor shining shores they saw.
Now seas and skies their prospect only bound-
An empty space above, a floating field around.
But soon the heav'ns with shadows were o'erspread,
A swelling cloud hung hov'ring o'er their head:
Livid it look'd-the threatning of a storm:
Then night and horror ocean's face deform.
The pilot, Palinurus, cried aloud.
ENEIS.
215
"What gusts of weather from that gath'ring cloud
My thoughts presage! Ere yet the tempest roars,
Stand to your tackle, mates, and stretch your oars;
Contract your swelling sails, and luff to wind."
The frighted crew perform the task assign'd.
Then, to his fearless chief, Not heav'n (said he),
Though Jove himself should promise Italy,
Can stem the torrent of this raging sea.
Mark how the shifting winds from west arise,
And what collected night involves the skies!
Nor can our shaken vessels live at sea,
Much less against the tempest force their way.
'Tis Fate diverts our course; and Fate we must obey.
Not far from hence, if I observ'd aright
The southing of the stars, and polar light,
Sicilia lies, whose hospitable shores
In safety we may reach with struggling oars.”
Eneas then replied: "Too soon, I find,
We strive in vain against the seas and wind:
Now shift your sails; what place can please me more
Than what you promise, the Sicilian shore,
Whose hallow'd earth Anchises' bones contains,
And where a prince of Trojan lineage reigns?"
The course resolv'd, before the western wind
They scud amain, and make the port assign'd.
Meantime Acestes, from a lofty stand,
Beheld the fleet descending on the land;
And, not unmindful of his ancient race,
Down from the cliff he ran with eager pace,
And held the hero in a strict embrace.
Of a rough Libyan bear the spoils he wore;
And either hand a pointed jav'lin bore.
His mother was a dame of Dardan blood;
His sire, Crinisus, a Sicilian flood.
He welcomes his returning friends ashore
With plenteous country cates, and homely store.
Now, when the following morn had chas'd away
The flying stars, and light restor'd the day,
Eneas call'd the Trojan troops around,
And thus bespoke them from the rising ground:
Offspring of heav'n, divine Dardanian race!
The sun, revolving through th' etherial space,
The shining circle of the year has fill'd,
Since first this isle my father's ashes held :
And now the rising day renews the year—
A day forever sad, forever dear.
This would I celebrate with annual games,
216
ENEIS.
With gifts on altars pil'd, and holy flames,
Though banish'd to Gætulia's barren sands,
Caught on the Grecian seas, or hostile lands:
But since this happy storm, our fleet has driven
(Not, as I deem, without the will of heaven)
Upon these friendly shores, and flow'ry plains,
Which hide Anchises and his blest remains ;
Let us with joy perform his honors due,
And pray for prosp'rous winds, our voyage to renew-
Pray that, in towns and temples of our own,
The name of great Anchises may be known;
And yearly games may spread the god's renown.
Our sports, Acestes, of the Trojan race,
With royal gifts ordain'd, is pleas'd to grace:
Two steers on every ship the king bestows:
His gods and ours shall share your equal vows.
Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn
Shall, with unclouded light, the skies adorn,
That day with solemn sports I mean to grace :
Light galleys on the seas shall run a watʼry race :
Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend,
And others try the twanging bow to bend :
The strong, with iron gauntlets arm'd, shall stand
Oppos'd in combat on the yellow sand.
Let all be present at the games prepar'd;
And joyful victors wait the just reward.
But now assist the rites, with garlands crown'd,"
He said, and first his brows with myrtle bound.
Then Helymus, by his example led,
And old Acestes, each adorn'd his head;
Thus young Ascanius, with a sprightly grace,
His temples tied, and all the Trojan race.
Eneas then advanc'd amidst the train,
By thousands follow'd through the flow'ry plain,
To great Anchises' tomb; which when he found,
He pour'd to Bacchus, on the hallow'd ground,
Two bowls of sparkling wine, of milk two more,
And two (from offer'd bulls) of purple gore.
With roses then the sepulchre he strow'd.
And thus his father's ghost bespoke aloud:
Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again,
Paternal ashes, now review'd in vain !
The gods permitted not, that you, with me
Should reach the promis'd shores of Italy,
Or Tyber's flood, what flood soe'er it be.'
Scarce had he finish'd, when, with speckled pride,
A serpent from the tomb began to glide;
ENEIS.
217
His hugy bulk on sev'n high volumes roll'd!
Blue was his breadth of back, but streak'd with scaly gold:
Thus riding on his curls, he seem'd to pass
A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.
More various colors through his body run,
Than Iris when her bow imbibes the sun.
Betwixt the rising altars, and around,
The sacred monster shot along the ground;
With harmless play amidst the bowls he pass'd,
And with his lolling tongue assay'd the taste ;
Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest
Within the hollow tomb retired to rest.
The pious prince, surpris'd at what he view'd,
The fun'ral honors with more zeal renewed,
Doubtful if this the place's genius were,
Or guardian of his father's sepulchre.
Five sheep, according to the rites, he slew;
As many swine, and steers of sable hue;
Now gen'rous wine he from the goblets pour'd,
And call'd his father's ghost, from hell restor❜d.
The glad attendants in long order come,
Off ring their gifts to great Anchises' tomb;
Some add more oxen; some divide the spoil,
Some place the chargers on the grassy soil;
Some blow the fires, and offer'd entrails broil.
Now came the day desir'd. The skies were bright
With rosy lustre of the rising light :
The bord'ring people, rous'd by sounding fame
Of Trojan feasts, and great Acestes' name,
The crowded shore with acclamations fill,
Part to behold, and part to prove their skill.
And first the gifts in public view they place,
Green laurel wreaths, and palm-the victor's grace.
Within the circle, arms and tripods lie,
Ingots of gold and silver heap'd on high,
And vests embroider'd, of the Tyrian die.
The trumpet's clangor then the feast proclaims;
And all prepare for their appointed games.
Four galleys first, which equal rowers bear,
Advancing, in the watery lists appear.
The speedy Dolphin that outstrips the wind,
Bore Mnestheus, author of the Memmian kind :
Gyas the vast Chimera's bulk commands,
Which rising, like a towering city stands :
Three Trojans tug at ev'ry lab'ring oar :
Three banks, in three degrees, the sailors bore;
Beneath their sturdy strokes the billows roar.
}
218
ÆNEIS.
Sergestus, who began the Sergian race,
In the great Centaur took the leading place :
Cloanthus on the sea green Scylla stood;
From whom Cluentius draws his Trojan blood.
Far in the sea, against the foaming shore,
There stands a rock the raging billows roar
Above his head in storms; but, when 'tis clear,
Uncurl their ridgy backs, and at his foot appear.
In peace below the gentle waters run;
:
The cormorants above lie basking in the sun.
On this the hero fix'd an oak in sight,
The mark to guide the mariners aright.
To bear with this, the seamen stretch their oars;
Then round the rock they steer, and seek the former shores.
The lots decide their place. Above the rest,
Each leader shining in his Tyrian vest;
The common crew, with wreaths of poplar boughs
Their temples crown, and shade their sweaty brows;
Besmear'd with oil, their naked shoulders shine.
All take their seats, and wait the sounding sign:
They gripe their oars; and ev'ry panting breast
Is rais'd by turns with hope, by turns with fear depress'd.
The clangor of the trumpet gives the sign:
At once they start, advancing in a line :
With shouts the sailors rend the starry skies;
Lash'd with their oars, the smoky billows rise;
Sparkles the briny main, and the vex'd ocean fries.
Exact in time, with equal strokes they row;
At once the brushing oars and brazen prow
Dash up the sandy waves, and ope the depths below.
Not fiery coursers, in a chariot race,
Invade the field with half so swift a pace :
Not the fierce driver with more fury lends
The sounding lash, and, ere the stroke descends,
Low to the wheels his plaint body bends.
The partial crowd their hopes and fears divide.
And aid, with eager shouts, the favor'd side.
Cries, murmurs, clamors, with a mixing sound,
From woods to woods, from hills to hills, rebound.
Amidst the loud applauses of the shore,
Gyas outstripp'd the rest, and sprung before :
Cloanthus, better mann'd, pursu'd him fast;
But his o'er-masted galley check'd his haste.
The Centaur and the Dolphin brush the brine
With equal oars, advancing in a line :
And now the mighty Centaur seems to lead,
And now the speedy Dolphin gets ahead;
ENEIS.
219
Now board to board the rival vessels row;
The billows lave the skies, and ocean groans below.
They reach'd the mark. Proud Gyas and his train
In triumph rode, the victors of the main :
But, steering round, he charg'd his pilot-" Stand
More close to shore, and skim along the sand!
Let others bear to sea."-Menotes heard;
But secret shelves too cautiously he fear'd,
And, fearing, sought the deep and still aloof he steer'd.
With louder cries the captain call'd again :
Bear to the rocky shore, and shun the main.'
He spoke, and, speaking, at his stern he saw
The bold Cloanthus near the shelvings draw.
Betwixt the mark and him the Scylla stood,
And in a closer compass plough'd the flood.
He pass'd the mark; and, wheeling, got before :-
Gyas blasphem'd the gods, devoutly swore,
Cried out, for anger, and his hair he tore.
Mindless of others' lives (so high was grown
His rising rage), and careless of his own,
The trembling dotard to the deck he drew,
And hoisted up, and overboard he threw :
This done, he seiz'd the helm; his fellows cheer'd;
Turn'd short upon the shelves, and madly steer'd.
Hardly his head the plunging pilot rears,
Clogg'd with his clothes, and cumber'd with his years:
Now dropping wet, he climbs the cliff with pain.
The crowd, that saw him fall, and float again,
Shout from the distant shore; and loudly laught,
To see his heaving breast disgorge the briny draught.
The following Centaur, and the Dolphin's crew,
Their vanish'd hopes of victory renew;
While Gyas lags they kindle in the race,
To reach the mark. Sergestus takes the place ;
Mnestheus pursues; and, while around they wind,
Comes up not half his galley's length behind;
Then on the deck, amidst his mates, appear'd,
And thus their drooping courages he cheer'd;
My friends, and Hector's followers heretofore,
Exert your vigor; tug the lab'ring oar ;
Stretch to your strokes, my still unconquer'd crew,
Whom from the flaming walls of Troy I drew.
In this our common int'rest, let me find
That strength of hand, that courage of the mind,
As when you stemm'd the strong Malean flood,
And o'er the Syrtes' broken billows row'd.
I seek not now the foremost palm to gain ;
220
ENEIS.
Though yet-but, ah! that haughty wish is vain 1
Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain,
But to be last, the lags of all the race!·
Redeem yourselves, and me, from that disgrace."
Now, one and all, they tug amain; they row
At the full stretch, and shake the brazen prow.
The sea beneath them sinks; their lab'ring sides.
Are swell'd, and sweat runs gutt'ring down in tides.
Chance aids their daring, with unhop'd success—
Sergestus, eager with his beak to press
Betwixt the rival galley and the rock,
Shuts up the unwieldy Centaur in the lock,
The vessel struck; and, with the dreadful shock,
Her oars she shiver'd and her head she broke.
The trembling rowers from their banks arise,
And, anxious for themselves, renounce the prize.
With iron poles they heave her off the shores,
And gather from the sea their floating oars.
The crew of Mnestheus, with elated minds,
Urge their success, and call the willing winds,
Then ply their oars, and cut their liquid way
In larger compass on the roomy sea.
As when the dove her rocky hold forsakes,
Rous'd in a fright, her sounding wings she shakes;
The cavern rings with clatt'ring; out she flies,
And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies:
At first she flutters, but at length she springs
To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings :
So Mnestheus in the Dolphin cuts the sea ;
And flying with a force, that force assists his way.
Sergestus in the Centaur soon he pass'd,
Wedg'd in the rocky shoals, and sticking fast.
In vain the victor he with cries implores,
And practises to row with shatter'd oars.
Then Mnestheus bears with Gyas, and outflies;
The ship, without a pilot, yields the prize,
Unvanquish'd Scylla now alone remains-
Her he pursues; and all his vigor strains.
Shouts from the fav'ring multitude arise ;
Applauding Echo to the shouts replies;
Shouts, wishes, and applause, run rattling through the skies.
These clamors with disdain the Scylla heard,
Much grudg'd the praise, but more the robb'd reward:
Resolv'd to hold their own, they mend their pace
All obstinate to die, or gain the race.
Rais'd with success, the Dolphin swiftly ran-
For they can conquer who believe they can-
ENEIS.
221
Both urge their oars; and Fortune both supplies
(And both perhaps had shar'd an equal prize);
When to the seas Cloanthus holds his hands,
And succor from the wat'ry pow'rs demands:
Gods of the liquid realms on which I row!
If, giv'n by you, the laurel bind my brow,
(Assist to make me guilty of my vow!)
A snow-white bull shall on your shore be slain :
His offer'd entrails cast into the main,
And ruddy wine from golden goblets thrown,
Your grateful gift, and my return shall own.
The choir of nymphs, and Phorcus from below,
With virgin Panopea, heard his vow;
And old Portunus with his breadth of hand,
Push'd on and sped the galley to the land.
Swift as a shaft, or winged wind, she flies,
And, darting to the port, obtains the prize.
The herald summons all, and then proclaims
Cloanthus conqueror of the naval games.
The prince with laurel crowns the victor's head;
And three fat steers are to his vessel led-
The ships reward-with gen'rous wine beside,
And sums of silver, which the crew divide.
The leaders are distinguish'd from the rest;
The victor honor'd with a noble vest,
Where gold and purple strive in equal rows,
And needlework its happy cost bestows.
There, Ganymede is wrought with living art,
Chasing through Ida's groves the trembling hart :
Breathless he seems, yet eager to pursue :
When from aloft descends, in open view,
The bird of Jove, and sousing on his prey,
With crooked talons bears the boy away.
In vain, with lifted hands and gazing eyes,
His guards behold him soaring through the skies,
And dogs pursue his flight, with imitated cries.
Mnestheus the second victor was declar'd;
And, summon'd there, the second prize he shar'd
A coat of mail, which brave Demoleus bore,
More brave Æneas from his shoulders tore,
In single combat on the Trojan shore.
This was ordain'd for Mnestheus to possess-
In war for his defence, for ornament in peace.
Rich was the gift, and glorious to behold,
And yet so pond'rous with its plates of gold,
That scarce two servants could the weight sustain :
Yet loaded thus, Demoleus o'er the plain
Virgil.-8
ļ
222
ENEIS.
Pursu'd, and lightly seiz'd the Trojan train.
The third, succeeding to the last reward,
Two goodly bowls of massy silver shar'd,
With figures prominent, and richly wrought,
And two brass caldrons from Dodona brought.
Thus all rewarded by the hero's hands,
Thier conqu'ring temples bound with purple bands.
And now Sergestus, clearing from the rock,
Brought back his galley, shatter'd with the shock.
Forlorn she look'd, without an aiding oar,
And, hooted by the vulgar, made to shore :
As when a snake, surpris'd upon the road,
Is crush'd athwart her body by the load
Of heavy wheels; or with a mortal wound
Her belly bruis'd, and trodden to the ground-
In vain, with loosen'd curls, she crawls along ;
Yet, fierce above she brandishes her tongue,
Glares with her eyes, and bristles with her scales;
But grov'ling in the dust, her parts unsound she trails.
So slowly to the port the Centaur tends,
But, what she wants in oars, with sails amends.
Yet, for his galley sav'd, the grateful prince
Is pleas'd th' unhappy chief to recompense:
Pholoe, the Cretan slave, rewards his care,
Beauteous herself, with lovely twins as fair.
From thence his way the Trojan hero bent
Into the neighb'ring plain, with mountains pent,
Whose sides were shaded with surrounding wood.
Full in the midst of this fair valley stood
A native theatre, which, rising slow
By just degrees, o'erlook'd the ground below.
High on a sylvan throne the leader sate;
A num'rous train attend in solemn state.
Here those, that in the rapid course delight,
Desire of honor, and the prize, invite.
The rival runners without order stand;
The Trojans mix'd with the Sicilian band.
First, Nisus with Euryalus appears-
Euryalus, a boy of blooming years,
With sprightly grace and equal beauty crown'd-
Nisus, for friendship to the youth, renown'd.
Diores next, of Priam's royal race,
Then Salius, join'd with Patron, took their place
(But Patron in Arcadia had his birth,
And Salius, his from Arcanian earth;
Then two Sicilian youths-the names of these
Swift Helymus, and lovely Panopes
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223
(Both jolly huntsmen, both in forests bred,
And owning old Acestes for their head),
With sev'ral others of ignobler name,
Whom time has not deliver'd o'er to fame.
To these the hero thus his thoughts explain'd,
In words which gen'ral approbation gain'd;
One common largess is for all design'd,
The vanquish'd and the victor shall be join'd.
Two darts of polish'd steel and Gnossian wood,
A silver studded axe, alike bestow'd.
The foremost three have olive wreaths decreed:
The first of these obtains a stately steed
Adorn'd with trappings; and the next in fame,
The quiver of an Amazonian dame,
With feather'd Thracian arrows well supplied:
A golden belt shall gird his manly side,
Which with a sparkling diamond shall be tied.
The third this Grecian helmet shall content,
He said. To their appointed base they went :
With beating hearts th' expected sign receive,
And, starting all at once, the barrier leave.
Spread out, as on the winged winds, they flew,
And seiz'd the distant goal with greedy view.
Shot from the crowd, swift Nisus all o'erpass'd;
Nor storms, nor thunder, equal half his haste.
The next, but, though the next, yet far disjoin'd,
Came Salius; and Euryalus behind ;
Then Helymus, whom young Diores plied,
Step after step, and almost side by side,
His shoulders pressing- and, in longer space,
Had won, or left at least a dubious race.
Now spent, the goal they almost reach at last,
When eager Nisus, hapless in his haste,
Slipp'd first, and, slipping, fell upon the plain,
Soak'd with the blood of oxen newly slain.
The careless victor had not mark'd his way;
But, treading where the treach'rous puddle lay,
His heels flew up; and on the grassy floor
He fell, besmear'd with filth and holy gore.
Not mindless then, Euryalus, of thee,
Nor of the sacred bonds of amity,
He strove th' immediate rival's hope to cross,
And caught the foot of Salius as he rose ;
So Salius lay extended on the plain;
Euryalus springs out, the prize to gain,
And leaves the crowd; applauding peals attend
The victor to the goal, who vanquish'd by his friend
224
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Next Helymus; and then Diores came,
By two misfortunes made the third in fame.
But Salius enters, and, exclaiming loud
For justice, deafens and disturbs the crowd;
Urges his cause may in the court be heard;
And pleads the prize is wrongfully conferr'd.
But favor for Euryalus appears;
His blooming beauty, with his tender years,
Had brib'd the judges for the promis'd prize;
Besides, Diores fills the court with cries,
Who vainly reaches at the last reward,
If the first palm on Salius be conferr'd.
Then thus the prince : "Let no disputes arise:
Where Fortune plac'd it, I award the prize.
But Fortune's errors give me leave to mend,
At least, to pity my deserving friend,"
He said, and, from among the spoils, he draws
(Pond'rous with shaggy mane and golden paws)
A lion's hide to Salius this he gives:
Nisus with envy sees the gift, and grieves :
If such rewards to vanquish'd men are due
(He said), and falling is to rise by you,
What prize may Nisus from your bounty claim,
Who merited the first rewards and fame?
In falling, both an equal fortune tried ;
Would Fortune for my fall so well provide !"
With this he pointed to his face, and show'd
His hands and all his habit smear'd with blood.
Th' indulgent father of the people smil'd,
And caus'd to be produc'd an ample shield,
Of wondrous art, by Didymaon wrought,
Long since, from Neptune's bars, in triumph brought.
This giv'n to Nisus, he divides the rest,
And equal justice in his gifts express'd,
The race thus ended, and rewards bestow'd,
Once more the prince bespeaks th' attentive crowd:
If there be here, whose dauntless courage dare
In gauntlet fight, with limbs and body bare,
His opposite sustain in open view,
Stand forth the champion, and the gaines renew.
Two prizes I propose, and thus divide-
A bull with gilded horns, and fillets tied,
Shall be the portion of the conqu'ring chief:
A sword and helm shall cheer the loser's grief."
Then haughty Dares in the lists appears :
Stalking he strides, his head erected bears :
His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield,
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225
And loud applauses echo through the field.
Dares alone in combat us'd to stand
The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand;
The same, at Hector's fun' rals, undertook
Gigantic Butes, of th' Amycian stock,
And, by the stroke of his resistless hand,
Stretch'd the vast bulk upon the yellow sand.
Such Dares was; and such he strode along,
And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.
His brawny back, and ample breast he shows;
His lifted arms around his head he throws,
And deals, in whistling air, his empty blows.
His match is sought; but, through the trembling band,
Not one dares answer to the proud demand.
Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes
Already he devours the promis'd prize,
He claims the bull with awless insolence,
And, having seiz'd his horns, accosts the prince :
If none my matchless valor dare oppose,
How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?
Permit me, chief, permit without delay,
To lead this uncontended gift away.
The crowd assents, and, with redoubled cries,
For the proud challenger demands the prize.
Acestes, fir'd with just disdain to see
The palm usurp'd without a victory,
Reproach'd Entellus thus, who sate beside,
And heard, and saw, unmov'd, the Trojan's pride.
Once, but in vain, a champion of renown,
So tamely can you bear the ravish'd crown,
A prize in triumph borne before your sight,
And shun for fear the danger of the fight?
Where is our Eryx now, the boasted name,
The god who taught your thund'ring arm the game?
Where now your baffled honor? where the spoil
That fill'd your house, and fame that fill'd our isle ?':
Entellus thus: "My soul is still the same,
Unmov'd with fear, and mov'd with martial fame,
But my chill blood is curdled in my veins;
And scarce the shadow of a man remains.
Oh! could I turn to that fair prime again—
That prime of which this boaster is so vain !
The brave, who this decrepit age defies,
Should feel my force, without the promis'd prize,'
He said, and rising at the word, he threw
Two pond'rous gauntlets down in open view-
Gauntlets, which Eryx wont in fight to wield,
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NEIS.
And sheath his hands with, in the listed field.
With fear and wonder seiz'd, the crowd beholds
The gloves of death, with sev'n distinguish'd folds
Of tough bull-bides.; the space within is spread
With iron, or with loads of heavy lead.
Dares himself was daunted at the sight,
Renounc'd his challenge, and refus'd to fight.
Astonish'd at their weight, the hero stands,
And pois'd the pond'rous engines in his hands.
'What had your wonder (said Entellus) been,
Had you the gauntlets of Alcides seen,
Or view'd the stern debate on this unhappy green?
These which I bear, your brother Eryx bore,
Still mark'd with batter'd brains, and mingled gore.
With these he long sustain'd the Herculean arm;
And these I wielded while my blood was warm,
This languish'd frame while better spirits fed,
Ere age unstrung my nerves, or time c'ersnow'd my head,
But, if the challenger these arms refuse,
And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use :
If great Æneas and Acestes join
In his request, these gauntlets I resign:
Let us with equal arms perform the fight;
And let him leave to fear, since I resign my right."
This said, Entellus for the strife prepares;
Stript of his quilted coat, his body bares :
Compos'd of mighty bones, and brawn he stands,
A goodly tow'ring object on the sands.
Then just Æneas equal arms supplied,
Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.
Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent,
Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent:
Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar:
With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.
One on his youth and pliant limbs relies:
One on his sinews and his giant size.
The last is stiff with age, his motion slow;
He heaves for breath; he staggers to and fro;
And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow.
Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike;
Their ways are diff'rent, but their art alike.
Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around
Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound.
A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies,
And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes-
Nor always errs; for oft the gauntlet draws
A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws,
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227
Heavy with age, Entellus stands his ground,
But with his warping body wards the wound.
His hand and watchful eye keep even pace;
While Dares traverses, and shifts his place,
And, like a captain who beleaguers round
Some strong built castle on a rising ground,
Views all th' approaches with observing eyes!
This and that other part in vain he tries,
And more on industry than force relies.
With hands on high, Entellus threats the foe,
But Dares watch'd the motion from below,
And slipp'd aside, and shunn'd the long descending blow.
Entellus wastes his forces on the wind,
And, thus deluded of the stroke design'd,
Headlong and heavy fell: his ample breast,
And weighty limbs, his ancient mother press'd.
So falls a hollow pine, that long had stood
On Ida's height, or Erymanthus' wood,
Torn from the roots. The diff'ring nations rise;
And shouts and mingled murmurs rend the skies.
Acestes runs with eager haste, to raise
The fall'n companion of his youthful days.
Dauntless he rose, and to the fight return'd;
With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burn'd
Disdain and conscious virtue fir'd his breast,
And with redoubled force his foe he press'd;
He lays on load with either hand, amain,
And headlong drives the Trojan o'er the plain;
Nor stops, nor stays; nor rest, nor breath allows,
But storms of strokes descend about his brows,
A rattling tempest and a hail of blows.
But now the prince, who saw the wild increase
Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease,
And bounds Entellus' wrath, and bids the peace.
First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came,
And sooth'd his sorrow for the suffer'd shame.
"What fury seiz'd my friend? The gods (said he),
To him propitious, and averse to thee,
Have giv'n his arms superior forcé to thine.
'Tis madness to contend with strength divine."
The gauntlet-fight thus ended, from the shore
His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore :
His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood:
And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.
Faintly he stagger'd through the hissing throng,
And hung his head, and trail'd his legs along.
The sword and casques are carried by his train,
228
ENEIS.
But with his foe the palm and ox remain.
The champion, then, before Æneas came,
Proud of his prize, but prouder of his fame;
O goddess born, and you, Dardanian host,
Mark with attention, and forgive my boast:
Learn what I was, by what remains; and know
From what impending fate you sav'd my foe."
Sternly he spoke, and then confronts the bull;
And, on his ample forehead aiming full,
The deadly stroke, descending, pierc'd the skull.
Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound,
But sprawls in pangs of death, and spurns the ground.
Then thus: "In Dares' stead I offer this.
Eryx accept a nobler sacrifice :
Take the last gift my wither'd arms can yield:
The gauntlets I resign, and here renounce the field."
This done, Eneas orders, for the close,
The strife of archers, with contending bows.
The mast, Sergestus' shatter'd galley bore,
With his own hands he raises on the shore.
A flutt'ring dove upon the top they tie,
The living mark at which their arrows fly.
The rival archers in a line advance,
Their turn of shooting to receive from chance.
A helmet holds their names: the lots are drawn ;
On the first scroll was read Hippocoön:
The people shout. Upon the next was found
Young Mnestheus, late with naval honors crown'd;
The third contain'd Eurytion's noble name,
Thy brother, Pandarus, and next in fame,
Whom Pallas urged the treaty to confound,
And send among the Greeks a feather'd wound.
Acestes, in the bottom, last remain'd,
Whom not his age from youthful sports restrain'd.
Soon all with vigor bend their trusty bows;
And from the quiver each his arrow chose.
Hippocoon's was first with forceful sway
It flew, and, whizzing, cut the liquid way.
Fix'd in the mast the feather'd weapon stands,
The fearful pigeon flutters in her bands;
And the tree trembled; and the shouting cries
Of the pleas'd people rend the vaulted skies.
Then Mnestheus to the head his arrow drove,
With lifted eyes, and took his aim above,
But made a glancing shot, and miss'd the dove,
Yet miss'd so narrow that he cut the cord
Which fasten'd by the foot the flitting bird.
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229
The captive thus releas'd, away she flies.
And beats, with clapping wings, the yielding skies.
His bow already bent, Eurytion stood;
And, having first invok'd his brother god,
Ilis winged shaft with eager haste he sped.
The fatal message reach'd her as she fled :
She leaves her life aloft; she strikes the ground,
And renders back the weapon in the wound.
Acestes, grudging at his lot, remains
Without a prize to gratify his pains.
Yet shooting upward, sends his shaft, to show
An archer's art, and boast his twanging bow.
The feather'd arrow gave a dire portent :
And latter augurs judge from this event.
Chaf'd by the speed, it fir'd; and as it flew,
A trail of following flames, ascending, drew.
Kindling they mount, and mark the shiny way
Across the sky as falling meteors play,
And vanish into wind, or in a blaze decay.
The Trojans and Sicilians wildly stare,
And, trembling, turn their wonder into pray'r;
The Dardan prince put on a smiling face,
And strain'd Acestes with a close embrace;
Then hon'ring him with gifts above the rest,
Turn'd the bad omen, nor his fears confess'd.
The gods (said he) this miracle have wrought,
And order'd you the prize without the lot.
Accept this goblet, rough with figur'd gold,
With Thracian Cisseus gave my sire of old :
This pledge of ancient amity receive,
Which to my second sire I justly give,'
He said, and with the trumpet's cheerful sound
Proclaim'd him victor, and with laurel crown'd.
For good Eurytion envied him the prize,
Though he transfix'd the pigeon in the skies.
Who cut the line, with second gifts was grac'd
The third was his, whose arrow pierc'd the mast,
The chief, before the games were wholly done,
Call'd Periphantes, tutor to his son,
And whisper'd thus: With speed Ascanius find;
And, if his childish troop be ready join'd,
On horse-back let him grace his grandsire's day,
And lead his equals arm'd in just array,'
He said; and, calling out, the cirque he clears.
The crowd withdrawn, an open plain appears.
And now the noble youths, of form divine,
Advance before their fathers, in a line :
:
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ENEIS.
!
The riders grace the steeds; the steeds with glory shine.
Thus marching on in military pride,
Shouts of applause resound from side to side.
Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear,
Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear.
Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore,
Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before.
Three graceful troops they form'd upon the green:
Three graceful leaders at their head were seen;
Twelve follow'd ev'ry chief, and left a space between.
The first young Priam led-a lovely boy,
Whose grandsire was the unhappy king of Troy
(His race in after-times was known to fame,
New honors adding to the Latian name);
And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became.
White were the fetlocks of his feet before;
And on his front a snowy star he bore.
Then beauteous Atys, with Iülus bred,
Of equal age, the second squadron led,
The last in order, but the first in place,
First in the lovely features of his face,
Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed,
Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed.
Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains,
With golden bits adorn'd, and purple reins.
The pleas'd spectators peals of shouts renew,
And all the parents in the children view;
Their make, their motions, and their sprightly grace,
And hopes and fears alternate in their face.
Th' unfledg'd commanders, and their martial train,
First make the circuit of the sandy plain
Around their sires, and, at the appointed sign,
Drawn up in beauteous order form a line,
The second signal sounds: the troop divides
In three distinguish'd parts, with three distinguish'd guides
Again they close, and once again disjoin :
In troop to troop oppos'd, and line to line,
They meet; they wheel; they throw their darts afar,
With harmless rage, and well-dissembled war.
Then in a round the mingled bodies run;
Flying they follow, and pursuing shun;
Broken, they break; and rallying, they renew
In other forms the military show.
At last, in order undiscern'd they join,
And march together in a friendly line,
And as the Cretan labyrinth of old,
With wand'ring ways, and many a winding fold,
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231
Involv'd the weary feet without redress,
In a round error, which denied recess;
So fought the Trojan boys in warlike play,
Turn'd and return'd, and still a diff'rent way.
Thus dolphins, in the deep, each other chase
In circles when they swim around the wat'ry race.
This game, these carousals, Ascanius taught;
And building Alba, to the Latins brought;
Show'd what he learn'd: the Latin sires impart
To their succeeding sons the graceful art :
From these, imperial Rome receiv'd the game,
Which Troy, the youths the Trojan troop, they name.
Thus far the sacred sports they celebrate :
But Fortune soon resum'd her ancient hate :
For, while they pay the dead his annual dues,
Those envied rites Saturnian Juno views;
And sends the goddess of the various bow,
To try new methods of revenge below;
Supplies the winds to wing her airy way,
Where in the port secure the navy lay.
Swiftly fair Iris down her arch descends,
And, undiscern'd, her fatal voyage ends.
She saw the gath'ring crowd; and gliding thence,
The desert shore, and fleet without defence.
The Trojan matrons, on the sands alone,
With sighs and tears Anchises' death bemoan.
Then, turning to the sea their weeping eyes,
Their pity to themselves, renew their cries.
Alas!" said one, "what oceans yet remain
For us to sail ! what labors to sustain !"
All take the word, and, with a gen'ral groan,
Implore the gods for peace and places of their own.
The goddess, great in mischief, views their pains,
And in a woman's form her heavenly limbs restrains.
In face and shape, old Beroe she became,
Doryclus' wife, a venerable dame,
Once bless'd with riches and a mother's name.
Thus chang'd, amidst the crying crowd she ran,
Mix'd with the matrons and these words began:
"O wretched we! whom not the Grecian pow'r,
Nor flames, destroy'd, in Troy's unhappy hour!
O wretched we; reserv'd by cruel Fate,
Beyond the ruins of the sinking state!
Now sev'n revolving years are wholly run
Since this improsp'rous voyage we begun ;
Since toss'd from shores to shores, from lands to lands,
Inhospitable rocks and barren sands.
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ENEIS.
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Wand'ring in exile through the stormy sea,
We search in vain for flying Italy.
Now cast by Fortune on this kindred land,
What should our rest and rising walls withstand,
Or hinder here to fix our banish'd band?
O country lost, and gods redeem'd in vain,
If still in endless exile we remain !
Shall we no more the Trojan walls renew,
Or streams of some dissembled Simoïs view?
Haste join with me! th' unhappy fleet consume!
Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom.
In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands
(For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands:
With these (sald she) these wand'ring ships destroy;
These are your fated seats, and this your Troy.
Time calls you now, the precious hour employ:
Slack not the good presage, while heav'n inspires
Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires.
See! Neptune's altars minister their brands:
The god is pleas'd; the god supplies our hands.”
Then from the pile a flaming fir she drew,
And toss'd in air, amidst the galleys threw.
Rapt in amaze, the matrons wildly stare:
Then Pyrgo, reverenc'd for her hoary hair,
Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam's num'rous race,
No Beroe this, though she belies her face!
What terrors from her frowning front arise!
Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes!
What rays around her heavenly face are seen!
Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien !
Beroe but now I left, whom, pin'd with pain,
Her age and anguish from these rites detain,"
She said. The matrons, seiz'd with new amaze,
Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze,
They fear, and hope, and neither part obey:
They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way.
The goddess, having done her task below,
Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow.
Struck with the sight, and seiz'd with rage divine,
The matrons prosecute their mad design:
They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands,
The food of altars, firs, and flaming brands,
Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste,
And smoking torches, on the ships they cast.
The flame, unstopp'd at first, more fury gains ;
And Vulcan rides at large with loosen'd reins :
Triumphant to the painted stern he soars,
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233
And seizes in his way, the banks, and crackling oars.
Eumelus was the first the news to bear,
While yet they crowd the rural theatre.
Then, what they hear, is witness'd by their eyes:
A storm of sparkles, and of flames, arise.
Ascanius took th' alarm, while yet he led
His early warriors on his prancing steed,
And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpass'd;
Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste.
Soon as the royal youth appear'd in view,
He sent his voice before him as he flew :
"What madness moves you, matrons! to destroy
The last remainders of unhappy Troy?
Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes you burn,
And on your friends your fatal fury turn.
Behold your own Ascanius !"-While he said,
He drew his glitt'ring helmet from his head,
In which the youths to sportful arms he led.
By this, Æneas and his train appear;
And now the women, seiz'd with shame and fear,
Dispers'd, to woods and caverns take their flight,
Abhor their actions, and avoid the light;
Their friends acknowledge, and their error find,
And shake the goddess from their alter'd mind.
Not so the raging fires their fury cease,
But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace,
Work on their way amid the smould'ring tow,
Sure in destruction, but in motion slow.
The silent plague through the green timber eats,
And vomits out a tardy flame by fits,
Down to the keels, and upward to the sails,
The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;
Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand,
Can the victorious èlement withstand.
The pious hero rends his robe, and throws
To heav'n his hands, and with his hands, his vows.
"O Jove! (he cried) if pray'rs can yet have place ;
If thou abhor'st not all the Dardan race;
If any spark of pity still remain ;
If gods are gods, and not invok'd in vain ;
Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train!
Yet from the flames our burning vessels free!
Or let thy fury fall alone on me ;
At this devoted head thy thunder throw,
And send the willing sacrifice below."
Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise:
From pole to pole, the forky lightning flies:
234
ENEIS.
!
Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain :
Heav'n bellies downward, and descends in rain.
Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent,
Which hissing through the planks the flames prevent,
And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone
Burn to the waist, and four the fleet atone.
But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide,
If he should still in Sicily reside,
Forgetful of the fates, -or tempt the main,
In hope the promis'd Italy to gain.
When Nautes old and wise-to whom alone
The will of heav'n by Pallas was foreshown—
Vers'd in portents, experienc'd and inspir'd
To tell events, and what the Fates requir'd,
Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin'd,
With cheerful words, reliev'd his lab'ring mind:
<
O goddess-born! resign'd in ev'ry state,
With patience bear, with prudence push your fate.
By suff'ring well, our fortune we subdue ;
Fly when she frowns; and, when she calls pursue.
Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;
To him disclose the secrets of your mind:
Trust in his hands your old and useless train,
Too num'rous for the ships which yet remain―
The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,
The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,
With all the dastard crew who dare not stand
The shock of battle with your foes by land.
Here you may build a common town for all,
And from Acestes' name, Acesta call."'
The reason, with his friend's experience join'd,
Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd, his mind.
'Twas dead of night; when, to his slumb'ring eyes,
His father's shade descended from the skies;
And thus he spoke: "O, more than vital breath,
Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death!
O son, in various toils and troubles toss'd !
The king of heav'n employs my careful ghost
On his commands-the god who sav'd from fire
Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire,
The wholesome counsel of your friend receive,
And here the coward train and women leave:
The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare,
Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.
The stern Italians will their courage try:
Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.
But first to Pluto's palace you shall go,
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235
And seek my shade among the blest below:
For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,
Nor suffers, with the damn'd, perpetual pains,
But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.
The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey,
And blood of offer'd victims free the way.
There shall you know what realms the gods assign,
And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.
But now farewell: I vanish with the night,
And feel the blast of heav'n's approaching light.'
IIe said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy flight.
Whither so fast?" the filial duty cried ;
Ah why, ah! why the wish'd embrace denied?"
He said, and rose as holy zeal inspires,
He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires;
His country gods and Vesta then adores
With cakes and incense, and their aid implores.
Next, for his friends and royal host he sent,
Reveal'd his vision, and the god's intent,
With his own purpose.-All, without delay,
The will of Jove, and his desires, obey.
They list with women each degen'rate name,
Who dares not hazard life for future fame.
These they cashier. The brave remaining few,
Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew.
The prince designs a city with the plough :
The lots their sev'ral tenements allow.
This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy ;
And the new king ascends the throne with joy :
A chosen senate from the people draws;
Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.
Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin
A rising temple to the Paphian queen.
Anchises, last, is honor'd as a god :
A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd;
And groves are planted round his blest abode.
Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd
And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.
Then from the south arose a gentle breeze,
That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas:
The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,
And call the merry mariners aboard.
Now loud laments along the shores resound,
Of parting friends in close embraces bound.
The trembling women, the degen'rate train
Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main,
E'en those desire to sail, and take their share
236
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Of the rough passage, and the promis'd war;
Whom good Æneas cheers; and recommends
To their new master's care his fearful friends :
On Eryx' altars three fat calves he lays;
A lamb new fallen to the stormy seas;
Then slips his halsers, and his anchors weighs.
High on the deck the godlike hero stands,
With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands,
Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,
And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine.
Fresh gales arise with equal strokes they vie,
And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly.
Meantime the mother-goddess, full of fears,
To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears:
The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage,
The malice, which no suff'rings can assuage,
Compel me to these prayers; since neither fate,
Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate.
E'en Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife ;
Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife.
As if 'twere little to consume the town
Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown,
She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains,
And gnaws, e'en to the bones, the last remains.
Let her the causes of her hatred tell;
But you can witness its effects too well.
You saw the storm she rais'd on Libyan floods,
That mix'd the mountain billows with the clouds,
When, bribing Eolus, she took the main,
And mov'd rebellion in your wat'ry reign.
With fury she possess'd the Dardan dames,
To burn their fleet with execrable flames,
And forc'd Æneas, when his ships were lost,
To leave his followers on a foreign coast.
For what remains, your godhead I implore,
And trust my son to your protecting pow'r.
If neither Jove's nor Fate's decree withstand,
Secure his passage to the Latian land."
Then thus the mighty ruler of the main :
"What may not Venus hope from Neptune's reign?
My kingdom claims your birth: my late defence
Of your endanger'd fleet may claim your confidence.
Nor less by land than sea my deeds declare,
How much your lov'd Æneas is my care.
Thee Xanthus ! and thee, Simoïs! I attest-
Your Trojan troops when proud Achilles press'd,
And drove before him headlong on the plain,
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237
And dash'd against the walls the trembling train :
When floods were fill'd with bodies of the slain;
When crimson Xanthus, doubtful of his way
Stood up on ridges to behold the sea;
(New heaps come tumbling in, and chok'd his way)
When your Æneas fought, but fought with odds
Of force unequal, and unequal gods :
I spread a cloud before the victor's sight,
Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secur'd his flight-
E'en then secur'd him, when I sought with joy
The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy.
My will's the same fair goddess! fear no more,
Your fleet shall safely gain the Latian shore :
Their lives are giv'n: one destin'd head alone
Shall perish, and for multitudes atone.
Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind,
His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd,
Then adds the foamy-bridle to their jaws,
And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws.
High on the waves his azure car he guides :
Its axles thunder; and the sea subsides;
And the smooth ocean rolls her silent tides.
The tempests fly before their father's face;
Trains of inferior gods his triumph grace;
And monster whales before their master play,
And choirs of Tritons crowd the wat'ry way.
The marshall'd pow'rs in equal troops divide
To right and left: the gods his better side
Inclose; and, on the worse, the Nymphs and Nereids ride
Now smiling hope, with sweet vicissitude,
Within the hero's mind his joys renew'd.
He calls to raise the masts, the sheets display:
The cheerful crew with diligence obey;
They scud before the wind, and sail in open sea.
Ahead of all, the master pilot steers,
And, as he leads, the following navy veers.
The steeds of Night had travell'd half the sky;
The drowsy rowers on their benches lie;
When the soft god of sleep, with easy flight,
Descends, and draws behind a trail of light.
Thou, Palinurus, art his destin'd prey;
To thee alone he takes his fatal way.
Dire dreams to thee, and iron sleep, he bears;
And, lighting on thy prow, the form of Phordas wears.
Then thus the traitor god began his tale :
"The winds, my friend, inspire a pleasing gale;
The ships, without thy care, securely sail.
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મ
Now steal an hour of sweet repose; and I
Will take the rudder, and thy room supply."
To whom the yawning pilot, half asleep :
Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep,
The harlot-smiles of her dissembling face,
And to her faith commit the Trojan race?
Shall I believe the Syren South again,
And, oft betray'd, not know the monster main ?"
He said his fasten'd hands the rudder keep;
And fix'd on heav'n, his eyes repel invading sleep.
The god was wroth, and at his temples threw
A branch in Lethe dipp'd, and drunk with Stygian dew.
The pilot, vanquished by the pow'r divine,
Soon clos'd his swimming eyes, and lay supine.
Scarce were his limbs extended at their length,
The god, insulting with superior strength,
Fell heavy on him, plung'd him in the sea,
And, with the stern, the rudder tore away.
Headlong he fell, and struggling in the main,
Cried out for helping hands, but cried in vain.
The victor dæmon mounts obscured in air;
While the ship sails without the pilot's care.
On Neptune's faith the floating fleet relies :
But what the man forsook, the god supplies;
And o'er the dang'rous deep, secure the navy flies.
Glides by the Syren's cliffs, a shelfy coast,
Long infamous for ships and sailors lost,
And white with bones. Th' impetuous ocean roars,
And rocks rebellow from the sounding shores.
The watchful hero felt the knocks; and found
The tossing vessel sail'd on shoaly ground.
Sure of his pilot's loss, he takes himself
The helm, and steers aloof, and shuns the shelf.
Inly he griev'd, and, groaning from the breast,
Deplor'd his death; and thus his pain express'd:
For faith repos'd on seas, and on the flatt'ring sky,
Thy naked corse is doom'd on shores unknown to lie."
ENEIS.
BOOK VI.
ARGUMENT.
The Sibyl foretells Æneas the adventures he should meet with in Italy
She attends him to hell; describing to him the various scenes of that
place, and conducting him to his father Anchises, who instructs him in
those sublime mysteries, of the soul of the world, and the transmigration;
and shows him that glorious race of heroes, which was to descend froin
him and his posterity.
H
E said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reach'd at length the Cuman shore:
Their anchors dropp'd, his crew the vessels moor.
They turn their heads to sea, their sterns to land,
And greet with greedy joy, th' Italian strand.
Some strike from clashing flints their fiery seed;
Some gather sticks, the kindled flames to feed,
Or search for hollow trees, and fell the wood,
Or trace through valleys the discover'd flood.
Thus while their sev'ral charges they fulfil,
The pious prince ascends the sacred hill
Where Phoebus is ador'd; and seeks the shade,
Which hides from sight his venerable maid.
Deep in a cave the Sibyl makes abode ;
Thence full of fate returns, and of the god.
Through Trivia's grave they walk, and now behold,
And enter now, the temple roof'd with gold.
When Dædalus, to fly the Cretan shore,
His heavy limbs, on jcinted pinions bore,
(The first who sail'd in air) 'tis sung by Fame
To the Cuman coast, at length he came,
And here alighting, built this costly frame.
Inscrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high
The steerage of his wings, that cut the sky.
240
ENEIS.
Then o er the lofty gate, his art emboss'd
Androgeos' death, and (off'rings to his ghost)
Sev'n youths from Athens, yearly sent, to meet
The fate appointed by revengeful Crete.
And next to these the dreadful urn was plac'd,
In which the destin'd names by lots were cast:
The mournful parents stand around in tears;
And rising Crete against their shore appears.
There too, in living sculpture, might be seen
The mad affection of the Cretan queen;
Then how she cheats her bellowing lover's eye;
The rushing leap, the doubtful progeny-
The lower part a beast, a man above-
The monument of their polluted love.
Nor far from thence he grav'd the wond'rous maze,
A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways:
Here dwells the monster hid from human view,
Not to be found but by the faithful clue;
Till the kind artist, mov'd with pious grief,
Lent to the loving maid this last relief,
And all those erring paths describ'd so well,
That Theseus conquer'd, and the monster fell.
Here hapless Icarus had found his part,
Had not the father's grief restrain'd his art.
He twice essay'd to cast his son in gold;
Twice from his hands he dropp'd the forming mould.
All this with wond'ring eyes Æneas view'd;
Each varying object his delight renew'd.
Eager to read the rest-Achates came,
And by his side the mad divining dame,
The priestess of the god, Deïphobe her name.
Time suffers not," she said,
"
66.
to feed your eyes
}}
With empty pleasures: haste the sacrifice.
Sev'n bullocks, yet unyok'd, for Phoebus choose,
And for Diana sev'n unspotted ewes.
This said, the servants urge the sacred rites,
While to the temple she the prince invites.
A spacious cave, within its farmost part,
Was hew'd and fashion'd by laborious art,
Through the hill's hollow sides before the place,
A hundred doors, a hundred entries grace :
As many voices issue, and the sound
Of Sibyl's words as many times rebound.
Now to the mouth they come. Aloud she cries,
This is the time ! inquire your destinies!
He comes! behold the god !" Thus while she said,
(And shiv'ring at the sacred entry staid)
ENEIS.
241
Her color chang'd; her face was not the same;
And hollow groans from her deep spirit came.
Her hair stood up; convulsive rage possess'd
Her trembling limbs, and heav'd her lab'ring breast.
Greater than human kind she seem'd to look,
And, with an accent more than mortal, spoke.
Her staring eyes, with sparkling fury roll,
When all the god came rushing on her soul.
Swiftly she turn'd, and, foaming as she spoke,
Why this delay ?" she cried the pow'rs invoke.
Thy pray'rs alone can open this abode;
-
Else vain are my deinands, and dumb the god."
She said no more. The trembling Trojans hear,
O'erspread with a damp sweat, and holy fear.
The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd,
His vows to great Apollo thus address'd:
Indulgent god! propitious pow'r to Troy,
Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy!
Directed by whose hand, the Dardan dart,
Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part !
Thus far, by Fate's decrees, and thy commands,
Through ambient seas, and through devouring sands,
Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground :
And now, at length, the flying coast is found
Thus far the fate of Troy, from place to place,
With fury has pursu'd her wand'ring race.
Here cease, ye pow'rs, and let your vengeance end;
Troy is no more, and can no more offend.
And thou, O sacred maid, inspir'd to see
The event of things in dark futurity;
Give me what heav'n has promis'd to my fate,
To conquer and command the Latian state;
To fix my wand'ring gods, and find a place
For the long exiles of the Trojan race,
Then shall my grateful hands a temple rear
To the twin gods, with vows and solemn pray'r ;
And annual rites, and festivals, and games,
Shall be perform'd to their auspicious names.
Nor shalt thou want thy honors in my land,
For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,
Preserv'd in shrines and ev'ry sacred lay,
Which by thy mouth, Apollo shall convey—
All shall be treasur'd by a chosen train
Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.
But oh! commit not thy prophetic mind
To flitting leaves, the sport of ev'ry wind,
Lest they disperse in air our empty fate:
:
242
ENEIS.
Write not, but what the pow'rs ordain, relate."
Struggling in vain, impatient of her load,
And lab'ring underneath, the pond'rous god,
The more she strove to shake him from her breast,
With more and far superior force he press'd;
Commands his entrance, and without control,
Usurps her organs, and inspires her soul.
Now, with a furious blast, the hundred doors
Ope of themselves; a rushing whirlwind roars
Within the cave, and Sibyl's voice restores :
Escap'd the dangers of the wat'ry reign,
Yet more and greater ills by land remain.
The coast, so long desir'd (nor doubt th' event),
Thy troops shall reach, but, having reach'd, repent.
Wars, horrid wars, I view-a field of blood,
And Tyber rolling with a purple flood.
Simoïs nor Xanthus shall be wanting there :
A new Achilles shall in arms appear,
And he too, goddess-born. Fierce Juno's hate,
Added to hostile force, shall urge thy fate.
To what strange nation shalt not thou res ort,
Driv'n to solicit aid at every court!
The cause the same which Ilium once oppress'd-
A foreign mistress, and a foreign guest.
But thou, secure of soul, unbent with woes,
The more thy fortune frowns, the more oppose.
The dawnings of thy safety shall be shown,
From-whence thou least shall hope-a Grecian town."
Thus, from the dark recess, the Sibyl spoke ;
And the resisting air the thunder broke ;
The cave rebellow'd, and the temple shook.
Th' ambiguous god, who rul'd her lab'ring breast,
In these mysterious words his mind express'd,
Some truths reveal'd, in terms involv'd the rest.
At length her fury fell; her foaming ceas'd,
And, ebbing in her soul, the god decreas'd.
Then thus the chief: "No terror to my view,
No frightful face of danger can be new.
Inur'd to suffer, and resolv'd to dare,
The Fates, without my pow'r, shall be without my care.
This let me crave-since near your grove the road
To hell lies open, and the dark abode,
Which Acheron surrounds, th' innavigable flood-
Conduct me through the regions void of light,
And lead me longing to my father's sight.
For him a thousand dangers I have sought,
And, rushing where the thickest Grecians fought,
ENEIS.
243
Safe on my back the sacred burden brought.
He, for my sake, the raging ocean tried,
And wrath of heav'n (my still auspicious guide),
And bore, beyond the strength decrepit age supplied.
Oft, since he breath'd his last, in dead of night,
His rev'rend image stood before my sight;
Enjoin'd to seek, below, his holy shade-
Conducted there by your unerring aid.
But you, if pious minds by pray'rs are won,
Oblige the father, and protect the son.
Yours is the pow'r; nor Proserpine in vain
Has made you priestess of her nightly reign.
If Orpheus, arm'd with his enchanting lyre,
The ruthless king with pity could inspire,
And from the shades below redeem his wife,
If Pollux, off'ring his alternate life,
Could free his brother, and can daily go
By turns aloft, by turns descend below
Why name I Theseus, or his greater friend,
Who trod the downward path, and upward could ascend?
Not less than theirs, from Jove my lineage came;
My mother greater, my descent the same.
So pray'd the Trojan prince, and, while he pray'd,
His hand upon the holy altar laid.
Then thus replied the prophetess divine:
O goddess-born, of great Anchises' line!
The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But, to return, and view the cheerful skies-
In this the task and mighty labor lies.
To few great Jupiter imparts this grace,
And those of shining worth, and heav'nly race.
Betwixt those regions and our upper light,
Deep forests and impenetrable night
Possess the middle space: th' infernal bounds
Cocytus, with his sable waves, surrounds.
But, if so dire a love your soul invades,
As twice below to view the trembling shades;
If you so hard a toil will undertake,
As twice to pass th' innavigable lake ;
Receive my counsel. In the neighb'ring grove
There stands a tree: the queen of Stygian Jove
Claims it her own: thick woods and gloomy night
Conceal the happy plant from human sight.
One bough it bears; but (wond'rous to behold)
The ductile rind and leaves of radiant gold :
This from the vulgar branches must be torn,
244
ENEIS.
And to fair Proserpine the present borne,
Ere leave be giv'n, to tempt the nether skies.
The first thus rent, a second will arise;
And the same metal the same room supplies.
Look round the wood with lifted eyes, to see
The lurking gold upon the fatal tree:
Then rend it off, as holy rites command:
The willing metal will obey thy hand,
Following with ease, if, favored by thy fate,
Thou art foredoom'd to view the Stygian state :
If not, no labor can the tree constrain;
And strength of stubborn arms, and steel, are vain.
Besides, you know not, while you here attend,
Th' unworthy fate of your unhappy friend:
Breathless he lies; and his unburied ghost,
Depriv'd of fun'ral rites, pollutes your host.
Pay first his pious dues: and, for the dead,
Two sable sheep around his hearse be led ;
Then, living turfs upon his body lay :
This done, securely take the destin'd way,
To find the regions destitute of day."
She said, and held her peace.-Eneas went
Sad from the cave, and full of discontent,
Unknowing who the sacred Sibyl meant ;
Achates, the companion of his breast,
Goes grieving by his side, with equal cares oppress'd.
Walking, they talk'd, and fruitlessly divin'd,
What friend the priestess by those words design'd.
But soon they found an object to deplore :
Misenus lay extended on the shore-
Son of the god of winds-none so renown'd,
The warrior trumpet in the field to sound,
With breathing brass, to kindle fierce alarms,
And rouse to dare their fate in honorable arms.
He serv❜d great Hector, and was ever near,
Not with his trumpet only, but his spear.
But, by Pelides' arm when Hector fell,
He chose Æneas, and he chose as well.
Swoln with applause, and aiming still at more,
He now provokes the seagods from the shore.
With envy, Triton heard the martial sound,
And the bold champion, for his challenge, drown'd;
Then cast his mangled carcass on the strand.-
The gazing crowd around the body stand.
All weep; but most Æneas mourns his fate,
And hastens to perform the fun'ral state.
In altar-wise, a stately pile they rear;
E...
ENERS.
245
เ
The basis broad below, and top advanc'd in air.
An ancient wood, fit for the work design'd,
(The shady covert of the savage kind)
The Trojans found the sounding axe is plied :
Firs, pines, and pitch-trees, and the tow'ring pride
Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke;
And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak.
Huge trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown
Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.
Arm'd like the rest the Trojan prince appears,
And by his pious labor, urges theirs.
Thus while he wrought, revolving in his mind
The ways to compass what his wish design'd,
He cast his eyes upon the gloomy grove,
And then with vows implor'd the queen of love :
O may thy pow'r, propitious still to me,
Conduct my steps to find the fatal tree,
In this deep forest, since the Sibyl's breath
Foretold, alas! too true, Misenus' death."
Scarce had he said, when, full before his sight,
Two doves descending from their airy flight,
Secure upon the grassy plain alight.
He knew his mother's birds, and thus he pray'd:
Be you my guides with your auspicious aid;
And lead my footsteps till the branch be found,
Whose glitt'ring shadow gilds the sacred ground.
And thou, great parent! with celestial care,
In this distress, be present to my pray'r.
Thus having said, he stopp'd, with watchful sight
Observing still the motions of their flight,
What course they took, what happy signs they shew.
They fed, and fluttering by degrees, withdrew
Still farther from the place, but still in view:
Hopping and flying thus they led him on
To the slow lake, whose baleful stench to shun,
They wing'd their flight aloft, then stooping low,
Perch'd on the double tree, that bears the golden bough.
Through the green leaves the glitt'ring shadows glow
As, on the sacred oak, the wintry mistletoe,
Where the proud mother views her precious brood,
And happier branches which she never sow'd.
Such was the glitt'ring; such the ruddy rind,
And dancing leaves, that wanton'd in the wind.
He seiz'd the shining bough with griping hold,
And rent away, with ease, the ling'ring gold,
Then to the Sibyl's palace bore the prize.
Meantime the Trojan troops, with weeping eyes,
246
ENEIS.
To dead Misenus pay his obsequies.
First, from the ground, a lofty pile they rear,
Of pitch-trees, oaks and pines, and unctuous fir;
The fabric's front, with cypress twigs they strew,
And stick the sides with boughs of baleful yew.
The topmost part his glitt'ring arms adorn;
Warm waters, then, in brazen caldrons borne,
Are pour'd to wash his body, joint by joint ;
And fragrant oils the stiffen'd limbs anoint.
With groans and cries, Misenus they deplore :
Then on a bier, with purple cover'd o'er,
The breathless body, thus bewail'd, they lay,
And fire the pile, their faces turn'd away:
(Such rev'rent rites their fathers us'd to pay).
Pure oil and incense on the fire they throw,
And fat of victims which his friends bestow.
These gifts the greedy flames to dust devour;
Then on the living coals, red wine they pour;
And, last, the relics by themselves dispose,
Which in a brazen urn the priests inclose.
Old Corynæus compass'd thrice the crew,
And dipp'd an olive-branch in holy dew ;
Which thrice he sprinkled round; and thrice aloud
Invok'd the dead, and then dismiss'd the crowd.
But, good Æneas order'd on the shore
A stately tomb, whose top a trumpet bore,
A soldier's falchion, and a seaman's oar.
Thus was his friend interr'd and deathless 1.me
Still to the lofty cape consigns his name.
These rites perform'd, the prince without delay
Hastes, to the nether world, his destin'd way.
Deep was the cave; and, downward as it went
From the wide mouth, a rocky rough descent;
And here th' access a gloomy grove defends;
And here th' innavigable lake extends,
O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light,
No bird presumes to steer his airy flight:
And deadly stenches from the depth arise,
And streaming sulphur, that infects the skies.
From hence the Grecian bards their legends make,
And give the name Avernus to the lake.
Four sable bullocks, in the yoke untaught,
For sacrifice, the pious hero brought.
The priestess pours the wine betwixt their horns ;
Then cuts the curling hair; that first oblation burns,
Invoking Hecat hither to repair-
A powerful name in hell, and upper air.
ENEIS.
247
The sacred priests, with ready knives, bereave
The beasts of life, and in full bowls receive
The streaming blood: a lamb to Hell and Night
(The sable wool without a streak of white)
Eneas offers; and by Fate's decree,
A barrèn heifer, Proserpine to thee.
With holocausts he Pluto's altar fills:
Sev'n brawny bulls with his own hand he kills:
Then, on the broiling entrails, oil he pours :
Which, ointed thus, the raging flame devours.
Late the nocturnal sacrifice begun,
Nor ended, till the next returning sun.
Then earth began to bellow, trees to dance,
And howling dogs in glimm'ring light advance,
Ere Hecat came-" Far hence be souls profane !"
The Sibyl cried-“ and from the grove abstain !
Now, Trojan, take the way thy fates afford :
Assume thy courage, and unsheath thy sword."
She said, and pass'd along the gloomy space :
The prince pursu'd her steps with equal pace.
Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight!
Ye gods, who rule the regions of the night!
Ye gliding ghosts! permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state.
Obscure they went thro' dreary shades, that led
Along the waste dominions of the dead.
Thus wander travellers in wood by night,
By the moon's doubtful and malignant light,
When Jove in dusky clouds involves the skies,
And the faint crescent shoots by fits before their eyes.
Just in the gate, and in the jaws of hell,
Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,
And pale Diseases, and repining Age,
Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted rage;
Here, Toils, and Death, and Death's half-brother, Sleep,
(Forms terrible to view) their sentry keep:
With anxious Pleasures of a guilty mind,
Deep Frauds before, and open Force behind;
The Furies' iron beds; and Strife, that shakes
Her hissing tresses, and unfolds her snakes :
Full in the midst of this infernal road.
An elm displays her dusky arms abroad :
The god of sleep there hides his heavy head:
And empty dreams on ev'ry leaf is spread.
Of various forms, unnuinber'd spectres more,
Centaurs, and double shapes, besiege the door.
Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands,
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248
ENEIS.
And Briareus with all his hundred hands;
Gorgons, Geryon with his triple frame;
And vain Chimæra vomits empty flame..
The chief unsheath'd his shining steel, prepar'd,
Though seiz'd with sudden fear, to force the guard,
Off ring his brandish'd weapon, at their face;
Had not the Sibyl stopp'd his eager pace,
And told him what those empty phantoms were-
Forms without bodies, and impassive air.
Hence to deep Acheron they take their way,
Whose troubled eddies, thick with ooze and clay,
Are whirled aloft, and in Cocytus lost :
There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast-
A sordid god down from his hoary chin
A length of beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean:
His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;
A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.
He spreads his canvas; with his pole he steers;
The freights of flitting ghosts in his thin bottom bears.
He look'd in years; yet, in his years, were seen
A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
An airy crowd came rushing where he stood,
Which fill'd the margin of the fatal flood-
Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids,
And mighty heroes' more majestic shades,
And youths, entomb'd before their fathers' eyes,
With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries.
Thick as the leaves in autumn strow the woods,
Or fowls, by winter forc'd, forsake the floods,
And wing their hasty flight to happier lands
Such, and so thick, the shiv'ring army stands,
And press for passage with extended hands.
Now these, now those, the surly boatman bore:
The rest he drove to distance from the shore.
The hero, who beheld, with wond'ring eyes,
The tumult mix'd with shrieks, laments, and cries,
Ask'd of his guide, what the rude concourse meant?
Why to the shore the thronging people bent?
What forms of law among the ghosts were us'd?
Why some were ferried o'er, and some refus'd?
Son of Anchises! offspring of the gods!
(The Sibyl said) you see the Stygian floods,
The sacred streams. which heav'n's imperial state
Attests in oaths, and fears to violate.
The ghosts rejected are th' unhappy crew
Depriv'd of sepulchres and fun'ral due:
The boatman, Charon; those, the buried host,
ENEIS.
249
He ferries over to the farther coast;
Nor dares his transport vessel cross the waves
With such whose bones are not compos'd in graves.
A hundred years they wander on the shore;
At length, their penance done, are wafted o'er.'
The Trojan chief his forward pace repress'd,
Revolving anxious thoughts within his breast.
">
He saw his friends, who, whelm'd beneath the waves,
Their fun'ral honors claim'd, and ask'd their quiet graves:
The lost Leucaspis in the crowd he knew,
And the brave leader of the Lycian crew,
Whom, on the Tyrrhene seas, the tempest met;
The sailors master'd, and the ship o'erset.
Amidst the spirits, Palinurus press'd,
Yet fresh from life, a new-admitted guest,
Who, while he steering view'd the stars, and bore
His course from Afric to the Latian shore,
Fell headlong down. The Trojan fix'd his view,
And scarcely thro' the gloom the sullen shadow knew.
Then thus the prince :
What envious pow'r, O friend,
Brought your lov'd life to this disastrous end?
For Phoebus, ever true in all he said,
Has in your fate alone, my faith betray'd.
The god foretold you should not die, before
You reach'd, secure from seas, th' Italian shore.
Is this th' unerring pow'r ?"—The ghost replied:
"Nor Phoebus flatter'd, nor his answers lied;
Nor envious gods have sent me to the deep:
But, while the stars and course of heav'n I keep,
My wearied eyes were seiz'd with fatal sleep.
I fell; and, with my weight, the helm constrain'd
Was drawn along, which yet my gripe retain’d.
Nor by the winds and raging waves I swear,
Your safety, more than mine, was then my care;
Lest, of the guide bereft, the rudder lost,
Your ship should run against the rocky coast.
Three blust'ring nights, borne by the southern blast,
I floated, and discover'd land at last ;
High on a mounting wave, my head I bore,
Forcing my strength, and gath'ring to the shore.
Panting, but past the danger, now I seiz'd
The craggy cliffs, and my tir'd members eas'd.
While, cumber'd with my dropping clothes, I lay,
The cruel nation, covetous of prey,
Stain'd with my blood th' unhospitable coast :
And now by winds and waves, my lifeless limbs are toss'd
Which, O! avert, by yon ethereal light,
250
ENEIS.
Which I have lost for this eternal night:
Or, if by dearer ties you may be won,
By your dead sire, and by your living son,
Redeem from this reproach my wand'ring ghost,
Or with your navy seek the Velin coast,
And in a peaceful grave my corpse compose :
Or, if a nearer way your mother shows,
(Without whose aid, you durst not undertake
This frightful passage o'er the Stygian lake)
Lend to this wretch your hand, and waft him o'er
To the sweet banks of yon forbidden shore."
Scarce had he said; the prophetess began:
What hopes delude thee, miserable man !
Think'st thou, thus unintomb'd, to cross the floods,
To view the Furies and infernal gods,
And visit, without leave, the dark abodes ?
Attend the term of long revolving years:
Fate, and the dooming gods, are deaf to tears.
This comfort of thy dire misfortune take-
The wrath of heav'n, inflicted for thy sake,
With vengeance shall pursue th' inhuman coast,
Till they propitiate thy offended ghost,
And raise a tomb, with vows and solemn pray'r,
And Palinurus' name the place shall bear.
This calm'd his cares-sooth'd with his future fame,
And pleas'd to hear his propagated name.
Now nearer to the Stygian lake they draw:
Whom, from the shore, the surly boatman saw;
Observ'd their passage through the shady wood,
And mark'd their near approaches to the flood.
Then thus he call'd aloud, inflam'd with wrath :
Mortal, whate'er, who this forbidden path
เ
In arms presum'st to tread! I charge thee, stand
And tell thy name, and bus'ness in the land.
Know, this the realm of night-the Stygian shore :
My boat conveys no living bodies o'er :
Nor was I pleas'd, great Theseus once to bear,
(Who forc'd a passage with his pointed spear,)
Nor strong Alcides-men of mighty fame;
And from th' immortal gods their lineage came.
In fetters one the barking porter tied,
And took him trembling from his sov'reign's side :
Two sought by force to seize his beauteous bride."
To whom the Sibyl thus: Compose thy mind :
Nor frauds are here contriv'd, nor force design'd.
Still may the dog the wand'ring troops constrain
Of airy ghosts, and vex the guilty train;
ENEIS.
251
And with her grisly lord his lovely queen remain.
The Trojan chief, whose lineage is from Jove,
Much fam'd for arms, and more for filial love,
Is sent to seek his sire in your Elysian grove.
If neither piety, nor.heav'n's command,
Can gain his passage to the Stygian land,
This fatal present shall prevail, at least
Then show'd the shining bough, conceal'd within her vest.
No more was needful for the gloomy god
Stood mute with awe, to see the golden rod
Admir'd the destin'd off'ring to his queen-
A venerable gift, so rarely seen.
His fury thus appeas'd, he puts to land :
The ghosts forsake their seats at his command:
He clears the deck, receives the mighty freight ;
The leaky vessel groans beneath the weight.
Slowly she sails, and scarcely stems the tides:
The pressing water pours within her sides.
His passengers at length are wafted o'er,
Expos'd, in muddy weeds, upon the miry shore.
No sooner landed, in this den they found
The triple porter of the Stygian sound,
Grim Cerberus, who soon began to rear
His crested snakes, and arm'd his bristling hair,
The prudent Sibyl had before prepar'd
A sop, in honey steep'd, to charm the guard;
Which, mix'd with powerful drugs, she cast before
His greedy grinning jaws, just op'd to roar.
With three enormous mouths he gapes; and straight,
With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing bait.
Long draughts of sleep his monstrous limbs enslave;
He reels, and falling, fills the spacious cave.
The keeper charm'd, the chief without delay
Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way.
Before the gates, the cries of babes new-born,
Whom Fate had from their tender mothers torn,
Assault his ears then those, whom form of laws
Condemn'd to die, when traitors judg'd their cause;
Nor want they lots, nor judges to review
The wrongful sentence and award anew.
Minos, the strict inquisitor, appears ;
And lives and crimes, with his assessors, hears.
Round in his urn, the blended balls he rolls,
Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.
The next in place and punishment, are they
Who prodigally threw their souls away
Fools, who, repining at their wretched state,
252
ENEIS.
And loathing anxious life, suborn'd their fate
With late repentance, now they would retrieve
Their bodies they forsook, and wish to live;
Their pains and poverty desire to bear,
To view the light of heav'n, and breathe the vital air:
But Fate forbids; the Stygian floods oppose,
And with nine circling streams, the captive souls inclose
Not far from hence, the Mournful Fields appear,
So call'd from lovers that inhabit there.
The souls, whom that unhappy flame invades,
In secret solitude and myrtle shades
Make endless moans, and, pining with desire,
Lament too late their unextinguish'd fire.
Here Procris, Eriphyle here he found
Baring her breast, yet bleeding with the wound
Made by her son. He saw Pasiphae there,
With Phædra's ghost, a foul incestuous pair.
There Laodamia, with Evadne, moves—
Unhappy both, but loyal in their loves:
Cæneus, a woman once, and once a man,
But ending in the sex she first began.
Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood,
Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood:
Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew,
Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view,
(Doubtful as he who sees, through dusky night,
Or thinks he sees the moon's uncertain light)
With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade ;
And as his love inspir'd him, thus he said :
Unhappy queen! then is the common breath
Of rumor true, in your reported death,
And I, alas the cause?-By heav'n, I vow,
And all the pow'rs that rule the realms below,
Unwilling I forsook your friendly state,
Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by Fate-
Those gods, that Fate, whose unresisted might
Have sent me to those regions void of light,
Through the vast empire of eternal night.
Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief,
My flight should urge you to this dire relief.
Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows !
'Tis the last interview that Fate allows !"
In vain he thus attempts her mind to move
With tears and pray'rs, and late-repenting love.
Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round,
She fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground,
And, what he says and swears, regards no more,
ÆNEIS.
253
Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar;
But whirl'd away to shun his hateful sight,
Hid in the forest, and the shades of night ;
Then sought Sichæus through the shady grove,
Who answer'd all her cares, and equall'd all her love.
Some pious tears the pitying hero paid,
And follow'd with his eyes the flitting shade,
Then took the forward way by Fate ordain'd,
And with his guide, the farther fields attain'd,
Where, sever'd from the rest, the warrior souls remain'd.
Tydeus he met, with Meleager's race,
The pride of armies, and the soldiers' grace ;
And pale Adrastrus with his ghastly face.
Of Trojan chiefs he view'd a numerous train,
All much lamented, all in battle slain-
Glaucus and Medon, high above the rest,
Antenor's sons, and Ceres' sacred priest,
And proud Idæus, Priam's charioteer,
Who shakes his empty reins, and aims his airy spear.
The gladsome ghosts, in circling troops, attend,
And with unwearied eyes behold their friend;
Delight to hover near, and long to know
What bus'ness brought him to the realms below.
But Argive chiefs, and Agamemnon's train,
When his refulgent arms flash'd through the shady plain,
Fled from his well-known face, with wonted fear,
As when his thund'ring sword and pointed spear
Drove headlong to their ships, and glean'd the routed rear.
They raised a feeble cry with trembling notes :
But the weak voice deceiv'd their gasping throats.
Here Priam's son, Deïphobus, he found,
Whose face and limbs were one continu'd wound.
Dishonest, with lopp'd arms, the youth appears,
Spoil'd of his nose, and shorten'd of his ears.
He scarcely knew him, striving to disown
His blotted form, and blushing to be known;
And therefore first began: O Teucer's race !
Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface?
What heart could wish, what hand inflict this dire disgrace?
'Twas fam'd, that in our last and fatal night,
Your single prowess long sustain'd the fight,
Till tir'd, not forc'd, a glorious fate you chose,
And fell upon a heap of slaughter'd foes.
But, in remembrance of so brave a deed,
A tomb and fun'ral honors I decreed;
Thrice call'd your manes on the Trojan plains:
The place your armor and your name retains.
Virgil.-9
254
ENEIS.
"
Your body too I sought, and, had I found,
Design'd for burial in your native ground.'
The ghost replied : Your piety has paid,
All needful rites, to rest my wand'ring shade:
But cruel Fate, and my more cruel wife,
To Grecian swords betray'd my sleeping life.
These are the monuments of Helen's love-
The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above.
You know in what deluding joys we past
The night, that was by heav'n decreed our last.
For, when the fatal horse, descending down,
Pregnant with arms, o'erwhelm'd th' unhappy town
She feign'd nocturnal orgies: left my bed,
And, mix'd with Trojan dames, the dances led ;
Then, waving high her torch, the signal made,
Which rous'd the Grecians from their ambuscade,
With watching overworn, with cares oppress'd,
Unhappy I had laid me down to rest;
And heavy sleep my weary limbs possess'd.
Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid,
And, from beneath my head, my sword convey'd
The door unlatch'd, and, with repeated calls,
Invites her former lord within my walls.
Thus in her crime her confidence she plac'd,
And with new treasons would redeem the past.
What need I more? Into the room they ran,
And meanly murder'd a defenceless man.
Ulysses, basely born, first led the way.
Avenging pow'rs! with justice if I pray
That fortune be their own another day!
But answer you; and in your turn relate,
What brought you, living, to the Stygian state.
Driv'n by the winds and errors of the sea,
Or did you heav'n's superior doom obey?
Or tell what other chance conducts your way,
To view, with mortal eyes, our dark retreats,
Tumults and torments of th' infernal seats.
While thus, in talk, the flying hours they pass,
The sun had finish'd more than half his race:
And they perhaps, in words and tears had spent
The little time of stay, which heav'n had lent :
But thus the Sibyl chides their long delay :
Night rushes down, and headlong drives the day
'Tis here in diff'rent paths, the way divides :
The right to Pluto's golden palace guides:
The left, to that unhappy region tends,
Which to the depth of Tartarus descends-
ENEIS.
255
The seat of night profound, and punish'd fiends."
Then thus Deïphobus : "O sacred maid!
Forbear to chide; and be your will obey'd.
Lo
to the secret shadows I retire,
To pay my penance till my years expire.
Proceed, auspicious prince, with glory crown'd,
And born to better fates than I have found.
He said and, while he said, his steps he turn'd
To secret shadows, and in silence mourn'd.
The hero, looking on the left, espied
A lofty tow'r, and strong on ev'ry side
With treble walls, which Phlegethon surrounds,
Whose fiery flood the burning empire bounds:
And, press'd betwixt the rocks, the bellowing noise
resounds.
Wide is the fronting gate, and rais'd on high
With adamantine columns, threats the sky.
Vain is the force of man, and heav'n's as vain,
To crush the pillars which the pile sustain.
Sublime on these, a tow'r of steel is rear'd;
And dire Tisiphone there keeps the ward,
Girt in her sanguine gown, by night and day,
Observant of the souls that pass the downward way.
From hence are heard the groans of ghosts, the pains
Of sounding lashes and of dragging chains.
The Trojan stood astonish'd at the cries,
And ask'd his guide, from whence those yells arise,
And what the crimes, and what the tortures were,
And loud laments that rent the liquid air.
She thus replied: "The chaste anu holy race
Are all forbidden this polluted place.
But Hecat, when she gave to rule the woods,
Then led me trembling thro' these dire abodes,
And taught the tortures of th' avenging gods.
These are the realms of unrelenting Fate;
And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state.
He hears and judges each committed crime;
Inquires into the manner, place, and time.
The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal,
(Loath to confess, unable to conceal)
From the first moment of his vital breath,
To his last hour of unrepenting death.
Straight o'er the guilty ghost, the Fury shakes
The sounding whip, and brandishes her snakes.
And the pale sinner, with her sisters, takes.
Then of itself, unfolds the eternal door :
With dreadful sounds, the brazen hinges roar.
د.
256
ENEIS.
You see, before the gate, what stalking ghost
Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post.
More formidable Hydra stands within,
Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin.
The gaping gulf low to the centre lies,
And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies.
The rivals of the gods, the Titan race,
Here, sing'd with lightning, roll within th' unfathom'd
space.
Here lie th' Aloean twins (I saw them both),
Enormous bodies of gigantic growth,
Who dar'd in fight the Thund'rer to defy,
Affect his heav'n, and force him from the sky.
Salmoneus, suffering cruel pains, I found,
For emulating Jove; the rattling sound
Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze
Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays.
Through Elis and the Grecian towns he flew :
The audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew :
He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain,
Sought godlike worship from a servile train.
Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass
O'er hollow arches of resounding brass,
To rival thunder in its rapid course,
And imitate inimitable force!
But he, the king of heav'n, obscure on high,
Bar'd his red arm, and launching from the sky
His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke,
Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon struck.
Where Tityus was to see, who took his birth
From heav'n, his nursing from the foodful earth.
Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace,
Infold nine acres of infernal space.
A rav'nous vulture, in his open'd side,
Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried;
Still for the growing liver digg'd his breast:
The growing liver still supplied the feast;
Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains:
Th' immortal hunger lasts, th' immortal food remains
Ixion and Pirithoüs I could name,
And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame.
High o'er their heads a mould'ring rock is placed,
That promises a fall, and shakes at ev'ry blast.
They lie below on golden beds display'd;
And genial feasts, with regal pomp are made.
The queen of Furies by their side is set,
And snatches from their mouths th' untasted meat,
ENEIS.
257
Which if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears,
Tossing her torch and thund'ring in their ears.
Then they, who brothers' better claim disown,
Expel their parents, and usurp the throne;
Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold,
Sit brooding on unprofitable gold-
Who dare not give, and e'en refuse to lend,
To their poor kindred, or a wanting friend-
Vast is the throng of these; nor less the train
Of lustful youths, for foul adult'ry slain-
Hosts of deserters, who their honor sold,
And basely broke their faith for bribes of gold.
All these within the dungeon's depth remain,·
Despairing pardon, and expecting pain.
Ask not what pains; nor further seek to know
Their process, or the forms of law below:
Some roll a mighty stone; some, laid along,
And bound with burning wires, on spokes of wheels are
hung.
Unhappy Theseus, doom'd forever there,
Is fix'd by Fate on his eternal chair:
And wretched Phlegyas warns the world with cries,
(Could warning make the world more just or wise)
Learn righteousness, and dread th' avenging deities.'
To tyrants, others have their countries sold,
Imposing foreign lords, for foreign gold:
Some have old laws repeal'd, new statutes made,
Not as the people pleas'd, but as they paid.
With incest some their daughters' bed profan'd.
All dar'd th' worst of ills, and, what they dar'd, attain'd.
Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues,
And throats of brass, inspir'd with iron lungs,
I could not half those horrid crimes repeat,
Nor half the punishments those crimes have met.
But let us haste, our voyage to pursue :
:
The walls of Pluto's palace are in view,
The gate, and iron arch above it stands-
And anvils labor'd by the Cyclops' hands.
Before our farther way the Fates allow,
Here must we fix on high the golden bough.
She said and through the gloomy shades they past,
And chose the middle path.-Arriv'd at last,
The prince, with living water, sprinkled o'er
His limbs and body, then approach'd the door,
Possess'd the porch, and on the front above
He fix'd the fatal bough, requir'd by Pluto's love.
These holy rites perform'd, they took their way,
!
258
ENEIS.
Where long extended plains of pleasure lay.
The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie,
With ether vested, and a purple sky-
The blissful seats of happy souls below:
Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know.
Their airy limbs in sports they exercise,
And, on the green, contend the wrestler's prize.
Some, in heroic verse, divinely sing:
Others in artful measures lead the ring.
The Thracian bard, surrounded by the rest,
There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest.
His flying fingers, and harmonious quill,
Strike seven distinguish'd notes, and seven at once they fill
Here found they Teucer's old heroic race,
Born better times and happier years to grace.
Assaracus and Ilus here enjoy
Perpetual fame, with him who founded Troy.
The chief beheld their chariots from afar,
Their shining arms and coursers train'd to war.
Their lances fix'd in earth-their steeds around,
Free from their harness, graze the flow'ry ground.
The love of horses which they had, alive,
And care of chariots after death, survive.
Some cheerful souls were feasting on the plain;
Some did the song, and some the choir maintain,
Beneath a laurel shade, where mighty Po
Mounts up to woods above, and hides his head below.
Here patriots live, who, for their country's good,
In fighting fields, were prodigal of blood :
Priests of unblemish'd lives here make abode,
And poets worthy their inspiring god;
And searching wits, of more mechanic parts,
Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts;
Those who to worth their bounty did extend,
And those who knew that bounty to commend.
The heads of these, with holy fillets bound,
And all their temples were with garlands crown'd.
To these the Sibyl thus her speech address'd,
And first to him surrounded by the rest—
(Tow'ring his height, and ample was his breast):
Say, happy souls! divine Musæus ! say,
Where lives Anchises, and where lies our way
To find the hero, for whose only sake
We sought the dark abodes, and cross'd the bitter lake."
To this the sacred poet thus replied:
"
In no fix'd place the happy souls reside,
In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds,
ENEIS.
259
By crystal streams, that murmur through the meads :
But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend;
The path conducts you to your journey's end."
This said, he led them up the mountain's brow,
And shows them all the shining fields below.
They wind the hill, and through the blissful meadows go.
But old Anchises, in a flow'ry vale,
Review'd his muster'd race, and took the tale-
Those happy spirits, which, ordain'd by Fate,
For future being and new bodies wait-
With studious thought, observ'd th' illustrious throng
In Nature's order, as they pass'd along—
Their names, their fates, their conduct, and their care,
In peaceful senates, and successful war.
He, when Æneas on the plain appears,
Meets him with open arms, and falling tears.
""
"
'Welcome," he said, the gods' undoubted race!
O long expected to my dear embrace;
Once more 'tis giv'n me to behold your face!
The love and pious duty which you pay,
Have pass'd the perils of so hard a way.
'Tis true, computing times, I now believ'd
The happy day approach'd; nor are my hopes deceiv'd.
What length of lands, what oceans have you pass'd,
What storms sustain'd, and, on what shores been cast!
How have I fear'd your fate, but fear'd it most,
When love assail'd you on the Libyan coast.
To this, the filial duty thus replies :
Your sacred ghost, before my sleeping eyes,
Appear'd, and often urg'd this painful enterprise.
After long tossing on the Tyrrhene sea,
My navy rides at anchor in the bay.
But reach your hand, O parent shade! nor shun
The dear embraces of your longing son !"
He said; and falling tears his face bedew:
Then thrice, around his neck, his arms he threw;
And thrice the flitting shadow slipp'd away,
Like winds, or empty dreams that fly the day.
Now, in a secret vale, the Trojan sees
A sep'rate grove through which a gentle breeze
Plays with a passing breath, and whispers through the trees
And, just before the confines of the wood,
The gliding Lethe leads her silent flood.
About the boughs an airy nation flew,
Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew.
In summer's heat; on tops of lilies feed,
And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed:
260
ENEIS.
The winged army roams the field around;
The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound.
Æneas wond'ring stood, then ask'd the cause,
Which to the stream the crowding people draws.
Then thus the sire: The souls that throng the flood
Are those to whom by Fate are other bodies ow'd:
In Lethe's lake, they long oblivion taste,
Of future life secure, forgetful of the past.
Long has my soul desir'd this time and place,
To set before your sight your glorious race,
That this presaging joy may fire your mind,
To seek the shores by destiny design'd.
O father! can it be, that souls sublime
Return to visit our terrestrial clime,
And that the gen'rous mind, releas'd by death,
Can covet lazy limbs, and mortal breath?"
Anchises then, in order, thus begun
To clear those wonders to his godlike son:
Know, first, that heav'n, and earth's compacted frame,
And flowing waters, and the starry flame,
And both the radiant lights, one common soul
Inspires and feeds-and animates the whole.
This active mind, infus'd through all the space,
Unites and mingles with the mighty mass.
Hence men and beasts the breath of life obtain,
And birds of air, and monsters of the main.
Th' ethereal vigor is in all the same :
And ev'ry soul is fill'd with equal flame-
As much as earthly limbs and gross allay
Of mortal members, subject to decay,
Blunt not the beams of heav'n and edge of day.
From this coarse mixture of terrestrial parts,
Desire and fear by turns possess their hearts,
And grief, and joy: nor can the grov'ling mind,
In the dark dungeon of the limbs confin'd,
Assert the native skies, or own its heav'nly kind :
Nor death itself can wholly wash their stains;
But long-contracted filth e'en in the soul remains.
The relics of invet'rate vice they wear;
And spots of sin obscene in ev'ry face appear.
For this are various penances enjoin'd;
And some are hung to bleach upon the wind,
Some plung'd in waters, others purg'd in fires,
Till all the dregs are drain'd, and all the rust expires
All have their manes, and those manes bear:
The few, so cleans'd, to these abodes repair,
And breathe, in ample fields, the soft Elysian air.
ENEIS.
261
!
Then are they happy, when by length of time
The scurf is worn away of each committed crime;
No speck is left of their habitual stains;
But the pure ether of the soul remains.
But, when a thousand rolling years are past,
(So long their punishments and penance last)
Whole droves of minds are, by the driving god,
Compell'd to drink the deep Lethean flood,
In large forgetful draughts, to steep the cares
Of their past labors and their irksome years,
That, unrememb'ring of its former pain,
The soul may suffer mortal flesh again.'
Thus having said, the father-spirit leads
The priestess and his son through swarms of shades,
And takes a rising ground, from thence to see
The long procession of his progeny.
C
Survey (pursu'd the sire) this airy throng,
As, offer'd to the view, they pass along.
These are th' Italian names, which Fate will join
With ours, and graff upon the Trojan line.
Observe the youth who first appears in sight,
And holds the nearest station to the light,
Already seems to snuff the vital air,
And leans just forward on a shining spear:
Silvius is he, thy last begotten race,
But first in order sent, to fill thy place-
An Alban name, but mix'd with Dardan blood :
Born in the covert of a shady wood,
Him fair Lavinia, thy surviving wife,
Shall breed in groves, to lead a solitary life.
In Alba he shall fix his royal seat,
And, born a king, a race of kings beget ;—
Then Procas, honor of the Trojan name,
Capys, and Numitor, of endless fame.
A second Silvius after these appears-
Silvius Æneas, for thy name he bears-
For arms and justice equally renown'd
Who, late restor'd, in Alba shall be crown'd.
How great they look! how vigorously they wield
Their weighty lances, and sustain the shield !
But they, who crown'd with oaken wreaths appear,
Shall Gabian walls and strong Fidene rear ;
Nomentum, Bola, with Pometia, found;
And raise Collation tow'rs on rocky ground.
All these shall then be towns of mighty fame,
Though now they lie obscure, and lands without a name.
See Romulus the great, born to restore
202
ENEIS.
;
The crown that once his injur'd grandsire wore.
This prince a priestess of our blood shall bear ;
And like his sire in arms he shall appear.
Two rising crests his royal head adorn :
Born from a god, himself to godhead born,
His sire already signs him for the skies,
And marks his seat amidst the deities.
Auspicious chief! thy race, in times to come,
Shall spread the conquests of imperial Rome-
Rome whose ascending tow'rs shall heav'n invade,
Involving earth and heav'n into her shade;
High as the mother of the gods in place,
And proud, like her, of an immortal rące,
Then, when in pomp she makes the Phrygian round,
With golden turrets on her temples crown'd:
A hundred gods her sweeping train supply,
Her offspring all; and all command the sky.
Now fix your sight, and stand intent, to see
Your Roman race, and Julian progeny.
There mighty Cæsar waits his vital hour,
Impatient for the world, and grasps his promis'd pow'r.
But next behold the youth of form divine-
Cæsar himself, exalted in his line-
Augustus, promised oft, and long foretold,
Sent to the realm that Saturn rul'd of old;
Born to restore a better age of gold.
Afric and India shall his pow'r obey;
He shall extend his propagated sway
Beyond the solar year, without the starry way.
Where Atlas turns the rolling heav'ns around,
And his broad shoulders with their lights are crown'd.
At his foreseen approach, already quake
The Caspian kingdoms and Maotian lake.
Their seers behold the tempest from afar ;
And threat'ning oracles denounce the war.
Nile hears him knocking at his sevenfold gates,
And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates.
Nor Hercules more lands or labors knew,
Not though the brazen-footed hind he slew,
Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar,
And dipp'd his arrows in Lernæan gore;
Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war,
By tigers drawn triumphant in his car,
From Nysa's top descending on the plains,
With curling vines around his purple reins.
And doubt we yet through dangers to pursue
The paths of honor, and a crown in view ?—
ENEIS.
263
But what's the man, who from afar appears,
His head with olive crown'd, his hand a censer bears?
His hoary beard and holy vestments bring
His lost idea back. I know the Roman king.
He shall to peaceful Rome new laws ordain,
Call'd from his mean abode, a sceptre to sustain.
Him Tullus next in dignity succeeds,
An active prince, and prone to martial deeds.
He shall his troops for fighting fields prepare,
Disus'd to toils and triumphs of the war.
By dint of sword, his crown he shall increase,
And scour his armor from the rust of peace.
Whom Ancus follows with a fawning air,
But vain within, and proudly popular.
Next view the Tarquin kings, th' avenging sword
Of Brutus, justly drawn, and Rome restor'd.
He first renews the rods and axe severe,
And gives the consuls royal robes to wear.
His sons, who seek the tyrant to sustain,
And long for arbitrary lords again,
With ignominy scourg'd in open sight,
He dooms to death deserv'd, asserting public right:
Unhappy man! to break the pious laws
Of nature, pleading in his children's cause!
Howe'er the doubtful fact is understood,
'Tis love of honor, and his country's good;
The consul, not the father, sheds the blood.
Behold Tarquatus the same track pursue;
And next the two devoted Decii view-
The Drusian line, Camillus loaded home
With standards well redeem'd, and foreign foes to come.
The pair you see, in equal armor shine,
Now, friends below, in close embraces join :
But, when they leave the shady realms of night,
And, cloth'd in bodies, breathe your upper light,
With mortal hate each other shall pursue :
What wars, what wounds, what slaughter, shall ensue !
From Alpine heights the father first descends;
His daughter's husband in the plain attends:
His daughter's husband arms his eastern friends.
Embrace again, my sons! be foes no more;
Nor stain your country with her children's gore!
And thou, the first, lay down thy lawless claim,
Thou, of my blood, who bear'st the Julian name!
Another comes, who shall in triumph ride,
And to the Capitol his chariot guide,
264
ENEIS.
From conquer'd Corinth, rich with Grecian spoils.
And yet another, fam'd for warlike toils,
On Argos shall impose the Roman laws,
And on the Greeks, revenge the Trojan cause;
Shall drag in chains their Achillean race;
Shall vindicate his ancestors' disgrace,
And Pallas, for her violated place.
Great Cato there, for gravity renown'd,
And conq'ring Cossus goes with laurels crown'd.
Who can omit the Gracchi? who declare
The Scipio's worth, those thunderbolts of war,
The double bane of Carthage? Who can see,
Without esteem for virtuous poverty,
Severe Fabricius, or can cease t' admire
The ploughman consul in his coarse attire?
Tir'd as I am, my praise the Fabii claim;
And thou, great hero, greatest of thy name,
Ordain'd in war to save the sinking state,
And, by delays, to put a stop to Fate!
Let others better mould the running mass
Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,
And soften into flesh, a marble face;
Plead better at the bar; describe the skies,
And when the stars descend, and when they rise.
But Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway,
To rule mankind, and make the world obey,
Disposing peace and war, thy own majestic way:
To tame the proud, the fetter'd slave to free:
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."
He paus'd-and, while with wond'ring eyes they view'd
The passing spirits, thus his speech renew'd:
See great Marcellus! how, untir'd in toils,
He moves with manly grace, how rich with Legal spoils.
He, when his country (threaten'd with alarms)
Requires his courage, and his conq'ring arms,
Shall more than once the Punic bands affright;
Shall kill the Gaulish king in single fight;
Then to the Capitol in triumph move:
And the third spoils shall grace Feretrian Jove.”
Eneas here beheld, of form divine,
A godlike youth, in glitt'ring armor shine,
With great Marcellus keeping equal pace :
But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.
He saw, and wond'ring, ask'd his airy guide,
What and of whence was he, who press'd the hero's side?
"
His son, or one of his illustrious name?
ENEIS.
207
How like the former, and almost the same?
Observe the crowds that compass him around :
All gaze, and all admire, and raise a shouting sound:
But hov'ring mists around his brows are spread;
And night with sable shades involves his head.
Seek not to know (the ghost replied with tears)
The sorrows of thy sons in future years.
This youth (the blissful vision of a day)
Shall just be shown on earth, then snatch'd away.
The gods too high had rais'd the Roman state,
Were but their gifts as permanent as great.
What groans of men shall fill the Martian Field!
How fierce a blaze his flaming pile shall yield !
What fun'ral pomp shall floating Tyber see,
When, rising from his bed, he views the sad solemnity!
No youth shall equal hopes of glory give,
No youth afford so great a cause to grieve.
The Trojan honor, and the Roman boast,
Admir'd when living, and ador'd when lost!
Mirror of ancient faith in early youth!
Undaunted worth, inviolable truth!
No foe, unpunish'd, in the fighting field.
Shall dare thee, foot to foot, with sword and shield,
Much less in arms oppose thy matchless force,
When thy sharp spurs shall urge thy foaming horse.
Ah! couldst thou break through Fate's severe decree,
A new Marcellus shall arise in thee!
Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,
Mix'd with the purple roses of the spring :
Let me with fun'ral flow'rs his body strow,
This gift, which parents to their children owe,
This unavailing gift, at least I may bestow !"
Thus having said, he led the hero round
The confines of the blest Elysian ground;
Which when Anchises to his son had shown,
And fir'd his mind to mount the promis'd throne,
He tells the future wars, ordain'd by Fate;
The strength and customs of the Latian state ;
The prince, and people; and forearms his care.
With rules, to push his fortune, or to bear.
Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn;
Of polish'd iv'ry this, that of transparent horn :
True visions through transparent horn arise ;
Through polish'd iv'ry pass deluding lies.
Of various things discoursing as he pass'd,
Anchises hither bends his steps at last.
Then, through the gate of iv'ry he dismiss'd
266
ÆNEIS.
His valiant offspring, and divining guest.
Straight to the ships Eneas took his way,
Embark'd his men, and skimm'd along the sea,
Still coasting, till he gain'd Caieta's bay.
At length on oozy ground his galleys moor:
Their heads are turn'd to sea, their sterns to shore.
ENEIS.
BOOK VII.
ARGUMENT.
King Latinus entertains Eneas, and promises him his only daughter, La-
vinia, the heiress of his crown. Turnus, being in love with her, favored
by her mother, and by Juno and Alecto, breaks the treaty which was
made, and engages in his quarrel Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and
many other of the neighboring princes; whose forces, and the names of
their commanders are particularly related.
A
ND thou, O matron of immortal fame !
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name :
Caieta still the place is call'd from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas' infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia's plains :
Thy name ('tis all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun'ral rites had paid,
He plough'd the Tyrrhene seas with sails display'd.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night;
Serenely shone the stars; the moon was bright;
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe's shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the sun)
A dang'rous coast!-the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays.
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night;
And cedar brands supply her father's light.
From hence were heard rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears,
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors' ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe's pow'r,
268
ENEIS,
(That watch'd the moon, and planetary hour)
With words and wicked herbs, from humankind
Had alter'd, and in brutal shapes confin'd.
Which monsters lest the Trojan's pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th' enchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer'd their course by night,
With rising gales, that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav'd her saffron streamer through the skies,
When Thetis blush'd in purple, not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood,
Which, thick with shades, and a brown horror stood
Betwixt the trees, the Tyber took his course,
With whirlpools aimpled; and with downward force
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea.
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath'd within, or bask'd upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied,
The captain gives command: the joyful train
Glide through the gloomy shade, and leave the main.
Now, Erato! thy poet's mind inspire,
And fill his soul with thy celestial fire.
Relate what Latium was; her ancient kings:
Declare the past and present state of things,
When first the Trojan fleet Ausonia sought,
And how the rivals lov'd, and how they fought.
These are my theme, and how the war began,
And how concluded by the godlike man :
For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,
Which princes and their people did engage;
And haughty souls, that, mov'd with mutual hate,
In fighting fields pursu'd and found their fate;
That rous'd the Tyrrhene realm with loud alarms,
And peaceful Italy involv'd in arms.
A larger scene of action is display'd;
And, rising hence, a greater work is weigh d.
Latinus, old and mild, had long possess'd
The Latian sceptre, and his people bless'd;
His father Faunus: a Laurentian dame
His mother; fair Marica was her name.
ENEIS.
269
1
But Faunus came from Picus: Picus drew
His birth from Saturn, if records be true.
Thus king Latinus, in the third degree,
Had Saturn author of his family.
But this old peaceful prince, as heav'n decreed,
Was bless'd with no male issue to succeed :
His sons in blooming youth were snatch'd by fate;
One only daughter heir'd the royal state.
Fir'd with her love, and with ambition led,
The neighb'ring princes court her nuptial bed.
Among the crowd, but far above the rest,
Young Turnus to the beauteous maid address'd.
Turnus, for high descent and graceful mien,
Was first, and favor'd by the Latian queen :
With him she strove to join Lavinia's hand :
But dire portents the purpos'd match withstand.
Deep in the palace, of long growth, there stood
A laurel's trunk, a venerable wood;
Where rites divine were paid; whose holy hair
Was kept and cut with superstitious care.
This plant, Latinus, when his own town he wall'd,
Then found, and from the tree Laurentium call'd:
And last, in honor of his new abode,
He vow'd the laurel to the laurel's god.
It happen'd once (a boding prodigy !)
A swarm of bees, that cut the liquid sky
(Unknown from whence they took their airy flight),
Upon the topmost branch in clouds alight;
There, with their clasping feet, together clung,
And a long cluster from the laurel hung.
An ancient augur prophesied from hence:
Behold on Latian shores a foreign prince!
From the same parts of heav'n his navy stands,
To the same parts on earth his army lands;
The town he conquers, and the tow'r commands."
Yet more, when fair Lavinia fed the fire
:
Before the gods, and stood beside her sire,
(Strange to relate !) the flames, involv'd in smoke
Of incense, from the sacred altar broke,
Caught her dishevell'd hair, and rich attire :
Her crown and jewels crackled in the fire :
From thence the fuming trail began to spread,
And lambent glories danc'd about her head.
This new portent the seer with wonder views,
Then pausing, thus his prophecy renews :
The nymph, who scatters flaming fires around,
Shall shine with honor-shall herself be crown'd ;
270
ENEIS.
But, caus'd by her irrevocable fate,
War shall the country waste, and change the state."
Latinus, frighted at this dire ostent,
For counsel to his father Faunus went,
And sought the shades renown'd for prophecy,
Which near Albunea's sulph'rous fountain lie.
To those the Latian and the Sabine land
Fly, when distress'd and thence relief demand.
The priest on skins of off'rings takes his ease,
And nightly visions in his slumber sees:
A swarm of thin aerial shapes appears,
And, flutt'ring round his temples, deafs his ears.
These he consults, the future fates to know,
From powers above, and from the fiends below.
Here, for the god's advice Latinus flies,
Off'ring a hundred sheep for sacrifice :
Their woolly fleeces, as the rites requir'd,
He laid beneath him, and to rest retir'd.
No sooner were his eyes in slumber bound,
When, from above, a more than mortal sound
Invades his ears; and thus the vision spoke :
Seek not, my seed, in Latian bands to yoke
Our fair Lavinia, nor the gods provoke.
A foreign son upon the shore descends,
Whose martial fame from pole to pole extends.
His race, in arms and arts of peace renown'd,
Not Latian shall contain, nor Europe bound:
'Tis theirs whate'er the sun surveys around."
These answers, in the silent night receiv'd,
The king himself divulg'd, the land believ'd:
The fame through all the neighb'ring nations flew,
When now the Trojan navy was in view.
Beneath a shady tree, the hero spread
His table on the turf, with cakes of bread;
And, with his chiefs, on forest fruits he fed.
They sate; and (not without the god's command),
Their homely fare despatch'd, the hungry band
Invade their trenchers next, and soon devour,
To mend the scanty meal, their cakes of flour.
Ascanius this observ'd, and smiling said,
See! we devour the plates on which we fed."
The speech had omen, that the Trojan race.
Should find repose, and this the time and place.
Æneas took the word, and thus replies
(Confessing fate, with wonder in his eyes :)
All haii, O earth! all hail, my household gods!
Behold the destin'd place of your abodes!
1
ENEIS.
271
For thus Anchises prophesied of old,
And this our fatal place of rest foretold:
'When, on a foreign shore, instead of meat,
By famine forc'd, your trenchers you shall eat,
Then ease your weary Trojans will attend,
And the long labors of your voyage end.
Remember on that happy coast to build :
And with a trench enclose the fruitful field.'
This was that famine, this the fatal place,
Which ends the wand'ring of our exil'd race.
Then, on to-morrow's dawn, your care employ
To search the land, and where the cities lie,
And what the men; but give this day to joy.
Nor pour to Jove; and, after Jove is blest,
Call great Anchises to the genial feast:
Crown high the goblets with a cheerful draught;
Enjoy the present hour; adjourn the future thought."
Thus having said, the hero bound his brows
With leafy branches, then perform'd his vows;
Adorning first the genius of the place,
Then Earth, the mother of the heav'nly race,
The nymphs, and native godheads yet unknown,
And Night, and all the stars that gild her sable throne,
And ancient Cybel, and Idæan Jove,
And last his sire below, and mother-queen above.
Then heav'n's high monarch thunder'd thrice aloud;
And thrice he shook aloft a golden cloud.
Soon through the joyful camp a rumor flew,
The time was come their city to renew.
Then ev'ry brow with cheerful green is crown'd;
The feasts are doubled, and the bowls go round.
When next the rosy morn disclos'd the day,
The scouts to sev'ral parts divide their way,
To learn their natives' names, their towns explore,
The coast, and trendings of the crooked shore:
Here Tyber flows, and here Numicus stands;
Here warlike Latins hold the happy lands.
The pious chief who sought by peaceful ways
To found his empire, and his town to raise,
A hundred youths from all his train selects,
And to the Latian court their course directs
(The spacious palace where their prince resides),
And all their heads with wreaths of olive hides,
To go commission'd to require a peace,
And carry presents to procure access.
Thus while they speed their pace, the prince designs
The new-elected seat, and draws the lines.
272
ENEIS.
The Trojans round the place a rampire cast,
And palisades about the trenches plac'd.
Meantime the train, proceeding on their way,
From far the town and lofty tow'rs survey;
At length approach the walls. Without the gate,
They see the boys and Latian youth debate
The martial prizes on the dusty plain :
Some drive the cars, and some the coursers rein;
Some bend the stubborn bow for victory;
And some with darts their active sinews try.
A posting messenger, despatch'd from hence,
Of this fair troop advis'd their aged prince,
That foreign men of mighty stature, came;
Uncouth their habit, and unknown their name.
The king ordains their entrance, and ascends
His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.
The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,
Supported by a hundred pillars stood,
And round encompass'd with a rising wood,
The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight,
Surpris'd at once with rev'rence and delight.
There kings receiv'd the marks of sov'reign pow'r :
In state the monarchs march'd; the lictors bore
Their awful axes and the rods before.
Here the tribunal stood, the house of pray'r;
And here the sacred senators repair;
All at large tables, in long order set,
A ram their off'ring, and a ram their meat.
Above the portal, carv'd in cedar wood.
Plac'd in their ranks, their godlike grandsires stood-
Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe, on high;
And Italus, that led the colony;
And ancient Janus, with his double face,
And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.
There stood Sabinus, planter of the vines:
On a short pruning-hook his head reclines,
And studiously surveys his gen'rous wines;
Then warlike kings, who for their country fought,
And honorable wounds from battle brought.
Around the posts, hung helmets, darts, and spears,
And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars,
And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.
Above the rest, as chief of all the band,
Was Picus plac'd ; a buckler in his hand;
His other wav'd a long divining wand.
Girt in his Gabine gown the hero sate,
Yet could not with his art avoid his fate :
H
ENEIS.
273
For Circe long had lov'd the youth in vain,
Till love, refus'd, converted to disdain :
Then. mixing powerful herbs, with magic art,
She chang'd his form, who could not change his heart;
Constrain'd him in a bird, and made him fly,
With party-color'd plumes, a chatt'ring pie.
In this high temple, on a chair of state,
The seat of audience, old Latinus sate ;
Then gave admission to the Trojan train;
And thus with pleasing accents he began :
Tell me, ye Trojans-for that name you own,
Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown--
Say what you seek, and whither were you bound:
Were you by stress of weather cast aground?
(Such dangers of the sea are often seen,
And oft befall to miserable men ;)
Or come your shipping in our ports to lay,
Spent and disabled in so long a way?
Say what you want: the Latians you shall find
Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd;
For since the time of Saturn's holy reign,
His hospitable customs we retain :
I call to mind (but time the tale has worn),
Th' Aurunci told, that Dardanus, though born
On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore,
And Samothracia, Samos call'd before.
From Tuscan Corythum he claim'd his birth:
But after, when exempt from mortal earth,
From thence ascended to his kindred skies,
A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice."
He said.-Ilioneus made this reply:
O king, of Faunus' royal family!
Nor wintry winds to Latium forc'd our way,
Nor did the stars our wand'ring course betray.
Willing we sought your shores; and, hither bound,
The port so long desir'd, at length we found ;
From our sweet homes and ancient realms expell'd;
Great as the greatest that the sun beheld.
The god began our line, who rules above ;
And, as our race, our king descends from Jove :
And hither are we come by his command,
To crave admission in your happy land.
How dire a tempest from Mycena pour'd,
Our plains, our temples, and our town, devour'd;
What was the waste of war, what fierce alarms
Shook Asia's crown with European arms;
E'en such have heard, if any such there be,
274
ENEIS.
Whose earth is bounded by the frozen sea;
And such as, born beneath the burning sky
And sultry sun, betwixt the tropics lie,
From that dire deluge, through the wat'ry waste
(Such length of years, such various perils past),
At last escap'd, to Latium we repair,
To beg what you without your want may spare-
The common water, and the common air;
Sheds which ourselves will build, and mean abodes,
Fit to receive and serve our banish'd gods.
Nor our admission shall your realm disgrace,
Nor length of time our gratitude efface-
Besides what endless honor you shall gain,
To save and shelter Troy's unhappy train.
Now, by my sov'reign, and his fate, I swear-
Renown'd for faith in peace, for force in war-
Oft our alliance other lands desir'd,
And what we seek of you, of us requir'd.
Despise not then, that in our hands we bear
These holy boughs, and sue with words of pray'r.
Fate and the gods, by their supreme command,
Have doom'd our ships to seek the Latian land.
To these abodes, our fleet Apollo sends ;
Here Dardanus was born, and hither tends;
Where Tuscan Tyber rolls with rapid force,
And where Numicus opes his holy source.
Besides, our prince presents, with his request,
Some small remains of what his sire possess'd.
This golden charger, snatch'd from burning Troy,
Anchises did in sacrifice employ:
This royal robe and this tiara wore
Old Priam, and this golden sceptre bore,
In full assemblies, and in solemn games :
These purple vests were weav'd by Dardan dames."
Thus while he spoke, Latinus roll'd around
His eyes, and fix'd awhile upon the ground.
Intent he seem'd, and anxious in his breast;
Not by the sceptre mov'd, or kingly vest,
But pond'ring future things, of wond'rous weight-
Succession, empire, and his daughter's fate.
On these he mus'd within his thoughtful mind;
And then revolv'd what Faunus had divin'd.
This was the foreign prince, by fate decreed
To share his sceptre, and Lavinia's bed :
This was the race that sure portents foreshew
To sway the world, and land and sea subdue.
At length he rais'd his cheerful head, and spoke :
ENEIS.
275
"The pow'rs," said he,
the pow'rs we both invoke,
To you, and yours, and mine, propitious be,
And firm our purpose with our augury!
Have what you ask your presents I receive;
Land where and when you please, with ample leave :
Partake and use my kingdom as your own:
All shall be yours while I command the crown.
And, if my wish'd alliance please your king,
Tell him he should not send the peace, but bring:
Then let him not a friend's embraces fear:
The peace is made when I behold him here.
Besides this answer, tell my royal guest,
I add to his commands my own request:
Only one daughter heirs my crown and state,
Whom not our oracles, nor heav'n, nor fate,
Nor frequent prodigies, permit to join
With any native of th' Ausonian line.
A foreign son-in-law shall come from far,
(Such is our doom) a chief renown'd in war,
Whose race shall bear aloft the Latian name,
And through the conquer'd world diffuse our fame.
Himself to be the man the fates require,
I firmly judge, and, what I judge, desire."
He said, and then on each bestow'd a steed.
Three hundred horses, in high stables fed,
Stood ready, shining all, and smoothly dress'd:
Of these he chose the fairest and the best,
To mount the Trojan troop. At his command,
The steeds caparison'd with purple stand,
With golden trappings, glorious to behold,
And champ betwixt their teeth the foaming gold.
Then to his absent guest the king decreed
A pair of coursers born of heav'nly breed,
Who from their nostrils breath'd ethereal fire;
Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire,
By substituting mares produc'd on earth,
Whose wombs conceiv'd a more than mortal birth.
These draw the chariot which Latinus sends;
And the rich present to the prince commends.
Sublime on stately steeds the Trojans borne,
To their expecting lord with peace return.
But jealous Juno, from Pachynus' height,
As she from Argos took her airy flight,
Beheld, with envious eyes, this hateful sight.
She saw the Trojan and his joyful train
Descend upon the shore, desert the main,
Design a town, and, with unhop'd success,
:
276
ENEIS.
*
Th' ambassadors return with promis'd peace.
Then, pierc'd with pain, she shook her haughty head,
Sigh'd from her inward soul, and thus she said:
O hated offspring of my Phrygian foes!
O fates of Troy, which Juno's fates oppose !
Could they not fall unpitied on the plain,
But, slain, revive, and taken, 'scape again?
When execrable Troy in ashes lay,
Through fires and swords and seas they forc'd their way.
Then vanquish'd Juno must in vain contend,
Her rage disarm'd, her empire at an end!
Breathless and tir'd, is all my fury spent?
Or does my glutted spleen at length relent?
As if 'twere little from their town to chase,
I through the seas pursu'd their exil'd race;
Engag'd the heav'ns, oppos'd the stormy main :
But billows roar'd, and tempests rag'd in vain.
What have my Scyllas and my Syrtes done,
When these they overpass, and those they shun?
On Tyber's shores they land, secure of fate,
Triumphant o'er the storms of Juno's hate!
Mars could in mutual blood the Centaurs bathe;
And Jove himself gave way to Cynthia's wrath,
Who sent the tusky boar to Calydon?.
(What great offence had either people done?)
But I, the consort of the Thunderer,
Have wag'd a long and unsuccessful war,
With various arts and arms in vain have toil'd,
And by a mortal man at length am foil'd!
If native pow'r prevail not, shall I doubt
To seek for needful succor from without?
·
If Jove and heav'n my just desires deny,
Hell shall the pow'r of heav'n and Jove supply.
Grant that the Fates have firm'd, by their decree,
The Trojan race to reign in Italy:
At least I can defer the nuptial day,
And, with protracted wars, the peace delay :
With blood the dear alliance shall be bought,
And both the people near destruction brought.
So shall the son-in-law and father join,
With ruin, war, and waste of either line.
O fatal maid! thy marriage is endow'd
With Phrygian, Latian, and Rutulian blood!
Bellona leads thee to thy lover's hand:
Another queen brings forth another brand,
To burn with foreign fires another land!
A second Paris, diff'ring but in name,
ENEIS.
277
Shall fire his country with a second flame."
Thus having said, she sinks beneath the ground,
With furious haste, and shoots the Stygian sound,
To rouse Alecto from th' infernal seat
Of her dire sisters, and their dark retreat,
This Fury, fit for her intent, she chose,
One who delights in wars, and human woes.
E'en Pluto hates his own misshapen race ;
Her sister Furies fly her hideous face;
So frightful are the forms the monster takes,
So fierce the hissings of her speckled snakes.
Her Juno finds, and thus inflames her spite :
O virgin daughter of eternal Night,
Give me this once thy labor, to sustain
My right, and execute my just disdain.
Let not the Trojans, with a feign'd pretence
Of proffer'd peace, delude the Latian prince.
Expel from Italy that odious name,
And let not Juno suffer in her fame.
'Tis thine to ruin realms, o'erturn a state,
Betwixt the dearest friends to raise debate,
And kindle kindred blood to mutual hate.
Thy hand o'er towns the fun'ral torch displays,
And forms a thousand ills ten thousand ways.
Now shake, from out thy fruitful breast, the seeds
Of envy, discord, and of cruel deeds :
Confound the peace establish'd, and prepare
Their souls to hatred, and their hands to war.
Smear'd as she was with black Gorgonean blood,
The Fury sprang above the Stygian flood:
And on her wicker wings, sublime through night,
She to the Latian palace took her flight:
There sought the queen's apartment, stood before
The peaceful threshold, and besieg'd the door.
Restless Amata lay, her swelling breast
Fir'd with disdain for Turnus dispossess'd,
And the new nuptials of the Trojan guest.
From her black bloody locks the Fury shakes
Her darling plague, the fav'rite of her snakes;
With her full force she threw the pois'nous dart,
And fix'd it deep within Amata's heart,
That, thus envenom'd, she might kindle rage,
And sacrifice to strife her house and husband's age.
Unseen, unfelt, the fiery serpent skims
Betwixt her linen and her naked limbs,
His baneful breath, inspiring as he glides.
Now like a chain around her neck he rides,
278
ENEIS.
Now like a fillet to her head repairs,
And with his circling volumes folds her hairs.
At first the silent venom slid with ease,
And seiz'd her cooler senses by degrees:
Then, ere th' infected mass was fir'd too far,
In plaintive accents she began the war,
And thus bespoke her husband:
Shall," she said,
A wand'ring prince enjoy Lavinia's bed?
If nature plead not in a parent's heart,
Pity my tears, and pity her desert.
I know, my dearest lord, the time will come,
You would, in vain reverse your cruel doom,
The faithless pirate soon will set to sea,
And bear the royal virgin far away!
A guest like him, a Trojan guest before,
In show of friendship sought the Spartan shore,
And ravish'd Helen from her husband bore.
Think on a king's inviolable word;
And think on Turnus, her once plighted lord.
To this false foreigner you give your throne,
And wrong a friend, a kinsman, and a son.
Resume your ancient care; and, if the god,
Your sire, and you, resolve on foreign blood,
Know all are foreign, in a larger sense,
Not born your subjects or deriv'd from hence,
Then, if the line of Turnus you retrace,
He springs from Inacus of Argive race."
But, when she saw her reasons idly spent,
And could not move him from his fix'd intent,
She flew to rage; for now the snake possess'd
Her vital parts, and poison'd all her breast.
She raves, she runs with a distracted pace,
And fills, with horr howls, the public place.
And, as young striplings whip the top for sport,
On the smooth pavement of an empty court;
The wooden engine flies and whirls about,
Admir'd, with clamors, of the beardless rout;
They lash aloud; each other they provoke,
And lend their little souls at ev'ry stroke:
Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury Llows
Amidst the crowd, and kindlcs as she gocs.
Not-yet content, she strains her malice morc,
And adds new ills to those contriv'd before :
She flies the town, and, mixing with the throng
Of madding matrons, bears the bride along,
Wand'ring through woods and wilds and devious ways,
And with these arts the Trojan match delays.
ENEIS.
279
She feign'd the rites of Bacchus; cried aloud,
And to the buxom god the virgin vow'd.
Evoc ! O Bacchus !" thus began the song;
And Evoe !" answer'd all the female throng.
"O virgin, worthy thee alone !" she cried ;
"O worthy thee alone !" the crew replied.
"For thee she feeds her hair, she leads thy dance,
And with thy winding ivy wreaths her lance.
Like fury seiz'd the rest the progress known,
All seek the mountains, and forsake the town:
All clad in skins of beasts, the javelin bear,
Give to the wanton winds their flowing hair;
And shrieks and shoutings rend the suff'ring air.
The queen herself, inspir'd with rage divine,
Shook high above her head a flaming pine,
Then roll'd her haggard eyes around the throng,
And sung, in Turnus' name, the nuptial song:
"Iö! ye Latian dames, if any here
Ι
Hold your unhappy queen, Amata, dear;
If there be here," she said, "who dare maintain
My right, nor think the name of mother vain ;
Unbind your fillets, loose your flowing hair,
And orgies and nocturnal rites prepare.'
Amata's breast the Fury thus invades,
And fires with rage, amid the sylvan shades.
Then, when she found her venom spread so far,
The royal house embroil'd in civil war,
Rais'd on her dusky wings she cleaves the skies,
And seeks the palace where young Turnus lies.
His town, as fame reports, was built of old
By Danae, pregnant with almighty gold,
Who fled her father's rage, and, with a train
Of following Argives, through the stormy main,
Driv'n by the southern blasts, was fated here to reign.
'Twas Ardua once: now Ardea's name it bears;
Once a fair city, now consum'd with years,
Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus lay,
Betwixt the confines of the night and day,.
Secure in sleep.-The Fury laid aside.
Her looks and limbs, and with new methods tried
The foulness of th' infernal form to hide.
Propp'd on a staff, she takes a trembling mien :
Her face is furrow'd, and her front obscene ;
Deep-dinted wrinkles on her cheeks she draws;
Sunk are her eyes, and toothless are her jaws ;
Her hoary hair with holy fillets bound,
Her temples with an olive wreath are crown'd.
280
NEIS.
Old Chalybe who kept the sacred fane
Of Juno, now she seem'd, and thus began,
Appearing in a dream to rouse the careless man.
Shall Turnus then such endless toils sustain
In fighting fields, and conquer towns in vain ?
Win, for a Trojan head to wear the prize,
Usurp thy crown, enjoy thy victories?
The bride and sceptre, which thy blood has bought,
The king transfers; and foreign heirs are sought!
Go now, deluded man, and seek again
New toils, new dangers, on the dusty plain !
Repel the Tuscan foes; their city seize ;
Protect the Latians in luxurious ease!
This dream all-powerful Juno sends; I bear
Her mighty mandates; and her words you hear.
Haste arm your Ardeans; issue to the plain;
With faith to friend, assault the Trojan train :
Their thoughtless chiefs; their painted ships that lie
In Tyber's mouth, with fire and sword destroy.
The Latian king, unless he shall submit,
Own his old promise, and his new forget-
Let him, in arms, the pow'r of Turnus prove,
And learn to fear whom he disdains to love.
For such is heaven's command."-The youthful prince
With scorn replied, and made this bold defence:
64
You tell me, mother, what I knew before,
The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore.
I neither fear nor will provoke the war :
My fate is Juno's most peculiar care.
But time has made you dote, and vainly tell
Of arms imagin'd in your lonely cell.
Go! be the temple and the gods your care :
Permit to men the thought of peace and war.
These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke ;
And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke.
Her eyes grow stiffen'd, and with sulphur burn ;
Her hideous looks and hellish form return;
Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place,
And open all the furies of her face:
Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes,
She cast him backwards as he strove to rise,
And, ling'ring, sought to frame some new replies.
High on her head she rears two twisted snakes;
Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes;
And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:
Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell
Of arms imagin'd in her lonely cell!
"
ENEIS.
281
Behold the Fates' infernal minister !
War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear."
Thus having said, her smould'ring torch, impress'd
With her full force, she plung'd into his breast.
Aghast he wak'd, and starting from his bed,
Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o'erspread.
'Arms! arms !'' he cries: my sword and shield pre-
pare !"
He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war.
So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,
The bubbling waters from the bottom rise :
Above the brims they force their fiery way;
Black vapors climb aloft, and cloud the day.
The peace polluted thus, a chosen band
He first commissions to the Latian land,
In threat'ning embassy: then rais'd the rest,
To meet in arms th' intruding Trojan guest,
To force the foes from th' Lavinian shore,
And Italy's endanger'd peace restore.
Himself alone an equal match he boasts,
To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts.
The gods invok'd, the Rutuli prepare
Their arms, and warn each other to the war.
His beauty these, and those his blooming age,
The rest his house and his own fame engage.
While Turnus urges thus his enterprise,
The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies;
New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand,
Which overlooks the vale with wide command;
Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train,
With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain,
And pitch their toils around the shady plain.
The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent,
And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent.
'Twas of a well-grown stag, whose antlers rise
High o'er his front, his beams invade the skies.
From this light cause, th' infernal maid prepares
The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.
The stately beast the two Tyrrhidæ bred,
Snatch'd from his dam, and the tame youngling fed.
Their father Tyrrheus did his fodder bring,
Tyrrheus, chief ranger to the Latian king :
Their sister Silvia cherish'd with her care
The little wanton, and did wreaths prepare
To hang his budding horns; with ribands tied
His tender neck, and comb'd his silken hide,
And bath'd his body. Patient of command,
282
ENEIS.
In time he grew, and growing, us'd to hand,
He waited at his master's board for food;
Then sought his savage kindred in the wood,
Where grazing all the day, at night he came
To his known lodgings, and his country dame.
This household beast, that us'd the woodland grounds,
Was view'd at first by the young hero's hounds.
As down the stream he swam, to seek retreat
In the cool waters, and to quench his heat,
Ascanius, young, and eager of his game,
Soon bent his bow, uncertain in his aim:
But the dire fiend the fatal arrow guides,
Which pierc'd his bowels through his panting sides.
The bleeding creature issues from the floods,
Possess'd with fear, and seeks his known abodes,
His old familiar hearth, and household gods.
He falls; he fills the house with heavy groans,
Implores their pity, and his pain bemoans.
Young Silvia beats her breast, and cries aloud
For succor from the clownish neighborhood :
The churls assemble; for the fiend who lay
In the close woody covert, urg'd their way.
One with a brand yet burning from the flame,
Arm'd with a knotty club another came :
Whate'er they catch or find, without their care,
Their fury makes an instrument of war.
Tyrrheus, the foster-father of the beast,
Then clench'd a hatchet in his horny fist,
But held his hand from the descending stroke,
And left his wedge within the cloven oak,
To whet their courage, and their rage provoke.
And now the goddess, exercis'd in ill,
Who watch'd an hour to work her impious will,
Ascends the roof, and to her crooked horn,
Such as was then by Latian shepherds borne,
Adds all her breath. The rocks and woods around
And mountains tremble at th' infernal sound.
The sacred lake of Trivia from afar,
The Veline fountains, and sulphureous Nar,
Shake at the baleful blast, the signal of the war.
Young mothers wildly stare, with fear possess'd,
And strain their helpless infants to their breast.
The clowns, a boist'rous, rude, ungovern'd crew
With furious haste to the loud summons flew.
The pow'rs of Troy, then issuing on the plain,
With fresh recruits their youthful chief sustain :
Not theirs a raw and unexperienc'd train,
$
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283
But a firm body of embattled men.
At first, while fortune favor'd neither side,
The fight with clubs and burning brands was tried;
But now, both parties reinforc'd, the fields
Are bright with flaming swords and brazen shields:
A shining harvest either host displays,
And shoots against the sun with equal rays,
Thus when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise,
White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries
;
Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies;
Till, by the fury of the storm full blown,
The muddy bottom o'er the clouds is thrown.
First Almon falls, old Tyrrheus' eldest care,
Pierc'd with an arrow from the distant war:
Fix'd in his throat the flying weapon stood,
And stopp'd his breath, and drank his vital blood.
Huge heaps of slain around the body rise :
Among the rest, the rich Galesus lies;
A good old man, while peace he preach'd in vain,
Amidst the madness of th' unruly train :
Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures fill'd;
His lands a hundred yoke of oxen till'd.
Thus, while in equal scales their fortune stood,
The Fury bath'd them in each other's blood;
Then, having fix'd the fight, exulting flies,
And bears fulfill'd her promise to the skies.
To Juno thus she speaks: Behold! 'tis done;
The blood already drawn, the war begun ;
The discord is complete; nor can they cease
The dire debate, nor you command the peace.
Now, since the Latian and the Trojan brood
Have tasted vengeance, and the sweets of blood;
Speak, and my power shall add this office more:
The neighb'ring nations of th' Ausonian shore
Shall hear the dreadful rumor, from afar,
"
Of arm'd invasion, and embrace the war.
Then Juno thus : The grateful work is done,
The seeds of discord sow'd, the war begun :
Frauds, fears, and fury, have possess'd the state,
And fix'd the causes of a lasting late.
A bloody Hymen shall th' alliance join
Betwixt the Trojan and Ausonian line:
But thou with speed to night and hell repair;
For not the gods, nor angry Jove, will bear
Thy lawless wand'ring walks in upper air.
Leave what remains to me.
Saturnia said:
The sullen fiend her sounding wings display'd,
:
284
ENEIS.
Unwilling left the light, and sought the nether shade.
In midst of Italy, well known to fame,
There lies a like (Amsanctus is the name)
Below the lofty mounts: on either side
Thick forests the forbidden entrance hide.
Full in the centre of the sacred wood,
An arm arises of the Stygian flood,
Which, breaking from beneath with bellowing sound,
Whirls the black waves and rattling stones around.
Here Pluto pants for breath from out his cell,
And opens wide the grinning jaws of hell.
To this infernal lake the Fury flies;
Here hides her hated head, and frees the lab'ring skies
Saturnian Juno now with double care
Attends the fatal process of the war.
The clowns, return'd from battle, bear the slain,
Implore the gods, and to their king complain.
The corpse of Almon and the rest are shown:
Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town.
Ambitious Turnus in the press appears,
And, aggravating crimes, augments their fears;
Proclaims his private injuries aloud,
A solemn promise made, and disavow'd;
A foreign son is sought, and a mix'd mongrel brood
Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear,
In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear,
And lead his dances with dishevell'd hair,
Increase the clamor, and the war demand,
(Such was Amata's int'rest in the land)
Against the public sanctions of the peace,
Against all omens of their ill success.
With fates averse, the rout in arms resort,
To force their monarch, and insult the court.
But, like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves
The raging tempest and the rising waves-
Propp'd on himself he stands his solid sides
Wash off the seaweeds, and the sounding tides-
So stood the pious prince unmov'd, and long
Sustain'd the madness of the noisy throng.
But, when he found that Juno's pow'r prevail'd,
And all the methods of cool counsel fail'd,
He calls the gods to witness their offence,
Disclaims the war, asserts his innocence.
Hurried by fate," he cries,
and borne before
A furious wind, we leave the faithful shore !
O more than madmen! you yourselves shall bear
The guilt of blood and sacrilegious war:
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285
Thou, Turnus, shalt atone it by thy fate,
And pray to heav'n for peace, but pray too late ;
For me, my stormy voyage at an end,
I to the port of death securely tend.
The fun'ral pomp which to your kings you pay
Is all I want, and all you take away.
He said no more, but, in his walls confin'd,
Shut out the woes which he too well divin'd;
Nor with the rising storm would vainly strive,
But left the helm, and let the vessel drive.
A solemn custom was observ'd of old,
Which Latium held, and now the Romans hold,
Their standard when in fighting fields they rear
Against the fierce Hyrcanians, or declare
The Scythian, Indian, or Arabian war-
Or from the boasting Parthians would regain
Their eagles lost, in Carræ's bloody plain.
Two gates of steel (the name of Mars they bear,
And still are worshipp'd with religious fear)
Before his temple stand, the dire abode,
And the fear'd issues of the furious god,
Are fenc'd with brazen bolts; without the gates,
The wary guardian Janus doubly waits.
Then when the sacred senate votes the wars,
The Roman consul their decree declares,
And in his robes the sounding gates unbars.
The youth in military shouts arise,
And the loud trumpets break the yielding skies.
These rites, of old by sov'reign princes us'd,
Were the king's office: but the king refus'd,
Deaf to their cries, nor would the gates unbar
Of sacred peace, or loose th' imprison'd war;
But hid his head, and safe from loud alarms,
Abhorr'd the wicked ministry of arms.
Then heaven's imperious queen shot down from high;
At her approach the brazen hinges fly;
The gates are forc'd, and ev'ry falling bar;
And, like a tempest, issues out the war.
The peaceful cities of th' Ausonian shore,
Lull'd in their ease, and undisturb'd before,
Are all on fire; and some, with studious care,
Their restive steeds in sandy plains prepare ;
Some their soft limbs in painful marches try,
And war is all their wish, and arms their general cry.
Part scour their rusty shields with seam; and part
New grind the blunted axe, and point the dart :
With joy they view the waving ensigns fly,
Virgil.-10
286
ENEIS.
And hear the trumpets' clangor pierce the sky.
Five cities forge their arms-th' Atinian pow'rs,
Antemnæ, Tyber with her lofty towers,
Ardea the proud, the Crustumerian town.
All these of old were places of renown.
Some hammer helmets for the fighting field;
Some twine young sallows to support the shield;
The corselet some, and some the cuishes mould,
With silver plated, and with ductile gold.
The rustic honors of the scythe and share
Give place to swords and plumes, the pride of war.
Old falchions are new temper'd in the fires :
The sounding trumpet ev'ry soul inspires.
The word is giv'n; with eager speed they lace
The shining head-piece, and the shield embrace.
The neighing steeds are to the chariots tied ;
The trusty weapon sits on ev'ry side.
And now the mighty labor is begun,
Ye Muses, open all your Helicon.
Sing you the chiefs that sway'd th' Ausonian land,
Their arms, and armies under their command ;
What warriors in our ancient clime were bred;
What soldiers follow'd, and what heroes led.
For well you know, and can record alone,
What fame to future times conveys but darkly down.
Mezentius first appear'd upon the plain :
Scorn sate upon his brows, and sour disdain
Defying earth and heav'n. Etruria lost,
He brings to Turnus' aid his baffled host.
The charming Lausus, full of youthful fire,
Rode in the ranks, and next his sullen sire;
To Turnus only second in the grace
Of manly mien, and features of the face.
A skilful horseman, and a huntsman bred,
With fates averse a thousand men he led :
His sire unworthy of so brave a son;
Himself well worthy of a happier throne.
Next Aventinus drives his chariot round
The Latian plains, with palms and laurels crown'd.
Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field;
His father's hydra fills his ample shield:
A hundred serpents hiss about the brims;
The son of Hercules he justly seems,
By his broad shoulders and gigantic limbs-
Of heav'nly part, and part of earthly blood,
A mortal woman mixing with a god.
For strong Alcides, after he had slain
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287
The triple Geryon, drove from conquer'd Spain
His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led,
On Tuscan Tyber's flow'ry banks they fed.
Then, on mount Aventine, the son of Jove
The priestess Rhea found, and forc'd to love.
For arms, his men long piles and javelins bore;
And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore.
Like Hercules himself, his son appears
In savage pomp: a lion's hide he wears;
About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin:
The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin.
Thus, like the god, his father, homely drest,
He strides into the hall, a horrid guest.
Then two twin-brothers from fair Tibur came,
(Which from their brother Tiburs took the name)
Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear :
Arm'd Argive horse they lead, and in the front appear,
Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height,
With rapid course descending to the fight;
They rush along, the rattling woods give way;
The branches bend before their sweepy sway.
Nor was Præneste's founder wanting there,
Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber:
Found in the fire, and foster'd in the plains.
A shepherd and a king at once he reigns,
And leads to Turnus' aid his country swains.
His own Præneste sends a chosen band,
With those who plough Saturnia's Gabine land;
Besides the succor which cold Anien yields,
The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields,
Anagnia fat, and father Amasene-
A num'rous rout, but all of naked men :
Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield,
Nor drive the chariot through the dusty field,
But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead;
And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head :
The left foot naked, when they march to fight;
But in a bull's raw hide they sheathe the right.
Messapus next (great Neptune was his sire),
Secure of steel, and fated from the fire,
In pomp appears, and with his ardor warms
A heartless train, unexercis'd in arms:
The just Faliscans he to battle brings,
And those who live where late Ciminius springs .
And where Feronia's grove and temple stands,
Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands:
All these in order march, and marching sing
288
ENEIS,
The warlike actions of their sea-born king;
Like a long team of snowy swans on high,
Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky,
When, homeward from their wat'ry pastures borne,
They sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return.
Not one, who heard their music from afar,
Would think these troops an army train'd to war,
But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar,
With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore.
Then Clausus came, who led a num'rous band
Of troops embodied from the Sabine land,
And, in himself alone, an army brought.
'Twas he the noble Claudian race begot,
The Claudian race, ordain'd, in times to come,
To share the greatness of imperial Rome.
He led the Cures forth of old renown,
Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,
And all th' Eretrian pow'rs; besides a band
That follow'd from Velinum's dewy land,
And Amiternian troops, of mighty fame,
And mountaineers, that from Severus came,
And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica,
And those where yellow Tyber takes his way,
And where Himella's wanton waters play.
Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie
By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli:
The warlike aids of Horta next appear,
And the cold Nursians come to close the rear,
Mix'd with the natives born of Latine blood,
Whom Allia washes with her fatal flood.
Not thicker billows beat the Libyan main,
When pale Orion sets in wintry rain,
Nor thicker harvests on rich Hermus rise,
Or Lycian fields, when Phoebus burns the skies,
Than stand these troops: their bucklers ring around ;
Their trampling turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.
High in his chariot then Halesus came,
A foe by birth to Troy's unhappy name :
From Agamemnon born-to Turnus' aid,
A thousand men the youthful hero led,
Who till the Massic soil, for wine renown'd,
And fierce Auruncans from their hilly ground,
And those who live by Sidicinian shores,
And where with shoaly fords Vulturnus roars,
Cales' and Osca's old inhabitants,
And rough Saticulans, inur'd to wants.
Light demi-lances from afar they throw,
ENEIS.
289
Fasten'd with leathern thongs, to gall the foe.
Short crooked swords in closer fight they wear,
And on their warding arm light bucklers bear.
Nor Ebalus, shalt thou be left unsung,
From nymph Sebethis and old Telon sprung,
Who then in Teloboan Capri reign'd;
But that short isle th' ambitious youth disdain'd,
And o'er Campania stretch'd his ample sway,
Where swelling Sarnus seeks the Tyrrhene sea-
O'er Batulum, and where Abella sees,
From her high tow'rs, the harvest of her trees.
And these (as was the Teuton use of old)
Wield brazen swords, and brazen bucklers hold,
Sling weighty stones when from afar they fight;
Their casques are cork, a cov'ring thick and light.
Next these in rank, the warlike Ufens went,
And led the mountain troops that Nursia sent.
The rude Æquiculæ his rule obey'd ;
Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade.
In arms they plough'd, to battle still prepar'd:
Their soil was barren, and their hearts were hard.
Umbro the priest, the proud Marrubians led,
By king Archippus sent to Turnus' aid;
And peaceful olives crown'd his hoary head.
His wand and holy words, the viper's rage,
And venom'd wounds of serpents could assuage.
He, when he pleas'd with powerful juice to steep
Their temples, shut their eyes in pleasing sleep.
But vain were Martian herbs, and magic art,
To cure the wound giv'n by the Dardan dart.
Yet this untimely fate th' Angitian woods
In sighs remurmur'd to the Fucine floods.
The son of fam'd Hippolytus was there,
Fam'd as his sire, and, as his mother fair;
Whom in Egerian groves Aricia bore,
And nurs'd his youth along the marshy shore,
Where great Diana's peaceful altars flame,
In fruitful fields; and Virbius was his name.
Hippolytus, as old records have said,
Was by his stepdame sought to share her bed:
But, when no female arts his mind could move,
She turn'd to furious hate her impious love.
Torn by wild horses on the sandy shore,
Another's crime th' unhappy hunter bore;
Glutting his father's eyes with guiltless gore.
But chaste Diana, who his death deplor'd,
With Esculapian herbs his life restor'd:
i
290
ENEIS.
When Jove, who saw from high, with just disdain,
The dead inspir'd with vital breath again,
Struck to the centre, with his flaming dart,
Th' unhappy founder of the godlike art.
But Trivia kept in secret shades alone,
Her care, Hippolytus, to fate unknown,
And call'd him Verbius in th' Egerian grove,
Where then he liv'd secure but safe from Jove.
For this, from Trivia's temple and her wood,
Are coursers driv'n, who shed their master's blood,
Affrighted by the monsters of the flood.
His son, the second Virbius, yet retain'd
His father's art, and warrior steeds he rein'd.
Amid the troops, and like the leading god,
High o'er the rest in arms, the graceful Turnus rode :
A triple pile of plumes his crest adorn'd,
On which, with belching flames, Chimæra burn'd:
The more the kindled combat rises higher,
The more with fury burns the blazing fire.
Fair Iö grac'd his shield; but Iö now
With horns exalted stands, and seems to low-
A noble charge! Her keeper by her side,
To watch her walks, her hundred eyes applied ;
And on the brims, her sire, the wat'ry god,
Roll'd from his 'silver urn his crystal flood.
A cloud of foot succeeds, and fills the fields
With swords, and pointed spears, and clatt'ring shields
Of Argive, and of old Sicanian bands,
And those who plough the rich Rutulian lands;
Auruncan youth, and those Sacrana yields,
And the proud Lubicans, with painted shields,
And those who near Numician streams reside,
And those whom Tyber's holy forests hide,
Or Circe's hills from the main land divide,
Where Ufens glides along the lowly lands,
Or the black water of Pomptina stands.
Last from the Volscians fair Camilla came,
And led her warlike troops, a warrior dame :
Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd,
She chose the nobler Pallas of the field.
Mix'd with the first, the fierce Virago fought,
Sustain'd the toils of arms, the dangers sought :
Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain,
Flew o'er the field, nor hurt the bearded grain :
She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along,
Her flying feet unbath'd on billows hung.
Men, boys, and women, stupid with surprise,
ENEIS.
291
Where'er she passes fix their wond'ring eyes.
Longing they look, and gaping at the sight,
Devour her o'er and o'er with vast delight;
Her purple habit sits with such a grace
On her smooth shoulders, and so suits her face;
Her head with ringlets of her hair is crown'd;
And in a golden caul the curls are bound.
She shakes her myrtle jav'lin; and, behind,
Her Lycian quiver dances in the wind.
ENEIS.
BOOK VIII,
ARGUMENT.
The war being now begun, both the generals make all possible prepara-
tions. Turnus sends to Diomedes. Eneas goes in person to beg succor
from Evander and the Tuscans. Evander receives him kindly, furnishes
him with men, and sends his son Pallas with him. Vulcan, at the re-
quest of Venus, makes arms for her son Æneas, and draws on his shield
the most memorablc actions of his posterity.
HEN Turnus had assembled all his pow'rs,
WH
His standard planted on Laurentum's tow'rs,
When now the sprightly trumpet, from afar,
Had giv'n the signal of approaching war,
Had rous'd the neighing steeds to scour the fields.
While the fierce riders clatter'd on their shields,
Trembling with rage, the Latian youth prepare
To join th' allies, and headlong rush to war.
Fierce Ufens, and Messapus led the crowd,
With bold Mezentius, who blasphem'd aloud.
These through the country took their wasteful course,
The fields to forage, and to gather force.
Then Venelus to Diomede they send,
To beg his aid, Ausonia to defend,
Declare the common danger, and inform
The Grecian leader of the growing storm :
Eneas, landed on the Latian coast,
44
With banish'd gods, and with a baffled host,
Yet now aspir'd to conquest of the state,
And claim'd a title from the gods and fate;
What num'rous nations in his quarrel came,
And how they spread his formidable name,
What he design'd, what mischiefs might arise,
If fortune favor'd his first enterprise,
ENEIS.
293
Was left for him to weigh; whose equal fears,
And common int'rest was involv'd in theirs.
While Turnus and th' allies thus urge the war,
The Trojan, floating in a flood of care,
Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare.
This way and that he turns his anxious mind;
Thinks and rejects the counsels he design'd;
Expiores himself in vain, in ev'ry part,
And gives no rest to his distracted heart.
So, when the sun by day, or moon by night,
Strike on the polish'd brass their trembling light,
The glitt'ring species here and there divide,
And cast their dubious beams from side to side.
Now on the walls, now on the pavement play,
And to the ceiling flash the glaring day.
'Twas night and weary nature lull'd asleep
The birds of air, and fishes of the deep,
And beasts, and mortal men. The Trojan chief
Was laid on Tyber's banks, oppress'd with grief,
And found in silent slumber late relief.
Then, through the shadows of the poplar wood,
Arose the father of the Roman flood;
An azure robe was o'er his body spread,
A wreath of shady reeds adorn'd his head :
Thus, manifest to sight, the god appear'd,
And with these pleasing words his sorrow cheer'd.
Undoubted offspring of ethereal race,
O long expected in this promis'd place!
Who, through the foes, hast borne thy banish'd gods,
Restor'd them to their hearths and old abodes-
This is thy happy home, the clime where fate
Ordains thee to restore the Trojan state.
Fear not! the war shall end in lasting peace,
And all the rage of haughty Juno cease.
And that this nightly vision may not seem
Th' effect of fancy, or an idle dream,
A sow beneath an oak shall lie along,
All white herself, and white her thirty young.
When thirty rolling years have run their race,
Thy son Ascanius, on this empty space,
Shall build a royal town, of lasting fame,
Which from this omen shall receive the name.
Time shall approve the truth.-For what remains,
And how with sure success to crown your pains,
With patience next attend. A banish'd band,
Driv'n with Evander from th' Arcadian land,
Have planted here, and plac'd on high their walls;
C
294
ENEIS.
Their town the founder Pallenteum calls,
Deriv'd from Pallas, his great grandsire's name,
But the fierce Latians old possession claim,
With war infesting the new colony:
These make thy friends, and on their aid rely.
To thy free passage I submit my streains.
Wake, son of Venus, from thy pleasing dreams;
And, when the setting stars are lost in day,
To Juno's pow'r thy just devotion pay ;
With sacrifice the wrathful queen appease :
Her pride at length shall fall, her fury cease.
When thou return'st victorious from the war,
Perform thy vows to me with grateful care.
The god am I, whose yellow water flows
Around these fields, and fattens as it goes:
Tyber my name-among the rolling floods,
Renown'd on earth, esteem'd among the gods.
This is my certain seat. In times to come,
My waves shall wash the walls of mighty Rome.'
He said; and plung'd below. While yet he spoke,
His dream Æneas and his sleep forsook.
He rose, and, looking up, beheld the skies
With purple blushing, and the day arise.
Then water in his hollow palm he took
From Tyber's flood, and thus the pow'rs bespoke :
Laurentian nymphs, by whom the streams are fed,
And father Tyber, in thy sacred bed
Receive Æneas, and from danger keep.
Whatever fount, whatever holy deep,
Conceals thy wat'ry stores-where'er they rise,
And, bubbling from below, salute the skies—
Thou, king of hornèd floods, whose plenteous urn
Suffices fatness to the fruitful corn,
For this thy kind compassion of our woes,
Shalt share my morning song, and ev'ning vows.
But oh! be present to thy people's aid,
And firm the gracious promise that thou hast made."
Thus having said, two galleys from his stores,
With care he chooses, mans, and fits with oars.
Now on the shore the fatal swine is found-
Wond'rous to tell !-She lay along the ground.
Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung;
She white herself, and white her thirty young.
Æneas takes the mother and her brood;
And all on Juno's altar are bestow'd.
The following night, and the succeeding day,
Propitious Tyber smooth'd his wat'ry way:
ENEIS.
295
He roll'd his river back, and pois'd he stood,
A gentle swelling, and a peaceful flood.
The Trojans mount their ships; they put from shore,
Borne on the waves, and scarcely dip an oar.
Shouts from the land give omen to their course;
And the pitch'd vessels glide with easy force.
The woods and waters wonder at the gleam
Of shields, and painted ships that stem the stream.
One summer's night and one whole day they pass
Betwixt the green-wood shades, and cut the liquid glass.
The fiery sun had finish'd half his race,
Look'd back, and doubted in the middle space,
When they from far beheld the rising towers,
The tops of sheds, and shepherds' lowly bow'rs,
Thin as they stood, which, then of homely clay,
Now rise in marble, from the Roman sway.
These cots (Evander's kingdom, mean and poor)
The Trojan saw, and turn'd his ships to shore.
'Twas on a solemn day: th' Arcadian states,
The king and prince, without the city gates,
Then paid their off'rings in a sacred grove
To Hercules, the warrior son of Jove.
Thick clouds of rolling smoke involve the skies;
And fat of entrails on his altar fries.
But, when they saw the ships that stemm'd the flood,
And glitter'd through the covert of the wood,
They rose with fear, and left th' unfinish'd feast,
Till dauntless Pallas reassur'd the rest
To pay the rites. Himself without delay
A jav'lin seiz'd, and singly took his way.
Then gain'd a rising ground, and call'd from far:
Resolve me, strangers, whence, and what you are;
Your bus'ness here; and bring you peace or war?"
High on the stern Æneas took his stand,
And held a branch of olive in his hand,
While thus he spoke : "The Phrygians' arms you see,
Expell'd from Troy, provok'd in Italy
By Latian foes, with war unjustly made—
At first affianc'd, and at last betray'd.
"
This message bear: The Trojans and their chief
Bring holy peace, and beg the king's relief."
Struck with so great a name, and all on fire,
The youth replies : Whatever you require,
Your fame exacts. Upon our shores descend,
A welcome guest, and, what you wish, a friend."
He said, and downward hasting to the strand,
Embrac'd the stranger prince, and join'd his hand.
296
ENEIS.
Conducted to the grove, Æneas broke
The silence first, and thus the king bespoke :
Best of the Greeks! to whom by fate's command,
I bear these peaceful branches in my hand-
Undaunted I approach you, though I know
Your birth is Grecian, and your land my foe:
From Atreus though your ancient lineage came,
And both the brother kings your kindred claim:
Yet my self-conscious worth, your high renown,
Your virtue, through the neighb'ring nations blown,
Our fathers' mingled blood, Apollo's voice,
Have led me hither, less by need than choice.
Our father Dardanus, as fame has sung,
And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung
Electra from the loins of Atlas came-
Atlas, whose head sustains the starry frame.
Your sire is Mercury, whom long before
On cold Cyllene's top fair Maia bore.
Maia the fair, on fame if we rely,
Was Atlas' daughter, who sustains the sky.
Thus from one common source our streams divide:
Ours is the Trojan, yours th' Arcadian side.
Rais'd by these hopes, I sent no news before,
Nor ask'd your leave, nor did your faith implore;
But come, without a pledge, my own ambassador.
The same Rutulians, who with arms pursue
The Trojan race, are equal foes to you.
Our host expell'd, what further force can stay
The victor troops from universal sway?
Then will they stretch their pow'r athwart the land,
And either sea from side to side command.
Receive our offer'd faith, and give us thine :
Ours is a generous and experienc'd line:
We want not hearts nor bodies for the war;
In council cautious, and in fields we dare.
He said: and, while he spoke, with piercing eyes
Evander view'd the man with vast surprise--
Pleas'd with his action, ravish'd with his face;
Then answer'd briefly, with a royal grace :
"O valiant leader of the Trojan line,
In whom the features of thy father shine!
How I recall Anchises! how I see
His motions, mien, and all my friend, in thee!
Long though it be, 'tis fresh within my mind,
When Priam to his sister's court design'd
A welcome visit, with a friendly stay,
And through th' Arcadian kingdom took his way.
ENEIS.
297
Then, pass'd a boy, the callow down began
To shade my chin, and call me first a man.
I saw the shining train with vast delight;
And Priam's goodly person pleas'd my sight:
But great Anchises, far above the rest,
With awful wonder fir'd my youthful breast.
I long'd to join, in friendship's holy bands,
Our mutual hearts, and plight our mutual hands.
I first accosted him: I sued, I sought,
And, with a loving force, to Pheneus brought.
He gave me, when at length constrain'd to go,
A Lycian quiver and a Gnossian bow,
A vest embroider'd, glorious to behold,
And two rich bridles, with their bits of gold,
Which my son's coursers in obedience hold.
The league you ask, I offer, as your right;
And when to-morrow's sun reveals the light,
With swift supplies you shall be sent away.
Now celebrate with us this solemn day,
Whose holy rites admit no long delay.
Honor our annual feast; and take your seat,
With friendly welcome, at a friendly treat.
Thus having said, the bowls remov'd (for fear)
The youths replac'd, and soon restor'd the cheer.
On sods of turf he set the soldiers round:
A maple throne, rais'd higher from the ground,
Receiv'd the Trojan chief; and o'er the bed,
A lion's shaggy hide, for ornament they spread.
The loaves were serv'd in canisters; the wine
In bowls; the priest renew'd the rites divine:
Broil'd entrails are their food, and beef's continued chine
But, when the rage of hunger was repress'd,
Thus spoke Evander to his royal guest :
"These rites, these altars, and this feast, O king,
From no vain fears or superstition spring,
Or blind devotion, or from blinder chance,
Or heady zeal, or brutal ignorance:
But, sav'd from danger, with a grateful sense,
The labors of a god we recompense.
See, from afar, yon rock that mates the sky;
About whose feet such heaps of rubbish lie;
Such undigested ruin; bleak and bare,
How desert now it stands, expos'd in air!
'Twas once a robber's den, inclos'd around
With living stone, and deep beneath the ground,
The monster Cacus, more than half a beast,
This hold, impervious to the sun, possess'd.
298
ÆNEIS.
The pavement ever foul with human gore:
Heads, and their mangled members, hung the door.
Vulcan this plague begot: and, like his sire,
Black clouds he belch'd and flakes of livid fire.
Time, long expected, eas'd us of our load,
And brought the needful presence of a god.
Th' avenging force of Hercules, from Spain,
Arriv'd in triumph, from Geryon slain :-
Thrice liv'd the giant, and thrice liv'd in vain.
His prize, the lowing herds, Alcides drove
Near Tyber's banks, to graze the shady grove.
Allur'd with hope of plunder, and intent
By force to rob, by fraud to circumvent,
The brutal Cacus, as by chance they stray'd,
Four oxen thence, and four fair kine, convey'd.
And, lest the printed footsteps might be seen,
He dragg'd them backwards to his rocky den.
The tracks averse a lying notice gave,
And led the searcher backward from the cave.
Meantime the herdsman hero shifts his place,
To find fresh pasture and untrodden grass.
The beasts, who miss'd their mates, fill'd all around
With bellowings and the rocks restor❜d the sound.
One heifer, who had heard her love complain,
Roar'd from the cave, and made the project vain.
Alcides found the fraud: with rage he shook,
And toss'd about his head his knotted oak.
Swift as the winds, or Scythian arrow's flight,
He climb'd, with eager haste, the aerial height.
Then first we saw the monster mend his pace :
Fear in his eyes, and paleness in his face,
Confess'd the god's approach. Trembling he springs,
As terror had increas'd his feet with wings;
Nor staid for stairs but down the depth he threw
His body on his back the door he drew—
(The door a rib of living rock with pains
His father hew'd it out, and bound with chains :)
He broke the heavy links, the mountain clos'd,
And bars and levers to his foe oppos'd.
The wretch had hardly made his dungeon fast;
The fierce avenger came with bounding haste ;
Survey'd the mouth of the forbidden hold;
And here and there his raging eyes he roll'd.
He gnash'd his teeth; and thrice he compass'd round
With wing d speed the circuit of the ground.
Thrice at the cavern's mouth he pull'd in vain :
And, panting, thrice desisted from his pain:
ENEIS.
299
A pointed, flinty rock, all bare and black,
Grew gibbous from behind the mountain's back;
Owls, ravens, all ill omens of the night,
Here built their nests, and hither wing'd their flight.
The leaning head hung threat'ning o'er the flood,
And nodded to the left. The hero stood
Averse, with planted feet, and from the right,
Tugg'd at the solid stone with all his might.
Thus heav'd, the fix'd foundations of the rock
Gave way heaven echo'd at the rattling shock.
Tumbling, it chok'd the flood: on either side
The banks leap backward, and the streams divide:
The sky shrunk upward with unusual dread;
And trembling Tyber div'd beneath his bed.
The court of Cacus stands reveal'd to sight:
The cavern glares with new-admitted light.
So the pent vapors, with a rumbling sound,
Heave from below, and rend the hollow ground;
A sounding flaw succeeds; and, from on high,
The gods with hate behold the nether sky:
The ghosts repine at violated night,
And curse th' invading sun, and sicken at the sight.
The graceless monster, caught in open day,
Enclos'd, and in despair to fly away,
Howls horrible from underneath, and fills
His hollow palace with unmanly yells.
The hero stands above, and from afar
Plies him with darts, and stones, and distant war.
He from his nostrils, and huge mouth, expires
Black clouds of smoke, amidst his father's fires,
Gath'ring, with each repeated blast, the night,
To make uncertain aim, and erring sight.
The watchful god then plunges from above,
And, where in thickest waves, the sparkles drove
Their lights; and wades through fumes, and gropes his
way,
Half sing'd, half stifled, till he grasps his prey.
The monster spewing fruitless flames, he found;
He squeez'd his throat; he writh'd his neck around,
And in a knot his crippled members bound;
Then from their sockets tore his burning eyes:
Roll'd on a heap, the breathless robber lies.
The doors, unbarr'd, receive the rushing day;
And thorough lights disclose the ravish'd prey;
The bulls, redeem'd, breathe open air again.
Next, by the feet they drag him from his den.
The wond'ring neighborhood, with glad surprise,
300
ÆNEIS.
Beheld his shagged breast, his giant size,
His mouth that flames no more, and his extinguish'd eyes.
From that auspicious day, with rites divine,
We worship at the hero's holy shrine.
Portitius first ordain'd these annual vows :
As priests, were added the Pinarian house,.
Who rais'd this altar in the sacred shade,
Where honors, ever due, forever shall be paid.
For these deserts, and this high virtue shown,
Ye warlike youths, your heads with garlands crown;
Fill high the goblets with a sparkling flood;
And with deep draughts invoke our common god."
This said, a double wreath Evander twin'd;
And poplars black and white his temples bind.
Then brims his ample bowl. With like design
The rest invoke the gods, with sprinkled wine.
Meantime the sun descended from the skies,
And the bright evening star began to rise.
And now the priests, Portitius at their head,
In skins of beasts involv'd, the long procession led;
Held high the flaming tapers in their hands,
As custom had prescrib'd their holy bands;
Then with a second course the tables load,
And with full chargers offer to the god.
The Salii sing, and 'cense his altars round
With Saban smoke, their heads with poplar bound,
One choir of old, another of the young,
To dance, and bear the burden of the song.
The lay records the labors, and the praise,
And all th' immortal acts of Hercules:
First, how the mighty babe, when swath'd in bands,
The serpent strangled with his infant hands;
Then, as in years and matchless force he grew,
Th' Echalian walls, and Trojan, overthrew.
Besides a thousand hazards they relate,
Procur'd by Juno's and Eurystheus' hate.
'Thy hands, unconquer'd hero, could subdue
The cloud-born Centaurs, and the monster crew :
Nor thy resistless arm the bull withstood,
Nor he the roaring terror of the wood.
The triple porter of the Stygian seat,
With lolling tongue, lay fawning at thy feet,
And, seiz'd with fear, forgot his mangled meat.
Th' infernal water trembled at thy sight;
Thee, god! no face of dangers could affright;
Not huge Typhoeus, nor th' unnumber'd snake,
Increas'd with hissing heads, in Lerna's lake.
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301
Hail, Jove's undoubted son! an added grace
To heaven and the great author of thy race;
Receive the grateful off'rings which we pay,
And smile propitious on the solemn day!"'
In numbers thus they sung: above the rest,
The den and death of Cacus crown the feast.
The woods to hollow vales convey the sound ;
The vales to hills; and hills the notes rebound.
The rites perform'd, the cheerful train retire.
Betwixt young Pallas and his aged sire,
The Trojan pass'd, the city to survey;
And pleasing talk beguil'd the tedious way.
The stranger cast around his curious eyes,
New objects viewing still with new surprise;
With greedy joy inquires of various things,
And acts and monuments of ancient kings,
Then thus the founder of the Roman tow'rs:
"These woods were first the seat of Sylvan pow'rs,
Of Nymphs and Fauns, and savage men who took
Their birth from trunks of trees and stubborn oak.
Nor laws they knew, nor manners, nor the care
Of lab'ring oxen, nor the shining share,
Nor arts of gain, nor what they gain'd to spare.
Their exercise the chase the running flood
Supplied their thirst; the trees supplied their food.
Then Saturn came, who fled the pow'r of Jove,
Robb'd of his realms, and banish'd from above.
The men dispers'd on hills, to towns he brought,
And laws ordain'd, and civil customs taught,
And Latium call'd the land where safe he lay
From his unduteous son, and his usurping sway.
With his mild empire, peace and plenty came :
And thence the golden times deriv'd their name.
A more degen'rate and discolor'd age
Succeeded this, with avarice and rage.
Th' Ausonians then, and bold Sicanians, came;
And Saturn's empire often chang'd the name.
Then kings-gigantic Tybris, and the rest-
With arbitrary sway the land opprest;
For Tyber's flood was Albula before,
Till from the tyrant's fate, his name it bore.
I last arriv'd, driv'n from my native home,
By fortune's pow'r, and fate's resistless doom.
Long toss'd on seas, I sought this happy land,
Warn'd by my mother nymph, and call'd by heav'n's
command.'
>
Thus, walking on, he spoke and show'd the gate,
302
ENEIS.
Since call'd Carmental by the Roman state;
Where stood an altar, sacred to the name
Of old Carmenta, the prophetic dame,
Who to her son foretold th' Ænean race,
Sublime in fame, and Rome's imperial place
Then shows the forests, which, in after-times,
Fierce Romulus, for perpetrated crimes,
A sacred refuge made ;-with this, the shrine
Where Pan below the rock had rites divine ;-
Then tells of Argus' death, his murder'd guest,
Whose grave and tomb his innocence attest.
Thence, to the steep Tarpeian rock he leads—
Now roof'd with gold, then thatch'd with homely reeds.
A rev'rent fear (such superstition reigns
Among the rude) ev'n then possess'd the swains.
Some god, they knew-what god, they could not tell-
Did there amidst the sacred horror dwell.
Th' Arcadians thought him Jove; and said they saw
The mighty Thund'rer with majestic awe,
Who shook his shield, and dealt his bolts around,
And scatter'd tempests on the teeming ground.
Then saw two heaps of ruins (once they stood
Two stately towns, on either side the flood),
Saturnia's and Janiculum's remains;
And either place the founder's name retains.
Discoursing thus together, they resort
Where poor Evander kept his country court.
They view'd the ground of Rome's litigious hall
(Once oxen low'd where now the lawyers bawl),
Then stooping, through the narrow gate they press'd,
When thus the king bespoke his Trojan guest :
เ
O Mean as it is, this palace, and this door,
Receiv'd Alcides, then a conqueror.
Dare to be poor accept our homely food,
Which feasted him; and emulate a god."
Then underneath a lowly roof he led
The weary prince, and laid him on a bed ;
The stuffing, leaves, with hides of bears o'erspread.
Now night had shed her silver dews around,
And with her sable wings embrac'd the ground,
When love's fair goddess, anxious for her son
(New tumults rising, and new wars begun),
Couch'd with her husband in his golden bed,
With these alluring words invokes his aid—
And, that her pleasing speech his mind may move,
Inspires each accent with the charms of love:
'While cruel fate inspir'd with Grecian pow'rs,
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303
To level with the ground the Trojan tow'rs,
I ask'd not aid th' unhappy to restore,
Nor did the succor of thy skill implore,
Nor urg'd the labors of my lord in vain,
A sinking empire longer to sustain,
Though much I ow'd to Priam's house, and more
The danger of Æneas did deplore.
But now, by Jove's command, and Fate's decree,
His race is doom'd to reign in Italy;
With humble suit I beg thy needful art,
O still propitious pow'r, that rul'st my heart!
A mother kneels a suppliant for her son,
By Thetis and Aurora thou wert won,
To forge impenetrable shields, and grace
With fated arms a less illustrious race.
Behold what haughty nations are combin'd
Against the relics of the Phrygian kind,
With fire and sword my people to destroy,
And conquer Venus twice, in conq'ring Troy."
She said; and straight her arms, of snowy hue,
About her unresolving husband threw.
Her soft embraces soon infuse desire :
His bones and marrow sudden warmth inspire;
And all the godhead feels the wonted fire.
Not half so swift the rattling thunder flies,
Or forky lightnings flash along the skies.
The goddess, proud of her successful wiles,
And conscious of her form, in secret smiles.
Then thus the pow'r obnoxious to her charms
Panting, and half dissolving in her arms:
'Why seek you reasons for a cause so just,
Or your own beauties or my love distrust?
Long since, had you requir'd my helpful hand,
Th' artificer and art you might command,
To labor arins for Troy: nor Jove, nor Fate,
Confin'd their empire to so short a date.
And, if you now desire new wars to wage,
My skill I promise, and my pains engage.
Whatever melting metal can conspire,
Or breathing bellows, or the forming fire,
Is freely yours: your anxious fears remove,
And think no task is difficult to love.
Trembling he spoke; and, eager of her charms,
He snatch'd the willing goddess to his arms;
Till, in her lap infus'd, he lay possess'd
Of full desire, and sunk to pleasing rest.
Now when the night her middle race had rode,
304
ENEIS.
And his first slumber had refresh'd the god-
The time when early housewives leave the bed,
When living embers on the hearth are spread,
Supply the lamp, and call the maids to rise ;-
With yawning mouths, and with half-open'd eyes
They ply the distaff by the winking light,
And to their daily labor add the night :
Thus frugally they earn their children's bread,
And uncorrupted keep their nuptial bed-
Not less concern'd, nor at a later hour,
Rose from his downy couch the forging pow'r.
Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay,
Betwixt Sicilia's coasts and Lipare,
Rais'd high on smoking rocks; and deep below,
In hollow caves the fires of Ætna glow.
The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal :
Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel,
Are heard around the boiling waters roar ;
And smoky flames through fuming tunnels soar.
Hither the father of the fire, by night,
Through the brown air precipitates his flight.
On their eternal anvils here he found
The brethren beating, and the blows go round :
A load of pointless thunder now there lies
Before their hands, to ripen for the skies :
These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast-
Consum'd on mortals with prodigious waste.
Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more,
Of winged southern winds and cloudy store
As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame,
And fears are added, and avenging flame.
Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair
His broken axle-trees, and blunted ware,
And send him forth again with furbish'd arms,
:
To wake the lazy war with trumpets' loud alarms.
The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold
The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold.
Full on the crest, the Gorgon's head they place,
With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face.
My sons!" said Vulcan, set your tasks aside
Your strength and master-skill must now be tried.
Arms for a hero forge-arms that require
Your force, your speed, and all your forming fire."
He said. They set their former work aside,
And their new toils with eager haste divide.
A flood of molten silver, brass, and gold,
And deadly steel, in the large furnace roll'd :
ENEIS.
305
Of this, their artful hands a shield prepare,
Alone sufficient to sustain the war.
Sev'n orbs within a spacious round they close.
One stirs the fire, and one the bellows blows.
The hissing steel is in the smithy drown'd;
The grot with beaten anvils groans around.
By turns, their arms advance in equal time:
By turns, their hands descend, and hammers chime.
They turn the glowing mass with crooked tongs :
The fiery work proceeds, with rustic songs.
While, at the Lemnian god's command, they urge
Their labors thus, and ply th' Æolian forge,
The cheerful morn salutes Evander's eyes,
And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.
He leaves his lowly bed; his buskins meet
Above his ankles; sandals sheathe his feet:
He sets his trusty sword upon his side,
And o'er his shoulder throws a panther's hide.
Two menial dogs before their master press'd.
Thus clad, and guarded thus, he seeks his kingly guest;
Mindful of promis'd aid he mends his pace,
But meets Eneas in the middle space.
Young Pallas did his father's steps attend;
And true Achates waited on his friend.
They join their hands: a secret seat they choose:
Th' Arcadian first their former talk renews:
"Undaunted prince! I never can believe
The Trojan empire lost, while you survive.
Command th' assistance of a faithful friend :
But feeble are the succors I can send.
Our narrow kingdom here the Tyber bounds:
The other side the Latian state surrounds,
Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds.
But mighty nations I prepare to join
Their arms with yours, and aid your just design.
You come, as by your better genius sent;
And Fortune seems to favor your intent.
Not far from hence, there stands a hilly town,
Of ancient building, and of high renown,
Torn from the Tuscans by the Lydian race,
Who gave the name of Cære to the place,
Once Agyllina call'd. It flourished long,
In pride of wealth and warlike people strong,
Till curs'd Mezentius, in a fatal hour,
Assum'd the crown, with arbitrary pow'r.
What words can paint those execrable times,
The subjects' suff'rings, and the tyrant's crimes?
306
ENEIS.
That blood, those murders, O ye gods! replace
On his own head, and on his impious race !
The living and the dead, at his command,
Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand,
Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied,
The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died;
Thus plung'd in ills, and meditating more—
The people's patience tried, no longer bore
The raging monster; but with arms beset
His house, and vengeance and destruction threat.
They fire his palace while the flame ascends,
They force his guards, and execute his friends.
He cleaves the crowd, and, favor'd by the night,
To Turnus' friendly court directs his flight.
By just revenge the Tuscans set on fire,
With arms, their king to punishment require :
Their num'rous troops, now muster'd on the strand,
My counsel shall submit to your command.
Their navy swarms upon the coasts: they cry
To hoist their anchors; but the gods deny.
An ancient augur, skill'd in future fate,
With these foreboding words, restrains their hate :
Ye brave in arms, ye Lydian blood, the flow'r
Of Tuscan youth, and choice of all their pow'r,
Whom just revenge against Mezentius' arms,
To seek your tyrant's death by lawful arms!
Know this no native of our land may lead
This powerful people: seek a foreign head.
Aw'd with these words, in camps they still abide,
And wait with longing looks their promis'd guide.
Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent
Their crown, and ev'ry regal ornament:
The people join their own with his desire;
And all my conduct, as their king, require.
But the chill blood, that creeps within my veins,
And age, and listless limbs unfit for pains,
And a soul, conscious of its own decay,
Have forc'd me to refuse imperial sway.
My Pallas were more fit to mount the throne,
And should, but he's a Sabine mother's son,
And half a native; but in you, combine
A manly vigor and a foreign line.
Where Fate and smiling Fortune show the way,
Pursue the ready path to sov'reign sway.
The staff of my declining days, my son,
Shall make your good or ill success his own;
In fighting fields, from you shall learn to dare,
ÆNEIS.
307
And serve the hard apprenticeship of war
Your matchless courage, and your conduct view:
And early shall begin t' adraire and copy you.
Besides, two hundred horse he shall command-
Though few, a warlike and well chosen band.
These in my name are listed; and my son
As many more has added in his own.
Scarce had he said: Achates and his guest,
With downcast eyes, their silent grief express'd;
Who, short of succors, and in deep despair,
Shook at the dismal prospect of the war.
But his bright mother, from a breaking cloud,
To cheer her issue, thunder'd thrice aloud :
Thrice forky lightning flash'd along the sky;
And Tyrrhene trumpets thrice were heard on high.
Then, gazing up, repeated peals they hear;
And, in a heav'n serene, refulgent arms appear :
Redd'ning the skies, and glitt'ring all around.
The temper'd metals clash, and yield a silver sound.
The rest stood trembling: struck with awe divine,
Æneas only, conscious to the sign,
"
Presag'd th' event, and joyful view'd, above,
Th' accomplish'd promise of the queen of love.
Then, to th' Arcadian king: This prodigy
(Dismiss your fear) belongs alone to me.
Heav'n calls me to the war: th' expected sign
Is giv'n of promis'd aid, and arms divine.
My goddess mother, whose indulgent care
Foresaw the dangers of the growing war,
This omen gave, when bright Vulcanian arms,
Fated from force of steel by Stygian charms,
Suspended, shone on high: she then foreshow'd
Approaching fights, and fields to float in blood.
Turnus shall dearly pay for faith forsworn ;
And corpse, and swords, and shields, on Tyber borne
Shall choke his flood: now sound the loud alarms;
And, Latian troops, prepare your perjur'd arms.
He said, and, rising from his homely throne,
The solemn rites of Hercules begun,
And on his altars wak'd the sleeping fires;
Then cheerful to his household gods retires;
There offers chosen sheep. Th' Arcadian king
And Trojan youth the same oblations bring.
Next, of his men and ships he makes review;
Draws out the best and ablest of the crew.
Down with the falling stream, the refuse run,
To raise with joyful news his drooping son.
*
308
ENEIS.
Steeds are prepar'd to mount the Trojan band,
Who wait their leader to the Tyrrhene land.
A sprightly courser, fairer than the rest,
The king himself presents his royal guest.
A lion's hide his back and limbs infold,
Precious with studded work, and paws of gold.
Fame through the little city spreads aloud
Th' intended march; amid the fearful crowd,
The matrons beat their breasts, dissolve in tears,
And double their devotion in their fears.
The war at hand appears with more affright,
And rises ev'ry moment to the sight.
Then old Evander, with a close embrace,
Strain'd his departing friend, and tears o'erflow his face.
"Would heav'n (said he) my strength and youth recall,
Such as I was beneath Præneste's wall-
Then when I made the foremost foes retire,
And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire;
When Herilus in single fight I slew,
Whom with three lives Feronia did endue ;
And thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore,
Till the last ebbing soul return'd no more—
Such if I stood renew'd, not these alarms,
Nor death, should rend me from my Pallas' arms,
Nor proud Mezentius, thus, unpunish'd, boast
His rapes and murders on the Tuscan coast.
Ye gods and mighty Jove ! in pity bring
Relief, and hear a father and a king!
If Fate and you reserve these eyes to see
My son return'd with peace and victory :
If the lov'd boy shall bless his father's sight;
If we shall meet again with more delight;
Then draw my life in length; let me sustain,
In hopes of his embrace, the worst of pain.
But if your hard decrees-which oh! I dread-
Have doom'd to death his undeserving head;
This, oh! this very moment let me die,
While hopes and fears in equal balance lie;
While, yet possess'd of all his youthful charms,
I strain him close within these aged arms-
Before that fatal news my soul shall wound !”’
He said, and, swooning, sunk upon the ground.
His servants bore him off, and softly laid
His languish'd limbs upon his homely bed.
The horsemen march; the gates are open'd wide;
Æneas at their head, Achates by his side.
Next these, the Trojan leaders rode along:
!
NEIS.
309
Last, follows in the rear th' Arcadian throng.
Young Pallas shone conspicuous o'er the rest ;
Gilded his arms, embroider'd was his vest.
So from the seas, exerts his radiant head
The star, by whom the lights of heav'n are led ;
Shakes from his rosy locks the pearly dews,
Dispels the darkness, and the day renews.
The trembling wives the walls and turrets crowd,
And follow, with their eyes, the dusty cloud,
Which winds disperse by fits, and show from far
The blaze of arms, and shields, and shining war.
The troops, drawn up in beautiful array,
O'er heathy plains pursue the ready way.
Repeated peals of shouts are heard around:
The neighing coursers answer to the sound,
And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground.
A greenwood shade, long for religion known,
Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town;
Encompass'd round the gloomy hills above,
Vhich add a holy horror to the grove.
The first inhabitants, of Grecian blood,
That sacred forest to Silvanus vow'd,
The guardian of their flocks and fields-and pay
Their due devotions on his annual day.
Not far from hence,
In tents secure, the
along the river's side,
Tuscan troops abide,
By Tarchon led. Now, from a rising ground,
Eneas cast his wond'ring eyes around,
And all the Tyrrhene army had in sight,
Stretch'd on the spacious plain from left to right.
Thither his warlike train the Trojan led,
Refresh'd his men, and wearied horses fed.
Meantime the mother-goddess, crown'd with charms.
Breaks thro' the clouds and brings the fated arms.
Within a winding vale she finds her son,
On the cool river's banks, retir'd alone.
She shows her heav'nly form without disguise,
And gives herself to his desiring eyes.
Behold (she said) perform'd, in every part,
My promise made, and Vulcan's labor'd art.
Now seek, secure the Latian enemy,
And haughty Turnus to the field defy."
She said and, having first her son embrac'd,
The radiant arms beneath an oak she plac'd.
Proud of the gift, he roll'd his greedy sight
Around the work, and gaz'd with vast delight.
He lifts, he turns, he poises and admires,
310
ENEIS.
The crested he'm, that vomits radiant fires :
His hands the fatal sword and corselet hold,
One keen with temper'd steel, one stiff with gold:
Both ample, flaming both, and beamy bright.
So shines a cloud when edg'd with adverse light.
He shakes the pointed spear, and longs to try
The plaited cuishes on his manly thigh;
But most admires the shield's mysterious mould,
And Roman triumphs rising on the gold :
For there, emboss'd, the heav'nly smith had wrought
(Not in the rolls of future fate untaught)
The wars in order, and the race divine
Of warriors issuing from the Julian line.
The cave of Mars was dress'd with mossy greens :
There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins.
Intrepid on her sweiling dugs they hung:
The foster dam loll'd out her fawning tongue :
They suck'd secure, while bending back her head,
She lick'd their tender limbs, and form'd them as they fed.
Not far from thence, new Rome appears, with games
Projected for the rape of Sabine dames.
The pit resounds with shrieks: a war succeeds,
For breach of public faith, and unexampled deeds,
Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend:
The Romans there with arms the prey defend.
Wearied with tedious war, at length they cease;
And both the kings and kingdoms plight the peace.
The friendly chiefs before Jove's altar stand,
Both arm'd, with each a charger in his hand :
A fatted sow for sacrifice is led,
With imprecations on the perjur'd head.
Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch'd between
Four fiery steeds, is dragg'd along the green,
By Tullus' doom: the brambles drink his blood;
And his torn limbs are left, the vulture's food.
There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings,
And would by force restore the banish'd kings.
One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights :
The Roman youth assert their native rights.
Before the town the Tuscan army lies,
To win by famine, or by fraud surprise.
Their king, half threat'ning, half disdaining, stood,
While Cocles broke the bridge and stemm'd the flood.
The captive maids there tempt the raging tide,
'Scap'd from their chains, with Clelia for their guide.
High on a rock heroic Manlius stood,
To guard the temple and the temple's god.
ÆNEIS.
311
Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold
The palace, thatch'd with straw, now roof'd with gold.
The silver goose before the shining gate
There flew, and, by her cackle, sav'd the state.
She told the Gauls' approach: th' approaching Gauls,
Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls.
The gold dissembled well their yellow hair;
And golden chains on their white necks they wear:
Gold are their vests: long Alpine spears they wield,
And their left arm sustains a length of shield,
Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance:
And naked through the streets the mad Luperci dance,
In caps of wool; the targets dropt from heav'n.
Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv'n,
To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear:
And od'rous gums in their chaste hands they bear,
Far hence remov'd, the Stygian seats are seen;
Pains of the damn'd; and punish'd Catiline,
Hung on a rock-the traitor; and around,
The Furies hissing from the nether ground.
Apart from these, the happy souls he draws,
And Cato's holy ghost dispensing laws.
Betwixt the quarters flows a golden sea :
But foaming surges there in silver play.
The dancing dolphins with their tails divide
The glitt'ring waves, and cut the precious tide.
Amid the main, two mighty fleets engage-
Their brazen beaks oppos'd with equal rage.
Actium surveys the well-disputed prize :
Leucate's wat'ry plain with foaming billows fries.
Young Cæsar, on the stern, in armor bright,
Here leads the Romans and their gods to fight:
His beamy temples shoot their flames afar ;
And o'er his head is hung the Julian star.
Agrippa seconds him, with prosp'rous gales,
And, with propitious gods, his foes assails.
A naval crown, that binds his manly brows,
The happy fortune of the fight foreshows.
Rang'd on the line oppos'd, Antonius brings
Barbarian aids, and troops of eastern kings,
Th' Arabians near, and Bactrians from afar,
Of tongues discordant, and a mingled war;
And, rich in gaudy robes, amidst the strife
His ill fate follows him-th' Egyptian wife.
Moving they fight with oars and forky prows
The froth is gather'd, and the water glows.
It seems as if the Cyclades again
312
ENEIS.
Were rooted up and justled in the main;
Or floating mountains floating mountains meet;
Such is the fierce encounter of the fleet.
Fire-balls are thrown, and pointed javelins fly;
The fields of Neptune take a purple dye.
The queen herself, amidst the loud alarms,
With cymbals toss'd, her fainting soldiers warms-
Fool as she was! who had not yet divin'd
Her cruel fate; nor saw the snakes behind.
Her country gods, the monsters of the sky,
Great Neptune, Pallas, and love's queen, defy.
The dog Anubis barks, but barks in vain,
Nor longer dares oppose th' ethereal train.
Mars in the middle of the shining shield,
Is grav'd, and strides along the liquid field.
The Diræ souse from heav'n with swift descent:
And Discord, dy'd in blood, with garments rent,
Divides the crowd: her steps Bellona treads,
And shakes her iron rod above their heads.
This seen, Apollo, from his Actian height,
Pours down his arrows; at whose wingèd flight
The trembling Indians and Egyptians yield,
And soft Sabæans quit the wat'ry field.
The fatal mistress hoists her silken sails,
And, shrinking from the fight, invokes the gales.
Aghast she looks, and heaves her breast for breath,
Panting, and pale with fear of future death.
The god had figur'd her, as driven along
By winds and waves, and scudding through the throng.
Just opposite, sad Nilus opens wide
His arms and ample bosom to the tide,
And spreads his mantle o'er the winding coast,
In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host,
The victor to the gods his thanks express'd,
And Rome triumphant with his presence bless'd.
Three hundred temples in the town he plac'd;
With spoils and altars every temple grac'd.
Three shining nights, and three succeeding days,
The fields resound with shouts, the streets with praise,
The domes with songs, the theatres with plays.
All altars flame: before each altar lies,
Drench'd in his gore, the destin'd sacrifice.
Great Cæsar sits sublime upon his throne,
Before Apollo's porch of Parian stone ;
Accepts the presents vow'd for victory,
And hangs the monumental crowns on high.
Vast crowds of vanquish'd nations march along,
ENEIS.
313
Various in arms, in habit, and in tongue.
Here, Mulciber assigns the proper place
For Carians, and th' ungirt Numidian race;
Then ranks the Thracians in the second row,
With Scythians, expert in th' dart and bow.
And here the tam'd Euphrates humbly glides;
And there the Rhine submits her swelling tides,
And proud Araxes, whom no bridge could bind.
The Danes' unconquer'd offspring march behind;
And Morini, the last of human kind.
These figures on the shield divinely wrought,
By Vulcan labor'd, and by Venus brought,
With joy and wonder fill the hero's thought.
Unknown the names, he yet admires the grace,
And bears aloft the fame and fortune of his race,
"
ENEIS.
!
BOOK IX.
ARGUMENT.
Turnus takes advantage of Æneas' absence, fires some of his ships (which
are transformed into sea-nymphs), and assaults his camp. The Trojans,
reduced to the last extremities, send Ninus and Euryalus to recall Ene-
as; which furnishes the poet with that admirable episode of their friend-
ship, generosity, and the conclusion of their adventure.
14
W
HILE these affairs in distant places pass'd,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir'd alone, she found the daring man,
And op'd her rosy lips, and thus began :
"What none of all the gods could grant thy vows-
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows!
Æneas, gone to seek th' Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defence;
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite your forces, and attack their lines.
This said, on equal wings she pois'd her weight,
And form'd a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
"Iris, the grace of heav'n! what pow'r divine
Has sent thee down, through dusky clouds to shine?
See, they divide: immortal day appears,
And glitt'ring planets dancing in their spheres !
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow, to the war, the god that leads the way."
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood,
He scoop'd the water from the crystal flood ;
ENEIS.
315
Then, with his hands, the drops to heaven he throws,
And loads the pow'rs above with offer'd vows.
Now march the bold confed'rates through the plain,
Well hors'd, well clad-a rich and shining train.
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow'rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow,
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caïcus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black'ning the fields, and thick'ning thro' the skies,
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
"What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears,
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.
Thus warn'd, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend :
For their wise general, with foreseeing care,
Had charg'd them not to tempt the doubtful war :
Nor, though provok'd, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance.
Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command,
And sourly wait in arms the hostile band.
The fiery Turnus flew before the rest :
A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press'd;
His helm of massy gold; and crimson was his crest.
With twenty horse to second his designs,
An unexpected foe, he fac'd the lines.
Is there (he said) in arms who bravely dare
His leader's honor and his danger share ?"
Then spurring on, his brandish'd dart he threw,
In sign of war ;-applauding shouts ensue.
Amaz'd to find a dastard race that run
Behind the rampires, and the battle shun,
He rides around the camp with rolling eyes,
And stops at ev'ry post, and ev'ry passage tries.
So roams the nightly wolf about the fold :
Wet with descending show'rs, and stiff with cold,
He howls for hunger, and he grins for pain
(His gnashing teeth are exercis'd in vain),
And, impotent of anger, finds no way
In his distended paws to grasp the prey.
The mothers listen; but the bleating lambs
Securely swig the dug, beneath the dams.
316
ENEIS.
Thus ranges eager Tuzaus o'er the plain,
Sharp with desire, and furious with disdain ;
Surveys each passage with a piercing sight,
To force his foes in equal field to fight.
Thus while he gazes round, at length he spies,
Where, fenc'd with strong redoubts, their navy lies
Close underneath the walls: the washing tide
Secures from all approach this weaker side.
He takes the wish'd occasion, fills his hand
With ready fires, and shakes a flaming brand.
Urg'd by his presence, ev'ry soul is warm'd,
And ev'ry hand with kindled fires is arm'd.
From the fir'd pines, the scatt' ring sparkles fly,
Fat vapors, mix'd with flames, involve the sky.
What pow'r, O Muses, could avert the flame,
Which threaten'd in the fleet, the Trojan name?
Tell for, the fact, through length of time obscure,
Is hard to faith; yet shall the fame endure.
>
'Tis said, that when the chief prepar'd his flight,
And fell'd his timber from mount Ida's height,
The grandame-goddess then approach'd her son,
And with a mother's majesty begun :
"Grant me (she said) the sole request I bring,
Since conquer'd heav'n has own'd you for its king.
On Ida's brows, for ages past, there stood
With firs and maples fill'd, a shady wood;
And on the summit rose a sacred grove,
Where I was worshipp'd with religious love.
These woods, that holy grove, my long delight,
I gave the Trojan prince, to speed his flight.
Now, fill'd with fear, on their behalf I come;
Let neither winds o' rset, nor waves intomb,
The floating forest of the sacred pine;
But let it be their safety to be mine.'
Then thus replied her awful son, who rolls
The radiant stars, and heav'n and earth controls:
""
How dare you, mother, endless date demand,
For vessels moulded by a mortal hand?
What then is Fate? shall bold Æneas ride,
Of safety certain, on th' uncertain tide?
Yet, what I can, I grant: when, wafted o'er,
The chief is landed on the Latian shore,
Whatever ships'escape the raging storms,
At my command shall change their fading forms
To nymphs divine, and plough the wat'ry way,
Like Doto and the Daughters of the sea.
To seal his sacred vow, by Styx he swore,
37
ÆNEIS.
317
The lake of liquid pitch, the dreary shore,
And Phlegethon's innavigable flood,
And the black regions of his brother-god.'
He said; and shook the skies with his imperial nod.
And now at length the number'd hours were come,
Prefix'd by Fate's irrevocable doom,
When the great mother of the gods was free
To save her ships, and finish Jove's decree.
First, from the quarter of the morn, there sprung
A light that sign'd the heav'ns, and shot along ;
Then from a cloud, fring'd round with golden fires,
Were timbrils heard, and Berecynthian choirs;
And, last, a voice, with more than mortal sounds,
Both hosts, in arms oppos'd, with equal horror wounds:
O Trojan race: your needless aid forbear;
And know, my ships are my peculiar care.
With greater ease, the bold Rutulian may
With hissing brands attempt to burn the sea,
Than singe my sacred pines. But you, my charge,
Loos'd from your crooked anchors, launch at large,
Exalted each a nymph: forsake the sand,
And swim the seas, at Cybele's command.”
No sooner had the goddess ceas'd to speak,
When, lo! th' obedient ships their halsers break;
And strange to tell, like dolphins, in the main
They plunge their prows, and dive, and spring again,
As many beauteous maids the billows sweep,
As rode before tall vessels on the deep.
The foes, surpris'd with wonder, stood aghast;
Messapus curb'd his fiery courser's haste:
Old Tyber roar'd, and raising up his head,
Call'd back his waters to their oozy bed.
Turnus alone, undaunted, bore the shock,
And with these words his trembling troops bespoke :
"These monsters for the Trojans' fate are meant,
And are by Jove for black presages sent.
He takes the cowards' last relief away;
For.fly they cannot, and constrain'd to stay,
Must yield unfought,. a base inglorious prey.
The liquid half of all the globe is lost;
Heav'n shuts the seas; and we secure the coast.
Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground,
Which myriads of our martial men surround.
Their fates I fear not, or vain oracles.
'Twas giv'n to Venus, they should cross the seas,
And land secure upon the Latian plains:
Their promis'd hour is pass'd and mine remains.
Virgil.-11
318
ÆNEIS.
'Tis in the fate of Turnus, to destroy,
With sword and fire, the faithless race of Troy.
Shall such affronts as these, alone, inflame
The Grecian brothers, and the Grecian name ?
M cause and theirs is one; a fatal strife,
And final ruin for a ravish'd wife.
Was't not enough, that, punish'd for the crime,
They fell-but will they fall a second time?
One would have thought they paid enough before,
To curse the costly sex, and durst offend no more.
Can they securely trust their feeble wall,
A slight partition, a thin interval,
Betwixt their fate and them; when Troy, though built
By hands divine, yet perish'd by their guilt?
Lend me, for once, my friends, your valiant hands,
To force from out their lines these dastard bands.
Less than a thousand ships will end this war;
Nor Vulcan needs his fated arms prepare.
Let all the Tuscans, all th' Arcadians, join!
Nor these, nor those, shall frustrate my design.
Let them not fear the treasons of the night,
The robb'd Palladium, the pretended flight :
Our onset shall be made in open light.
No wooden engine shall their town betray:
Fires they shall have around, but fires by day.
No Grecian babes before their camp appear,
Whom Hector's arms detain'd to the tenth tardy year.
Now, since the sun is rolling to the west,
Give we the silent night to needful rest:
Refresh your bodies, and your arms prepare:
The morn shall end the small remains of war.
The post of honor to Messapus falls,
To keep the nightly guard; to watch the walls;
To pitch the fires at distances around,
And close the Trojans in their scanty ground.
Twice sev'n Rutulian captains ready stand;
And twice sev'n hundred horse these chiefs command:
All clad in shining arms the works invest;
Each with a radiant helm, and waving.crest.
Stretch'd at their length, they press the grassy ground;
They laugh; they sing (the jolly bowls go round);
With lights and cheerful fires renew the day,
And pass the wakeful night in feasts and play.
The Trojans from above, their foes beheld,
And with arm'd legions all the rampires fill'd,
Seiz'd with affright, their gates they first explore;
Join works to works with bridges, tow'r to tow'r :
A
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319
Thus all things needful for defence abound:
Mnestheus and brave Serestus walk the round
Commission'd by their absent prince to share
The common danger, and divide the care.
The soldiers draw their lots, and, as they fall,
By turns relieve each other on the wall.
Nigh where the foes, their utmost guards advance,
To watch the gate, was warlike Nisus' chance.
His father Hyrtacus of noble blood;
His mother was a huntress of the wood,
And sent him to the wars. Well could he bear
His lance in fight, and dart the flying spear,
But better skill'd unerring shafts to send,
Beside him stood Euryalus, his friend-
Euryalus, than whom the Trojan host
No fairer face, or sweeter air, could boast.
Scarce had the down to shade his cheeks begun.
One was their care, and their delight was one.
One common hazard in the war they shar'd;
And now were both by choice upon the guard.
Then Nisus thus: "Or do the gods inspire
This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?
A gen'rous ardor boils within my breast,
Eager of action, enemy to rest :
This urges me to fight, and fires my mind,
To leave a memorable name behind.
Thou seest the foe secure; how faintly shine
Their scatter'd fires! the most, in sleep supine,
Along the ground, an easy conquest lie
The wakeful few the fuming flagon ply:
All hush'd around. Now hear what I resolve-
A thought unripe-and scarcely yet resolve.
Our absent prince both camp and council mourn ;
By message both would hasten his return:
If they confer what I demand, on thee,
(For fame is recompense enough for me),
Methinks, beneath yon hill, I have espied
A way that safely will my passage guide."
Euryalus stood listening while he spoke ;
With love of praise, and noble envy struck;
Then to his ardent friend expos'd his mind:
All this alone, and leaving me behind!
Am I unworthy, Nisus, to be join'd?
Think'st thou I can my share of glory yield,
Or send thee unassisted to the field?
Not so my father taught my childhood arms—
Born in a siege, and bred among alarms,
320
ENEIS.
Nor is my youth unworthy of my friend,
Nor of the heaven-born hero I attend.
The thing call'd life, with ease I can disclaim,
And think it over-sold to purchase fame."
Then Nisus thus: Alas! thy tender years
Would minister new matters to my fears,
So may the gods, who view this friendly strife,
Restore me to thy lov'd embrace with life.
Condemn'd to pay my vows (as sure I trust)
This thy request is cruel and unjust.
But if some chance-as many chances are,
And doubtful hazards, in the deeds of war-
If one should reach my head, there let it fall,
And spare thy life: I would not perish all.
Thy blooming youth deserves a longer date :
Live thou to mourn thy love's unhappy fate,
To bear my mangled body from the foe,
Or buy it back, and fun'ral rites bestow.
Or if hard fortune shall those dues deny,
Thou canst at least an empty tomb supply.
Oh! let not me the widow's tears renew;
Nor let a mother's curse my name pursue.
Thy pious parent, who, for love of thee,
Forsook the coasts of friendly Sicily,
Her age committing to the seas and wind,
When ev'ry weary matron staid behind."
To this, Euryalus : You plead in vain,
And but protract the cause you cannot gain.
No more delays! but haste!" With that he wakes
The nodding watch: each to his office takes.
The guard reliev'd, the gen'rous couple went
To find the council at the royal tent.
All creatures else forgot their daily care,
And sleep, the common gift of nature, share ;
Except the Trojan peers, who wakeful sate
In, nightly council for the endanger'd state.
They vote a message to their absent chief,
Show their distress, and beg a swift relief.
Amid the camp a silent seat they chose,
Remote from clamor, and secure from foes.
On their left arms their ample shields they bear,
Their right inclin'd upon the bending spear.
Now Nisus and his friend approach the guard,
And beg admission, eager to be heard-
Th' affair important, not to be deferr'd.
Ascanius bids them be conducted in,
Ord'ring the more experienc'd to begin.
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321
Then Nisus thus: "Ye fathers, lend your ears;
Nor judge our bold attempt beyond our years.
The foe, securely drench'd in sleep and wine,
Neglect their watch; the fires but thinly shine;
And, where the smoke in cloudy vapors flies,
Cov'ring the plain, and curling to the skies,
Betwixt two paths which at the gate divide,
Close by the sea a passage we have spied,
Which will our way to great Æneas guide,
Expect each hour to see him safe again,
Loaded with spoils of foes in battle slain.
Snatch we the lucky minute while we may :
Nor can we be mistaken in the way;
For, hunting in the vales, we both have seen
The rising turrets, and the stream between ;
And know the winding course, with ev'ry ford."
He ceas'd and old Alethes took the word.
"Our country gods, in whom our trust we place,
Will yet from ruin save the Trojan race,
While we behold such dauntless worth appear
In dawning youth, and souls so void of fear.'
Then into tears of joy the father broke ;
Each in his longing arms by turns he took ;
Panted and paus'd; and thus again he spoke :
Ye brave young men, what equal gifts can we,
In recompense of such desert, decree?
The greatest sure, and best you can receive,
The gods and your own conscious worth will give.
The rest our grateful gen'ral will bestow,
And young Ascanius, till his manhood, owe."
And I, whose welfare in my father lies,"
Ascanius adds, "by the great deities,
By my dear country, by my household gods,
By hoary Vesta's rites and dark abodes,
Adjure you both-(on you my fortune stands ;
That and my faith I plight into your hands)→
Make me but happy in his safe return,
Whose wanted presence I can only mourn;
Your common gift shall two large goblets be
Of silver, wrought with curious imag'ry,
And high emboss'd, which when old Priam reign'd,
My conqu'ring sire at sack'd Arisba gain'd,
And, more, two tripods cast in antique mould,
With two great talents of the finest gold ;
Beside a costly bowl, engrav'd with art,
Which Dido gave, when first she gave her heart.
But, if in conquer'd Italy we reign,
322
ENEIS.
When spoils by lot the victor shall obtain—
Thou saw'st the courser by proud Turnus press'd,
That Nisus and his arms, and nodding crest,
And shield, from chance exempt, shall be thy share;
Twelve lab'ring slaves, twelve handmaids young and fair,
All clad in rich attire, and train'd with care;
And, last, a Latian field with fruitful plains,
And a large portion of the King's domains,
But thou whose years are more to mine allied,
No fate my vow'd affection shall divide
From thee, heroic youth! Be wholly mine:
Take full possession: all my soul is thine.
One faith, one fame, and fate, shall both attend:
My life's companion, and my bosom friend—
My peace shall be committed to thy care;
And, to thy conduct, my concerns in war.
Then thus the young Euryalus replied:
"Whatever fortune, good or bad, betide,
The same shall be my age, as now my youth:
No time shall find me wanting to my truth.
This only from your goodness let me gain—
(And, this ungranted, all rewards are vain)
Of Priam's royal race my mother came-
And sure the best that ever bore the name-
Whom neither Troy nor Sicily could hold
From me departing, but, o'erspent and old,
My fate she follow'd. Ignorant of this
(Whatever) danger, neither parting kiss
Nor pious blessing taken, her I leave,
And in this only act of all my life deceive.
By this right hand, and conscious night I swear,
My soul so sad a farewell could not bear.
Be you her comfort; fill my vacant place
(Permit me to presume so great a grace);
Support her age, forsaken and distress'd.
That hope alone will fortify my breast
Against the worst of fortunes, and of fears.'
He said. The mov'd assistants melt in tears.
Then thus Ascanius, wonderstruck to see
That image of his filial piety:
So great beginnings, in so green an age,
Exact the faith which I again engage.
Thy mother all the dues shall justly claim,
Creüsa had, and only want the name.
Whate'er event thy bold attempt shall have,
'Tis merit to have born a son so brave.
Now by my head, a sacred oath, I swear,
ENEIS.
323
""
(My father us'd it) what, returning here.
Crown'd with success, I for thyself prepare,
That, if thou fail, shall thy lov'd mother share.
He said, and weeping while he spoke the word,
From his broad belt he drew a shining sword,
Magnificent with gold. Lycaon made,
And in an iv'ry scabbard sheath'd the blade.
This was his gift. Great Mnestheus gave his friend
A lion's hide, his body to defend ;
And good Alethes furnish'd him beside,
With his own trusty helm, of temper tried.
Thus arm'd they went. The noble Trojans wait
Their issuing forth, and follow to the gate
With prayers and vows.
Above the rest appears
Ascanius, manly far beyond his years,
And messages committed to their care,
Which all in winds were lost, and flitting air.
The trenches first they pass'd; then took their way
Where their proud foes in pitch'd pavilions lay;
To many fatal, ere themselves were slain.
They found the careless host dispers'd upon the plain
Who gorg'd and drunk with wine, supinely snore.
Unharness'd chariots stand along the shore :
Amidst the wheels and reins, the goblet by,
A medley of debauch and war, they lie.
Observing Nisus show'd his friend the sight:
"
Behold a conquest gain'd without a fight.
Occasion offers; and I stand prepar'd:
There lies our way be thou upon the guard,
And look around, while I securely go,
And hew a passage through the sleeping foe."
Softly he spoke; then, striding, took his way,
With his drawn sword, where haughty Rhamnes lay,
His head rais'd high on tapestry beneath,
And heaving from his breast, he drew his breath-
A king and prophet, by king Turnus lov'd;
But fate by prescience cannot be remov'd.
Him and his sleeping slaves he slew; then spies
Where Remus, with his rich retinue, lies.
His armor-bearer first, and next he kills
His charioteer, intrench'd betwixt the wheels
And his lov'd horses; last invades their lord:
Full on his neck he drives the fatal sword:
The gasping head flies off; a purple flood
Flows from the trunk, that welters in the blood,
Which, by the spurning heels dispers'd around,
The bed besprinkles, and bedews the ground.
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ENEIS.
Lamus the bold, and Lamyrus the strong,
He slew, and then Serranus fair and young.
From dice and wine the youth retir'd to rest,
And puff'd the fumy god from out his breast:
E'en then he dream'd of drink and lucky play-
More lucky, had it lasted 'till the day.
The famish'd lion thus, with hunger bold,
O'erleaps the fences of the nightly fold,
And tears the peaceful flocks
with silent awe
Trembling they lie, and pant beneath his paw.
Nor with less rage Euryalus employs
The wrathful sword, or fewer foes destroys,
But on th' ignoble crowd his fury flew :
He Fadus, Hebesus, and Rhoetus slew.
Oppress'd with heavy sleep the former fall,
But Rhoetus wakeful, and observing all :
Behind a spacious jar he slink'd for fear :
The fatal iron found and reach'd him there;
For, as he rose, it pierc'd his naked side,
And. reeking, thence return'd in crimson dy'd.
The wound pours out a stream of wine and blood,
The purple soul comes floating in the flood.
Now, where Messapus quarter'd, they arrive.
The fires were fainting there, and just alive :
The warrior-horses, tied in order, fed.
Nisus observed the discipline, and said:
Our eager thirst of blood may both betray;
And see the scatter'd streaks of dawning day,
Foe to nocturnal thefts. No more, my friend :
Here let our glutted execution end.
A lane through slaughter'd bodies we have made
The bold Euryalus, though loath obey'd.
Of arms and arras, and of plate they find
A precious load; but these they leave behind.
Yet, fond of gaudy spoils, the boy would stay
To make the rich caparison his prey,
Which on the steed of conquer'd Rhamnes lay.
Nor did his eyes less longingly behold
The girdle-belt, with nails of burnish'd gold.
This present Cædicus the rich bestow'd
On Remulus, when friendship first they vow'd,
And, absent, join'd in hospitable ties :
He, dying, to his heir bequeath'd the prize;
Till by the conqu'ring Ardean troops oppress'd,
He fell; and they the glorious gift possess'd.
These glitt❜ring spoils (now made the victor's gain)
He to his body suits, but suits in vain.
ENEIS.
325
Messapus' helm he finds among the rest,
And laces on, and wears the waving crest.
Proud of their conquest, prouder of their prey,
They leave the camp, and take the ready way.
But far they had not pass'd, before they spied
Three hundred horse, with Volscens for their guide.
The queen a legion to king Turnus sent:
But the swift horse the slower foot prevent,
And now, advancing, sought the leader's tent.
They saw the pair; for, through the doubtful shade,
His shining helm Euryalus betray'd,
On which the moon with full reflection play'd.
(
>
'Tis not for naught," cried Volscens from the crowd,
These men go there :" then rais'd his voice aloud :
Stand! stand! why thus in arms? and whither bent?
From whence, to whom, and on what errand sent ?"
Silent they scud away, and haste their flight
To neighb'ring woods, and trust themselves to night.
The speedy horse all passages belay,
And spur their smoking steeds to cross their way;
And watch each entrance of the winding wood,
Black was the forest thick with beech it stood,
Horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn :
Few paths of human feet, or tracks of beasts, were worn.
The darkness of the shades, his heavy prey,
And fear, misled the younger from his way.
But Nisus hit the turns with happier haste,
And, thoughtless of his friend, the forest pass'd,
And, Alban plains (from Alba's name so call'd)
Where king Latinus then his oxen stall'd ;
Till, turning at the length, he stood his ground,
And miss'd his friend, and cast his eyes around.
Ah, wretch !" he cried-" where have I left behind
Th' unhappy youth? where shall I hope to find?
Or what may take ?" Again he ventures back,
And treads the mazes of his former track.
He winds the wood, and, list'ning, hears the noise
Of trampling coursers; and the riders' voice.
The sound approach'd; and suddenly he view'd
The foes inclosing, and his friend pursu'd,
Forelaid and taken, while he strove in vain
The shelter of the friendly shades to gain.
What should he next attempt? what arms employ,
What fruitless force to free the captive boy?
Or desp'rate should he rush, and lose his life,
With odds oppress'd, in such unequal strife?
Resolv'd at length, his pointed spear he shook;
326
ENEIS.
And casting on the moon a mournful look,
Guardian of groves, and goddess of the night!
Fair queen!" he said, direct my dart aright.
If e'er my pious father for my sake,
Did grateful off'rings on thy altars make,
Or I increas'd them with my sylvan toils,
And hung thy holy roofs with savage spoils,
Give me to scatter these." Then from his ear
He pois'd, and aim'd, and launch'd the trembling spear.
The deadly weapon, hissing from the grove,
Impetuous on the back of Sulmo drove;
Pierc'd his thin armor, drank his vital blood,
And in his body left the broken wood.
He staggers round: his eyeballs roll in death;
And, with short sobs, he gasps away his breath.
All stand amaz'd :—a second jav'lin flies
With equal strength, and quivers through the skies.
This through thy temples, Tagus, forc'd the way,
And in the brain-pan warmly buried lay.
Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,
Descried not him who gave the fatal wound,
Nor knew to fix revenge : But thou," he cries,
(
Shall pay for both, "and at the pris'ner flies
With his drawn sword. Then, struck with deep despair
That cruel sight the lover could not bear ;
But from his covert rush'd in open view,
And sent his voice before him as he flew :
Me me!" he cried-" turn all your swords alone
On me-the fact confess'd, the fault my own.
He neither could nor durst, the guiltless youth-
Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth!
His only crime (if friendship can offend)
Is too much love to his unhappy friend."
Too late he speaks :-the sword with fury guides,
Driv'n with full force, had pierc'd his tender sides.
Down fell the beauteous youth: the yawning wound
Gush'd out a purple stream, and stain'd the ground.
His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,
Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd-
Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,
Whose heavy head is overcharg'd with rain.
Despair and rage, and vengeance justly vow'd,
Drove Nisus headlong on the hostile crowd.
Volscens he seeks; on him alone he bends;
Borne back and bor'd by his surrounding friends,
Onward he press'd, and kept him still in sight,
Then whirl'd aloft his sword with all his might:
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327
Th' unerring steel descended while he spoke,
Pierc'd his wide mouth, and through his weazon broke.
Dying he slew; and stagg'ring on the plain,
With swimming eyes he sought his lover slain ;
Then quiet on his bleeding bosom fell,
Content, in death, to be reveng'd so well.
O happy friends! for, if my verse can give
Immortal life, your fame shall ever live.
Fix'd as the Capitol's foundation lies,
And spread, where'er the Roman eagle flies.
The conq'ring party first divide the prey,
Then their slain leader to the camp convey.
With wonder, as they went, the troops were fill'd,
To see such numbers whom so few had kill'd.
Sarranus, Rhamnes, and the rest they found :
Vast crowds the dying and the dead surround;
And the yet reeking blood o'erflows the ground.
All knew the helmet which Messapus lost,
But mourn'd a purchase that so dear had cost.
Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed,
And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread :
Nor long the sun his daily course withheld,
But added colors to the world reveal'd ;
When early Turnus, wak'ning with the light,
All clad in armor, calls his troops to fight,
His martial men with fierce harangues he fir'd,
And his own ardor in their souls inspir'd.
This done-to give new terror to his foes,
The head of Nisus and his friend he shows,
Rais'd high on pointed spears—a ghastly sight!
Loud peals of shouts ensue, and barbarous delight.
Meantime the Trojans run, where danger calls :
They line their trenches, and they man their walls.
In front extended to the left they stood:
Safe was the right, surrounded by the flood.
But, casting from their tow'rs a frightful view,
They saw the faces, which too well they knew,
Though then disguis'd in death, and smear'd all o'er
With filth obscene, and dropping putrid gore.
Soon hasty fame through the sad city bears.
The mournful message to the mother's ears.
An icy cold benumbs her limbs she shakes:
Her cheeks the blood, her hand the web forsakes.
She runs the rampires round amidst the war,
Nor fears the flying darts: she rends her hair,
And fills with loud laments the liquid air.
Thus then my lov'd Euryalus appears!
328
ENEIS.
Thus looks the prop of my declining years!
Was't on this face my famish'd eyes I fed ?
Ah! how unlike the living is the dead!
And couldst thou leave me, cruel, thus alone?
Not one kind kiss from a departing son!
No look, no last adieu, before he went,
In an ill-boding hour to slaughter sent!
Cold on the ground, and pressing foreign clay,
To Latian dogs and fowls he lies a prey!
Nor was I near to close his dying eyes,
To wash his wounds, to weep his obsequies,
To call about his corpse his crying friends,
Or spread the mantle (made for other ends)
On his dear body, which I wove with care,
Nor did my daily pains or nightly labor spare.
Where shall I find his corpse? what earth sustains
His trunk dismember'd, and his cold remains?
For this, alas! I left my needful ease,
Expos'd my life to winds, and winter seas!
If any pity touch Rutulian hearts,
Here empty all your quivers, all your darts;
Or, if they fail, thou, Jove, conclude my woe,
And send me thunderstruck to shades below."
Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans' ears,
Unman their courage, and augment their fears:
Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain,
Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain,
But Actor and Idæus jointly sent,
To bear the madding mother to her tent.
And now the trumpets terribly, from far,
With rattling clangor rouse the sleepy war.
The soldiers' shouts succeed the brazen sounds;
And heav'n from pole to pole the noise rebounds.
The Volscians bear their shields upon their head,
And, rushing forward, form a moving shed;
These fill the ditch; those pull the bulwarks down,
Some raise the ladders; others scale the town.
But, where void spaces on the walls appear,
Or thin defence, they pour their forces there.
With poles and missive weapons, from afar,
The Trojans kept aloof the missive war.
Taught by their ten years' siege defensive fight,
And roll down ribs of rocks, an unresisted weight,
To break the penthouse with the pond'rous blow,
Which yet the patient Volscians undergo-
But could not bear th' unequal combat long,
For, where the Trojans find the thickest throng,
"
ENEIS.
329
4
The ruin falls their shatter'd shields give way,
And their crush'd heads become an easy prey.
They shrink for fear, abated of their rage,
Nor longer dare in a blind fight engage-
Contented now to gall them from below,
With darts and slings, and with the distant bow.
Elsewhere Mezentius, terrible to view,
A blazing pine within the trenches threw.
But brave Messapus, Neptune's warlike son,
Broke down the palisades, the trenches won,
And loud for ladders calls, to scale the town.
Calliope, begin! ye sacred Nine,
Inspire your poet in his high design,
To sing what slaughter manly Turnus made,
What souls he sent below the Stygian shade,
What fame the soldiers with their captain share,
And the vast circuit of the fatal war :
For you, in singing martial facts, excel;
You best remember, and alone can tell.
There stood a tower amazing to the sight,
Built up of beams, and of stupendous height:
Art, and the nature of the place, conspir'd,
To furnish all the strength that war requir'd.
To level this the bold Italians join;
The wary Trojans obviate their design;
With weighty stones o'erwhelm their troops below,
Shoot through the loopholes, and sharp jav'lins throw.
Turnus the chief, toss'd from his thund'ring hand,
Against the wooden walls, a flaming brand:
It stuck, the fiery plague: the winds were high ;
The planks were season'd and the timber dry.
Contagion caught the posts; it spread along,
Scorch'd and to distance drove the scatter'd throng.
The Trojans fled; the fire pursued amain,
Still gath ring fast upon the trembling train ;
Till, crowding to the corners of the wall,
Down the defence and the defenders fall.
The mighty flaw makes heav'n itself resound:
The dead and dying Trojans strew the ground.
The tow'r, that follow'd on the fallen crew,
Whelm'd o'er their heads, and buried whom it slew:
Some stuck upon the darts themselves had sent;
All the same equal ruin underwent.
Young Lycus and Helenor only 'scape;
Sav'd-how they know not-from the steepy leap.
Helenor, elder of the two; by birth,
On one side royal, one a son of earth,
330
ÆNEIS.
Whom to the Lydian king, Lycimnia bare,
And sent her boasted bastard to the war
(A privilege which none but freemen share).
Slight were his arms, a sword and silver shield :
No marks of honor charg'd its empty field.
Light as he fell, so light the youth arose,
And, rising, found himself amidst his foes;
Nor flight was left, nor hopes to force his way.
Embolden'd by despair, he stood at bay:
And, like a stag, whom all the troop surrounds
Of eager huntsmen and invading hounds-
Resolv'd on death, he dissipates his fears,
And bounds aloft against the pointed spears:
So dares the youth, secure of death; and throws
His dying body on his thickest foes.
But Lycus, swifter of his feet by far,
Runs, doubles, winds, and turns, amidst the war:
Springs to the walls, and leaves his foes behind.
And snatches at the beam he first can find ;
Looks up, and leaps aloft at all the stretch,
In hopes the helping hand of some kind friend to reach ;
But Turnus follow'd hard his hunted prey
(His spear had almost reach'd him in the way,
Short of his reins, and scarce a span behind).
46
Fool!" said the chief, tho' fleeter than the wind,
Couldst thou presume to 'scape, when I pursue?"
He said, and downward by the feet he drew
The trembling dastard: at the tug he falls :
Vast ruins come along, rent from the smoking walls.
Thus on some silver swan, or tim'rous hare,
Jove's bird comes sousing down from upper air;
Her crooked talons truss the fearful prey:
Then out of sight she soars, and wings her way.
So seizes the grim wolf the tender lamb,
In vain lamented by the bleating dam.
Then rushing onward with a barbarous cry,
The troops of Turnus to the combat fly.
The ditch with fagots fill'd, the daring foe
Toss'd firebrands to the steepy turrets throw.
Ilioneus, as bold Lucetius came
To force the gate, and feed the kindling flame,
Roll'd down the fragment of a rock so right,
It crush'd him double underneath the weight.
Two more young Liger and Asylus slew :
To bend the bow young Liger better knew ;
Asylus best the pointed jav'lin threw.
Brave Cæneus laid Ortygius on the plain;
ENEIS.
331
The victor Cæneus was by Turnus slain.
By the same hand, Clonius and Itys fall,
Sagar, and Idas standing on the wall.
From Capys' arms, his fate Privernus found :
Hurt by Themilla first-but slight the wound,—
His shield thrown by, to mitigate the smart,
He clapp'd his hand upon the wounded part :
The second shaft came swift and unespied,
And pierc'd his hand and nail'd it to his side,
Transfix'd his bleeding lungs, and beating heart:
The soul came issuing out, and hiss'd against the dart.
The son of Arcens shone amid the rest,
In glitt'ring armor and a purple vest
(Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love),
Bred by his father in the Martian grove,
Where the fat altars of Pelicus flame,
And sent in arms to purchase early fame.
Him when he spied, from far, the Tuscan king
Laid by the lance, and took him to the sling,
Thrice whirl'd the thong around his head, and threw :
The heated lead half melted as it flew :
It pierc'd his hollow temples and his brain;
The youth came tumbling down, and spurn'd the plain
Then young Ascanius, who, before this day,
Was wont in woods to shoot the savage prey,
First bent in martial strife the twanging bow,
And exercis'd against a human foe-
With this bereft Numanus of his life,
Who Turnus' younger sister took to wife.
Proud of his realm, and of his royal bride,
Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen'd with a stride,
In these insulting terms the Trojan he defied :
'Twice conquer'd cowards! now your shame is shown-
Coop'd up a second time within your town!
Who dare not issue forth in open field,
But hold your walls before you for a shield.
Thus treat you war? thus our alliance force?
What gods, what madness hither steer'd your course?
You shall not find the sons of Atreus here,
Nor need the frauds of sly Ulysses fear.
Strong from the cradle, of a sturdy brood,
We bear our new-born infants to the flood;
There bath'd amid the stream, our boys we hold.
With winter harden'd and inur'd to cold.
They wake before the day to range the wood,
Kill ere they eat, nor taste unconquer'd food.
No sports, but what belong to war they know-
332
ENEIS.
To break the stubborn colt, to bend the bow.
Our youth, of labor patient, earn their bread;
Hardly they work with frugal diet fed.
From ploughs and harrows sent to seek renown,
They fight in fields, and storm the shaken town.
No part of life from toils of war is free,
No change in age or diff'rence in degree.
We plough and till in arms our oxen feel,
Instead of goads, the spur and pointed steel:
Th' inverted lance makes furrows in the plain.
E'en time, that changes all, yet changes us in vain-
The body, not the mind-nor can control
Th' immortal vigor, or abate the soul.
Our helms defend the young, disguise the gray :
We live by plunder, and delight in prey.
Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine;
In sloth you glory, and in dances join.
Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride,
Your turbans underneath your chins are tied.
Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again !
Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!
Go! mix'd with eunuchs in the mother's rites
(Where with unequal sound the flute invites),
Sing, dance, and howl, by turns in Ida's shade:
Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade."
This foul reproach Ascanius could not bear
With patience, or a vow'd revenge forbear.
At the full stretch of both his hands, he drew,
And almost join'd, the horns of the tough yew.
But first before the throne of Jove he stood,
And thus with lifted hands invok'd the god :
My first attempt, great Jupiter, succeed!
An annual off'ring in thy grove shall bleed,
A snow-white steer, before thy altar led,
Who, like his mother, bears aloft his head,
Butts with his threat'ning brows, and bellowing stands
And dares the fight, and spurns the yellow sands.'
Jove bow'd the heav'ns, and lent a gracious ear,
And thunder'd on the left, amidst the clear.
Sounded at once the bow; and swiftly flies
The feather'd death, and hisses through the skies.
The steel through both his temples forc'd the way:
Extended on the ground, Numanus lay.
Go now, vain boaster! and true valor scorn!
The Phrygians, twice subdu'd, yet make this third return."
Ascanius said no more. The Trojans shake
The heav'ns with shouting, and new vigor take.
ENEIS.
333
"
Apollo then bestrode a golden cloud,
To view the feats of arms, and fighting crowd;
And thus the beardless victor he bespoke aloud :
Advance, illustrious youth! increase in fame,
And wide from east to west extend thy name-
Offspring of gods thyself; and Rome shall owe
To thee a race of demigods below.
This is the way to heav'n the pow'rs divine
From this beginning date the Julian line.
To thee, to them, and their victorious heirs,
The conquer'd war is due; and the vast world is theirs.
Troy is too narrow for thy name.
He said,
And plunging downward shot his radiant head ;
Dispell'd the breathing air, that broke his flight.
Shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight,
Old Butes' form he took, Anchises' squire,
Now left to rule Ascanius, by his sire:
His wrinkled visage, and his hoary hairs,
His mien, his habit, and his arms he wears,
And thus salutes the boy, too forward for his years:
Suffice it thee, thy father's worthy son,
The warlike prize thou hast already won.
The god of archers gives thy youth a part
Of his own praise, nor envies equal art.
Now tempt the war no more. He said, and flew
Obscure in air, and vanish'd from their view.
The Trojans, by his arms, their patron know,
And hear the twanging of his heav'nly bow.
Then duteous force they use, and Phoebus' name,
To keep from fight the youth too fond of fame.
Undaunted, they themselves no dangers shun:
From wall to wall the shouts and clamors run:
They bend their bows; they whirl their slings around:
Heaps of spent arrows fall, and strew the ground;
And helms, and shields, and rattling arms resound.
The combat thickens, like the storm that flies
From westward, when the show'ry Kids arise;
Or patt'ring hail comes pouring on the main,
When Jupiter descends in harden'd rain,
Or bellowing clouds burst with a stormy sound,
And with an armèd winter strew the ground.
Pand'rus and Bitias, thunderbolts of war,
Whom Hiera to bold Alcanor bore,
On Ida's top-two youths of height and size
Like firs that on their mother-mountain rise-
Presuming on their force, the gates unbar,
And of their own accord invite the war.
334
ENEIS.
With fates averse, against their king's command,
Arm'd, on the right and on the left, they stand,
And flank the passage: shining steel they wear,
And waving crests above their heads appear.
Thus two tall oaks, that Padus' banks adorn,
Lift up to heav'n their leafy heads unshorn,
And, everpress'd with nature's heavy load,
Dance to the whistling winds, and at each other nod.
In flows a tide of Latians, when they see
The gates set open, and the passage free:
Bold Quercens, with rash Tmarus rushing on,
Equicolus, who in bright armor shone,
And Hæmon first: but soon repuls'd they fly,
Or in the well-defended pass they die.
These with success are fir'd, and those with rage;
And each on equal terms at length engage.
Drawn from their lines, and issuing on the plain,
The Trojans hand to hand the fight maintain.
Fierce Turnus in another quarter fought,
When suddenly th' unhop'd-ior news was brought,
The foes had left the fastness of their place,
Prevail'd in fight, and had his men in chase.
He quits th' attack, and, to prevent their fate,
Runs, where the giant brothers guard the gate.
The first he met, Antiphates the brave,
(But base begotten on a Theban slave-
Sarpedon's son) he slew the deadly dart
Found passage thro' his breast, and pierc'd his heart.
Fix'd in the wound th' Italian cornel stood,
Warm'd in his lungs, and in his vital blood.
Aphidnus next, and Erymanthus dies,
And Meropes, and the gigantic size
Of Bitias, threat'ning with his ardent eyes.
Not by the feeble dart he fell oppress'd
(A dart were lost within his roomy breast),
But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong,
Which roar'd like thunder as it whirl'd along ;
Not two bull-hides th' impetuous force withhold,
Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.
Down sunk the monster bulk, and press'd the ground
(His arms and clatt'ring shield on the vast body sound).
Not with less ruin than the Baian mole,
Rais'd on the seas, the surges to control-
At once comes tumbling down the rocky wall;
Prone to the deep, the stones disjointed fall
Of the vast pile; the scatter'd ocean flies;
Black sands, discolor'd froth, and mingled mud, arise,
ENEIS.
335
The frighted billows roll, and seek the shores :
Then trembles Prochyta, then Ischia roars :
Typhoeus, thrown beneath by Jove's command,
Astonish'd at the flaw that shakes the land,
Soon shifts his weary side, and, scarce awake,
With wonder feels the weight press lighter on his back.
The warrior god the Latian troops inspir'd
And strung their sinews, and their courage fir'd,
But chills the Trojan hearts with cold affright:
Then black despair precipitates their flight.
When Pandarus beheld his brother kill'd,
The town with fear and wild confusion fill'd,
He turns the hinges of the heavy gate
With both his hands, and adds his shoulders to the weight;
Some happier friends within the walls inclos'd;
The rest shut out, to certain death expos'd;
Fool as he was, and frantic in his care,
T'admit young Turnus, and include the war ;
He thrust amid the crowd, securely bold,
Like a fierce tiger pent amid the fold.
Too late his blazing buckler they descry,
And sparkling fires that shot from either eye,
His mighty members, and his ample breast,
His rattling armor, and his crimson crest.
Far from that hated face the Trojans fly,
All but the fool who sought his destiny.
Mad Pandarus steps forth, with vengeance vow'd
For Bitias' death, and threatens thus aloud:
These are not Ardea's walls, nor this the town
Amata prefers with Lavinia's crown:
'Tis hostile earth you tread. Of hope bereft,
No means of safe return by flight are left.'
To whom, with count'nance calm, and soul sedate,
Thus Turnus : Then begin; and try thy fate:
My message to the ghost of Priam bear;
Tell him a new Achilles sent thee there.
A lance of tough ground ash the Trojan threw,
Rough in the rind, and knotted as it grew :
With his full force he whirl'd it first around;
But the soft yielding air receiv'd the wound :
Imperial Juno turn'd the course before,
And fix'd the wand'ring weapon in the door.
But hope not thou," said Turnus, when I strike,
To shun thy fate our force is not alike,
Nor thy steel temper'd by the Lemnian god."
Then rising, on his utmost stretch he stood,
And aim'd from high: the full descending blow
336
ENEIS.
Cleaves the broad front, and beardless cheeks in two.
Down sinks the giant with a thund'ring sound:
His pond'rous limbs oppress the trembling ground;
Blood, brains, and foam, gush from the gaping wound.
Scalp, face, and shoulders, the keen steel divides;
And the shar'd visage hangs on equal sides.
The Trojans fly from their approaching fate :
And, had the victor then secur'd the gate,
And, to his troops without, unclos'd the bars,
One lucky day had ended all his wars.
But boiling youth, and blind desire of blood,
Push on his fury, to pursue the crowd.
Hamstring'd behind, unhappy Gyges died:
Then Phalaris is added to his side.
The pointed jav'lins from the dead he drew,
And their friends' arms against their fellows threw.
Strong Halys stands in vain; weak Phegeus flies:
Saturnia, still at hand, new force and fire supplies.
Then Halius, Prytanis, Alcander fall-
Engag'd against the foes who scal'd the wall:
But whom they fear'd without, they found within.
At last, though late, by Lynceus he was seen.
He calls new succors, and assaults the prince :
But weak his force, and vain is their defence.
Turn'd to the right, his sword the hero drew,
And at one blow the bold aggressor slew.
He joints the neck; and with a stroke so strong,
The helm flies off, and bears the head along.
Next him, the huntsman, Amycus, he kill'd,
In darts envenom'd, and in poison skill'd.
Then Clytius fell beneath his fatal spear,
And Creteus, whom the Muses held so dear:
He fought with courage, and he sung the fight:
Arms were his bus'ness, verses his delight.
The Trojan chiefs behold, with rage and grief,
Their slaughter'd friends, and hasten their relief.
Bold Mnestheus rallies first the broken train,
Whom brave Serestus and his troops sustain.
To save the living and revenge the dead,
Against one warrior's arm all Troy they led.
O, void of sense and courage !" Mnestheus cried,
"Where can you hope your coward heads to hide?
Ah! where beyond these rampires can you run?
One man, and in your camp inclos'd, you shun!
Shall then a single sword such slaughter boast,
And pass unpunish'd from a num'rous host?
Forsaking honor, and renouncing fame,
ENEIS.
337
Your gods, your country, and your king, you shame!"'
This just reproach their virtue does excite :
They stand, they join, they thicken to the fight.
Now Turnus doubts, and yet disdains to yield,
But with slow paces measures back the field,
And inches to the walls, where Tyber's tide,
Washing the camp, defends the weaker side.
The more he loses, they advance the more,
And tread in every step he trod before.
They shout; they bear him back; and whom by might
They cannot conquer, they oppress with weight.
As, compass'd with a wood of spears around,
The lordly lion still maintains his ground ;
Grins horrible, retires, and turns again;
Threats his distended paws, and shakes his mane
He loses while in vain he presses on,
Nor will his courage let him dare to run :
So Turnus fares, and, unresolv'd of flight,
Moves tardy back, and just recedes from fight.
Yet twice enrag'd, the combat he renews,
Twice breaks, and twice his broken foes pursues.
But now they swarm, and with fresh troops supplied,
Come rolling on, and rush from every side:
Nor Juno, who sustain'd his arms before,
Dares with new strength suffice th' exhausted store
For Jove, with sour commands, sent Iris down,
To force th' invader from the frighted town.
With labor spent, no longer can he wield
The heavy falchion, or sustain the shield,
O'erwhelm'd with darts, which from afar they fling,
The weapons round his hollow temples ring:
His golden helm gives way with stony blows,
Batter'd and flat, and beaten to his brows.
His crest is rash'd away; his ample shield
Is falsified, and round with jav'lins fill'd.
The foe, now faint, the Trojans overwhelm ;
And Mnestheus lays hard load upon his helm.
Sick sweat succeeds, he drops at ev'ry pore;
With driving dust his cheeks are pasted o'er ;
Shorter and shorter ev'ry gasp he takes ;
And vain efforts and hurtless blows he makes.
Arm'd as he was, at length he leap'd from high,
Plung'd in the flood, and made the waters fly.
The yellow god the welcome burden bore,
And wip'd the sweat, and wash'd away the gore
Then gently wafts him to the farther coast,
And sends him safe to cheer his anxious host.
ENEIS.
BOOK X.
ARGUMENT.
Jupiter, calling a council of the gods, forbids them to engage in either
party. At Æneas' return there is a bloody battle, Turnus killing Pallas,
Æneas, Lausus and Mezentius. Mezentius is described as an atheist
Lausus as a pious and virtuous youth. The different actions and death
of these two are the subject of a noble episode.
HE gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons all
TH
The gods to council in the common hall.
Sublimely seated, he surveys from far
The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,
And all th' inferior world. From first to last,
The sov'reign senate in degrees are plac'd.
Then thus the almighty sire began :
Natives or denizens of blest abodes!
Ye gods,
From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,
This backward fate from what was first design'd?
Why this protracted war, when my commands
Pronounc'd a peace, and gave the Latian lands?
What fear or hope on either part divides
Our heav'ns, and arms our pow'rs on diff'rent sides?
A lawful time of war at length will come
(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),
When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome;
Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,
And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.
Then is your time for faction and debate,
For partial favor, and permitted hate.
Let now your immature dissension cease:
Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.'
Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge:
But lovely Venus thus replies at large:
O pow'r immense ! eternal energy!
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339
(For to what else protection can we fly?)
See'st thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare
In fields, unpunish'd, and insult my care?
How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train,
In shining arms triumphant on the plain?
E'en in their lines and trenches they contend;
And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend.
The town is fill'd with slaughter, and o'erfloats,
With a red deluge, their increasing moats.
Æneas, ignorant, and far from thence,
Has left a camp expos'd, without defence.
This endless outrage shall they still sustain ?
Shall Troy renew'd, be forc'd and fir'd again?
A second siege my banish'd issue fears;
And a new Diomede in arms appears.
One more audacious mortal will be found;
And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.
Yet if, with fates averse, without thy leave,
The Latian lands my progeny receive,
Bear they the pains of violated law,
And thy protection from their aid withdraw.
But, if the gods their sure success foretell-
If those of heaven consent with those of hell,
To promise Italy; who dare debate
The pow'r of Jove, or fix another fate?
What should I tell of tempests on the main,
Of Æolus usurping Neptune's reign?
Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat
T' inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet?
Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends,
Solicits hell for aid and arms the fiends.
That new example wanted yet above-
An act that well became the wife of Jove!
Alectro, rais'd by her, with rage inflames
The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames.
Imperial sway no more exalts my mind
(Such hopes I had indeed, while heav'n was kind) :
Now let my happier foes possess my place,
Whom Jove prefers before the Trojan race;
And conquer they whom you with conquest grace.
Since you can spare, from all your wide command,
No spot of earth, no hospitable land,
Which may my wand'ring fugitives receive
(Since haughty Juno will not give you leave);
Then, father (if I still may use that name),
By ruin'd Troy, yet smoking from the flame,
I beg you, let Ascanius, by my care,
340
ENEIS.
Be freed from danger and dismiss'd the war :
Inglorious let him live, without a crown :
The father may be cast on coasts unknown,
Struggling with fate; but, let me save the son.
Mine is Cythera, mine the Cyprian tow'rs:
In those recesses, and those sacred bow'rs,
Obscurely let him rest; his right resign
To promis'd empire, and his Julian line.
Then Carthage may th' Ausonian towns destroy,
Nor fear the race of a rejected boy.
What profits it my son, to 'scape the fire,
Arm'd with his gods, and loaded with his sire;
To pass the perils of the seas and wind;
Evade the Greeks, and leave the war behind;
To reach th' Italian shores; if, after all,
Our second Pergamus is doom'd to fall?
Much better had he curb'd his high desires,
And hover'd o'er his ill-extinguish'd fires.
To Simoïs' banks the fugitives restore
And give them back to war, and all the woes before.
Deep indignation swell'd Saturnia's heart:
"
And must I own," she said, my secret smart-
What with more decence were in silence kept,
And, but for this unjust reproach, had slept?
Did god or man your fav'rite son advise,
With war unhop'd the Latians to surprise?
By fate, you boast, and by the gods' decree,
He left his native land for Italy;
Confess the truth; by mad Cassandra, more
Than heav'n, inspired, he sought a foreign shore.
Did I persuade to trust his second Troy
To the raw conduct of a beardless boy,
With walls unfinish'd, which himself forsakes,
And through the waves a wand'ring voyage takes?
When have I urg'd him meanly to demand
The Tuscan aid, and arm a quiet land?
Did I or Iris give this mad advice?
Or made the fool himself the fatal choice?
You think it hard, the Latians should destroy
With swords your Trojans, and with fires your Troy !
Hard and unjust indeed, for men to draw
Their native air, nor take a foreign law !
That Turnus is permitted still to live,
To whom his birth a god and goddess give!
But yet 'tis just and lawful for your line
To drive their fields, and force with fraud to join:
Realms, not your own, among your clans divide,
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341
And from the bridegroom tear the promis'd bride;
Petition, while you public arms prepare ;
Pretend a peace, and yet provoke a war.
'Twas giv'n to you, your darling son to shroud,
To draw the dastard from the fighting crowd,
And, for a man, obtend an empty cloud.
From flaming fleets you turn'd the fire away,
And chang'd the ships to daughters of the sea.
But 'tis my crime-the queen of heav'n offends,
If she presume to save her suff'ring friends!
Your son, not knowing what his foes decree,
You say, is absent: absent let him be.
Yours is Cythera, yours the Cyprian tow'rs,
The soft recesses, and the sacred bow'rs.
Why do you then these needless arms prepare,
And thus provoke a people prone to war?
Did I with fire the Trojan town deface,
Or hinder from return your exil'd race?
Was I the cause of mischief, or the man,
Whose lawless lust the fatal war began?
Think on whose faith th' adulterous youth relied;
Who promis'd, who procur'd the Spartan bride?
When all th' united states of Greece combin'd,
To purge the world of the perfidious kind,
Then was your time to fear the Trojan fate :-
Your quarrels and complaints are now too late.'
Thus Juno. Murmurs rise, with mix'd applause,
Just as they favor or dislike the cause.
So winds, when yet unfledg'd in woods they lie,
In whispers first their tender voices try,
Then issue on the main with bellowing rage,
And storms to trembling mariners presage.
>>
Then thus to both replied th' imperial god,
Who shakes heav'n's axles with his awful nod.
(When he begins, the silent senate stand,
With rev'rence list'ning to the dread command:
The clouds dispel; the winds their breath restrain;
And the hush'd waves lie flatted on the main.)
Celestials! your attentive ears incline!
Since (said the god) the Trojans must not join
In wish'd alliance with the Latian line-
Since endless jarrings and immortal hate
Tend but to discompose our happy state-
The war henceforward be resign'd to fate.
Each to his proper fortune stand or fall:
Equal and unconcern'd I look on all.
Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me;
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ENFIS.
And both shall draw the lots their fates decree.
Let these assault, if Fortune be their friend;
And if she favors those, let those defend :-
The Fates will find their way." The Thund'rer said,
And shook the sacred honors of his head,
Attesting Styx, th' inviolable flood,
And the black regions of his brother god.
Trembled the poles of heav'n; and earth confess'd the nod
This end the sessions had the senate rise,
And to his palace wait their sov'reign thro' the skies.
Meantime, intent upon their siege, the foes,
Within their walls, the Trojan host inclose :
They wound, they kill, they watch at ev'ry gate;
Renew the fires, and urge their happy fate.
Th' Eneans wish in vain their wonted chief,
Hopeless of flight, more hopeless of relief.
Thin on the tow'rs they stand; and ev'n those few,
A feeble, fainting, and dejected crew,
Yet in the face of danger some there stood :
The two bold brothers of Sarpedon's blood,
Asius, and Acmon: both th' Assaraci ;
Young Hæmon, and, though young, resolv'd to die.
With these were Clarus and Thymoetes join'd;
Tybris and Caster, both of Lycian kind.
From Acmon's hands a rolling stone there came,
So large, it half deserv'd a mountain's name!
Strong-sinew'd was the youth, and big of bone:
His brother Mnestheus could not more have done,
Or the great father of th' intrepid son.
Some firebrands throw, some flights of arrows send,
And some with darts, and some with stones, defend.
Amid the press appears the beauteous boy,
The care of Venus, and the hope of Troy.
His lovely face unarm'd, his head was bare ;
In ringlets o'er his shoulders hung his hair.
His forehead circled with a diadem;
Distinguish'd from the crowd, he shines a gem,
Enchas'd in gold, or polish'd iv'ry set,
Amidst the meaner foil of sable jet.
Nor Ismarus was wanting to the war,
Directing ointed arrows from afar,
And death with poison arm'd-in Lydia born,
Where plenteous harvests the fat fields adorn;
Where proud Pactolus floats the fruitful lands,
And leaves a rich manure of golden sands.
There Capys, author of the Capuan name,
And there was Mnestheus too, increas'd in fame,
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343
:
Since Turnus from the camp he cast with shame.
Thus mortal war was wag'd on either side.
Meantime the hero cuts the nightly tide:
For, anxious, from Evander when he went,
He sought the Tyrrhene camp, and Tarchon's tent,
Expos'd the cause of coming to the chief;
His name and country told, and ask'd relief;
Propos'd the terms; his own small strength declar'd;
What vengeance proud Mezentius had prepar'd;
What Turnus, bold and violent, design'd ;
Then show'd the slipp'ry state of human kind,
And fickle fortune; warn'd him to beware,
And to his wholesome council added pray'r.
Tarchon, without delay, the treaty signs,
And to the Trojan troops the Tuscan joins.
They soon set sail; nor now the Fates withstand;
Their forces trusted with a foreign hand.
Æneas leads upon his stern appear
Two lions carv'd, which rising Ida bear—
Ida, to wand'ring Trojans ever dear.
Under their grateful shade Æneas sate,
Revolving war's events, and various fate.
His left young Pallas kept, fix'd to his side,
And oft of winds inquir'd, and of the tide :
Oft of the stars, and of their wat'ry way;
And what he suffer'd both by land and sea.
Now, sacred sisters, open all your spring!
The Tuscan leaders, and their army, sing,
Which follow'd great Æneas to the war :
Their arms, their numbers, and their names, declare.
A thousand youths brave Massicus obey,
Borne in the Tiger through the foaming sea;
From Clusium brought, and Cosa, by his care:
For arms, light quivers, bows and shafts, they bear.
Fierce Abas next: his men bright armor wore :
His stern Apollo's golden statue bore.
Six hundred Populonia sent along,
All skill'd in martial exercise, and strong.
Three hundred more for battle Ilva joins,
An isle renown'd for steel, and unexhausted mines.
Asylas on his prow the third appears,
Who heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring stars;
From offer'd entrails, prodigies expounds,
And peals of thunder, with presaging sounds.
A thousand spears in warlike order stand,
Sent by the Pisans, under his command.
Fair Astur follows in the wat'ry field,
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ENEIS.
Proud of his manag'd horse, and painted shield.
Gravisca, noisome from the neighb'ring fen,
And his own Cære, sent three hundred men,
With those which Minio's fields, and Pyrgi gave;
All bred in arms, unanimous and brave.
Thou, Muse, the name of Cinyras renew,
And brave Cupavo, follow'd but by few;
Whose helm confess'd the lineage of the man,
And bore, with wings display'd, a silver swan.
Love was the fault of his fam'd ancestry,
Whose forms and fortunes in his ensign fly.
For Cycnus lov'd unhappy Phaeton,
And sung his loss in poplar groves, alone,
Beneath the sister shades, to soothe his grief.
Heav'n heard his song, and hasten'd his relief,
And chang'd to snowy plumes his hoary hair,
And wing'd his flight, to chant aloft in air.
His son Cupavo brush'd the briny flood:
Upon his stern a brawny centaur stood,
Who heav'd a rock, and threat'ning still to throw,
With lifted hands alarm'd the seas below:
They seem'd to fear the formidable sight,
And roll'd their billows on, to speed his flight.
Ocnus was next, who led his native train
Of hardy warriors through the wat'ry plain—
The son of Manto, by the Tuscan stream,
From whence the Mantuan town derives the name-
An ancient city, but of mix'd descent:
Three sev'ral tribes compose the government ;
Four towns are under each; but all obey
The Mantuan laws, and own the Tuscan sway.
Hate to Mezentius arm'd five hundred more,
Whom Mincius from his sire Benacus bore-
Mincius, with wreaths of reeds his forehead cover'd o'er.
These grave Aulestes leads: a hundred sweep
With stretching oars at once the glassy deep.
Him, and his martial train, the Triton bears :
High on his poop the sea-green god appears :
Frowning he seems his crooked shell to sound;
And at the blast the billows dance around.
A hairy man above the waist he shows;
A porpoise-tail beneath his belly grows;
And ends a fish; his breast the waves divides;
And froth and foam augment the murm'ring tides.
Full thirty ships transport the chosen train,
For Troy's relief, and scour the briny main.
Now was the world forsaken by the sun,
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345
And Phoebe half her nightly race had run.
The careful chief, who never clos'd his eyes
Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies.
A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,
Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood:
But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep,
As rode before tall vessels on the deep.
They know him from afar; and in a ring
Enclose the ship that bore the Trojan king.
Cymodoce, whose voice excell'd the rest,
Above the waves advanc'd her snowy breast;
Her right hand stops the stern, her left divides.
The curling ocean, and corrects the tides.
She spoke for all the choir, and thus began
With pleasing words to warn th' unknowing man :
'Sleeps our lov'd lord? O goddess-born! awake!
Spread ev'ry sail, pursue your wat'ry track,
And haste your course. Your navy once were we,
From Ida's height descending to the sea;
Till Turnus, as at anchor fix'd we stood,
Presum'd to violate our holy wood.
Then, loos'd from shore, we fled his fires profane
(Unwillingly we broke our master's chain),
And since have sought you through the Tuscan main.
The mighty Mother chang'd our forms to these,
And gave us life immortal in the seas.
But young Ascanius, in his camp distress'd,
By your insulting foes is hardly press'd.
Th' Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host,
Advance in order on the Latian coast:
To cut their way the Daunian chief designs,
Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines.
Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light,
First arm thy soldiers for th' ensuing fight:
Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield,
And bear aloft th' impenetrable shield.
To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain,
Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain.”
Parting she spoke; and with immortal force
Push'd on the vessel in the wat'ry course;
For well she knew the way. Impell'd behind,
The ship flew forward, and outstript the wind.
The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause,
The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws.
Then thus he pray'd, and fix'd on heav'n his eyes:
"Hear thou, great Mother of the deities,
With turrets crown'd! (on Ida's holy hill,
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ÆNEIS.
Fierce tigers, rein'd and curb'd, obey thy will.)
Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight,
And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right."
He said no more. And now renewing day
Had chas'd the shadows of the night away.
He charg'd the soldiers, with preventing care,
Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare ;
Warn'd of th' ensuing fight, and bade them hope the war.
Now, from his lofty poop, he view'd below
His camp encompass'd and th' inclosing foe.
His blazing shield embrac'd, he held on high :
The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.
Hope arms their courage: from their tow'rs they throw
Their darts with double force, and drive the foe.
Thus, at the signal giv'n, the cranes arise
Before the stormy south, and blacken all the skies.
King Turnus wonder'd at the fight renew'd,
Till, looking back, the Trojan fleet he view'd,
The seas with swelling canvas cover'd o'er,
And the swift ships descending on the shore.
The Latians saw from far, with dazzled eyes,
The radiant crest that seem'd in flames to ri e,
And dart diffusive fires around the field;
And the keen glitt'ring of the golden shield.
Thus threat'ning comets, when by night they rise,
Shoot sanguine streams, and sadden all the skies:
So Sirius, flashing forth sinister lights,
Pale human-kind with plagues and with dry famine frights.
Yet Turnus with undaunted mind is bent
To man the shores and hinder the descent,
And thus awakes the courage of his friends :
What you so long have wish'd, kind Fortune sends-
In ardent arms to meet th' invading foe :
You find, and find him at advantage now.
Yours is the day you need but only dare:
Your swords will make you masters of the war.
Your sires, your sons, your houses, and your lands,
And dearest wives, are all within your hands.
Be mindful of the race from whence you came,
And emulate in arms your father's fame.
Now take the time, while stagg'ring yet they stand
With feet unfirm, and prepossess the strand :
Fortune befriends the bold." No more he said,
But balanc'd whom to leave, and whom to lead
Then these elects, the landing to prevent;
And those he leaves to keep the city pent.
Meantime the Trojan sends his troops ashore ;
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347
Some are by boats expos'd, by bridges more.
With lab'ring oars they bear along the strand,
Where the tide languishes, and leap a-land.
Tarchon observes the coast with careful eyes,
And, while no ford he finds, no water fries,
Nor billows, with unequal murmurs roar,
But mostly slide along, and swell the shore,
That course he steer'd, and thus he gave command:
"Here ply your oars, and at all hazard land:
Force on the vessel, that her keel may wound
This hated soil, and furrow hostile ground.
Let me securely land—I ask no more ;
Then sink my ships, or shatter on the shore.'
This fiery speech inflames his fearful friends:
They tug at ev'ry oar, and ev'ry stretcher bends :
They run their ships aground: the vessels knock
(Thus forc'd ashore), and tremble with the shock.
Tarchon's alone was lost, and stranded stood :
Stuck on a bank, and beaten by the flood,
She breaks her back; the loosen'd sides give way,
And plunge the Tuscan soldiers in the sea.
Their broken oars and floating planks withstand
Their passage, while they labor to the land:
And ebbing tides bear back upon th' uncertain sand.
Now Turnus leads his troops without delay
Advancing to the margin of the sea.
The trumpets sound: Eneas first assail'd
The clowns new rais'd and raw; and soon prevail'd.
Great Theron fell, an omen of the fight-
Great Theron, large of limbs, of giant height.
He first in open fields defied the prince :
But armor scal'd with gold was no defence
Against the fated sword, which open'd wide
His plated shield, and pierc'd his naked side.
Next Lichas fell, who, not like others born,
Was from his wretched mother ripp'd and torn ;
Sacred, O Phoebus from his birth to thee;
For his beginning life from biting steel was free.
Not far from him was Gyas laid along,
Of monstrous bulk; with Cissues fierce and strong:
Vain bulk and strength! for, when the chief assail'd,
Nor valor, nor Herculean arms avail'd,
Nor their fam'd father, wont in war to go
With great Alcides, while he toil'd below.
The noisy Pharos next receiv'd his death :
Eneas writh'd his dart, and stopp'd his bawling breath.
Then wretched Cydon had receiv'd his doom,
3.48
ENEIS.
Who courted Clytius in his beardless bloom,
And sought with lust obscene polluted joys-
The Trojan sword had cur'd his love of boys,
Had not his sev'n bold brethren stopp'd the course
Of the fierce champion, with united force.
Sev'n darts were thrown at once; and some rebound
From his bright shield, some on his helmet sound.
The rest had reach'd him; but his mother's care
Prevented those, and turn'd aside in air.
The prince then call'd Achates, to supply
The spears, that knew the way to victory—
"Those fatal weapons, which, inur'd to blood,
In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood :
Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain
Against our foes on this contended plain.
He said then seiz'd a mighty spear, and threw,
Which, wing'd with fate, through Mæon's buckler flew,
Pierc'd all the brazen plates, and reach'd his heart:
He stagger'd with intolerable smart.
Alcanor saw; and reach'd, but reach'd in vain,
His helping hand, his brother to sustain.
A second spear, which kept the former course,
From the same hand, and sent with equal force,
His right arm pierc'd, and, holding on, bereft
His use of both, and pinion'd down his left.
Then Numitor from his dead brother drew
Th' ill-omen'd spear, and at the Trojan threw :
Preventing fate directs the lance awry,
Which, glancing, only mark'd Achates' thigh.
In pride of youth the Sabine Clausus came,
And, from afar, at Dryops took his aim ;
The spear flew hissing through the middle space.
And pierc'd his throat, directed at his face :
It stopp'd at once the passage of his wind,
And the free soul to flitting air resign'd:
His forehead was the first that struck the ground;
Life-blood and life rush'd mingled through the wound.
He slew three brothers of the Borean race,
And three, whom Ismarus, their native place,
Had sent to war, but all the sons of Thrace.
Halesus, next, the bold Aurunci leads:
The son of Neptune to his aid succeeds,
Conspicuous on his horse. On either hand,
These fight to keep, and those to win, the land.
With mutual blood th' Ausonian soil is dy'd,
While on its borders each their claim decide.
As wintry winds, contending in the sky,
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349
With equal force of lungs their titles try :
They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heaven
Stands without motion, and the tide undriv'n :
Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield,
They long suspend the fortune of the field.
Both armies thus perform what courage can;
Foot set to foot, and mingled, man to man.
But in another part th' Arcadian horse
With ill success engage the Latian force :
For, where the impetuous torrent, rushing down,
Huge craggy stones and rooted trees had thrown,
They left their coursers, and, unus'd to fight
On foot, were scatter'd in a shameful flight.
Pallas, who, with disdain and grief, had view'd
His foes pursuing, and his friends pursu'd,
Us'd threat'nings mix'd with pray'rs, his last resource,
With these to move their minds, with those to fire their
force.
"Which way, companions? whither would you run?
By you yourselves, and mighty battles won,
By my great sire, by his establish'd name,
An early promise of my future fame :
By my youth, emulous of equal right
To share his honors-shun ignoble flight!
Trust not your feet: your hands must hew your way
Through yon black body, and that thick array :
'Tis through that forward path that we must come :
There lies our way, and that our passage home:
Nor pow'rs above nor destinies below
Oppress our arms, with equal strength we go,
With mortal hands to meet a mortal foe.
See on what foot we stand! a scanty shore-
The sea behind, our enemies before :
No passage left, unless we swim the main ;
Or, forcing these, the Trojan trenches gain.
This said, he strode with eager haste along,
And bore amidst the thickest of the throng.
Lagus, the first he met, with fate to foe,
Had heav'd a stone of mighty weight, to throw.
Stooping, the spear descended on his chine,
Just where the bone distinguish'd either loin :
It stuck so fast, so deeply buried lay,
That scarce the victor forc'd the steel away.
Hisbon came on: but, while he mov'd too slow
To wish'd revenge, the prince prevents his blow;
For, warding his at once, at once he press'd,
And plung'd the fatal weapon in his breast.
Virgil.-12
350
ENEIS.
Then lewd Anchemolus he laid in dust,
Who stain'd his stepdame's bed with impious lust.
And, after him, the Daunian twins were slain,
Laris and Thymbrus, on the Latian plain,
So wond'rous like in feature, shape and size,
As caus'd an error in their parent's eyes—
Grateful mistake! but soon the sword decides
The nice distinction, and their fate divides:
For Thymbrus' head was lopp'd; and Laris' hand,
'Dismember'd, sought its owner on the strand :
The trembling fingers yet the falchion strain,
And threaten still th' extended stroke in vain.
Now, to renew the charge, th' Arcadians came;
Sight of such acts, and sense of honest shame,
And grief, with anger mix'd, their minds inflame.
Then, with a casual blow was Rhoteus slain,
Who chanc'd, as Pallas threw, to cross the plain :
The flying spear was after Ilus sent;
But Rhoteus happen'd on a death unmeant :
From Theuthras and from Tyres, while he fled,
The lance, athwart his body, laid him dead :
Roll'd from his chariot with a mortal wound,
And intercepted fate, he spurn'd the ground.
As when in summer welcome winds arise,
The watchful shepherd to the forest flies,
And fires the midmost plants; contagion spreads,
And catching flames infect the neighb'ring heads;
Around the forest flies the furious blast,
And all the leafy nation sinks at last ;
And Vulcan rides in triumph o'er the waste
The pastor, pleas'd with his dire victory,
Beholds the satiate flames in sheets ascend the sky ;-
So Pallas' troops their scatter'd strength unite,
And, pouring on their foes, their prince delight.
Halesus came, fierce with desire of blood:
But first collected in his arms he stood:
Advancing then, he plied the spear so well,
Ladon, Demodocus, and Pheres fell.
Around his head he toss'd his glitt'ring brand,
And from Strymonius hew'd his better hand,
Held up to guard his throat; then hurl'd a stone
At Thoas' ample front, and pierc'd the bone:
It struck beneath the space of either eye :
And blood, and mingled brains, together fly.
Deep skill'd in future fates, Helesus' sire
Did with the youth to lonely groves retire :
But, when the father's mortal race was run,
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351
Dire destiny laid hold upon the son,
And haul'd him to the war, to find, beneath
Th' Evandrian spear, a memorable death.
Pallas th' encounter seeks, but, ere he throws,
To Tuscan Tyber thus address'd his vows:
"O sacred stream! direct my flying dart,
And give to pass the proud Halesus' heart.
His arms and spoils thy holy oak shall bear."
Pleas'd with the bribe, the god receiv'd his pray'r;
For, while his shield protects a friend distress'd,
The dart came driving on and pierc'd his breast.
But Lausus, no small portion of the war,
Permits not panic fear to reign too far,
Caus'd by the death of so renown'd a knight;
But by his own example cheers the fight.
Fierce Abas first he slew-Abas, the stay
Of Trojan hopes, and hind'rance of the day.
The Phrygian troops escap'd the Greeks in vain :
They, and their mix'd allies, now load the plain.
To the rude shock of war both armies came :
Their leaders equal, and their strength the same.
The rear so press'd the front, they could not wield
Their angry weapons, to dispute the field.
Here Pallas urges on, and Lausus there :
Of equal youth and beauty both appear,
Both by fate forbid to breathe their native air.
Their congress in the field great Jove withstands-
Both doom'd to fall, and fall by greater hands.
Meantime Juturna warns the Daunian chief
Of Lausus' danger, urging swift relief.
With his driv'n chariot he divides the crowd,
And making to his friends, thus calls aloud:
"Let none presume his needless aid to join :
Retire, and clear the field: the fight is mine :
To this right hand is Pallas only due:
Oh! were his father here, my just revenge to view!'
From the forbidden space his men retir'd.
Pallas their awe, and his stern words, admir'd;
Survey'd him o'er and o'er with wond'ring sight,
Struck with his haughty mien, and tow'ring height :
Then to the king : "Your empty vaunts forbear :
Success I hope; and fate I cannot fear.
Alive, or dead, I shall deserve a name :
Jove is impartial, and to both the same.
He said, and to the void advanc'd his pace.
Pale horror sate on each Arcadian face.
Then Turnus, from his chariot leaping light,
352
ENEIS.
Address'd himself on foot to single fight.
And, as a lion-when he spies from far
A bull that seems to meditate the war,
Bending his neck, and spurning back the sand-
Runs roaring downward from his hilly stand:
Imagine eager Turnus not more slow
To rush from high on his unequal foe.
Young Pallas, when he saw the chief advance
Within due distance of his flying lance,
Prepares to charge him first-resolv'd to try
If fortune would his want of force supply ;
And thus to heav'n and Hercules address'd:
Alcides, once on earth Evander's guest!
His son adjures thce, by those holy rites,
That hospitable board, those genial nights,
Assist my great attempt to gain this prize,
And let proud Turnus view, with dying eyes,
His ravish'd spoils. 'Twas heard, the vain request !
Alcides mourn'd, and stifled sighs within his breast.
Then love, to soothe his sorrow, thus began :
"Short bounds of life are set to mortal man.
'Tis virtue's work alone to stretch the narrow span.
So many sons of gods, in bloody fight
Around the walls of Troy, have lost the light :
My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe;
Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the blow.
E'en Turnus shortly shall resign his breath,
And stands already on the verge of death."
This said, the god permits the fatal fight,
But from the Latian fields averts his sight.
Now with full force his spear young Pallas threw ;
And, having thrown, his shining falchion drew.
The steel just graz'd along the shoulder-joint,
And mark'd it slightly with the glancing point.
Fierce Turnus first to nearer distance drew;
And pois'd his pointed spear, before he threw :
Then as the winged weapon whizz'd along,
"See now," said he, "whose arm is better strung.
The spear kept on the fatal course, unstay'd
By plates of ir'n, which o'er the shield were laid :
Through folded brass, and tough bull-hides, it pass'd,
His corselet pierc'd, and reach'd his heart at last.
In vain the youth tugs at the broken wood :
The soul comes issuing with the vital blood:
He falls his arms upon his body sound:
And with his bloody teeth he bites the ground.
Turnus bestrode the corpse : Arcadians, hear,"
"
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353
"(
Said he : my message to your master bear:
Such as the sire deserv'd, the son I send :
It costs him dear to be the Phrygian's friend.
The lifeless body, tell him, I bestow
Unask'd, to rest his wand'ring ghost below."
He said, and trampled down, with all the force
Of his left foot, and spurn'd the wretched corse;
Then snatch'd the shining belt, with gold inlaid-
The belt Eurytion's artful hands had made;
Where fifty fatal brides, express'd to sight,
All in the compass of one mournful night,
Depriv'd their bridegrooms of returning light.
In an ill hour insulting Turnus tore
Those golden spoils, and in a worse he wore.
O mortals! blind in fate, who never know
To bear high fortune, or endure the low!
The time shall come, when Turnus, but in vain,
Shall wish untouch'd the trophies of the slain-
Shall wish the fatal belt were far away,
And curse the dire remembrance of the day.
The sad Arcadians, from th' unhappy field,
Bear back the breathless body on a shield.
O grace and grief of war! at once restor'd,
With praises, to thy sire, at once deplor'd.
One day first sent thee to the fighting field,
Beheld whole heaps of foes in battle kill'd;
One day beheld thee dead, and borne upon thy shield.
This dismal news, not from uncertain fame,
But sad spectators, to the hero came:
His friends upon the brink of ruin stand,
Unless reliev'd by his victorious hand.
He whirls his sword around, without delay,
And hews through adverse foes an ample way,
To find fierce Turnus, of his conquest proud.
Evander, Pallas, all that friendship ow'd
To large deserts, are present to his eyes-
His plighted hand, and hospitable ties.
Four sons of Sulmo, four whom Ufens bred,
He took in fight, and living victims led,
To please the ghost of Pallas, and expire,
In sacrifice, before his fun'ral fire.
At Magus next he threw : he stoop'd below
The flying spear, and shunn'd the promis'd blow,
Then creeping, clasp'd the hero's knees, and pray'd:
By young Iulus, by thy father's shade,
Oh! spare my life, and send me back to see
My longing sire, and tender progeny.
354
ENEIS
A lofty house I have, and wealth untold,
In silver ingots, and in bars of gold:
All these, and sums besides, which see no day,
The ransom of this one poor life shall pay.
If I survive, will Troy the less prevail?
A single soul's too light to turn the scale."
He said. The hero sternly thus replied:
"Thy bars and ingots, and the sums beside,
Leave for thy children's lot. Thy Turnus broke
All rules of war by one relentless stroke,
When Pallas fell so deems, nor deems alone,
My father's shadow, but my living son.
Thus having said, of kind remorse bereft,
He seiz'd his helm, and dragg'd him with his left ;
Then with his right hand, while his neck he wreath'd,
Up to the hilt his shining falchion sheath'd.
Apollo's priest, Hæmonides, was near:
His holy fillets on his front appear;
Glitt'ring in arms, he shone amidst the crowd,
Much of his god, more of his purple, proud.
Him the fierce Trojan follow'd through the field:
The holy coward fell; and, forc'd to yield,
The prince stood o'er the priest, and, at one blow,
Sent him an off'ring to the shades below;
His arms Serestus on his shoulders bears,
Design'd a trophy to the god of wars.
Vulcanian Cæculus renews the fight,
And Umbro, born upon the mountain's height.
The champion cheers his troops t' encounter those,
And seeks revenge himself on other foes.
At Anxur's shield he drove; and, at one blow,
Both shield and arm to ground together go.
Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,
And thought he wore impenetrable arms,
So made by mutter'd spell; and, from the spheres
Had life secur'd, in vain, for length of years.
Then Tarquitus the field in triumph trod ;
A nymph his mother, and his sire a god.
Exulting in bright arms, he braves the prince :
With his protended lance he makes defence;
Bears back his feeble foe; then, pressing on,
Arrests his better hand and drags him down ;
Stands o'er the prostrate wretch, and (as he lay,
Vain tales inventing, and prepar'd to pray)
Mows off his head: the trunk a moment stood,
Then sunk, and roll'd along the sand in blood.
The vengeful victor thus upbraids the slain :
ENEIS.
355
"Lie there, proud man, unpitied on the plain :
Lie there, inglorious, and without a tomb,
Far from thy mother and thy native home,
Expos'd to savage beasts, and birds of prey,
Or thrown for food to monsters of the sea.
On Lycas and Antæus next he ran,
Two chiefs of Turnus, and who led his van.
They fled for fear; with these, he chas'd along
Camers the yellow-lock'd, and Nuina strong,
Both great in arms; and both were fair and young.
Camers was son to Volscens, lately slain,
In wealth surpassing all the Latian train,
And in Amyclæ fix'd his silent easy reign.
And, as Ægaon, when with heav'n he strove,
Stood opposite in arms to mighty Jove;
Mov'd all his hundred hands, provok'd the war,
Defied the forky lightning from afar;
At fifty mouths his flaming breath expires,
And flash for flash returns, and fires for fires;
In his right hand as many swords he wields,
And takes the thunder on as many shields:
With strength like his, the Trojan hero stood;
And soon the fields with falling crops were strow'd
When once his falchion found the taste of blood.
With fury scarce to be conceiv'd, he flew
Against Niphæus, whom four coursers drew.
They, when they see the fiery chief advance,
And pushing at their chests his pointed lance,
Wheel'd with so swift a motion, mad with fear,
They threw their master headlong from the chair.
They stare, they start, nor stop their course, before
They bear the bounding chariot to the shore.
Now Lucagus and Liger scour the plains,
With two white steeds; but Liger holds the reins,
And Lucagus the lofty seat maintains-
Bold brethren both. The former wav'd in air
His flaming sword: Æneas couch'd his spear,
Unus'd to threats. and more unus'd to fear.
Then Liger thus: Thy confidence is vain
To 'scape from hence, as from the Trojan plain :
Nor these the steeds which Diomede bestrode,
Nor this the chariot where Achilles rode :
Nor Venus' veil is here, nor Neptune's shield:
Thy fatal hour is come; and this the field.”
Thus Liger vainly vaunts: the Trojan peer
Return'd his answer with his flying spear
As Lucagus, to lash his horses, bends
356
ENEIS.
Prone to the wheels, and his left foot protends,
Prepar'd for fight-the fatal dart arrives,
"
And through the border of his buckler drives;
Pass'd thro' and pierc'd his groin. The deadly wound,
Cast from his chariot, roil'd him on the ground:
Whom thus the chief upbraids with scornful spite :
Blame not the slowness of your steeds in flight :
Vain shadows did not force their swift retreat ;
But you yourself forsake your empty seat.
He said, and seiz'd at once the loosen'd rein:
For Liger lay already on the plain
By the same shock then, stretching out his hands,
The recreant thus his wretched life demands:
"
Now, by thyself, O more than mortal man !
By her and him from whom thy breath began,
Who form'd thee thus divine, I beg thee, spare
This forfeit life, and hear thy suppliant's pray'r.
Thus much he spoke, and more he would have said,
But the stern hero turn'd aside his head,
And cut him short: "I hear another man :
You talk'd not thus before the fight began.
Now take your turn; and, as a brother should,
Attend your brother to the Stygian flood."
Then through his breast his fatal sword he sent ;
And the soul issued at the gaping vent.
As storms the skies, and torrents tear the ground,
Thus rag'd the prince, and scatter'd deaths around.
At length Ascanius, and the Trojan train,
Broke from the camp, so long besieg'd in vain.
Meantime the king of gods, and mortal man,
..
Held conf'rence with his queen, and thus began:
My sister goddess, and well-pleasing wife,
Still think you Venus' aid supports the strife—
Sustains her Trojans-or themselves, alone,
With inborn valor force their fortune on?
How fierce in fight, with courage undecay'd!
Judge if such warriors want immortal aid."
To whom the goddess with the charming eyes,
Soft in her tone, submissively replies:
..
Why, O my sov'reign lord, whose frown I fear,
And cannot, unconcern'd, your anger bear-
Why urge you thus my grief? when if I still
(As once I was) were mistress of your will,
From your almighty pow'r your pleasing wife
Might gain th' grace of lengthening Turnus' life,
Securely snatch him from the fatal fight,
And give him to his aged father's sight.
་
NEIS.
357
!
Now let him perish, since you hold it good,
And glut the Trojans with his pious blood.
Yet from our lineage he derives his name,
And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came !
Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine,
And offers daily incense at your shrine."
Then shortly thus the 'sov'reign god replied:
"Since in my pow'r and goodness you confide,
If, for a little space, a lengthen'd span,
You beg reprieve for this expiring man,
I grant you leave to take your Turnus hence-
From instant fate, and can so far dispense.
But, if some secret meaning lies beneath,
To save the short-liv'd youth from destin'd death,
Or, if a farther thought you entertain
To change the fates, you feed your hopes in vain.”
To whom the goddess thus, with weeping eyes:
And what if that request, your tongue denies,
Your heart shall grant-and not a short reprieve,
But length of certain life, to Turnus give ?
Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth,
If my presaging soul divines with truth;
Which, oh! I wish might err, through causeless fears,
And you (for you have pow'r) prolong his years !''
Thus having said, involv'd in clouds, she flies,
And drives a storm before her through the skies.
Swift she descends, alighting on the plain,
Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain.
Of air condens'd, a spectre soon she made;
And, what Æneas was, such seem'd the shade.
Adorn'd with Dardan armis, the phantom bore
His head aloft; a plumy crest he wore :
This hand appear'd a shining sword to wield,
And that sustain'd an imitated shield.
With manly mien he stalk'd along the ground,
Nor wanted voice belied, nor vaunting sound.
(Thus haunting ghosts appear, to waking sight,
Or dreadful visions in our dreams by night.)
The spectre seems the Daunian chief to dare,
And flourishes his empty sword in air.
At this, advancing, Turnus hurl'd his spear:
The phantom wheel'd, and seem'd to fly for fear.
Deluded Turnus thought the Trojan fled,
And with vain hopes his haughty fancy fed.
"Whither, O coward?" (thus he calls aloud,
Nor found he spoke to wind, and chas'd a cloud)
Why thus forsake your bride? Receive from me
!
358
ÆENEIS.
The fated land you sought so long by sea.
He said, and brandishing at once his blade,
With eager pace pursu'd the flying shade.
By chance, a ship was fasten'd to the shore,
Which from old Clusium king Osinius bore:
The plank was ready laid for safe ascent;
For shelter there the trembling shadow bent,
And skipp'd, and skulk'd, and under hatches went :
Exulting Turnus, with regardless haste,
Ascends the plank, and to the galley pass'd.
Scarce had he reach'd the prow, Saturnia's hand
The halsers cuts, and shoots the ship from land.
With wind in poop, the vessel ploughs the sea,
And measures back with speed her former way.
Meantime Æneas seeks his absent foe,
And sends his slaughter'd troops to shades below.
The guileful phantom now forsook the shroud,
And flew sublime, and vanish'd in a cloud.
Too late young Turnus the delusion found,
Far on the sea, still making from the ground.
Then, thankless for a life redeem'd by shame,
With sense of honor stung, and forfeit fame,
Fearful besides of what in fight had pass'd,
His hands and haggard eyes to heav'n he cast.
'O Jove !" he cried, for what offence have I
Deserv'd to bear this endless infamy?
Whence am I forc'd, and whither am I borne?
How, and with what reproach, shall I return?
Shall ever I behold the Latian plain,
Or see Laurentum's lofty tow'rs again?
What will they say of their deserting chief?
The war was mine, I fly from their relief!
>
I led to slaughter, and in slaughter leave;
And e'en from hence their dying groans receive.
Here, overmatch'd in fight, in heaps they lie:
There, scatter'd o'er the fields, ignobly fly.
Gape wide, O earth, and draw nie down alive!
Or, oh ye pitying winds, a wretch relieve!
On sands or shelves,, the splitting vessel drive ;
Or set me shipwreck'd on some desert shore,
Where no Rutulian eyes may see me more—
Unknown to friends, or foes, or conscious fame,
Lest she should follow, and my flight proclaim.
Thus Turnus rav'd, and various fates revolv'd:
The choice was doubtful, but the death resolv'd.
And now the sword, and now the sea, took place—
That to revenge, and this to purge disgrace.
ENEIS.
359
Sometimes he thought to swim the stormy main,
By stretch of arms the distant shore to gain.
Thrice he the sword essay'd, and thrice the flood:
But Juno, mov'd with pity, both withstood,
And thrice repress'd his rage; strong gales supplied,
And push'd the vessel o'er the swelling tide.
At length she lands him on his native shores,
And to his father's longing arms restores.
Meantime, by Jove's impulse, Mezentius arm'd,
Succeeding Turnus, with his ardor warm'd
His fainting friends, reproach'd their shameful flight,
Repell'd the victors, and renew'd the fight.
Against their king the Tuscan troops conspire :
Such is their hate, and such their fierce desire
Of wish'd revenge -on him, and him alone,
All hands employ'd, and all their darts are thrown.
He, like a solid rock by seas inclos'd,
:
To raging winds and roaring waves oppos'd,
From his proud summit looking down, disdains
Their empty menace, and unmov'd remains.
Beneath his feet fell haughty Hebrus dead;
Then Latagus, and Palmus, as he fled.
At Latagus a weighty stone he flung :
His face was flatted, and his helmet rung.
But Palmus from behind receives his wound :
Hamstring'd he falls, and grovels on the ground:
His crest and armor from his body torn,
Thy shoulders, Lausus, and thy head, adorn.
Evas and Mimas, both of Troy, he slew.
Mimas his birth from fair Pheano drew-
Born on that fatal night, when, big with fire,
The queen produc'd young Paris to his sire.
But Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain,
Unthinking Mimas on the Latian plain.
And as a savage boar, on mountains bred,
With forest mast and fatt'ning marshes fed,
When once he sees himself in toils inclos'd,
By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos'd,
He whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the wax.
Th' invaders dart their jav'lins from afar :
All keep aloof, and safely shout around;
But none presumes to give a nearer wound:
He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide,
And shakes a grove of lances from his side:
Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir'd,
And just revenge against the tyrant fir'd,
Their darts with clamor at a distance drive,
360
ENEIS.
And only keep the languish'd war alive.
From Corythus came Acron to the fight,
Who left his spouse betroth'd, and unconsummate night.
Mezentius sees him through the squadron ride,
Proud of the purple favors of his bride.
Then as a hungry lion, who beholds.
A gamesome goat who frisks about the folds,
Or beamy stag that grazes on the plain—
He runs, he roars, he shakes his rising mane,
He grins, and opens wide his greedy jaws :
The prey lies panting underneath his paws :
He fills his famish'd maw; his mouth runs o'er
With unchew'd morsels, while he churns the gore.
So proud Mezentius rushes on his foes,
And first unhappy Acron overthrows;
Stretch'd at his length, he spurns the swarthy ground;
The lance, besmear'd with blood, lies broken in the wound.
Then, with disdain, the haughty victor view'd
Orodes flying, nor the wretch pursu'd,
Nor thought the dastard's back deserv'd a wound,
But, running, gain'd th' advantage of the ground;
Then turning short, he met him face to face,
To give his victory the better grace.
Orodes falls, in equal fight oppress'd :
Mezentius fix'd his foot upon his breast,
And rested lance; and thus aloud he cries:
Lo here the champion of my rebels lies!"
The fields around with "Iö Pæan !'' ring;
And peals of shouts applaud the conqu'ring king.
At this the vanquish'd, with his dying breath,
Thus faintly spoke, and prophesied in death :
"Nor thou, proud man, unpunish'd shalt remain,
Like death attends thee on this fatal plain."
Then, sourly smiling, thus the king replied:
"For what belongs to me, let Jove provide :
But die thou first, whatever chance ensue.
He said, and from the wound the weapon drew.
A hov'ring mist came swimming o'er his sight,
And seal'd his eyes in everlasting night.
By Cædicus, Alcathöus was slain :
Sacrator laid Hydaspes on the plain :
Orses the strong to greater strength must yield:
He, with Parthenius, were by Rapo kill'd.
Then brave Messapus Ericetes slew,
Who from Lycaon's blood his lineage drew.
But from his headstrong horse his fate he found,
Who threw his master, as he made a bound :
ENEIS.
361
The chief, alighting, struck him to the ground;
Then Clonius, hand to hand, on foot assails :
The Trojan sinks and Neptune's son prevails.
Agis the Lycian, stepping forth with pride,
To single fight the boldest foe defied;
Whom Tuscan Valerus by force o'ercame,
And not belied his mighty father's fame.
Salius to death the great Authronius sent:
But the same fate the victor underwent,
Slain by Nealces' hand, well skill'd to throw
The flying dart, and draw the far-deceiving bow.
Thus equal deaths are dealt with equal chance :
By turns they quit their ground, by turns advance
Victors and vanquish'd in the various field,
Nor wholly overcome, nor wholly yield.
The gods from heav'n survey the fatal strife,
And mourn the miseries of human life.
Above the rest, two goddesses appear
Concern'd for each here Venus, Juno there.
Amidst the crowd, infernal Ate shakes
Her scourge aloft, and crest of hissing snakes.
Once more the proud Mezentius, with disdain,
Brandish'd his spear, and rush'd into the plain,
Where tow'ring in the midmost rank he stood,
Like tall Orion stalking o'er the flood,
(When with his brawny breast he cuts the waves,
His shoulders scarce the topmost billow laves)
Or like a mountain-ash, whose roots are spread,
Deep fix'd in earth-in clouds he hides his head.
The Trojan prince beheld him from afar,
And dauntless undertook the doubtful war.
Collected in his strength, and like a rock
Pois'd on his base, Mezentius stood the shock.
He stood, and measuring first with careful eyes
The space his spear could reach, aloud he cries:
'My strong right hand and sword assist my stroke:
(Those only gods Mezentius will invoke)
His armor, from the Trojan pirate torn,
By my triumphant Lausus shall be worn."
He said; and with his utmost force he threw
The massy spear, which, hissing as it flew,
Reach'd the celestial shield: that stopp'd the course;
But, glancing thence, the yet unbroken force
Took a new bent obliquely, and, betwixt
The side and bowels, fam'd Antoris fix'd.
Antoris had from Argos travelled far,
Alcides' friend, and brother of the war ;
362
ENEIS.
Till, tir'd with toils, fair Italy he chose,
And in Evander's palace sought repose.
Now falling by another's wound, his eyes
He cast to heav'n, on Argos thinks, and dies.
The pious Trojan then his jav'lin sent :
The shield gave way through triple plates it went
Of solid brass, of linen triply toll'd,
And three bull-hides, which round the buckler roll'd:
All these it pass'd, resistless in the course,
Transpierc'd his thigh, and spent its dying force.
The gaping wound gush'd out a crimson flood.
The Trojan, glad with sight of hostile blood,
His falchion drew, to closer fight address'd,
And with new force his fainting foe oppress'd.
His father's peril Lausus view'd with grief:
He sigh'd, he wept, he ran to his relief.
And here, heroic youth, 'tis here I must
To thy immortal memory be just,
And sing an act so noble and so new,
Posterity will scarce believe 'tis true.
Pain'd with the wound, and useless for the fight,
The father sought to save himself by flight:
Encumber'd, slow he dragg'd the spear along,
Which pierc'd his thigh, and in his buckler hung.
The pious youth, resolv'd on death below
The lifted sword, springs forth to face the foe;
Protects his parent, and prevents the blow.
Shouts of applause ran ringing through the field,
To see the son the vanquish'd father shield.
All, fir'd with gen'rous indignation, strive,
And, with a storm of darts, to distance drive
The Trojan chief, who, held at bay from far,
On his Vulcanian orb sustain'd the war.
As, when thick hail comes ratt'ling in the wind,
The ploughman, passenger, and lab'ring hind,
For shelter to the neighb'ring covert fly,
Or, hous'd, or safe in hollow caverns, lie;
But, that o'erblown, when heav'n above them smiles,
Return to travail, and renew their toils :
Æneas, thus o'erwhelmed on ev'ry side,
The storm of darts, undaunted, did abide ;
And thus to Lausus loud with friendly threat'ning cried :
"
Why wilt thou rush to certain death and rage,
In rash attempts, beyond thy tender age,
Betray'd by pious love?"—Nor, thus forborne,
The youth desists, but with insulting scorn
Provokes the ling'ring prince, whose patience tir'd,
ENEÍS.
363
Gave place; and all his breast with fury fir'd.
For now the Fates prepar'd their sharpen'd shears ;
And lifted high the flaming sword appears,
Which, full descending, with a frightful sway,
Thro' shield and corselet forc'd the impetuous way,
And buried deep in his fair bosom lay.
The purple streams through the thin armor strove,
And drench'd the embroider'd coat his mother wove;
And life at length forsook his heaving heart,
Loath from so sweet a mansion to depart.
But when, with blood and paleness all o'erspread,
The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead,
He griev'd, he wept (the sight an image brought
Of his own filial love-a sadly pleasing thought);
Then stretch'd his hand to hold him up, and said
Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid
To love so great, to such transcendent store
Of early worth, and sure presage of more?
Accept whate'er Æneas can afford;
Untouch'd thy arms, untaken be thy sword;
And all that pleas'd the living still remain
Inviolate, and sacred to the slain.
Thy body on thy parents I bestow,
To rest thy soul, at least, if shadows know,
Or have a sense of human things below.
There to thy fellow-ghosts with glory tell,
Twas by the great Æneas' hand I fell."
With this his distant friends he beckons near,
Provokes their duty, and prevents their fear :
Himself assists to lift him from the ground,
With clotted locks and blood that well'd from out the wound.
Meantime, his father, now no father, stood,
And wash'd his wounds, by Tyber's yellow flood:
Oppress'd with anguish, panting, and o'erspent,
His fainting limbs against an oak he leant.
A bough his brazen helmet did sustain ;
His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain :
A chosen train of youth around him stand ;
His drooping head was rested on his hand;
His grisly beard his pensive bosom sought ;
And all on Lausus ran his restless thought.
Careful, concern'd, his danger to prevent,
He much inqur'd, and many a message sent
To warn him from the field-alas! in vain!
Behold his mournful followers bear him slain :
O'er his broad shield still gush'd the yawning wound,
And drew a bloody trail along the ground.
1
364
ENEIS.
Far off he heard their cries, far off divin'd
The dire event with a foreboding mind.
With dust he sprinkled first his hoary head;
Then both his lifted hands to heaven he spread ;
Last, the dear corpse embracing, thus he said:
"What joys, alas! could this frail being give,
That I have been so covetous to live?
To see my son, and such a son, resign
His life a ransom for preserving mine?
And am I then preserv'd, and art thou lost?
How much too dear has that redemption cost!
'Tis now my bitter banishment I feel :
This is a wound too deep for time to heal.
My guilt thy growing virtues did defame
My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd name.
Chas'd from a throne, abandon'd, and exil'd
For foul misdeeds, were punishments too mild :
I ow'd my people these, and, from their hate,
With less resentment could have borne my fate.
And yet I live, and yet sustain the sight
Of hated men, and of more hated light-
But will not long.' With that he rais'd from ground
His fainting limbs that stagger'd with his wound;
Yet with a mind resolv'd, and unappall'd,
With pains or perils for his courser call'd—
Well-mouth'd, well-manag'd, whom himself did dress
With daily care, and mounted with success—
His aid in arms, his ornament in peace.
Soothing his courage with a gentle stroke,
The steed seem'd sensible while thus he spoke :
'O Rhoebus! we have liv'd too long for me-
If life and long were terms that could agree.
This day thou either shalt bring back the head
And bloody trophies of the Trojan dead-
This day thou either shalt revenge my woe,
For murder'd Lausus, on his cruel foe;
Or, if inexorable Fate deny
Our conquest, with thy conquer'd master die :
For, after such a lord, I rest secure,
Thou wilt no foreign reins, or Trojan load, endure."
He said and straight th' officious courser kneels,
To take his wonted weight. His hands he fills
With pointed jav'lins on his head he lac'd
His glitt'ring helm, which terribly was grac'd
With waving horse hair, nodding from afar ;
Then spurr'd his thund'ring steed amidst the war.
Love, anguish, wrath, and grief to madness wrought,
ENEIS.
365
Despair, and secret shame, and conscious thought
Of inborn worth, his lab'ring soul oppress'd,
Roll'd in his eyes, and rag'd within his breast.
Then loud he call'd Æneas thrice by name :
The loud repeated voice to glad Æneas came.
Great Jove," he said, and the far shooting god,
Inspire thy mind to make thy challenge good!"
He spoke no more, but hasten'd, void of fear,
And threaten'd with his long protended spear.
"
To whom Mezentius thus: Thy vaunts are vain.
My Lausus lies extended on the plain :
He's lost! thy conquest is already won:
The wretched sire is murder'd in the son.
Nor fate I fear, but all the gods defy.
Forbear thy threats my bus'ness is to die :
But first receive this parting legacy.'
He said; and straight a whirling dart he sent :
Another after, and another, went..
Round in a spacious ring he rides the field,
And vainly plies th' impenetrable shield.
Thrice rode he round, and thrice Æneas wheel'd;
Turn'd as he turn'd: the golden orb withstood
The strokes, and bore about an iron wood.
Impatient of delay, and weary grown,
Still to defend, and to defend alone,
To wrench the darts which in his buckler light,
Urg'd, and o'erlabor'd in unequal fight-
At length resolv'd, he throws, with all his force,
Full at the temples of the warrior horse.
Just where the stroke was aim'd, th' unerring spear
Made way, and stood transfix'd through either ear.
Seiz'd with unwonted pain, surpris'd with fright,
The wounded steed curvets, and, rais'd upright,
Lights on his feet before: his hoofs behind
Spring up in air aloft, and lash the wind.
Down comes the rider headlong from his height:
His horse came after with unwieldy weight,
And, flound'ring forward, pitching on his head,
His lord's encumber'd shoulder overlaid.
From either host, the mingled shouts and cries
Of Trojans and Rutulians rend the skies :
Æneas, hast'ning, wav'd his fatal sword
High o'er his head, with this reproachful word :
Now, where are now the taunts, the fierce disdain
Of proud Mezentius, and the lofty strain!"'
Struggling, and wildly staring on the skies
With scarce recover'd sight, he thus replies:
366
ENEIS.
•
Why these insulting words, this waste of breath,
To souls undaunted, and secure of death?
'Tis no dishonor for the brave to die ;
Nor came I here with hope of victory;
Nor ask I life, nor fought with that design.
As I had us'd my fortune, use thou thine.
My dying son contracted no such band:
The gift is hateful from his murderer's hand.
For this, this only favor let me sue,
If pity can to conquer'd foes be due,
Refuse it not but let my body have
The last retreat of human kind, a grave.
Too well I know the insulting people's hate :
Protect me from their vengeance after fate :
This refuge for my poor remains provide ;
And lay my much-lov'd Lausus by my side."
He said, and to the sword his throat applied.
The crimson stream distain'd his arms around,
And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound.
༣༠e
ENEIS.
BOOK XI.
ARGUMENT.
Eneas erects a trophy of the spoils of Mezentius, grants a truce for bury-
ing the dead, and sends home the body of Pallas with great solemnity.
Latinus calls a council to propose offers of peace to Eueas, which oc-
casions great animosity betwixt Turnus and Drances. In the mean time
there is a sharp engagement of the horse, wherein Camilla signalizes
herself; is killed, and the Latine troops are entirely defeated,
CARCE had the rosy morning raised her head
Above the waves, and left her wat'ry bed;
Sc
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to heav'n perform'd a victor's vows:
He bar'd an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac'd,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac'd.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne,
Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar,
A trophy sacred to the god of war.
Above his arms, fix'd on the leafless wood,
Appear'd his plumy crest, besmear'd with blood.
His brazen buckler on the left was seen :
Truncheons of shiver'd lances hung between ;
And on the right was plac'd his corselet, bor'd;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who, thus, conspicuous in the midst, began :
Our toils, my friends, are crown'd with sure success ;
The greater part perform'd, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town:
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more: for fierce Mezentius lies,
368
ENEIS.
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar'd in arms, pursue your happy chance ;
That none unwarn'd may plead his ignorance,
And I, at heaven's appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun'ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war-
The last respect the living can bestow,
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer'd earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought.
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send,
Who, not inglorious in his age's bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.'
Thus, weeping, while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acœtes watch'd the corpse, whose youth descrv'd
The father's trust; and now the son he serv'd
With equal faith, but less auspicious care:
Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevell'd hair.
Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry.;
All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.
They rear his drooping forehead from the ground:
But, when Eneas view'd the grisly wound
Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,
And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore ;
First, melting into tears, the pious man
Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began :
Unhappy youth when fortune gave the rest
Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best!
She came; but brought not thee along, to bless
My longing eyes, and share in my success :
She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due
To prosp'rous valor, in the public view.
Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent
Thy needless succor with a sad consent;
Embrac'd me, parting for th' Etrurian land,
And sent me to possess a large command.
He warn'd, and from his own experience told,
Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold.
And now, perhaps, in hopes of thy return,
Rich odors on his loaded altars burn;
ENEIS.
369
-
While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare
To send him back his portion of the war-
A bloody, breathless body, which can owe
No farther debt, but to the pow'rs below.
The wretched father, ere his race is run,
Shall view the fun'ral honors of his son !
These are my triumphs of the Latian war,
Fruits of my plighted faith and boasted care!
And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see
A son, whose death disgrac'd his ancestry :
Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd:
Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd.
He died no death to make thee wish, too late,
Thou hadst not liv'd to see his shameful fate.
But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast,
And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!"
Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around,
To raise the breathless body from the ground;
And chose a thousand horse, the flow'r of all
His warlike troops, to wait the funeral,
To bear him back, and share Evander's grief-
A well-becoming, but a weak relief.
Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier,
Then on their shoulders the sad burden rear.
The body on his rural hearse is borne:
Strew'd leaves and fun'ral greens the bier adorn.
All pale he lies, and looks a lovely flow'r,
New cropt by virgin hands, to dress the bow'r ;
Unfaded yet, but yet unfed below,
No more to mother-earth or the green stem shall owe.
Then two fair vests, of wond'rous work and cost,
Of purple woven, and with gold emboss'd,
For ornament the Trojan hero brought,
Which with her hands Sidonian Dido wrought.
One vest array'd the corpse; and one they spread
O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapt around his head,
That, when the yellow hair in flame should fall,
The catching fire might burn the golden caul.
Besides, the spoils of foes in battles slain,
When he descended on the Latian plain-
Arms, trappings, horses-by the hearse are led
In long array-th' achievements of the dead.
Then pinion'd with their hands behind, appear
Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear,
Appointed off'rings in the victor's name,
To sprinkle with their blood the fun'ral flame
Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne :
370
ENEIS.
Gauntlets and helms their loaded hands adorn ;
And fair inscriptions fix'd, and titles read
Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead.
Acœtes on his pupil's corpse attends,
With feeble steps, supported by his friends.
Pausing at every pace, in sorrow drown'd,
Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground;
Where grov'ling while he lies in deep despair,
He beats his breast, and rends his hoary hair.
The champion's chariot next is seen to roll,
Besmear'd with hostile blood, and honorably foul.
To close the pomp, Ethon, the steed of state,
Is led, the fun'rals of his lord to wait.
Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace
He walks; and the big tears run rolling down his face
The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,
Are borne behind :-the victor seiz'd the rest.
"
"}
"
The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound:
The pikes and lances trail along the ground.
Thus while the Trojan and Arcadian horse
To Palantean tow'rs direct their course,
In long procession rank'd; the pious chief
Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief.
The public care,
he said, which war attends,
Diverts our present woes, at least suspends.
Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell!
Hail, holy relics! and a last farewell!"
He said no more, but, inly though he mourn'd,
Restrain'd his tears, and to the camp return'd.
Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand
A truce, with olive-branches in their hand:
Obtest his clemency, and from the plain
Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.
They plead, that none those common rites deny
To conquer'd foes that in fair battle die.
All cause of hate was ended in their death
Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.
A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request,
Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest.
Their suit, which was too just to be denied,
The hero grants, and farther thus replied:
O Latian princes! how severe a fate
In causeless quarrels has involv'd your state,
And arm'd against an unoffending man,
Who sought your friendship ere the war began!
You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,
Not only for the slain, but those who live.
ENEIS.
371
-
I came not hither but by heav'n's command,
And sent by fate to share the Latian land;
Nor wage I wars unjust your king denied.
My proffer'd friendship and my promis'd bride;
Left me for Turnus. Turnus then should try
His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.
My right and his are in dispute: the slain
Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.
In equal arms let us alone contend;
And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.
This is the way (so tell him) to possess
The royal virgin, and restore the peace.
Bear this my message back-with ample leave
That your slain friends may fun'ral rites receive.'
Thus having said the ambassadors, amaz'd,
Stood mate awhile, and on each other gaz'd.
Drances, their chief, who harbor'd in his breast
Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profess'd,
Broke silence first, and to the godlike man
With graceful action bowing, thus began :
"
Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,
But yet whose actions far transcend your fame !
Would I your justice or your force express,
Thoughts can but equal; and all words are less.
Your answer we shall thankfully relate,
And favors granted to the Latian state.
If wish'd success our labors shall attend,
Think peace concluded, and the king your friend :
Let Turnus leave the realm to your command;
And seek alliance in some other land:
Build you the city which your fates assign;
We shall be proud in the great work to join.”
Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade
The rest empower'd, that soon a truce is made.
Twelve days the term allow'd; and, during those,
Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,
Mix'd in the woods, for fun'ral piles prepare
To fell the timber, and forget the war.
Loud axes through the groaning groves resound :
Oak, mountain-ash, and poplar, spread the ground;
Firs fall from high; and some the trunks receive
In loaden wains; with wedges some they cleave.
And now the fatal news by Fame is blown
Through the short circuit of th' Arcadian town:
Of Pallas slain-by Fame, which just before
His triumphs on distended pinions bore.
Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,
372
ร
ENEIS.
Each with a fun'ral flambeau in his hand.
Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze :
The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze,
That casts a sullen splendor on their friends-
The marching troop which their dead prince attends.
Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry:
The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply;
And their mix'd mourning rends the vaulted sky.
The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears,
Till the loud clamors reach Evander's ears.
Forgetful of his state he runs along,
With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng;
Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies,
With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.
Short sighs and sobs succeed; till sorrow breaks
A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks:
O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word!
To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword,
I warn'd thee, but in vain! for well I knew
What perils youthful ardor would pursue-
That boiling blood would carry thee too far,
Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!
O curst essay of arms! disastrous doom!
Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!
Hard elements of inauspicious war!
Vain vows to heav'n, and unavailing care!
Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,
Whose holy soul the stroke of Fortune fled-
Precious of ills, and leaving me behind,
To drink the dregs of life, by fate assign'd.
Beyond the goal of nature I have gone :
My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon.
If, for my league against th' Ausonian state,
Amidst their weapons I had found my fate,
(Deserv'd from them) then I had been return'd
A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd.
Yet will I not my Trojan friend upbraid,
Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made.
'Twas not his fault my Pallas fell so young,
But my own crime for having liv'd too long.
Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die,
At least, he led the way to victory :
First for his friends he won the fatal shore,
And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before—
A death too great, too glorious to deplore.
Nor will I add new honors to thy grave,
Content with those the Trojan hero gave—
ENEIS.
373
That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd,
In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd.
Great spoils and trophies, gain'd by thee, they bear:
Then let thy own achievements be thy share.
E'en thou, O Turnus, hadst a trophy stood,"
Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood,
If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length
Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.
But why, unhappy man! dost thou detain
These troops, to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain?
Go, friends! this message to your lord relate :
Tell him, that, if I bear my bitter fate,
And, after Pallas' death, live lingering on,
'Tis to behold his vengeance for my son.
I stay for Turnus, whose devoted head
Is owing to the living and the dead.
My son and I expect it from his hand;
'Tis all that he can give, or we demand.
Joy is no more: but I would gladly go,
To greet my Pallas with such news below."
The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night,
Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light.
The Trojan king and Tuscan chief command
To raise the piles along the winding strand.
Their friends convey the dead to fun'ral fires;
Black smould'ring smoke from the green wood expires
The light of heaven is chok'd, and the new day retires.
Then thrice around the kindled piles they go
(For ancient custom had ordain'd it so);
Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led;
And thrice with loud laments they hail the dead.
Tears trickling down their breasts, bedew the ground,
And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.
Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw
The spoils, in battle taken from the foe-
Helms, bits emboss'd, and swords of shining steel;
One casts a target, one a chariot wheel;
Some to their fellows their own arms restore-
The falchions which in luckless fight they bore,
Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in vain,
And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain.
Whole herds of offer'd bulls, about the fire,
And bristled boars, and woolly sheep, expire.
Around the piles a careful troop attends,
To watch the wasting flames and weep their burning friends-
Ling'ring along the shore till dewy night
New decks the face of heav'n with starry light.
374
ENEIS.
The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care,
Piles without number for their dead prepare.
Part, in the places where they fell, are laid ;
And part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd.
The corpse of kings, and captains of renown,
Borne off in state, are buried in the town;
The rest unhonor'd, and without a name,
Are cast a common heap to feed the flame.
Trojans and Latians vie with like desires
To make the field of battle shine with fires;
And the promiscuous blaze to heav'n aspires.
Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light,
And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night,
When those who round the wasted fires remain,
Perform the last sad office to the slain.
They rake the yet warm ashes from below;
These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow;
These relics with their country rites they grace,
And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.
But, in the palace of the king, appears
A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears.
Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans;
Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons.
All in that universal sorrow share,
And curse the cause of this unhappy war-
A broken league, a bride unjustly sought,
A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is bought:
These are the crimes with which they load the name
Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim.:
Let him, who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land,
Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand ;
His is the gain; our lot is but to serve ;
'Tis just the sway he seeks he should descrve.
This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite,
His foe expects, and dares him to the fight.
Nor Turnus wants a party to support
His cause and credit in the Latian court.
His former acts secure his present fame,
"
And the queen shades him with her mighty name.
While thus their factious minds with fury burn,
The legates from th' Ætolian prince return:
Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost
And care employ'd, their embassy is lost;
That Diomede refus'd his aid in war,
Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to pray'r.
Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought,
Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought.
i.
ENEIS.
375
Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late,
A foreign son is pointed out by fate;
And, till Æneas shall Lavinia wed,
The wrath of heav'n is hov'ring o'er his head.
The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side,
When late their titles in the field were tried:
Witness the fresh laments, and fun'ral tears undried.
Thus full of anxious thought, he summons all
The Latian senate to the council hall.
The princes come, commanded by their head,
And crowd the paths that to the palace lead.
Supreme in pow'r, and reverenc'd for his years,
He takes the throne, and in the midst appears.
Majestically sad, he sits in state,
And bids his envoys their success relate.
When Venulus began, the murm'ring sound
Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around.
C
We have," said he, perform'd your high command,
And pass'd with peril a long tract of land :
We reach'd the place desir'd; with wonder fill'd,
The Grecian tents and rising tow'rs beheld.
Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls
The city, which Argyripa he calls,
From his own Argos nam'd: we touch'd with joy
The royal hand that raz'd unhappy Troy.
When introduc'd, our presents first we bring,
Then crave an instant audience with the king.
His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name,
And tell th' important cause for which we came.
Attentively he heard us while we spoke;
Then with soft accents and a pleasing look
Made this return : Ausonian race, of old
Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold,
What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd,
To change for war hereditary rest,
(
Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword-
A needless ill, your ancestors abhorr'd?
We-for myself I speak, and all the name
Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came
(Omitting those who were in battle slain,
Or borne by rolling Simoïs to the main)—
Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought
The prize of Honor which in arms he sought.
Some docm'd to death, and some in exile driv'n,
Outcasts, abardon'd by the care of heav'n-
So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew,
As e'en old Priam might with pity view.
376
T
ENEIS,
:
Witness the vessels by Minerva toss'd
In storms-the vengeful Capharean coast—
Th' Euboean rocks-the prince, whose brother led
Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed,
In Egypt lost. Ulysses, with his men,
Have seen Charybdis, and the Cyclops' den.
Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain
Restor❜d to sceptres, and expell'd again?
Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?
E'en he, the king of men, the foremost name
Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame,
The proud revenger of another's wife,
Yet by his own adult'ress lost his life-
Fell at his threshold; and the spoils of Troy
The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.
The gods have envied me the sweets of life,
My much-lov'd country and my more lov'd wife :
Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky,
Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly :
Hovering about the coasts they make their moan,
And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.
What squalid spectres, in the dead of night,
Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight!
I might have promis'd to myself those harms,
Mad as I was, when I with mortal arms
Presum'd against immortal pow'rs to move,
And violate with wounds the queen of love.
Such arms this hand shall never more employ ;
No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy.
I war not with its dust; nor am I glad
To think of past events, or good or bad.
Your presents I return: whate'er you bring
To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.
We met in fight: I know him to my cost:
With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd !
Heav'ns! what a spring was in his arm, to throw !
How high he held his shield, and rose at ev'ry blow!
Had Troy produc'd two more his match in might,
They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight;
Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd,
Our empires wasted and our cities burn'd.
The long defence the Trojan people made,
The war protracted, and the siege delay'd,
Werc due to Hector's and this hero's hand:
Both brave alike, and equal in command;
Eneas, not inferior in the field,
In pious rev'rence to the gods excell'd.
ENEIS.
377
Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care
Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.'
He said no more; but with this cold excuse
Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce.
Thus Venulus concluded his report.
A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court :
As when a torrent rolls with rapid force,
And dashes o'er the stones that stop their course
The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space,
Roars horrible along th' uneasy race;
White foam in gath'ring eddies floats around;
The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.
The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne
The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun :
"
I wish, ye Latians, what we now debate
Had been resolv'd before it was too late.
Much better had it been for you and me,
Unforc'd to this our last necessity,
To have been earlier wise, than now to call
A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.
O citizens, we wage unequal war,
With men, not only heaven's peculiar care,
But heav'n's own race--unconquer'd in the field,
Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield.
What hopes you had in Diomede, lay down :
Our hopes must centre on ourselves alone.
Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,
You see too well; nor need my words explain :-
Vanquish'd without resource-laid flat by fate-
Factions within, a foe without the gate!
Not but I grant that all perform'd their parts
With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:
With our united strength the war we wag'd;
With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd:
You see th' event.-Now hear what I propose,
To save our friends and satisfy our foes.
A tract of land the Latians have possess'
s'd
Along the Tyber, stretching to the west,
Which now Rutulians and Aruncans till,
And their mix'd cattle graze the fruitful hill.
Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land,
If you consent, the Trojans shall command,
Call'd into part of what is ours: and there,
On terms agreed, the common country share.
There let them build, and settle if they please;
Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,
In search of seats remote from Italy,
378
ENEIS.
And from unwelcome inmates set us free.
Then twice ten galleys let us build with speed,
Or twice as many more, if more they need.
Materials are at hand: a well-grown wood
Runs equal with the margin of the flood:
Let them the number and the form assign;
The care and cost of all the stores be mine.
To treat the peace, a hundred senators
Shall be commission'd hence with ample pow'rs,
With olive crown'd: the presents they shall bear,
A purple robe, a royal iv'ry chair,
And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs wear,
And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate
This great affair, and save the sinking state.
>>
Then Drances took the word, who grudg'd, long since,
The rising glories of the Daunian prince;
Factious and rich, bold at the council board,
But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword-
A close caballer, and tongue-valiant lord.
Noble his mother was, and near the throne;
But, what his father's parentage, unknown.
He rose, and took th' advantage of the times,
To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.
"Such truths, O king," said he, your words contain,
As strike the sense, and all replies are vain ;
Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek
""
What common needs require; but fear to speak.
Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,
Whose pride this inauspicious war began;
For whose ambition (let me dare to say,
Fear set apart, though death is in my way)
The plains of Latium run with blood around;
So many valiant heroes bite the ground;
Dejected grief in ev'ry face appears;
A town in mourning, and a land in tears;
While he, th' undoubted author of our harms,
The man who menaces the gods with arms,
Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,
And sought his safety in ignoble flight.
Now, best of kings, since you propose to send
Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend,
Add yet a greater at our joint request,
One which he values more than all the rest :
Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride :
With that alliance let the league be tied,
And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide.
Let insolence no longer awe the throne :
ENEIS.
379
But, with a father's right, bestow your own.
For this maligner of the general good,
If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd:
His haughty godhead we with pray'rs implore,
Your sceptre to release, and our just rights restore.
O cursed cause of all our ills! must we
Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight for thee?
What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,
And send us out to meet our certain fate?
'Tis a destructive war: from Turnus' hand
Our peace and public safety we demand.
Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain ;
If not, the peace, without the pledge, is vain.
Turnus, I know you think me not your friend;
Nor will I much with your belief contend:
I beg your greatness not to give the law
In other realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.
Pity your own, or pity our estate;
Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.
Your int'rest is, the war should never cease
But we have felt enough to wish the peace—
A land exhausted to the last remains,
Depopulated towns, and driv'n plains.
Yet, if desire of fame, and thirst of pow'r,
A beauteous princess, with a crown in dow'r,
So fire your mind, in arms assert your right,
And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.
Mankind, it seems, are made for you alone!
We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne-
A base, ignoble crowd, without a name,
Unwept, unworthy of the fun'ral flame,
By duty bound to forfeit each his life,
That Turnus may possess a royal wife!
Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew
Should share such triumphs, and detain from you
The post of honor, your undoubted due.
Rather alone your matchless force employ,
To merit what alone you must enjoy.
These words, so full of malice, mix'd with art,
Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart.
Then groaning from the bottom of his breast,
He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd:
You, Drances, never want a stream of words,
Then, when the public need requires our swords.
First, in the council hall, to steer the state,
And ever foremost in a tongue debate,
While our strong walls secure us from the foe,
380
ENEIS.
Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:
But let the potent orator declaim,
And with the brand of coward blot my name;
Free leave is giv'n him, when his fatal hand
Has cover'd with more corpse the sanguine strand,
And high as mine his tow'ring trophies stand.
If any doubt remains who dares the most,
Let us decide it at the Trojan's cost,
And issue both abreast, where honor calls
(Foes are not far to seek without the walls)—
Unless his noisy tongue can only fight,
And feet were giv'n him but to speed his flight:
I beaten from the field? I forc'd away?
Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?
Had he but ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes
Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies-
What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,
And how the bloody Tyber swell'd the main.
All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire
In scatter'd squadrons, and their prince expire.
The giant brothers, in their camp, have found,
I was not forc'd with ease to quit my ground.
Not such the Trojans tried me, when, inclos'd,
I singly their united arms oppos'd-
First forc'd an entrance through their thick array,
Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.
'Tis a destructive war! So let it be,
But to the Phrygian pirate, and to thee.
Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears
With false reports, their minds with panic fears :
Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race;
Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.
Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town
Triumphant stands; the Grecians are o'erthrown;
Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies;
And Diomede from fierce Eneas flies.
Say, rapid Aufidus with awful dread
Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,
When the great Trojan on his bank appears :
For that's as true as thy dissembled fears
Of my revenge: dismiss that vanity :
Thou, Drances, art below a death from me.
Let that vile soul in that vile body rest;
The lodging is well worthy of the guest.
Now, royal father, to the present state
Of our affairs, and of this high debate-
If in your arms thus early you diffide,
ENEIS.
381
And think your fortune is already tried;
If one defeat has brought us down so low,
As never more in fields to meet the foe;
Then I conclude for peace: 'tis time to treat,
And lie like vassals at the victor's feet.
But oh! if any ancient blood remains,
One drop of all our fathers, in our veins,
That man would I prefer the rest,
Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast;
Who comely fell by no dishonest wound,
To shun that sight, and, dying, gnaw'd the ground.
But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,
If our confed'rates can afford us more;
If the contended field we bravely fought,
And not a bloodless victory was bought;
Their losses equall'd ou s, and for their slain,
With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain ;
Why thus, unforc'd, should we so tamely yield,
And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field.
Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,
Appear by turns as fortune shifts the scene:
Some, rais'd aloft, come tuinbling down amain ;
Then fali so hard, they bound and rise again.
If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,
The great Messapus yet remains our friend :
Tolumnius, who foretells events, is ours:
Th' Italian chiefs, and princes, jcin their pow'rs:
Nor least in number, nor in name the last,
Your own brave subjects have our cause embrac’d
Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon
Contains an army in herself alone,
And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,
With glitt'ring shields, in brazen armor bright.
Yet, if the foe a single fight demand,
And I alone the public peace withstand;
If you consent, he shall not be refus'd,
Nor find a hand to victory unus'd.
This new Achilles, let him take the field,
With fated armor, and Vulcanian shield!
For you, my royal father, and my fame,
I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,
Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand:
And I alone will answer his demand.
Drances shall rest secure, and neither share
The danger, nor divide the prize, of war.
While they debate, nor these nor those will yield,
Æneas draws his forces to the field,
Virgil.--13
382
ENEIS.
1
And moves his camp.
The scouts with flying speed
Return, and through the frighted city spread
Th' unpleasing news: The Trojans are descried,
In battle marching by the river side,
"
And bending to the town. They take th' alarm:
Some tremble, some are bold, all in confusion arm.
Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field;
They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield;
The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;
Old feeble men with fainter groans reply:
A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,
Like that of swans remurm'ring to the floods,
Or birds of diff'ring kinds in hollow woods.
Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud :
"
Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd;
Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls,
And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls."
He said, and, turning short with speedy pace,
Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place:
Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command
To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.
Messapus, and Catillus, post your force
Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse.
Some guard the passes; others man the wall;
Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call."
They swarm from ev'ry quarter of the town,
And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown.
Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,
The gath'ring storm just breaking on the state,
Dismiss'd the council till a fitter time,
And own'd his easy temper as his crime,
Who, forc'd against his reason, had complied
To break the treaty for the promis'd bride.
Some help to sink new trenches; others aid
To ram the stones, or raise the palisade.
Hoarse trumpets sound th' alarm around the walls.
Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labor calls.
A sad procession in the streets is seen,
Of matrons that attend the mother-queen.
High in her chair she sits, and, at her side,
With downcast eyes appears the fatal bride.
They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands ;
Pray'rs in their mouths and presents in their hands.
With censers, first they fume the sacred shrine,
Then in this common supplication join:
"O patroness of arms! unspotted maid!
Propitious hear, and lend thy Latians aid!
A
ENEIS.
383
Break short the pirate's lance: pronounce his fate;
And lay the Phrygian low before the gate."
Now Turnus arms for fight. His back and breast
Well-temper'd steel and scaly brass invest:
The cuishes, which his brawny thighs infold,
Are mingled metal, damask'd o'er with gold.
His faithful falchion sits upon his side;
Nor casque, nor crest, his manly features hide :
But, bare to view, amid surrounding friends,
With godlike grace, he from the tow'r descends.
Exulting in his strength, he seems to dare
His absent rival, and to promise war.
Freed from his keepers, thus, with broken reins,
The wanton courser prances o'er the plains,
Or in the pride of youth o'erleaps the bounds,
And snuffs the females in forbidden grounds,
Or seeks his wat'ring in the well-known flood,
To quench his thirst and cool his fiery blood:
He swims luxuriant in the liquid plain,
And o'er his shoulder flows his waving mane :
He neighs, he snorts, he bears his head on high;
Before his ample chest the frothy waters fly.
Soon as the prince appears without the gate,
The Volscians, and their virgin leader, wait
His last commands. Then, with a graceful mien,
Lights from her lofty steed the warrior queen :
Her squadron imitates, and each descends;
Whose common suit Camilla thus commends :
If sense of honor, if a soul secure
Of inborn worth that can all tests endure,
Can promise aught, or on itself rely,
Greatly to dare, to conquer or to die
Then, I alone, sustain'd by these, will meet
The Tyrrhene troops, and promise their defeat.
Ours be the danger, ours the sole renown:
You, gen'ral, stay behind, and guard the town."
Turnus a while stood mute with glad surprise,
And on the fierce virago fix'd his eyes,
Then thus return'd: "O grace of Italy!
With what becoming thanks can I reply?
Not only words lie lab'ring in my breast;
But thought itself is by thy praise oppress'd.
Yet rob me not of all; but let me join
My toils, my hazard, and my fame, with thine.
The Trojan, not in stratagem unskill'd,
Sends his light horse before to scour the field:
Himself, through steep ascents and thorny brakes,
1
1
384
ENEIS.
A larger compass to the city takes.
This news my scouts confirm and I prepare
To foil his cunning, and his force to dare ;
;
With chosen foot his passage to forelay,
And place an ambush in the winding way.
Thou, with thy Volscians, face the Tuscan horse :
The brave Messapus shall thy troops enforce,
With those of Tibur, and the Latian band,
Subjected all to thy supreme command."
This said, he warns Messapus to the war,
Then ev'ry chief exhorts with equal care.
All thus encourag'd, his own troops he joins,
And hastes to prosecute his deep designs.
Inclos'd with hills a winding valley lies,
By nature form'd for fraud, and fitted for surprise.
A narrow track, by human steps untrod,
Leads, thro' perplexing thorns, to this obscure abode :
High o'er the vale a steepy mountain stands,
Whence the surveying sight the nether ground commands.
The top is level--an offensive seat
Of war; and from the war a safe retreat :
Fcr, on the right and left, is room to press
The foes at hand, or from afar distress;
To drive them headlong downward; and to pour,
On their descending backs, a stony show'r.
Thither young Turnus took the well-known way,
Possess'd the pass, and in blind ambush lay.
Meantime, Latonian Phoebe, from the skies,
Beheld th' approaching war with hateful eyes,
And call'd the light-foot Opis to her aid,
Her most belov'd and ever-trusty maid ;
Then with a sigh began:
Camilla goes
To meet her death amidst her fatal foes-
The nymph I lov'd of all my mortal train,
Invested with Diana's arms in vain.
Nor is my kindness for the virgin new :
'Twas born with her; and with her years
Her father Metabus, when forc'd away
it
From old Privernum, for tyrannic sway,
grew.
Snatch'd up, and sav'd from his prevailing foes,
This tender babe, companion of his woes.
Casmilla was her mother: but he drown'd
One hissing letter in a softer sound,
And call'd Camilla. Through the woods he flies;
Wrapp'd in his robe, the royal infant lies.
His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace;
With shouts and clamors they pursue the chase.
ENEIS.
385
¿
The bank of Amasene at length he gains:
The raging flood his further flight restrains,
Rais'd o'er the borders with unusual rains.
Prepar'd to plunge into the stream, he fears,
Not for himself, but for the charge he bears.
Anxious, he stops a while, and thinks in haste,
Then, desp'rate in distress, resolves at last.
A knotty lance of well boil'd oak he bore:
The middle part with cork he cover'd o'er :
He clos'd the child within the hollow space;
With twigs of bending osier bound the case.
Then pois'd the spear, heavy with human weight,
And thus invok'd my favor for the freight :
Accept, great goddess of the woods (he said),
Sent by her sire, this dedicated maid!
Through air she flies, a suppliant to thy shrine;
And the first weapons that she knows are thine.
He said; and with full force the spear he threw :
Above the sounding waves Camilla flew.
Then, press'd by foes, he stemm'd the stormy tide,
And gain'd, by stress of arms, the farther side.
His fasten'd spear he pull'd from out the ground,
And, victor of his vows, his infant nymph unbound ;
Nor, after that, in towns which walls inclose,
Would trust his hunted life amidst his foes;
But, rough, in open air he chose to lie :
Earth was his couch; his covering was the sky.
On hills unshorn, or in a desert den,
He shunn'd the dire society of men.
A shepherd's solitary life he led ;
His daughter with the milk of mares he fed.
The dugs of bears, and ev'ry savage beast,
He drew, and through her lips the liquor press'd.
The little Amazon could scarcely go-
He loads her with a quiver and a bow ;
And, that she might her stagg'ring steps command,
He with a slender jav'lin fills her hand.
Her flowing hair no golden fillet bound;
Nor swept her trailing robe the dusty ground.
Instead of these, a tiger's hide o`erspread
Her back and shoulders, fasten'd to her head.
The flying dart she first attempts to fling,
And round her tender temples toss'd the sling;
Then, as her strength with years increas', began
To pierce aloft in air the soaring swan,
And from the clouds to fetch the heron and the crane.
The Tuscan matrons with each other vied
385
缆
​ENEIS.
}
To bless their rival sons with such a bride;
But she disdains their love, to share with me
The sylvan shades, and vow'd virginity.
And, oh! I wish, contented with my cares
Of savage spoils, she had not sought the wars:
Then had she been of my celestial train,
And shunn'd the fate that dooms her to be slain.
But since, opposing heav'n's decree, she goes
To find her death among forbidden foes,
Haste with these arms, and take thy steepy flight,
Where with the gods averse, the Latians fight.
This bow to thee, this quiver, I bequeath,
This chosen arrow to revenge her death:
By whate'er hand Camilla shall be slain,
Or of the Trojan or Italian train,
Let him not pass unpunish'd from the plain.
Then, in a hollow cloud, myself will aid
To bear the breathless body of my maid.
Unspoil'd shall be her arms, and unprofan'd
Her holy limbs with any human hand,
And in a marble tomb laid in her native land."
She said. The faithful nymph descends from high
With rapid flight, and cuts the sounding sky:
Black clouds and stormy winds around her body fly.
By this, the Trojan and the Tuscan horse,
Drawn up in squadrons, with united force
Approach the walls the sprightly coursers bound,
Press forward on their bits, and shift their ground.
Shields, arms, and spears, flash horribly from far;
And the fields glitter with a waving war.
Oppos'd to these, come on with furious force
Messapus, Coras, and the Latian horse;
These in a body plac'd, on either hand
Sustain'd and clos'd by fair Camilla's band,
Advancing in a line, they couch their spears ;
And less and less the middle space appears.
Thick smoke obscures the field, and scarce are seen
The neighing coursers and the shouting men.
In distance of their darts they stop their course ;
Then man to man they rush, and horse to horse.
The face of heav'n their flying jav'lins hide,
And deaths unseen are dealt on either side.
Tyrrhenus, and Aconteus, void of fear,
By mettled coursers borne in full career,
Meet first oppos'd; and, with a mighty shock,
Their horses' heads against each other knock.
Far from his steed is fierce Aconteus cast,
ENEIS,
387
As with an engine's force, or lightning's blast:
He rolls along in blood, and breathes his last.
The Latian squadron take a sudden fright,
And sling their shields behind, to save their backs in flight.
Spurring at speed, to their own walls they drew;
Close in the rear the Tuscan troops pursue.
And urge their flight: Asylas leads the chase;
Till, seiz'd with shame, they wheel about and face,
Receive their foes, and raise a threat'ning cry.
The Tuscans take their turn to fear and fly.
So swelling surges with a thund'ring roar,
Driv'n on each other's backs, insult the shore,
Bound o'er the rocks, encroach upon the land,
And far upon the beach eject the sand;
?
Then backward, with a swing, they take their way,
Repuls'd from upper ground, and seek their mother-sea;
With equal hurry quit th' invaded shore,
And swallow back the sand and stones they spew'd before
Twice were the Tuscans masters of the field,
Twice by the Latians in return repell'd.
Asham'd at length, to the third charge they ran—
Both hosts resolv'd, and mingled man to man.
Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strew'd
With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.
Arms, horses, men, on heaps together lie:
Confus'd the fight, and more confus'd the cry.
Orsilochus, who durst not press too near,
Strong Remulus at distance drove his spear,
And struck the steel beneath his horse's ear.
The fiery steed, impatient of the wound,
Curvets, and, springing upwards with a bound,
His helpless lord cast backward on the ground.
Catillus pierc'd Iolas first; then drew
His reeking lance, and at Herminius threw,
The mighty champion of the Tuscan crew.
His neck and throat unarm'd, his head was bare,
But shaded with a length of yellow hair :
Secure, he fought, expos'd on ev'ry part,
A spacious mark for swords, and for the flying dart
Across the shoulders came the feather'd wound;
Transfix'd, he fell, and doubled to the ground.
The sands with streaming blood are sanguine dy'd,
And death, with honor sought on either side.
Resistless, through the war Camilla rode,
In danger unappall'd, and pleas'd with blood.
One side was bare for her exerted breast;
One shoulder with her painted quiver press'd.
388
ENEIS.
Now from afar her fatal jav'lins play:
Now with her axe's edge she hews her way.
Diana's arms upon her shoulder sound;
And when too closely press'd, she quits the ground,
From her bent bow she sends a backward wound.
Her maids, in inartial pomp, on either side,
Larina, Tulla, fierce Tarpeia, ride-
Italians all-in peace, their queen's delight,
In war, the bold companions of the fight.
So march'd the Thracian Amazons of old,
When Thermodon with bloody billows roll'd;
Such troops as these in shining arms were seen,
When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen :
Such to the field Penthesilea led,
From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled;
With such return'd triumphant from the war,
Her maids with cries attend the lofty car;
They clash with manly force their moony shields;
With female shouts resound the Phrygian fields.
Who foremost, and who last, heroic maid,
On the cold earth were by thy courage laid?
Thy spear, of mountain-ash, Eumenius first,
With fury driv'n, from side to side transpierc'd:
A purple stream came spouting from the wound;
Bath'd in his blood he lies, and bites the ground.
Liris and Pagasus at once she slew:
The former, as the slacken'd reins he drew,
Of his faint steed-the latter, as he stretch'd
His arm to prop his friend-the jav'lin reach'd.
By the same weapon, sent from the same hand,
Both fall together, and both spurn the sand.
Amastrus next is added to the slain ;
The rest in rout she follows o'er the plain :
Tereus, Harpalycus, Demophoon,
And Chromis, at full speed her fury shun.
Of all her beauty's darts, not one she lost;
Each was attended with a Trojan ghost.
Young Ornytus bestrode a hunter steed,
Swift for the chase, and of Apulian breed.
Him, from afar, she spied in arms unknown :
O'er his broad back an ox's hide was thrown;
His helm a wolf, whose gaping jaws were spread
A cov'ring for his cheeks, and grinn'd around his head.
He clench'd within his hand an iron prong,
And tow'r'd above the rest, conspicuous in the throng:
Him soon she singled from the flying train,
And slew with ease; then thus insults the slain :
ENEIS.
389
Vain hunter! didst thou think through woods to chase
The savage herd, a vile and trembling race?
Here cease thy vaunts, and own my victory :
A woman warrior was too strong for thee.
Yet, if the ghosts demand the conqu'ror's name,
Confessing great Camilla, save thy shame.'
Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew,
The bulkiest bodies of the Trojan crew-
But Butes breast to breast the spear descends
Above the gorget, where his helmet ends,
And o'er the shield which his left side defends.
Orsilochus, and she, their coursers ply;
He seems to follow, and she seems to fly.
But in a narrower ring she makes the race
And then he flies, and she pursues the chase.
Gath'ring at length on her deluded foe,
She swings her axe, and rises to the blow:
Full on the helm behind, with such a sway
The weapon falls, the riven steel gives way:
He groans, he roars, he sues in vain for grace;
Brains, mingled with his blood, besmear his face.
Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by chance,
To see his fall, nor further dares advance;
But, fixing on the horrid maid his eye,
He stares, and shakes, and finds it vain to fly;
Yet, like a true Ligurian, born to cheat
(At least while Fortune favor'd his deceit),
Cries out aloud, "What courage have you shown,
Who trust your courser's strength, and not your own?
Forego the 'vantage of your horse; alight;
And then on equal terms begin the fight:
It shall be seen, weak woman, what you can,
When, foot to foot, you combat with a man.
He said. She glows with anger and disdain,
Dismounts with speed to dare him on the plain,
And leaves her horse at large among her train ;
With her drawn sword defies him to the field,
And, marching, lifts aloft her maiden shield.
The youth, who thought his cunning did succeed,
Reins round his horse, and urges all his speed,
Adds the remembrance of the spur, and hides
The goring rowels in his bleeding sides.
"Vain fool, and coward !" said the lofty maid,
"
Caught in the train, which thou thyself hast laid!
On others practise thy Ligurian arts :
Thin stratagems, and tricks of little hearts,
Are lost on me: nor shalt thou safe retire,
With vaunting lies to thy fallacious sire.'
390-
ENEIS.
At this, so fast her flying feet she sped,
That soon she strain'd beyond his horse's head
Then turning short, at once she seiz'd the rein,
And laid the boaster grov'ling on the plain.
Not with more ease the falcon from above,
Trusses, in middle air, the trembling dove,
Then plumes the prey, in her strong pounces bound :
The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the ground.
Now mighty Jove, from his superior height,
With his broad eye surveys th' unequal fight.
He fires the breast of Tarchon with disdain,
And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd plain.
Between the broken ranks the Tuscan rides,
And these encourages, and those he chides;
Recalls each leader, by his name, from flight;
Renews their ardor, and restores the fight.
O shame,
What panic fear has seiz'd your souls?
A brand perpetual of th' Etrurian name!
Cowards incurable! a woman's hand
Drives, breaks, and scatters your ignoble band!
Now cast away the sword, and quit the shield!
What use of weapons which you dare not wield?
Not thus you fly your female foes by night,
Nor shun the feast when the full bowls invite
When to fat off'rings the glad augur calls,
And the shrill hornpipe sounds to bacchanals.
These are your studied cares, your lewd delight-
Swift to debauch, but slow to manly fight.
Thus having said, he spurs amid the foes,
Not managing the life he meant to lose.
The first he found, he seiz'd, with headlong haste,
In his strong gripe, and clasp'd around the waist:
'Twas Venulus, whom from his horse he tore,
And (laid athwart his own) in triumph bore.
Loud shouts ensue the Latians turn their eyes,
And view the unusual sight with vast surprise.
The fiery Tarchon, flying o'er the plains,
Press'd in his arms, the pond'rous prey sustains,
Then, with his shorten'd spear, explores around
His jointed arms, to fix a deadly wound.
Nor less the captive struggles for his life :
He writhes his body to prolong the strife,
And, fencing for his naked throat, exerts
His utmost vigor, and the point averts.
So stoops the yellow eagle from on high,
And bears a speckled serpent through the sky,
Fast'ning his crooked talons on the prey :
C
ENEIS.
391
The pris'ner hisses through the liquid way;
Resists the royal hawk; and though oppress'd,
She fights in volumes, and erects her crest :
Turn'd to her foe, she stiffens ev'ry scale,
And shoots her forky tongue, and whisks her threat'ning
tail.
Against the victor all defence is weak:
Th' imperial bird still plies her with his beak;
He tears her bowels, and her breast he gores,
Then claps his pinions, and securely soars.
Thus, through the midst of circling enemies,
Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his prize.
The Tyrrhene troops, that shrunk before, now press
The Latains, and presume the like success.
Then Aruns, doom'd to death, his arts essay'd,
To murder, unespied, the Volscian maid :
This way and that, his winding course he bends,
And, wheresoe'er she turns, her steps attends;
When she retires victorious from the chase,
He wheels about with. care, and shifts his place:
When, rushing on, she seeks her foes in flight;
He keeps aloof, and keeps her still in sight :
He threats and trembles, trying ev'ry way,
Unseen to kill, and safely to betray.
Chloreus, the priest of Cybele, from far,
Glitt'ring in Phrygian arms amidst the war,
Was by the virgin view'd. The steed he press'd
Was proud with trappings; and his brawny chest
With scales of gilded brass was cover'd o'er:
A robe of Tyrian dye the rider wore.
With deadly wounds he gall'd the distant foe;
Gnossian his shafts, and Lycian was his bow
A golden helm his front and head surrounds;
A gilded quiver from his shoulder sounds.
Gold weav'd with linen, on his thighs he wore,
With flow'rs of needlework distinguish'd o'er,
With golden buckles bound, and gather'd up before.
Him the fierce maid beheld with ardent eyes,
Fond and ambitious of so rich a prize;
Or that the temple might his trophies hold,
Or else to shine herself in Trojan gold.
Blind in her haste, she chases him alone,
And seeks his life, regardless of her own.
This lucky moment the sly tailor chose;
Then, starting from his ambush, up he rose,
And threw, but first to heav'n address'd his vows:
"O patron of Soracte's high abodes !
392
ENEIS.
Phoebus, the ruling pow'r among the gods!
Whom first we serve! whole woods of unctuous pine
Are fell'd for thee, and to thy glory shine;
By thee protected, with our naked soles,
Thro' flames unsing'd we march, and tread the kindled
coals.
Give me, propitious pow'r, to wash away
The stains of this dishonorable day:
Nor spoils, nor triumph from the fact I claim;
But with my future actions trust my fame.
Let me, by stealth, this female plague o'ercome,
And from the field return inglorious home."
Apollo heard, and, granting half his pray'r,
Shuffled in winds the rest, and toss'd in empty air.
He gives the death desir'd his safe return
:
By southern tempests to the seas is borne.
Now, when the jav'lin whizz'd along the skies,
Both armies on Camilla turn'd their eyes,
Directed by the sound. Of either host,
Th' unhappy. virgin, though concern'd the most,
Was only deaf; so greedy was she bent
On golden spoils, and on her prey intent;
Till in her pap the winged weapon stood
Infix'd, and deeply drunk the purple blood.
Her sad attendants hasten to sustain
Their dying lady drooping on the plain.
Far from their sight the trembling Aruns flies,
With beating heart, and fear confus'd with joys;
Nor dares he further to pursue his blow,
Or e'en to bear the sight of his expiring foe.
As, when the wolf has torn a bullock's hide
At unawares, or ranch'd a shepherd's side,
Conscious of his audacious deed, he flies,
And claps his quivering tail between his thighs :
So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,
But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.
She wrench'd the jav'lin with her dying hands:
But wedg'd within her breast the weapon stands :
The wood she draws, the steely point remains ;
She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains
(A gath'ring mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes,.
And from her cheeks the rosy color flies);
Then turns to her, whom, of her female train,
She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:
Acca, 'tis past! he swims before my sight,
Inexorable Death and claims his right.
Bear my last words to Turnus: fly with speed,
ÆNEIS.
393
And bid him timely to my charge succeed;
Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:
Farewell and in this kiss my parting breath receive."
She said, and, sliding, sunk upon the plain :
Dying, her open'd hand forsakes the rein;
Short and more short she pants: by slow degrees
Her mind the passage from her body frees,
She drops her sword; she nods her plumy crest,
Her drooping head declining on her breast:
In the last sigh her struggling soul expires,
And, murmʼring with disdain, to Stygian sounds retires,
A shout, that struck the golden stars, ensu'd ;.
Despair and rage, and languish'd fight renew'd.
The Trojan troops and Tuscan, in a line,
Advance to charge; the mix'd Arcadians join.
But Cynthia's maid, high seated, from afar
Surveys the field, and fortune of the war,
Unmov'd a while, till, prostrate on the plain,
Welt'ring in blood, she sees Camilla slain,
And, round her corpse, of friends and foes a fighting train.
Then, from the bottom of her breast, she drew
A mournful sigh, and these sad words ensue :
Too dear a fine, ah, much lamented maid!
For warring with the Trojans, thou hast paid :
Nor aught avail'd, in this unhappy strife,
Diana's sacred arms to save thy life.
Yet unreveng'd the goddess will not leave
Her vot'ry's death, nor with vain sorrow grieve.
Branded the wretch, and be his name abhorr'd;
But after-ages shall thy praise record.
Th' inglorious coward soon shall press the plain :
Thus vows thy queen, and thus the Fates ordain."
High o'er the field, there stood a hilly mound-
Sacred the place, and spread with oaks around-
Where, in a marble tomb, Dercenus lay,
A king that once in Latium bore the sway.
The beauteous Opis thither bent her flight,
To mark the traitor Aruns from the height.
Him in refulgent arms she soon espied,
Swoln with success; and loudly thus she cried :
Thy backward steps, vain boaster, are too late
Turn, like a man, at length, and meet thy fate.
Charg'd with my message to Camilla go,
And say I sent thee to the shades below-
An honor undeserv'd from Cynthia's bow."
She said, and from her quiver chose with speed
The winged shaft, predestin'd for the deed;
394
ENEIS.
Then to the stubborn yew her strength applied,
Till the far distant horns approach'd on either side.
The bow-string touch'd her breast, so strong she drew;
Whizzing in air the fatal arrow flew.
At once the twanging bow and sounding dart
The traitor heard, and felt the point within his heart.
Him, beating with his heels in pangs of death,
His flying friends to foreign fields bequeath.
The conqu'ring damsel, with expanded wings,
The welcome message to her mistress brings.
Their leader lost, the Volscians quit the field;
And, unsustain'd, the chiefs of Turnus yield.
The frighted soldiers, when their captains fly,
More on their speed than on their strength rely.
Confus'd in flight, they bear each other down,
And spur their horses headlong to the town.
Driv'n by their foes, and to their fears resign'd,
Not once they turn, but take their wounds behind.
These drop the shield, and those the lance forego,
Or on their shoulders bear the slacken'd bow.
The hoofs of horses, with a rattling sound,
Beat short and thick, and shake the rotten ground.
Black clouds of dust come rolling in the sky,
And o'er the darken'd walls and rampires fly.
The trembling matrons, from their lofty stands,
Rend heav'n with female shrieks, and wring their hands.
All pressing on, pursuers and pursu'd
Are crush'd in crowds, a mingled multitude.
Some happy few escape: the throng too late
Rush on for entrance, till they choke the gate.
E'en in the sight of home, the wretched sire
Looks on, and sees his helpless son expire.
Then, in a fright, the folding gates they close,
But leave their friends excluded with their foes.
The vanquish'd cry; the victors loudly shout:
'Tis terror all within, and slaughter all without.
Blind in their fear, they bounce against the wall,
Or, to the moats pursu'd, precipitate their fall.
The Latian virgins, valiant with despair,
Arm'd on the tow'rs, the common danger share :
So much of zeal their country's cause inspir'd:
So much Camilla's great example fir'd.
Poles, sharpen'd in the flames, from high they throw,
With imitated darts to gall the foe.
Their lives for godlike freedom they bequeath,
And crowd each other to be first in death.
Meantime to Turnus, ambush'd in the shade,
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395
With heavy tidings came th' unhappy maid:
"The Volscians overthrown-Camilla kill'd-
The foes, entirely masters of the field,
Like a resistless flood, come rolling on:
The cry goes off the plain, and thickens to the town.”
Inflam'd with rage (for so the Furies fire
The Daunian's breast, and so the Fates require),
He leaves the hilly pass, the woods in vain
Possess'd, and downward issues on the plain.
Scarce was he gone, when to the straits, now freed
From secret foes, the Trojan troops succeed.
Through the black forest and the ferny brake,
Unknowingly secure, their way they take,
From the rough mountains to the plain descend,
And there, in order drawn, their line extend.
Both armies now in open fields are seen ;
Nor far the distance of the space between.
Both to the city bend, Æneas sees,
Through smoking fields, his hast'ning enemies ;
And Turnus views the Trojans in array,
And hears the approaching horses proudly neigh.
Soon had their hosts in bloody battle join'd;
But westward to the sea the sun declin'd.
Intrench'd before the town both armies lie,
While night with sable wings involves the sky.
i
#
ENEIS.
BOOK XII.
ARGUMENT.
Turnus challenges Eneas to a single combat; articles are agreed on, but
broken by the Rutuli, ho wound Eneas. He is miraculously cured by
Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and concludes the poem with his death.
HEN Turnus saw the Latians leave the field,
saw Latians leave the
WHEN
Their armies broken, and their courage quell'd,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question'd for the promis'd fight-
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress'd;
The more his fury boil'd within his breast:
He rous'd his vigor for the last debate,
And rais'd his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace;
But, if the pointed jav'lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel; he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane :
So Turnus fares his eyeballs flash with fire;
Through his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach'd the king, and thus began:
No more excuses or delays: I stand
"
In arms prepar'd to combat, hand to hand,
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war.
The Latians unconcern'd shall see the fight:
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
ENEIS.
397
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain."
To whom the king sedately thus replied:
Brave youth! the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own:
My towns and treasures are at your command;
And stor'd with blooming beauties is my land:
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear,
Things which perhaps may grate a lover's ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods by signs have manifestly shown,
No prince, Italian born, shall heir my throne
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal'd.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg'd by my wife, who would not be denied,
I promis'd my Lavinia for your bride :
Her from her plighted lord by force I took :
All ties of treaties, and of honor, broke :
On your account I wag'd an impious war-
With what success 'tis needless to declare;
I and my subjects feel; and you have had your share,
Twice vanquish'd while in bloody fields we strive,
Scarce in our walls, we keep our hopes alive :
The rolling flood runs warm with human gore;
The bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring shore.
Why put I not an end to this debate,
Still unresolv'd, and still a slave to fate?
If Turnus' death a lastng peace can give,
Why should I not procure it whilst you live?
Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,
What would my kinsmen, the Rutulians, say?
And should you fall in fight, (which heav'n defend 1)
How curse the cause, which hasten'd to his end
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend?
Weigh in your mind the various chance of war:
Pity your parent's age, and ease his care.
Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain :
The proffer'd med'cine but provok'd the pain.
The wrathful youth, disdaining the relief,
398
ÆNEIS.
:.
With intermitting sobs thus vents his grief:
The care, O best of fathers! which you take
For my concerns, at my desire forsake.
Permit me not to languish out my days,
But make the best exchange of life for praise;
This arm, this lance, can well dispute the prize;
And the blood follows, where the weapon flies.
His goddess-mother is not near, to shroud
The flying coward with an empty cloud.
But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life,
And loath'd the hard conditions of the strife,
Held him by force; and, dying in his death,
In these sad accents gave her sorrow breath:
"O Turnus! I adjure thee by these tears,
And whate'er price Amata's honor bears
Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope,
My sickly mind's repose, my sinking age's prop-
Since on the safety of thy life alone
Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne—
Refuse me not this one, this only pray'r,
To waive the combat, and pursue the war.
Whatever chance attends this fatal strife,
Think it includes, in thine, Amata's life.
I cannot live a slave, or see my throne
Usurp'd by strangers, or a Trojan son.
At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;
A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.
The driving colors, never at a stay,
Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.
Delightful change! thus Indian iv'ry shows,
Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows;
Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rosc.
The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire,
The more he look'd the more he fed the fire
Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,
Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.
Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,
Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:
Oh, mother! do not by your tears prepare
Such boding omens, and prejudge the war,
Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free
To shun my death, if heav'n my death decree."
Then turning to the herald, thus pursues :
Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news :
Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light
Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight:
f
ENEIS.
399
The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more
Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian shore :
Our single swords the quarrel shall decide;
And to the victor be the beauteous bride.
He said, and, striding on with speedy pace,
He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.
At his approach, they toss their heads on high,
And, proudly neighing, promise victory.
The sires of these Orithyia sent from far,
To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.
The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white,
Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight.
Officious grooms stand ready by his side;
And some with combs their flowing manes divide,
And others stroke their chests, and gently soothe their
pride.
He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass
Of golden metal those, and mountain-brass.
Then to his head his glitt'ring helm he tied,
And girt his faithful falchion to his side.
In his Ætnæan forge, the God of Fire
That falchion labor'd for the hero's sire;
Immortal keenness on the blade bestow'd,
And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood.
Propp'd on a pillar, which the ceiling bore,
Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore;
Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand,
The tough ash trembled like an osier wand :
Then cried, O pond'rous spoil of Actor slain,
And never yet by Turnus toss'd in vain!
Fail not this day thy wonted force but go.
Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe:
Give me to tear his corselet from his breast,
And from that eunuch head to rend the crest;
Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil,
Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil."
Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies
A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.
So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight;
Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight:
He tries his goring horns against a tree,
And meditates his absent enemy;
He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand
With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.
Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,
To future fight his manly courage warms:
He whets his fury, and with joy prepares
1
400
ENEIS.
To terminate at once the ling'ring wars ;
To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates
What heav'n had promis'd, and expounds the fates.
Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease
The rage of
arms, and ratify the peace..
The morn ensuing, from the mountain's height,
Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light:
Th' ethereal coursers, bounding from the sea,
From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day,
When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,
In friendly labor join'd, the list prepar'd.
Beneath the walls they measure out the space ;
Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass,
Where with religious rites their common gods they place.
In purest white, the priests their heads attire,
And living waters bear, and holy fire;
And o'er their linen hoods and shaded hair,
Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear.
In order issuing from the town, appears
The Latian legion, arm'd with pointed spears :
And from the fields, advancing on a line,
The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join:
Their various arms afford a pleasing sight :
A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for fight.
Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ride,
Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple dyed—
Here Mnestheus. author of the Memmian line,
And there Messapus, born of seed divine.
The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space,
Each man in order fills his proper place.
Reclining on their ample shields, they stand,
And fix their pointed lances in the sand.
Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng
Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,
Swarm from the town by those who rest behind,
The gates and walls, and houses' tops, are lin'd.
Meantime the queen of heav'n beheld the sight,
With eyes unpleas'd, from mount Albano's height
(Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame,
But then an empty hill, without a name);
She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs,
The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow'rs.
Then thus the goddess of the skies bespake,
With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake ;
King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid,
Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'd-
Compress'd by force, but by the grateful god
NEIS.
401
Now made the Naïs of the neighb'ring flood.
O nymph, the pride of living lakes! (said she)
O most renown'd, and most belov'd by me!
Long hast thou known, nor need I to record,
The wanton sallies of my wand'ring lord.
Of ev'ry Latian fair, whom Jove misled
To mount by stealth my violated bed,
To thee alone I grudg'd not his embrace,
But gave a part of heav'n, and an unenvied place.
Now learn from me thy near approaching grief,
or think my wishes want to thy relief.
While Fortune favor'd, nor heav'n's king denied
lo lend my succor to the Latian side,
I sav'd thy brother, and the sinking state :
But now he struggles with unequal fate,
And goes, with gods averse, o'ermatch'd in 'might,
To meet inevitable death in fight;
Nor must I break the truce, nor can sustain the sight.
Thou, if thou dar'st, thy present aid supply:
It well becomes a sister's care to try.
At this the lovely nymph, with grief oppress'd,
Thrice tore her hair, and beat her comely breast.
To whom Saturnia thus: "Thy tears are late :
Haste, snatch him, if he can be snatch'd from fate :
New tumults kindle; violate the truce:
Who knows what changeful Fortune may produce?
'Tis not a crime t' attempt what I decree
Or, if it were, discharge the crime on me.
She said, and, sailing on the wingèd wind,
Left the sad nymph suspended in her mind.
And now in pomp the peaceful kings appear:
Four steeds the chariot of Latinus bear:
Twelve golden beams around his temples play,
To mark his lineage from the god of day.
Two snowy coursers Turnus' chariot yoke,
And in his hand two massy spears he shook :
Then issu'd from the camp in arms divine,
Eneas, author of the Roman line;
And by his side Ascanius took his place,
The second hope of Rome's immortal race.
Adorn'd in white, a rev'rend priest appears,
And, off'rings to the flaming altars bears—
A porket, and a lamb that never suffer'd shears.
Then to the rising sun he turns his eyes,
And strews the beasts, design'd for sacrifice,
With salt and meal with like officious care
He marks their foreheads, and he clips their hair.
402
ENETS.
Betwixt their horns the purple wine he sheds;
With the same gen'rous juice the flame he feeds.
Æneas then unsheath'd his shining sword,
And thus with pious pray'rs the gods ador'd:
All-seeing sun! and thou, Ausonian soil,
For which I have sustain'd so long a toil;
.Thou, king of heav'n! and thou, the queen of air,
Propitious now, and reconcil'd by pray'r!
Thou, god of war, whose unresisted sway
The labors and events of arms obey!
Ye living fountains, and ye running floods!
All powers of ocean, all ethereal gods!
Hear, and bear record: if I fall in field,
Or, recreant in the fight, to Turnus yield,
My Trojans shali increase Evander's town;
Ascanius shall renounce th' Ausonian crown:
All claims, all questions of debate shall cease,
Nor he, nor they, with force infringe the peace.
But, if my juster arms prevail in fight
(As sure they shall, if I divine aright),
My Trojans shall not o'er th' Italians reign:
Both equal, both unconquer'd, shall remain,
Join'd in their laws, their lands, and their abodes;
I ask but altars for my weary gods.
The care of those religious rites be mine ;
The crown to king Latinus I resign:
His be the sov'reign sway. Nor will I share
His pow'r in peace, or his command in war.
For me, my friends another town shall frame,
And bless the rising tow'rs with fair Lavinia's name.
Thus he. Then with erected eyes and hands,
The Latian king before his altar stands.
"By the same heav'n (said he), and earth and main,
And all the pow'rs that all the three contain ;
By hell below, and by that upper god,
>
Whose thunder signs the peace, who seals it with his nod
So let Latonia's.double offspring hear,
And double-fronted Janus, what I swear :
1 touch the sacred altars, touch the flames,
And all those pow'rs attest, and all their names:
Whatever chance befall on either side,
No term of time this union shall divide :
No force, no fortune, shall my vows unbind,
Or shake the steadfast tenor of my mind;
Not tho' the circling seas should break their bound,
O'erflow the shores, or sap the solid ground;
Not tho' the lamps of heav'n their spheres forsake,
ENEIS.
403
Hurl'd down, and hissing in the nether lake:
E'en as this royal sceptre (for he bure
A sceptre in his hand) shall never more
Shoot out in branches, or renew the birth-
An orphan now, cut from the mother-earth
By the keen axe, dishonor'd of its hair,
And cas'd in brass for Latian kings to bear."
When thus in public view the peace was tied
With solemn vows, and sworn on either side,
All dues perform'd which holy rites require,
The victim beasts are slain before the fire,
The trembling entrails from their bodies torn,
And to the fatten'd flames in chargers borne.
Already the Rutulians deem'd their man
O'ermatch'd in arms, before the fight began.
First rising fears are whisper'd thro' the crowd;
Then, gath'ring round, they murmur more aloud.
Now, side to side, they measure with their eyes
The champions' bulk, their sinews, and their size :
The nearer they approach, the more is known
Th' apparent disadvantage of their own.
Turnus himself appears in public sight,
Conscious of fate, desponding of the fight.
Slowly he moves, and at his altar stands
With eyes dejected, and with trembling hands:
And while he mutters undistinguish'd pray'rs,
A livid deadness in his cheeks appears.
With anxious pleasure, when Juturna view'd
Th' increasing fright of the mad multitude,
When their short sighs and thick'ning sobs she heard,
And found their ready minds for change prepar'd ;
Dissembling her immortal form, she took
Camertes' mien, his habit, and his look—
A chief of ancient blood :—in arms well known
Was his great sire, and he his greater son.
His shape assum'd, amid the ranks she ran,
And, hum'ring their first motions, thus began:
"For shame, Rutulians! can you bear the sight
Of one expos'd for all, in single fight?
Can we, before the face of heav'n, confess
Our courage colder, or our numbers less?
View all the Trojan host, th' Arcadian band,
And Tuscan army; count them as they stand:
Undaunted to the battle if we go,
Scarce ev'ry second man will share a foe.
Turnus, 'tis true, in this unequal strife,
Shall lose, with honor, his devoted life,
404
ENEIS.
Or change it rather for immortal fame,
Succeeding to the gods, from whence he came ;
But you, a servile and inglorious band,
For foreign lords shall sow your native land,
Those fruitful fields, your fighting fathers gain'd,
Which have so long their lazy sons sustain'd."
With words like these, she carried her design.
A rising murmur runs along the line.
Then e'en the city troops, and Latians, tir'd
With tedious war, seem with new souls inspir'd:
Their champion's fate with pity they lament,
And of the league, so lately sworn, repent.
Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage
With lying wonders, and a false presage ;
But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes,
Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise.
For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above,
Appears in pomp th' imperial bird of Jove :
A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes,
And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes;
Then, stooping on the fairest of the train,
In his strong talons truss'd a silver swan.
Th' Italians wonder at th' unusual sight;
But, while he lags, and labors in his flight,
Behold, the dastard fowl return anew,
And with united force the foe pursue:
Clam'rous around the royal hawk they fly,
And, thick'ning in a cloud, o'ershade the sky.
They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course;
Nor can th' encumber'd bird sustain their force;
But, vex'd, not vanquish'd, drops the pond'rous prey,
And, lighten'd of his burden, wings his way.
Th' Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight,
Eager of action, and demand the fight.
Then king Tolumnius, vers'd in augurs' arts,
Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:
"At length 'tis granted, what I long desir'd!
This, this is what my frequent vows requir'd.
Ye gods! I take your omen and obey.
Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way.
These are the foreign foes, whose impious band,
Like that rapacious bird, infest our land:
But soon, like him, they shall be forc'd to sea
By strength united, and forego the prey.
Your timely succor to your country bring;
Hasten to rescue, and redeem your king.
He said and pressing onward through the crew,
ENEIS.
405
Pois'd in his lifted arm, his lance he threw.
The winged weapon, whistling in the wind,
Came driving on, nor miss'd the mark design'd.
At once the cornal rattled in the skies :
At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise.
Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,
Born of Arcadian, mix'd with Tuscan blood,
Gylippus' sons: the fatal jav'lin flew,
Aim'd at the midmost of the friendly crew.
A passage through the jointed arms it found,
Just where the belt was to the body bound,
And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.
Then, fir'd with pious rage, the gen'rous train
Run madly forward to revenge the slain.
And some with eager haste their jav'lins throw;
And some with sword in hand assault the foe.
The wish'd insult the Latine troops embrace,
And meet their ardor in the middle space.
The Tuscans, Trojans, and Arcadian line,
With equal courage obviate their design.
Peace leaves the violated fields; and hate
Both armies urges to their mutual fate.
With impious haste their altars are o'erturn'd,
The sacrifice half broil'd, and half unburn'd.
Thick storms of steel from either army fly,
And clouds of clashing darts obscure the sky :
Brands from the fire are missive weapons made,
With chargers, bowls, and all the priestly trade.
Latinus, frighted, hastens from the fray,
And bears his unregarded gods away.
These on their horses vault; those yoke the car;
The rest, with swords on high, run headlong to the war.
Messapus, eager to confound the peace,
Spurr'd his hot courser through the fighting press,
At king Aulestes, by his purple known
A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown;
And, with a shock encount'ring, bore him down.
Backward he fell; and, as his fate design'd,
The ruins of an altar were behind:
There pitching on his shoulders and his head,
Amid the scatt'ring fires he lay supinely spread.
The beamy spear, descending from above,
His cuirass pierc'd, and through his body drove.
Then, with a scornful smile, the victor cries,
'The gods have found a fitter sacrifice.
Greedy of spoils, th' Italians strip the dead
Of his rich armor, and uncrown his head.
406
ENEIS.
Priest Cornæus arm'd his better hand,
From his own altar, with a blazing brand;
And, as Ebusus with a thund'ring pace
Advanc'd to battle, dash'd it on his face :
His bristly beard shines out with sudden fires;
The crack'ling crop a noisome scent expires.
Following the blow, he seiz'd his curling crown
With his left hand; his other cast him down.
The prostrate body with his knees he press'd,
And plung'd his holy poniard in his breast.
While Podolirius, with his sword, pursued
The shepherd Alsus through the flying crowd,
Swiftly he turns, and aims a deadly blow
Full on the front of his unwary foe.
The broad axe enters with a crashing sound,
And cleaves the chin with one continu'd wound.
Warm blood, and mingled brains, besmear his arm around.
An iron sleep his stupid eyes oppress'd,
And seiz'd their heavy lids in endless rest;
But good Æneas rush'd amid the bands:
Bare was his head, and naked were his hands,
In sign of truce: then thus he cries aloud :
What sudden rage, what new desire of blood,
Inflames your alter'd minds? O Trojans ! cease
From impious arms, nor violate the peace.
By human sanctions, and by laws divine,
The terms are all agreed; the war is mine.
Dismiss your fears, and let the fight ensue ;
This hand alone shall right the gods and you.
Our injur'd altars, and their broken vow,
To this avenging sword the faithless Turnus owe."
Thus while he spoke, unmindful of defence,
A winged arrow struck the pious prince.
But, whether from some human hand it came,
Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame :
No human hand, or hostile god, was found,
To boast the triumph of so base a wound.
When Turnus saw the Trojan quit the plain,
His chiefs dismay'd, his troops a fainting train,
Th' unhop'd event his heighten'd soul inspires :
At once his arms and coursers he requires;
Then, with a leap, his lofty chariot gains,
And with a ready hand assumes the reins.
He drives impetuous, and, where'er he goes,
He leaves behind a lane of slaughter'd foes.
These his lance reaches; over those he rolls
His rapid car, and crushes out their souls.
20
ENEIS.
407
In vain the vanquish'd fly: the victor sends
The dead men's weapons at their living friends.
Thus on the banks of Hebrus' freezing flood,
The god of battles, in his angry mood,
Clashing his sword against his brazen shield,
Lets loose the reins, and scours along the field:
Before the wind his fiery coursers fly;
Groans the sad earth, resounds the rattling sky.
Wrath, Terror, Treason, and Despair
(Dire faces, and deform'd), surround the car-
Friends of the god, and followers of the war.
With fury not unlike, nor less disdain,
Exulting Turnus flies along the plain;
His smoking horses at their utmost speed,
He lashes on; and urges o'er the dead.
Their fetlocks run with blood, and when they bound,
The gore and gath'ring dust are dash'd around.
Thamyris and Pholus, masters of the war,
He kill'd at hand, but Sthenelus afar :
From far the sons of Imbrasus he slew,
Glaucus and Lades, of the Lycian crew-
Both taught to fight on foot, in battle join'd,
Or mount the courser that outstrips the wind.
Meantime Eumedes, vaunting in the field,
New fir'd the Trojans, and their foes repell'd.
This son of Dolon bore his grandsire's name,
But emulated more his father's fame-
His guileful father, sent a nightly spy,
The Grecian camp and order to descry--
Hard enterprise! and well he might require
Achilles' car and horses, for his hire :
But, met upon the scout, th' Ætolian prince
In death bestow'd a juster recompense.
Fierce Turnus view'd the Trojan from afar,
And launch'd his jav'lin from his lofty car,
Then lightly leaping down, pursu'd the blow,
And, pressing with his foot his prostrate foe,
Wrench'd from his feeble hold the shining sword,
And plung'd it in the bosom of its iord.
"
Possess," said he, the fruit of all thy pains,
And measure at thy length our Latian plains;
Thus are my foes rewarded by my hand ;
Thus may they build their town, and thus enjoy the land !"
Then Dares, Sutes, Sybaris he slew,
Whom o'er his neck the flound'ring courser threw.
As when lou1 Boreas, with his blust'ring train,
Stoops from above, incumbent on the main,
408
ENEIS.
Where'er he flics, he drives the rack before,
And rolls th' billows on the Egean shore:
So, where resistless Turnus takes his course,
The scatter'd squadrons bend before his force.
His crest of horse's hair is blown behind
By adverse air, and rustles in the wind.
This haughty Phegeus saw with high disdain,
And, as the chariot roll'd along the plain,
Light from the ground he leap'd, and seiz'd the rein.
Thus hung in air, he still retain'd his hold,
The coursers frighted, and their course controll'd.
The lance of Turnus reach'd him as he hung,
And pierc'd his plated arms, but pass'd along,
And only rais'd the skin. He turn'd, and held
Against his threatning foe his ample shield,
Then call'd for aid: but, while he cried in vain,
The chariot bore him backward on the plain.
He lies revers'd the victor king descends,
And strikes so justly where his helmet ends,
He lops the head. The Latian fields are drunk
With streams that issue from the bleeding trunk.
While he triumphs, and while the Trojans yield,
The wounded prince is forc'd to leave the field:
Strong Mnestheus, and Achates, often tried,
And young Ascanius, weeping by his side,
Conduct him to his tent. Scarce can he rear
His limbs from earth, supported on his spear,
Resolv'd in mind, regardless of the smart,
He tugs with both his hands, and breaks the dart
The steel remains. No readier way he found
To draw the weapon, than t' enlarge the wound.
Eager of fight, impatient of delay,
He begs; and his unwilling friends obey.
Iäpis was at hand to prove his art,
Whose blooming youth so fir'd Apollo's heart,
That, for his love, he proffer'd to bestow
His tuneful harp, and his unerring bow.
The pious youth, more studious how to save
His aged sire, now sinking to the grave,
Preferr'd the pow'r of plants and silent praise
Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays.
Propp'd on his lance, the pensive hero stood,
And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd.
The fam'd physician tucks his robes around
With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.
With gentle touches he performs his part,
This way and that, soliciting the dart,
ÆENEIS.
409
And exercises all his heav'nly art.
All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use,
He presses out, and pours their noble juice.
These first infus'd, to lenify the pain-
He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the patron of his art he pray'd:
The patron of his art refus'd his aid.
Meantime the war approaches to the tents:
Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments:
The driving dust proclaims the danger near ;
And first their friends, and then their foes appear:
Their friends retreat, their foes pursue the rear.
The camp is fill'd with terror and affright:
The hissing shafts within the trench alight :
An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky-
The shouts of those who kill, and groans of those who die.
But now the goddess-mother, mov'd with grief,
And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief.
A branch of healing dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought
(Rough is the stem, which woolly leaves surround:
The leaves with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd)—
Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief
To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.
This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews
Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews,
And od'rous penacee. Unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands,
And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd
With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound.
The leech, unknowing of superior art
Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;
And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart.
Staunch'd is the blood, and in the bottom stands :
The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own accord ;
And health and vigor are at once restor❜d.
läpis first perceiv'd the closing wound ;
And first the footsteps of a god he found.
"Arms! arms !" he cries: the sword and shield prepare,
And send the willing chief renew'd to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine.
Some god our gen'ral to the battle sends
Some god preserves his life for greater ends."
The hero arms in haste: his hands infold
His thighs with cuishes of refulgent gold :
410
ENEIS.
Inflam'd to fight and rushing to the field,
That hand sustaining the celestial shield,
This gripes the lance, and with such vigor shakes,
That to the rest the beamy weapon quakes.
Then with a close embrace he strain'd his son,
And, kissing through his helmet, thus begun :
My son from my example learn to war,
In camps to suffer, and in fields to dare:
But happier chance than mine attend thy care!
This day my hand thy tender age shall shield,
And crown with honors of the conquer'd field:
Thou, when thy riper years shall send thee forth
To toils of war, be mindful of my worth:
Assert thy birthright; and in arms be known
For Hector's nephew and Eneas' son."
He said; and, striding, issued on the plain.
Anteus and Mnestheus, and a num'rous train,
Attend his steps: the rest their weapons take,
And crowding to the field the camp forsake.
A cloud of blinding dust is rais'd around;
Labors beneath their feet the trembling ground.
Nor Turnus, posted on a hill, from far
Beheld the progress of the moving war:
With him the Latians view'd the cover'd plains;
And the chill blood ran backward in their veins.
Juturna saw th' advancing troops appear,
And heard the hostile sound, and fled for fear.
Æneas leads; and draws a sweeping train,
Clos'd in their ranks, and pouring on the plain.
As, when a whirlwind, rushing to the shore
From the mid ocean, drives the waves before;
The painful hind with heavy heart foresees
The flatted fields, and slaughter of the trees;
With such impetuous rage the prince appears,
Before his doubled front; nor less destruction bears.
And now both armies shock in open field;
Dsiris is by strong Thymbræus kill'd.
Archetius, Ufens, Epulon, are slain
(All fam'd in arms, and of the Latian train)
By Gyas', Mnestheus', and Achates' band.
The fatal augur falls, by whose command
The truce was broken, and whose lance, embru'd
With Trojan blood, th' unhappy fight renew'd.
Loud shouts and clamors rend the liquid sky;
And o'er the fields the frighted Latians fly.
The prince disdains the dastards to pursue,
Nor moves to meet in arms the fighting few,
ÆNEIS.
4II
Turnus alone, amid the dusky plain,
He seeks, and to the combat calls in vain.
Juturna heard, and, seiz'd with mortal fear,
Forc'd from the beam her brother's charioteer ;
Assumes his shape, his armor, and his mien,
And, like Metiscus, in his seat is seen.
As the black swallow near the palace plies;
O'er empty courts, and under arches, flies;
Now hawks aloft, now skims along the flood,
To furnish her loquacious nest with food:
So drives the rapid goddess o'er the plains;
The smoking horses run with loosen'd reins.
She steers a various course among the foes:
Now here, now there, her conqu'ring brother shows;
Now with a straight, now with a wheeling flight.
She turns and bends, but shuns the single fight,
Eneas, fir'd with fury, breaks the crowd,
And seeks his foe, and calls by name aloud:
He runs within a narrower ring, and tries
To stop the chariot, but the chariot flies.
If he but gain a glimpse, Juturna fears,
And far away the Daunian hero bears.
What should he do? Nor arts nor arms avail;
And various cares in vain his mind assail.
The great Messapus, thund'ring through the field,
In his left hand two pointed jav'lins held :
Encount'ring on the prince, one dart he drew,
And with unerring aim, and utmost vigor, threw.
Æneas saw it come, and, stooping low
Beneath his buckler, shunn'd the threat'ning blow.
The weapon hiss'd above his head, and tore
The waving plume, which on his helm he wore.
Forc'd by this hostile act, and fir'd with spite,
That flying Turnus still declin'd the fight.
The prince, whose piety had long repell'd
His inborn ardor, now invades the field ;
Invokes the pow'rs of violated peace,
Their rites and injur'd altars to redress ;
Then to his rage abandoning the rein,
With blood and slaughter'd bodies fills the plain.
What god can tell, what numbers can display,
The various labors of that fatal day?
What chiefs and champions fell on either side,
In combat slain, or by what deaths they died?
Whom Turnus, whom the Trojan hero kill'd?
Who shar'd the fame and fortune of the field?
Jove! couldst thou view, and not avert thy sight,
412
ENEIS.
i
Two jarring nations join'd in cruel fight,
Whom leagues of lasting love so shortly shall unite?
Eneas first, Rutulian Sucro found,
Whose valor made the Trojans quit their ground;
Betwixt his ribs the jav'lin drove so just,
It reach'd his heart, nor needs a second thrust.
Now Turnus, at two blows, two brethren slew ;
First from his horse fierce Amycus he threw :
Then, leaping on the ground, on foot assail'd
Diores, and in equal fight prevail'd.
Their lifeless trunks he leaves upon the place;
Their heads, distilling gore, his chariot grace.
Three cold on earth the Trojan hero threw,
Whom without respite at one charge he slew :
Cethegus, Tanaïs, Talus, fell oppress'd,
And sad Onythes, added to the rest-
Of Theban blood, whom Peridia bore.
Turnus two brothers from the Lycian shore,
And from Apollo's fane to battle sent,
O erthrew nor Phoebus could their fate prevent.
Peaceful Mencetes after these he kill'd,
Who long had shunn'd the dangers of the field:
On Lerna's lake a silent life he led,
:
And with his nets and angle earn'd his bread.
Nor pompous cares, nor palaces, he knew,
But wisely from the infectious world withdrew.
Poor was his house his father's painful hand
Discharg'd his rent, and plough'd another's land.
As flames among the lofty woods are thrown
On diff'rent sides, and both by winds are blown;
The laurels crackle in the sputt'ring fire;
The frighted sylvans from their shades retire :
Or as two neighb'ring torrents fall from high,
Rapid they run the foamy waters fry;
:
They roll to sea with unresisted force,
And down the rocks precipitate their course :
Not with less rage the rival heroes take
Their diff'rent ways; nor less destruction make.
With spears afar, with swords at hand, they strike;
And zeal of slaughter fires their souls alike;
Like them, their dauntless men maintain the field:
And hearts are pierc'd, unknowing how to yield :
They blow for blow return, and wound for wound;
And heaps of bodies raise the level ground.
Murranus, boasting of his blood, that springs
From a long royal race of Latian kings,
Is by the Trojan from his chariot thrown :
ENEIS.
413
Crush'd with the weight of an unwieldy stone:
Betwixt the wheels he fell; the wheels, that bore
His living load, his dying body tore.
His starting steeds, to shun the glitt'ring sword,
Paw down his trampled limbs, forgetful of their lord.
Fierce Hyllus threaten'd high, and, face to face,
Affronted Turnus in the middle space :
The prince encounter'd him in full career,
And at his temples aim'd the deadly spear :
So fatally the flying weapon sped,
That through his brazen helm it pierc'd his head.
Nor, Cisseus, couldst thou 'scape from Turnus' hand,
In vain the strongest of th' Arcadian band:
Nor to Cupentus could his gods afford
Availing aid against th' Ænean sword,
Which to his naked heart pursu'd the course;
Nor could his plated shield sustain the force.
Iölus fell, whom not the Grecian pow'rs,
Nor great subverter of the Trojan tow'rs,
Were doom'd to kill, while heav'n prolong'd his date :
But who can pass the bounds prefix'd by Fatę?
In high Lyrnessus, and in Troy, he held
Two palaces, and was from each expell'd:
Of all the mighty man, the last remains
A little spot of foreign earth contains.
And now both hosts their broken troops unite
In equal ranks, and mix in mortal fight.
Serestus and undaunted Mnestheus join
The Trojan, Tuscan, and Arcadian line;
Sea-born Messapus, with Atinas, heads
The Latian squadrons, and to battle leads.
They strike; they push; they throng the scanty space,
Resolv'd on death, impatient of disgrace;
And, where one falls, another fills his place.
The Cyprian goddess now inspires her son
To leave th' unfinish'd fight, and storm the town:
For, while he rolls his eyes around the plain
In quest of Turnus, whom he seeks in vain,
He views th' unguarded city from afar,
In careless quiet, and secure of war.
Occasion offers, and excites his mind
To dare beyond the task he first design'd.
Resolv'd he calls his chiefs: they leave the fight;
Attended thus, he takes a neighb'ring height :
The crowding troops about their gen'ral stand,
All under arms, and wait his high command.
Then thus the lofty prince: Hear and obey,
Virgil. 14
((
414
ENEIS.
•
Ye Trojan bands, without the least delay.
Jove is with us and what I have decreed,
Requires our utmost vigor, and our speed.
Your instant arms against the town prepare,
The source of mischief, and the seat of war.
This day the Latian tow'rs, that mate the sky,
Shall, level with the plain, in ashes lie:
The people shall be slaves, unless in time
They kneel for pardon, and repent their crime.
Twice have our foes been vanquish'd on the plain :
Then shall I wait till Turnus will be slain?
Your force against the perjur'd city bend :
There it began, and there the war shall end.
The peace profan'd our rightful arms requires
Cleanse the polluted place with purging fires.
He finish'd; and-one soul inspiring all—
Form'd in a wedge, the foot approach the wall.
Without the town, an unprovided train
Of gaping, gazing citizens are slain.
Some firebrands, others sealing-ladders, bear
And those they toss aloft, and these they rear:
The flames now launch'd, the feather'd arrows fly,
And clouds of missive arms obscure the sky.
Advancing to the front, the hero stands,
;
And, stretching out to heav'n his pious hands,
Attests the gods, asserts his innocence,
Upbraids with breach of faith th' Ausonian prince,
Declares the royal honor doubly stain'd,
And twice the rites of holy peace profan'd.
Dissenting clamors in the town arise;
Each will be heard, and all at once advise;
One part for peace, and one for war, contends:
Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends
The helpless king is hurried in the throng,
And (whate'er tide prevails) is borne along.
Thus, when the swain, within a hollow rock,
Invades the bees with suffocating smoke,
They run around, or labor on their wings,
Disus'd to flight, and shoot their sleepy stings;
To shun the bitter fumes in vain they try;
Black vapors, issuing from the vent, involve the sky ;
But Fate and envious Fortune now prepare
To plunge the Latians in the last despair.
The queen, who saw the foes invade the town,
And brands on tops of burning houses thrown,
Cast round her eyes, distracted with her fear :-
No troops of Turnus in the field appear.
ENEIS.
415
Once more she stares abroad, but still in vain ;
And then concludes the royal youth is slain.
Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear
The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air.
She calls herself the cause of all this ill,
And owns the dire effects of her ungovern'd will:
She raves against the gods; she beats her breast;
She tears with both her hands her purple vest :
Then round a beam a running noose she tied,
And, fasten'd by the neck, obscenely died.
Soon as the fatal news by fame was blown,
And to her dames, and to her daughter known,
The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair,
And rosy cheeks the rest her sorrow share :
With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair.
The spreading rumor fills the public place:
Confusion, fear, distraction, and disgrace,
And silent shame, are seen in ev'ry face.
Latinus tears his garments as he goes,
Both for his public and his private woes:
With filth his venerable beard besmears,
And sordid dust deforms his silver hairs.
And much he blames the softness of his mind,
Obnoxious to the charms of womankind,
And soon reduc'd to change what he so well design'd—
To break the solemn league so long desir'd,
Nor finish'd what his fates, and those of Troy, requir'd.
Now Turnus rolls aloof o'er empty plains;
And here and there some straggling foes he gleans.
His flying coursers please him less and less,
Asham'd of easy fight, and cheap success.
Thus half contended anxious in his mind,
The distant cries come driving in the wind—
Shouts from the walls, but shouts in murmurs drown'd.
A jarring mixture, and a boding sound.
Alas!" said he, what mean these dismal cries?
What doleful clamors from the town arise ?"
Confus'd, he stops, and backward pulls the reins.
She, who the driver's office now sustains,
Replies: "Neglect, my lord, these new alarms :
Here fight, and urge the fortune of your ar.ns.
There want not others to defend the wall.
If by your rival's hand th' Italians fall,
So shall your fatal sword his friends oppress,
In honor equal, equal in success.
"
To this the prince : O sister for I knew,
The peace infring'd proceeded first from you :
716
ENEIS.
I knew you, when you mingled first in fight :
And now in vain you would deceive my sight-
Why, goddess, this unprofitable care?
Who sent you down from heav'n, involv'd in air,
Your share of mortal sorrows to sustain,
And see your brother bleeding on the plain?
For to what pow'r can Turnus have recourse,
Or how resist his fate's prevailing force?
These eyes beheld Murranus bite the ground:
Mighty the man, and mighty was the wound.
I heard my dearest friend, with dying breath,
My name invoking, to revenge his death.
Brave Ufens fell with honor on the place,
To shun the shameful sight of my disgrace.
On earth supine, a manly corpse he lies;
His vest and armor are the victor's prize.
Then shall I see Laurentum in a flame,
Which only wanted to complete my shame?
How will the Latians hoot their champion's flight!
How Drances will insult, and point them to the sight
Is death so hard to bear ?—Ye gods below!
(Since those above so small compassion show)
Receive a soul, unsullied yet with shame,
Which not belies my great forefather's name.
He said and, while he spoke, with flying speed
Came Sages urging on his foamy steed:
Fix'd on his wounded face a shaft he bore,
And, seeking Turnus, sent his voice before:
"Turnus on you, on you alone, depends
Our last relief :-compassionate your friend.
Like lightning, fierce Eneas, rolling on,
With arms invests, with flames invades the town:
The brands are toss'd on high the winds conspire
To drive along the deluge of the fire.
:
All eyes are fix'd on you: your foes rejoice;
E'en the king staggers, and suspends his choice-
Doubts to deliver or defend the town,
Whom to reject, or whom to call his son.
The queen, on whom your utmost hopes were plac'd
Herself suborning death, has breath'd her last.
'Tis true, Messapus, fearless of his fate,
With fierce Atinas' aid, defends the gate :
On ev'ry side surrounded by the foe,
The more they kill, the greater numbers grow;
An iron harvest mounts, and still remains to mow.
You, far aloof from your forsaken bands,
Your rolling chariot drive o'er empty sands."
ÆNEIS,
417
4
Stupid he sate, his eyes on earth declin'd,
And various cares revolving in his mind :
Rage, boiling from the bottom of his breast,
And sorrow inix'd with shame, his soul oppress'd;
And conscious worth lay lab'ring in his thought,
And love by jealousy to madness wrought.
By slow degrees his reason drove away
The mists of passion, and resum'd her sway.
Then rising on his car, he turn'd his look,
And saw the town involv'd in fire and smoke.
A wooden tow'r with flames already blaz'd,
Which his own hands on beams and rafters rais'd,
And bridges laid above to join the space,
And wheels below to roll from place to place.
Sister! the fates have vanquish'd; let us go
The way which heav'n and my hard fortune show.
The fight is fix'd: nor shall the branded name
Of a base coward blot your brother's fame.
Death is my choice but suffer me to try
My force, and vent my rage before I die."
He said and leaping down without delay,
Through crowds of scatter'd foes he freed his way.
Striding he pass'd, impetuous as the wind,
And left the grieving goddess far behind.
As, when a fragment, from a mountain torn
By raging tempests, or by torrents borne,
Or sapp'd by time, or loosen'd from the roots,
Prone through the void the rocky ruin shoots,
Rolling from crag to crag, from steep to steep,
Down sink, at once, the shepherds and their sheep
Involv'd alike, they rush to nether ground;
Stunn'd with the shock they fall, and stunn'd from earth
rebound:
So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town,
Should'ring and shoving, bore the squadrons down.
Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew,
Where shafts and spears and darts promiscuous flew,
And sanguine streams the slipp'ry ground embrue.
First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace,
He cries aloud, to make the combat cease:
Rutulians, hold! and Latian troops, retire!
The fight is mine: and me the gods require.
'Tis just that I should vindicate alone
The broken truce, or for the breach atone.
This day shall free from wars th' Ausonian state,
Or finish my misfortunes in my fate.
Both armies from their bloody work desist,
418
ENEIS.
And, bearing backward, form a spacious list.
The Trojan hero, who receiv'd from fame
The welcome sound, and heard the champion's name,
Soon leaves the taken works and mounted walls:
Greedy of war where greater glory calls,
He springs to fight, exulting in his force;
His jointed armor rattles in the course..
Like Eryx, or like Athos, great he shows,
Or father Apennine, when, white with snows,
His head, divine, obscure in clouds he hides,
And shakes the sounding forest on his sides.
The nations, overaw'd, surcease the fight;
Immovable their bodies, fix'd their sight.
E'en Death stands still; nor from above they throw
Their darts, nor drive their batt'ring-rams below.
In silent order either army stands,
And drop their swords, unknowing, from their hands.
Th' Ausonian king beholds, with wond'ring sight,
Two mighty champions match'd in single fight,
Born under climes remote, and brought by fate,
With swords to try their titles to the state.
Now, in clos'd field, each other from afar
They view; and, rushing on, begin the war.
They launch their spears; then hand to hand they meet
The trembling soil resounds beneath their feet :
Their bucklers clash; thick blows descend from high,
And flakes of fire from their hard helmets fly.
Courage conspires with chance; and both engage
With equal fortune yet, and mutual rage.
As, when two bulls for their fair female fight
In Sila's shades, or on Taburnus' height,
With horns adverse they meet the keeper flies;
Mute stands the herd; the heifers roll their eyes,
And wait th' event-which victor they shall bear,
And who shall be the lord to rule the lusty year:
With rage of love the jealous rivals burn,
And push for push and wound for wound return :
Their dewlaps gor'd, their sides are lav'd in blood:
Loud cries and roaring sounds rebellow thro' the wood:-
Such was the combat in the listed ground;
So clash their swords, and so their shields resound.
Jove sets the beam: in either scale he lays
The champions' fate, and each exactly weighs.
On this side life and lucky chance ascends:
Loaded with death, that other scale descends.
-Rais'd on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow
Full on the helm of his unguarded foe ;
:
·
ÆENEIS.
Shrill shouts and clamors ring on either side,
As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide.
But all in pieces flies the traitor sword,
And in the middle stroke deserts his lord.
Now 'tis but death or flight disarm'd he flies,
When in his hand an unknown hilt he spies.
Fame says that Turnus, when his steeds he join'd,
Hurrying to war, disorder'd in his mind,
Snatch'd the first weapon which his haste could find.
'Twas not the fated sword his father bore,
But that his charioteer Metiscus wore.
This, while the Trojans fled, the toughness held :
But, vain against the great Vulcanian shield,
The mortal-temper'd steel deceiv'd his hand:
The shiver'd fragments shone amid the sand.
Surpris'd with fear, he fled along the field,
And now forthright, and now in orbits wheel'd:
For here the Trojan troops the list surround,
419
And there the pass is clos'd with pools and marshy ground
Æneas hastens, though with heavier pace-
His wound, so newly knit, retards the chase,
And oft his trembling knees their aid refuse-
Yet, pressing foot by foot, his foe pursues.
Thus, when a fearful stag is clos'd around
With crimson toils, or in a river found,
High on the bank the deep-mouth'd hound appears,
Still op'ning, following still, where'er he steers:
The persecuted creature, to and fro,
Turns here and there, t' escape his Umbrian foe:
Steep is th' ascent, and, if he gains the land,
The purple death is pitch'd along the strand.
His eager foe, determin'd to the chase,
Stretch'd at his length, gains ground at ev'ry pace :
Now to his beamy head he makes his way,
And now he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey :
Just at the pinch, the stag springs out with fear :
-
He bites the wind, and fills his sounding jaws with air:
The rocks, the lakes, the meadows, ring with cries;
The mortal tumult mounts, and thunders in the skies.
Thus flies the Daunian prince, and, flying, blames
His tardy troops, and, calling by their names,
Demands his trusty sword. The Trojan threats
Their realm with ruin, and their ancient seats.
To lay in ashes, if they dare supply,
With arms or aid, his vanquish'd enemy;
Thus menacing, he still pursues his course
With vigor, though diminish'd of his force.
420
ENEIS.
Ten times already, round the listed place,
One chief had fled, and t' other giv'n the chase.
No trivial prize is play'd; for on the life
Or death of Turnus now depends the strife.
Within the space an olive-tree had stood,
A sacred shade, a venerable wood,
For vows to Faunus paid, the Latins' guardian god.
Here hung the vests, and tablets were engrav'd,
Of sinking mariners, from shipwreck sav'd.
With heedless hands the Trojans fell'd the tree,
To make the grounde nclos'd for combat free.
Deep in the root, whether by fate or chance,
Or erring haste, the Trojan drove his lance;
Then stoop'd, and tugg'd with force immense, to free
Th' encumber'd spear from the tenacious tree;
That whom his fainting limbs pursu'd in vain,
His flying weapon might from far attain.
Confus'd with fear, bereft of human aid,
Then Turnus to the gods, and first to Faunus pray'd:
'O Faunus! pity! and thou, mother Earth,
Where I thy foster-son receiv'd my birth,
Hold fast the steel! If my religious hand
Your plant has honor'd, which your foes profan'd,
Propitious hear my pious pray'r !"
He said,
Nor with successless vows invok'd their aid.
Th' incumbent hero wrench'd, and pull'd, and strain'd
But still the stubborn earth the steel detain'd.
Juturna took her time; and, while in vain
He strove, assum'd Metiscus' form again,
And, in that imitated shape, restor'd
To the despairing prince his Daunian sword.
The queen of love-who, with disdain and grief,
Saw the bold nymph afford this prompt relief—
T' assert her offspring with a greater deed,
From the tough root the ling'ring weapon freed.
Once more erect, the rival chiefs advance :
One trusts the sword, and one the pointed lance
And both resolv'd alike to try their fatal chance.
Meantime imperial Jove to Juno spoke,
Who from a shining cloud beheld the shock :
"What new arrest, O queen of heav'n! is sent
To stop the Fates now lab'ring in th' event?
What further hopes are left thee to pursue?
Divine Æneas (and thou know'st it too),
Foredoom'd, to these celestial seats is due.
What more attempts for Turnus can be made,
That thus thou ling' rest in this lonely shade?
ENEIS.
421
Is it becoming of the due respect
And awful honor of a god elect,
A wound unworthy of our state to feel,
Patient of human hands, and earthly steel?
Or seems it just the sisters should restore
A second sword, when one was lost before,
And arm a conquer'd wretch against his conqueror ?
For what, without thy knowledge and avow,
Nay more, thy dictate, durst Juturna do?
At last, in def'rence to my love, forbear
To lodge within thy soul this anxious care:
Reclin'd upon my breast, thy grief unload :-
Who should relieve the goddess but the god?
Now all things to their utmost issue tend,
Push'd by the Fates to their appointed end.
While leave was giv'n thee, and a lawful hour
For vengeance, wrath, and unresisted pow'r,
Toss'd on the seas thou couldst thy foes distress,
And, driv'n ashore, with hostile arms oppress;
Deform the royal house; and from the side
Of the just bridegroom tear the plighted bride :—
Now cease at my command. The Thund’rer said :
And, with dejected eyes, this answer Juno made :
Because your dread decree too well I knew,
From Turnus and from earth, unwilling I withdrew.
Else should you not behold me here alone,
Involv'd in empty clouds, my friends bemoan;
But, girt with vengeful flames, in open sight,
Engag'd against my foes in mortal fight.
'Tis true, Juturna mingled in the strife
By my command, to save a brother's life,
At least to try; but (by the Stygian lake-
The most religious oath the gods can take)
With this restriction, not to bend the bow,
Or toss the spear, or trembling dart to throw.
And now, resign'd to your superior might,
And tir'd with fruitless toils, I loathe the fight.
This let me beg (and this no fates withstand),
Both for myself and for your father's land,
That, when the nuptial bed shall bind the peace
(Which I, since you ordain, consent to bless),
The laws of either nation be the same;
But let the Latians still retain their name,
Speak the same language which they spoke before
Wear the same habits which their grandsires wore
Call them not Trojans perish the renown
And name of Troy, with that detested town.
J
422
ENEIS.
Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign,
And Rome's immortal majesty remain.'
Then thus the founder of mankind replies
(Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes) :
Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir,
Such endless anger in her bosom bear?
Be mistress, and your full desires obtain ;
But quench the choler you foment in vain.
From ancient blood, th' Ausonian people sprung,
Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue :
The Trojans to their customs shall be tied :
I will, myself, their common rites provide :
The natives shall command, the foreigners subside:
All shall be Latium; Troy without a name,
And her lost sons forget from whence they came.
From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow,
Equal to gods, excelling all below.
No nation more respect to you shall pay,
Or greater off'rings on your altars lay.
Juno consents, well pleas'd that her desires
Had found success, and from the cloud retires.
The peace thus made, the Thunderer next prepares
To force the wat'ry goddess from the wars.
Deep in the dismal regions void of light,
Three daughters, at a birth, were born to Night:
These their brown mother, brooding on her care,
Indu'd with windy wings, to flit in air,
With serpents girt alike, and crown'd with hissing hair.
In heav'n the Diræ call'd, and still at hand,
Before the throne of angry Jove they stand,
His minsters of wrath, and ready still
The minds of mortal men with fears to fill,
Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate
On realms or towns deserving of their fate,
Hurls down diseases, death, and deadly care,
And terrifies the guilty world with war.
One sister-plague of these from heav'n he sent,
To fright Juturna with a dire portent.
The pest comes whirling down by far more slow
:
Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow,
Or Cydon yew, when traversing the skies,
And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies,
With such a sudden and unseen a flight,
Shot through the clouds the daughter of the Night.
Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view,
And from afar her destin'd quarry knew—
Contracted, to the boding bird she turns,
ENEIS.
423
Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns,
And beats about the tombs with mighty wings,
Where songs obscene on sepulchres she sings.
Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries
The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies,
Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes.
A lazy chillness crept along his blood;.
Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood.
Juturna from afar beheld her fly,
And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry,
And stridor of her wing. Amaz'd with fear,
Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.
((
Ah me!" she cries, “in this unequal strife,
What can thy sister more to save thy life?
!
Weak as I am, can I, alas contend
In arms with that inexorable fiend?
Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright
My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night !
The lashing of your wings I know too well,
The sounding flight, and fun'ral screams of hell!
These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove,
The worthy recompense of ravish'd love !
Did he for this exempt my life from fate!
O hard conditions of immortal state!
Though born to death, not privileg'd to die,
But forc'd to bear impos'd eternity!
Take back your envious bribes, and let me go,
Companion to my brother's ghost below!
The joys are vanish'd: nothing now remains
Of life immortal but immortal pains.
What earth will open her devouring womb,
To rest a weary goddess in the tomb ?''
She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said,
But in her azure mantle wrapp'd her head;
Then plung'd into her stream, with deep despair,
And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.
Now stern Æneas waves his weighty spear
Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear :
What further subterfuge can Turnus find?
What empty hopes are harbor'd in his mind?
'Tis not thy swiftness can secure thy flight:
Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight.
Vary thy shape in thousand forms, and dare
What skill and courage can attempt in war:
Wish for the wings of winds, to mount the sky;
Or hid within the hollow earth to lie !"
The champion shook his head, and made this short reply:
· 424
ENEIS.
"No threats of thine my manly mind can move :
'Tis hostile heav'n I dread, and partial Jove.'
He said no more, but, with a sigh, repress'd
The mighty sorrow in his swelling breast.
Then, as he roll'd his troubled eyes around,
An antique stone he saw, the common bound
Of neighb'ring fields, and barrier of the ground-
So vast, that twelve strong men of modern days
Th' enormous weight from earth could hardly raise.
He heav'd it at a lift, and, pois'd on high,
Ran stagg'ring on against his enemy;
But so disorder'd that he scarcely knew
His way, or what unwieldy weight he threw.
His knocking knees are bent beneath the load;
And shiv'ring cold congeals his vital blood.
The stone drops from his arms, and, falling short
For want of vigor, mocks his vain effort.
And as, when heavy sleep has clos'd the sight,
The sickly fancy labors in the night;
We seem to run; and, destitute of force,
Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course :
In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry,
The nerves, unbrac'd, their usual strength deny ;
And on the tongue th' falt'ring accents die :-
So Turnus far'd: whatever means he tried,
All force of arms, and points of art employ'd,
The Fury flew athwart, and made th' endeavor void.
A thousand various thoughts his soul confound:
He star'd about; nor aid nor issue found:
His own men stop the pass; and his own walls surround.
Once more he pauses, and looks out again,
And seeks the goddess-charioteer in vain.
Trembling he views the thund'ring chief advance,
And brandishing aloft the deadly lance :
Amaz'd, he cow'rs beneath his conqu'ring foe,
Forgets to ward, and waits the coming blow.
Astonish'd while he stands, and fix'd with fear,
Aim'd at his shield he sees th' impending spear.
The hero measur'd first, with narrow view,
The destin'd mark; and, rising as he threw,
With its full swing the fatal weapon flew.
Not with less rage the rattling thunder falls,
Or stones from batt'ring-engines break the walls.
Swift as a whirlwind, from an arm so strong,
The lance drove on, and bore the death along :
Naught could his seven-fold shield the prince avail
Nor aught beneath his arms, the coat of mail :
ENEIS.
-425
It pierc'd through all, and with a grisly wound
Transfix'd his thigh, and doubled him to ground.
With groans the Latians rend the vaulted sky:
Woods, hills, and valleys, to the voice reply.
Now, low on earth, the lofty chief is laid,
With eyes cast upwards, and with arms display'd,
And, recreant, thus to the proud victor pray'd:
"I know my death deserv'd, nor hope to live:
Use what the gods and thy good fortune give.
Yet think, oh! think, if mercy may be shown
(Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son)-
Pity my sire, now sinking to the grave,
And for Anchises' sake old Daunus save!
Or, if thy vow'd revenge pursue my death,
Give to my friends my body void of breath!
The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life:
Thine is the conquest, thine the royal wife :
Against a yielded man, 'tis mean, ignoble strife."
In deep suspense the Trojan seem'd to stand,
And, just prepar'd to strike, repress'd his hand.
He roll'd his eyes, and ev'ry moment felt
His manly soul with more compassion melt;
When, casting down a casual glance, he spied
The golden belt that glitter'd on his side:
The fatal spoil which haughty Turnus tore
From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore.
Then rous'd anew to wrath, he loudly cries
(Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes),
Traitor dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend,
Clad as thou art, in trophies of my friend?
To his sad soul a grateful off'ring go!
'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow."
He rais'd his arm aloft, and at the word,
Deep in his bosom drove the shining sword.
The streaming blood disdain'd his arms around ;
And the disdainful soul came rushing through the wound.
FINIS.

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